An Outlaw's Christmas Read online

  This, then, was the haven Bess Turner had made for her child, a place apart, a world that belonged only to the two of them.

  Piper turned back to Ginny-Sue, gently took her hand, and seated herself on the edge of the fancy bed.

  Then she closed her eyes and she prayed.

  Ginny-Sue slept on.

  Cleopatra came back into the room, bringing a tray laden with tea things. “There’s a man downstairs,” she said solemnly. “Says you’d better come and talk to him.” China rattled as she set the tray down, poured fragrant, steaming orange pekoe into a translucent cup. “What do you want me to tell him?”

  “Does he have one arm in a sling?” Piper asked calmly.

  “Yes, ma’am, he do,” Cleopatra answered.

  Sawyer, of course. “Tell him to fetch Doc, or send somebody else if he’s not strong enough. Whoever goes is to say that if Mrs. Howard objects, I’ll come over there myself and see to the matter personally, and she does not want that to happen.”

  Cleopatra’s eyes widened again, and a smile rested lightly on her full mouth. “Sounds like a bluff to me,” she said, but there was respect in her tone.

  “Sometimes,” Piper answered, “a bluff has to do.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Half an hour passed, during which Piper sipped tea, listened to the tick of the elegant clock on the mantelpiece, and watched Ginny-Sue toss and turn in her sleep.

  Don’t let this be diphtheria, Piper prayed, over and over again. Please.

  She’d seen that disease too many times, in the few years she’d been teaching school. Among the symptoms were fever and a sore throat, and Ginny-Sue had both. Diphtheria was rampantly contagious, and in most instances it was fatal, as well.

  Not Ginny-Sue, she pleaded silently, or any of the others.

  When a tentative knock sounded at the door of that incongruously grand bedchamber, Piper leaped up, crossed the floor, but then hesitated to turn the shining brass key protruding from the lock, remembering that there was a saloon directly downstairs, and that ladies of the evening and their customers surely frequented the other rooms along the corridor.

  “Who’s there?” she asked.

  “Doc and me,” Sawyer answered. “Open up.”

  Almost breathless with relief, Piper unlocked and opened the door to see a disgruntled Doc Howard standing nervously in the hall, with Sawyer right beside him. Doc looked as though he might bolt at any moment, while Sawyer looked as though he’d stop him if he did.

  “You came,” Piper cried, barely restraining herself from throwing both arms around Doc and hugging him in a fit of gratitude.

  “Of course I did,” Doc replied, stepping past her and striding over to the bed. He’d brought his bag and hopefully there was something inside that would cure Ginny-Sue. “Why is it that nobody around here seems to remember that I’m a dentist?” he muttered to himself, as he leaned over the child, stethoscope in place.

  Did dentists use stethoscopes? she wondered. Evidently so. Perhaps some of their patients suffered palpitations at the prospect of an extraction, or having a cavity filled.

  Sawyer smiled at Piper, touched her chin. His fingers were icy-cold, and yet, somehow, he warmed her. Had he walked to Doc’s place, in his condition, after following Piper to the saloon earlier? If so, he was probably coming to the end of his strength, considerable as it was.

  “I’m all right,” he told her quietly. It was unsettling, the way he seemed to be able to read her every expression, as if she’d been thinking aloud. “How’s the little girl?”

  “I don’t know,” Piper responded, worried again. “She’s feverish, and she told me her throat was hurting.”

  “Doc will do everything he can,” Sawyer promised. He indicated his bandaged shoulder with a motion of his head and then added, “He must be hell on a toothache, if he’s this good with a bullet wound.”

  Piper nodded anxiously but offered no reply, since none seemed called-for.

  Bess appeared, letting herself in, since Piper hadn’t bothered to relock the door. With Sawyer and Doc both there, she knew Ginny-Sue would be safe.

  After nodding a greeting to Sawyer, Bess hurried over to stand on the opposite side of the bed from Doc. She wrung her hands, and the expression in her eyes was an eloquent plea for good news.

  Doc opened his bag, took out a packet, and held it up. “Headache powders,” he said. “Stir a teaspoonful into a cup of water, and we’ll see if we can’t get her to take it.”

  Bess rounded the bed, took the packet from Doc’s hand, and vanished into the bathroom. She was back in a trice with the water, and Piper handed her a spoon from the tea tray Cleopatra had brought up earlier.

  The rattle of the spoon against the glass roused Ginny-Sue enough to open her eyes. They glistened, too bright, and seemed to grope and struggle from one face to the next.

  “Mama?” Ginny-Sue said.

  “I’m right here, baby,” Bess said, moving close to the child, sliding an arm around her to help her sit up, forcing cheer into every word and motion, “you’ve got to drink this whole glass of water right down. Doc brought you some medicine, and it’s going to make you feel a lot better, real soon.”

  Ginny-Sue’s confusion was heartrending for Piper, and she was thankful when Sawyer put his good arm around her waist, lending her strength. Almost holding her up, in fact.

  The child sipped from the glass, the bitter taste causing her to wince, and it obviously hurt her to swallow. Still, though the process was a long one, she finally emptied the glass.

  “What is it?” Piper whispered to Doc, when he walked over to her and Sawyer, looking solemn and thoughtful, though he’d left his bag on the night table and was taking off his coat like a man who meant to stay rather than go. “What’s wrong with Ginny-Sue?”

  “If we’re lucky, she’s got a bad cold,” Doc answered, keeping his voice low. “If we’re not, on the other hand, then this is probably diphtheria, and it works fast. We ought to know by morning.”

  Piper reached out, took one of Doc’s hands in both of hers. Sawyer stood silently beside her.

  “Thank you,” she said softly, because she knew Doc had made a sacrifice to come here at all.

  Doc’s smile was genuine, if somewhat feeble. “Don’t thank me yet,” he replied. “The aspirin powders will bring down the girl’s fever if she’s just taken a chill, but if that doesn’t happen, well, then we’re dealing with a much bigger problem.”

  “Diphtheria,” Piper almost whispered.

  Doc nodded. “None of us can leave here until we know for sure,” he said, with a rueful shake of his head. “If this is diphtheria, it’ll spread like a fire in dry grass.”

  Piper looked at Sawyer, whose expression was unreadable, and then Doc. By then, Bess had left Ginny-Sue’s side to join them.

  “Did you say my girl has diphtheria?” Bess asked tentatively, going pale under all that kohl and rouge and rice powder.

  “I said she might have it,” Doc said, at once stern and compassionate. “How long has Ginny-Sue been sick?” Before Bess could formulate a reply—she seemed to be juggling conflicting thoughts in her mind—he turned to Piper. “Did she come down with this at school?”

  “Just since this afternoon,” Bess said finally. “Cleopatra said she seemed fine at breakfast.”

  “And at school, too,” Piper added, after reviewing her memory. Even though Ginny-Sue hadn’t exhibited symptoms in class, when all the children had been busy decorating the Christmas tree, it was still possible that the illness was already spreading from one end of Blue River to the other. Edrina—Harriet—little Jeb, the new baby—

  She wouldn’t be able to bear losing a one of them, or any of her pupils, either.

  She almost swooned at the enormity of the threat, but Sawyer took a firm grip on
her elbow and steadied her, kept her upright.

  He guided her to one of the easy chairs near the fireplace and sat her down.

  “What about my girls, and the customers?” Bess asked Doc. “Shouldn’t they be told?”

  “If you say the word diphtheria,” Doc replied, “there’ll be a panic for sure. On the other hand, we can’t have those men carrying the sickness home to their own families. I’ll put the whole place under quarantine before I let that happen.” He paused, grim and brusque. “I just hope it isn’t already too late.”

  From her chair near the fire, Piper watched tears gather in Bess’s eyes. “We’ll see that the beer and whiskey flow,” she said quietly. “And those that don’t pass out, well, maybe the girls can keep them here some other way.”

  Some other way, Piper thought, half-sick. Innocent or not, she knew what that “other way” was, and the ugliness of it nearly overwhelmed her.

  But who was she to judge? In Bess’s shoes, with Bess’s history and lack of choices, she’d probably be no different.

  Doc gave a heavy sigh, nodded in agreement with what Bess had said. He had a child to worry about, too, Piper reminded herself, his Madeline. Doc Howard’s daughter was probably a large part of the reason he’d finally braved his wife’s disapproval, after refusing once, and answered Piper’s summons.

  Unless, of course, Sawyer had forced the other man to the Bitter Gulch Saloon, at gunpoint. She didn’t think he’d be above that.

  The possibility made Piper sit up very straight, stiff-spined. “Did you—persuade Doc to come?” she asked, fixing her tired eyes on Sawyer.

  “Now, how would I do that, with just one good arm?” he countered.

  Piper raised both eyebrows, thinking of the Colt .45 her husband was wearing on his right hip, even then. “One way comes immediately to mind,” she said.

  Sawyer grinned. “Fortunately,” he said, picking up on her meaning right away, “I didn’t have to threaten anybody. I guess Doc just figured if I thought it was important enough to ride bareback to his place with a big hole in my shoulder, he ought to pay attention.”

  Piper scooted her chair a little closer to Sawyer’s, dropped her voice to barely more than a breath while Doc and Bess conferred over by the door. “Didn’t Mrs. Howard have something to say about it?”

  Sawyer’s grin broadened. “Oh, she had plenty to say. Told Doc she’d get on the train and head East if he set foot outside the house, never mind heading straight for a brothel, where God only knew what he might bring home. Yes, sir, she’d leave him high and dry. He said she oughtn’t to make promises she didn’t mean to keep, got his bag, and followed me over here. Didn’t even take the time to saddle his mule.”

  Piper was wide-eyed. “You heard all that?”

  Sawyer nodded. “I was downright proud of the man,” he added.

  “If I wasn’t so grateful,” Piper replied, “I’d have a few things to say myself, Mr. McKettrick, about you riding around on a horse in the dark of night in your condition.”

  “It seemed like a better idea than walking,” Sawyer pointed out. “I couldn’t saddle Cherokee—it’s practically impossible to tighten a cinch with one arm—but he didn’t complain. I put a bridle on him, led him out of the shed and over to the porch, and climbed on from there.”

  “I don’t suppose it ever occurred to you to heed me and stay put at the schoolhouse?” Piper retorted, though she wasn’t actually angry, just fearful to think of all the things that could have gone wrong. Might still go wrong.

  “I’ll always hear you out,” Sawyer said, quietly reasonable. “You’re an intelligent woman and most of the time your opinion will probably make sense. That said, if I’m not swayed by your arguments, I’ll go right ahead and do whatever strikes me as the best choice.”

  Piper had no reply for that. She was almost too tired to think.

  Doc disappeared into the bathroom then and closed the door, while Bess stretched out on the bed alongside her feverish daughter, holding the little girl close, murmuring a lullaby to her.

  Though she was still worried sick about Ginny-Sue and every other child in and around Blue River, Piper went over the things Sawyer had said, oddly exhilarated by them, even in her weariness. Yes, he was letting her know that, as a husband, he wouldn’t bend to the kind of pressure women like Eloise Howard exerted, but it was the word always that had really caught her attention. He’d sounded as if he expected to share his life with her—as if they’d be working out problems and disagreements years from now.

  “I thought you were leaving,” she said carefully. “Heading out to find Mr. Vandenburg as soon as you could ride that far.”

  “I might still do that,” Sawyer answered, one corner of his mouth quirking upward ever so slightly. “But I’ve done some thinking since last night, about how close I came to losing you when it was me Duggins was after. When you bolted from the schoolhouse a little while ago, hell-bent on storming the Bitter Gulch Saloon for the sake of a sick child, and devil take the gossip that was bound to result, I knew you were the one for me.”

  Piper sat stunned, stricken by hope even in this uncertain and potentially tragic situation. How was it possible for one person to contain so many powerful emotions, especially ones that were at odds with each other?

  Doc emerged from the bathroom, drying his hands on a towel and glancing toward Ginny-Sue, and the woman who was holding her.

  “That’s quite a setup in there,” he commented, cocking a thumb over one shoulder to indicate the bathroom. “Running water, hot and cold. Even a flush toilet.” Doc paused then to rub his chin and reflect for a moment or two. “If I put in a bathtub over at our place, I reckon Eloise might decide I’m a passable husband, after all.”

  Sawyer grinned as Doc pulled over an ottoman and sat down close to the fire, rubbing his hands together and staring into the flames.

  “And if she doesn’t change her mind?” Sawyer asked.

  Piper nudged his foot with her own, but he was undaunted and, anyway, it was already too late to stop him from asking such a personal question.

  Doc chuckled, the firelight dancing over his face. “Well, then,” he answered, “I may be forced to take a pretty fierce stand.”

  After that, all three of them alternately dozed and talked in quiet voices.

  The fire got low, and Doc built it up again.

  Once, feeling restless, Piper ventured into the bathroom and inspected the gleaming porcelain bathtub, trying all the while to imagine the sheer luxury of such a convenience. No water to pump or haul up from the well in a bucket, then heat on the stove, then carry and pour, and repeat the whole process all over again. Why, it would be miraculous—even better, at least in her opinion, than a private telephone and electric lights put together.

  Around sunrise, pinkish-gold light glowing cold and clear at the windows, Cleopatra returned with another tray, knocking politely at the bedroom door and calling out in a low voice, “Somebody open this door for me. I’ve got my hands full out here.”

  This time, she’d brought fresh coffee, along with cups to drink it from, and a heaping plate of cinnamon buns still warm from the oven. The aromas were heavenly.

  Concentrating hard, Cleopatra nearly dropped the whole works when a small voice suddenly piped up and said, “Mama? Did I miss Christmas?”

  Everyone turned toward the bed to see Ginny-Sue sitting up, pillows at her back, looking a little wan but clear-eyed and alert.

  Bess, who had slept beside Ginny-Sue through the night, gathered the child close again and wept for joy. “No, baby,” she said, beaming through her tears. “You didn’t miss Christmas. You surely didn’t!”

  Doc went over to touch Ginny-Sue’s forehead, and his broad smile told the story. The fever had broken.

  “That’s one of the finest chest colds I’ve ever seen,” Doc sa
id, in a jocular voice that nonetheless cracked with fatigue. “A few days of bed rest and I’ll wager the little lady here is good as new.”

  Piper turned immediately into Sawyer’s embrace, trembling a little, weak with relief. She felt his lips move against her temple. “Go ahead and cry,” he told her softly, patting her back. “God knows, you’ve earned the right.”

  * * *

  THERE WOULD BE no school that day, fortunately for Piper, who probably couldn’t have kept her eyes open to teach. Doc gave a dime to the local newspaper boy and told him to spread the word, along with the just-printed edition of the weekly Blue River Gazette.

  He and Sawyer shook hands, and Piper greeted Cherokee, who’d stood patiently at the hitching rail all night long, even though he’d come untied at some point. Stroking the horse’s velvety nose, she promised him an extra ration of grain.

  Then Doc headed off toward his place, doubtless girding his loins for battle as he went, and Piper and Sawyer made for the schoolhouse, in the other direction, Sawyer leading Cherokee along behind.

  Piper couldn’t recall when she’d ever been so tuckered out, or so full of happiness. There would be no outbreak of diphtheria, at least for the time being, and Ginny-Sue was going to be all right.

  As soon as they’d reached the schoolhouse, Sawyer put Cherokee away in the shed, and Piper went along, partly to help, and partly to keep her word about the grain.

  While Sawyer removed Cherokee’s bridle and then proceeded to give the animal a quick brushing down, Piper plunged a hand into one of the feed sacks Clay had brought in from the ranch and held out her palm, heaping with grain.

  “Watch your fingers,” Sawyer warned, but he was smiling as he spoke.

  Piper just laughed.

  Cherokee ate delicately, for a big-jawed creature with enormous teeth, and Piper patted his head when he’d finished, and called him a good boy.

  “Hey,” Sawyer teased. “I’m starting to get jealous.”

  Piper made a face at him, but then she sobered a little. “Do you think Doc will really stand up to Eloise?” she asked.