Whirlwind Wedding (22 page)

“Are you okay?” she and Andrew asked in unison.

He threw his arms around her. “That was scary.”

“Yes.” She hugged him, pulling away quickly when he winced at her touch. “Let me see.”

Grimacing, he pulled up his shirt. The burn was healing, but already she could see a bruise at the top of his rib cage. Pressing gently, she felt for breaks.

Andrew cried out.

“I'm sorry. I had to check. I don't think your ribs are broken, which is good.”

She smoothed a hand over his face, tears welling. “I'm so sorry, Andrew.”

“I'm sorry about what Angus did to you,” he said shakily.

“You're not going back there. Ever.”

“What are we going to do?”

She made the decision in a split second. “I'm taking you to Riley and Susannah's. You'll be safe there and you can stay until I figure out what to do. I don't want those men threatening you anymore. I won't let them find you.”

“But they'll be able to find
you,
Catherine. You have to stay, too.”

“No, Jericho would be too suspicious.”

“But—”

“It will be all right.” She tried to calm her voice and reassure him, which was difficult when she was a shivering mass of nerves.

“What are you going to do? How long will I have to stay there?”

“I don't know yet.” With shaking hands, she took down her hair and smoothed it back into a chignon as best she could.

“But I want to be with you.”

“I know.” She clucked to the mare and the buggy lurched forward. “This won't be for long.”

“Do you think Miz Susannah will mind?”

“No, honey.”

And she didn't. When Catherine reined up in front of the two-story, white frame house, the petite blonde met them on the porch with her baby daughter. She had seen them driving up the dusty road and was delighted they had finally come for a visit. But after one look at their faces she knew something was wrong.

Exchanging a glance with Catherine, Susannah asked calmly, “Andrew, would you mind taking Lorelai inside? The sun's a little hot for her.”

“Okay.” He gave his sister a worried look.

“It's all right. Go on.” Her knees still felt watery and she
couldn't rid herself of the disgusting feel of Angus's tongue. She lifted a shoulder and rubbed her cheek against it.

When Andrew took the baby inside, Susannah squeezed her hand, concern darkening her eyes. “Has something happened?”

“Yes—” Catherine stopped abruptly. She couldn't tell Susannah about any of this. That would certainly put her and Riley in danger, too. “Maybe I shouldn't have come.”

“Of course you should have. What can I do?”

She hesitated, reliving the moment when the McDougal brothers had punched Andrew. “I can't tell you what's going on and I don't mean to sound mysterious, but I need—I wonder if Andrew could stay here for a bit. Just until I have some things under control.”

“Absolutely. We would love to have him.” Susannah's blue gaze sharpened. “Will you at least tell me if you're in danger?”

“I'm not right now.”

Alarm widened the other woman's eyes. “What about Andrew?”

“He'll be safe here. He won't be if he's with me.”

Susannah considered her for a long minute, plainly struggling not to ask questions, but finally she asked one. “Does Jericho know about this?”

Angus's threats played through her mind. “No,” she said hoarsely.

“Don't you think you should tell him?”

“Yes.” But there was no way she could.

Susannah studied her quietly. “Yes, of course, Andrew can stay. I just wish you could tell me what's wrong.”

“I can't.” Knowing her brother would be safe released some of the tension in her chest. “Not yet.”

“It's all right. He'll be fine here, and if you need to stay, you're welcome.”

“Thank you.” Touched that the woman would take An
drew in so willingly, Catherine squeezed Susannah's hands. “I'll be back for him as soon as I can.”

“Please don't worry about it. I'm happy to repay the kindness you've shown to Jericho.”

“Thank you.” She went inside and told Andrew what she'd said to Susannah. “Don't worry that she or Riley will ask you questions. You'll be safe here.”

“I'm worried about you,” he said in a low whisper, hitching the baby to his other hip.

“I'm fine. Truly.” She kissed the top of his head. “I don't think your ribs need to be wrapped, but if it's painful to breathe, I want you to tell Susannah right away.”

“All right.” He still looked disturbed.

She hugged him. “I'll be fine. I'll figure something out. You'll see.”

As he waved goodbye, Catherine's heart clenched. She had no idea how to thwart the McDougals; all she could do right now was keep them away from Andrew.

 

By the time she reached Whirlwind, her muscles were locked tight and her hands were freezing. Desperate to rid herself of Angus's touch, she rubbed at her face until her skin burned.

She tried to block thoughts of the outlaws from her mind as she returned the buggy to the livery, tried to keep from screaming as she spoke to people in town on her way home. Feeling as if she might come unhinged at any moment, she hurried up the slope behind the church, moving faster when she saw the house.

Reaching the porch, she called out, but Jericho didn't answer. Good. Working feverishly, moving on raw nerve, she dragged the tin tub over in front of the fireplace and dumped in two buckets of hot water from the kettle, then buckets of
cool from the sink. She stripped off her white bib and gray day dress, then pulled the pins from her hair.

Shoes and stockings came off next, then her chemise and drawers. She grabbed the tin of lye soap and sank down into the lukewarm water as if it were the welcoming arms of her mother. Still trembling, she ducked her head underwater, then scrubbed her hair and her face over and over. At last, when her skin nearly puckered, she felt steady enough to dry off and get dressed.

The water-filled bathtub was too heavy to move by herself, so she let it be. She sank down on the edge of her bed and began combing out her wet hair. Finally the band of fear cutting into her chest eased. Thank goodness Jericho wasn't here. She had to pull herself together. And stay as far away from him as possible.

 

Jericho didn't know what was going on with Catherine and Andrew, but he meant to find out. He made his way back through town, still seeing no sign of them. Davis Lee said the Donnellys had delivered his pie well over two hours ago. So where were they?

After Catherine and her brother left him, Jericho had spent an hour with his revolver and rifle until he was satisfied he could hit a target more than twice in a row. Then he'd let Moe and Cinco out into the pasture while he cleaned their stalls and put down fresh hay. Catherine and Andrew still hadn't returned by then, so he washed up at the pump and went into Whirlwind, looking for them. No one had seen them since early that morning. After a shave at the barbershop, he made another slow round, then finally limped out of town.

Brother and sister had been acting strangely since the previous evening. Catherine had sounded odd last night when Jericho let her know he had returned from his ride with Davis
Lee. Then, through Andrew's open window, Jericho had heard their hushed voices until well after midnight, though he couldn't distinguish any words. This morning, they had both been as skittish as new colts. He hadn't missed the looks they had exchanged several times at breakfast. Or the way they'd stopped talking in the garden as soon as they noticed him on the porch.

At first he had thought Catherine's avoidance of him was related to their conversation behind the barn, but then he'd noticed the kid staying out of his way, too.

Stepping onto the porch, Jericho heard a sound from inside and leaned over to look through the window. Catherine was at the sink, but there was no sign of Andrew. Where had they been all morning? Jericho limped back down the steps and circled the house, but didn't see or hear the boy anywhere. Well, she could answer his questions as well as her brother.

He knocked on the front door and heard an exclamation from inside, then the sound of something heavy clattering to the floor. He opened the door and saw her kneeling on the other side of the table, her eyes wide with alarm.

“Did I startle you?”

“A little.” She appeared visibly relieved when she saw it was him.

She rose, clutching the lid to the Dutch oven in one hand, and pivoted toward the fireplace, swiping the left side of her face with the back of her hand as she settled the lid onto the pot. “Lunch will be ready soon.”

“There's no hurry.” He stepped inside and closed the door, teased by the scent of fried ham and a faint hint of soap. She was pale as a cloud, her eyes sapphire-blue and huge in the whiteness of her face. “I can help you.”

“Oh, no, but thank you.” She opened the stove door and
stared blankly inside, as if she couldn't remember what to do. After a moment she scooped in more coal.

His gaze slid over her. The dress she wore was not the one she had worn to town. That one had been gray and white; this one was white with tiny blue flowers and a square-cut neck that bared a creamy patch of skin. The sleeves ended at her elbows, revealing the blue tracery of veins at her wrists, the delicate bones of her forearms. The light fabric swirled around her legs as she moved to the sink. She rubbed again at her face, then picked up a peeled potato and a small knife.

Even from here he could see that her hands shook. He frowned. “How was your trip to town?”

She stiffened, each knob in her spine plainly visible beneath her dress. Being able to see that meant she wasn't wearing a corset. “Fine.”

She was already rattled and he hadn't even started with his questions. Hell, she was
tense.
And more than just her change of clothes roused his curiosity. Her not wearing a corset was very unusual. Her hair was different, too. Black as night, it hung straight and thick to the middle of her back. And it was damp. His gaze tracked to the tub full of water in front of the fireplace. Usually when she wore her hair down, she caught it back with a kerchief. He'd never seen her hair loose like this before. Never seen that dress, either.

“I just came from Whirlwind,” he said casually. “Must've missed you.”

She sent him a look over her shoulder, her smile as tight as the lines he noticed at her eyes. He glimpsed something he swore was fear before she turned away.

What the hell? He stepped up to the table, his fingers closing over the back of a chair. “Where's Andrew?”

“With f-friends.”

Was her voice wobbly?

Her hand moved again to the side of her face. “I apologize that the meal is so late.”

“You don't have to apologize. I appreciate you feeding me at all.”

“I know you're hungry.” She picked up another potato and promptly dropped it. Tension radiated from her in short jerky bursts.

This was how she'd been since he'd returned last night, as agitated as if she were face-to-face with a rattler. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Clumsily retrieving the vegetable, she began cubing it. Her movements were choppy and abrupt.

“Want me to help you with that? Wouldn't want you to cut yourself.”

“No.” She brushed again at the left side of her face. “Everything will be ready shortly.”

He eased around the table and came up on her right, stopping in front of the cupboard a few feet away. She quivered like a plucked bowstring. “Catherine, what is it?”

She diligently cut potatoes and added them to the skillet, saying thinly, “You said you were going to leave soon, but maybe you should go now.”

He frowned. What had brought this on? Her tone was urgent, nearly desperate. Was it because of what had been said between them yesterday? “I'm not ready to leave,” he said evenly.

“You're getting around well enough now.” She fumbled the small knife she held, catching it by the handle before it fell. “You've been working your hand better than I have.”

“I'm not going anywhere until that gang is captured.” He admitted now what he had realized as he'd searched for her in town. He couldn't walk away from her. Ever. He didn't know how he would handle his problem with Andrew, but he would find a way. “I won't leave you and Andrew. You'll be safe.”

At his words, she looked away, her hand closing on the knife until her knuckles blanched white as bone.

He closed the distance between them but didn't touch her. “What's going on, Catherine? And don't say it's nothing.”

He saw her shudder, and lightly cupped her shoulder to turn her toward him. “Did something go on in town— What happened to your face?”

Sliding a finger beneath her chin, he angled her head for a better look. The left side of her face was splotched and red, as though she'd rubbed it raw. “How did you hurt yourself?”

“I'm fine.” Her pulse jumped wildly in her throat. “It just itches.”

He stared down at her, but she wouldn't meet his gaze. “You're trembling and you're pale as chalk. What's happened?”

“It's nothing I can't handle.” Her voice was brittle, lost.

What had her so upset? Slowly, soothingly, he tucked her hair behind her ear. “You can tell me. I'll make it all right.”

He would. She knew that without question. How tempting it would be to lean against his strength for just a moment, tell him everything. “I'm fine, really.”

“I promise I'll fix it.”

His crooked grin sawed at her resolve to keep silent. He was the one man who
could
fix things. She knew deep in her bones that he would lay down his life to protect her. And he might have to. The McDougals had nearly killed him once and they had every intention of trying again. Andrew might be next. Or her. She kept hearing Angus's threats, seeing his brothers hit Andrew.