Too Soon to Die, page 18
“I don’t think so.” Denny thought about it and realized she wasn’t just trying to be encouraging; she really didn’t believe that the sickness would claim her mother. To think of her dying was just inconceivable. “She’s really strong, and you heard the doctor say that was a good thing. She’ll fight off whatever it is that’s ailing her, I’m sure of that.”
“I hope so. I haven’t even known her that long.” Brad was trying not to sniffle. “Do you think she’d mind . . . if I called her Grandma? Smoke said I could call him Grandpa.”
Even under the circumstances, just the thought of calling Smoke and Sally Jensen Grandpa and Grandma almost made Denny laugh. They were such vital people that they seemed much younger than their actual years. And yet it was true that Brad was their step-grandson, and it was entirely possible, even likely, that there would be grandchildren-by-blood in the Jensen family in the not so distant future. Melanie was young enough that she and Louis could have a whole passel of sons and daughters.
The likelihood of her presenting any grandbabies to her parents was a lot smaller, Denny mused.
In answer to Brad’s question, she said, “You’ll have to wait and ask her about that once she gets better, but I really don’t think she’ll mind.”
“Okay. I’ll do that.”
She nudged his shoulder with an elbow. “Want to practice some with your lasso?”
“I’m getting pretty good at it.” A faint smile curved Brad’s lips. “Maybe better than you.”
Denny laughed. “I don’t think so! Come on.”
As Brad got the rope he’d been using, built a loop, and started trying to drop it over a fence post, Denny reflected on the notion that had crossed her mind a few minutes earlier. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to ever have children, but doing so required somebody to be the father, and Denny didn’t see anybody who fit that description on the horizon at the moment.
Her thoughts went back to the night of the social. While she had cleaned some of the blood off his face, Steve Markham sat there for a few minutes, breathing hard as he tried to recover from the battle with Brice Rogers. Then he had reached up, closed his hand around the wrist of the hand holding the cloth, and lifted his eyes to hers.
* * *
“You don’t have to do that, Denny,” he said. “I don’t reckon I deserve to have a gal like you takin’ care of me, after all the trouble I’ve caused.”
“You didn’t start it,” she pointed out. Then she shrugged a little and added, “Well, maybe you did, with some of the things you said and the way you put your arm around my shoulders, but still, you didn’t throw the first punch. Brice made the decision to do that.”
“Yeah, but he wasn’t thinkin’ straight.” Markham chuckled. “Bein’ around you would keep just about any man from thinkin’ straight.”
“That’s enough flattery. That’s some of how we got into this, remember?” She moved his hand from her wrist and bent to the task again. “Now sit still and let me clean some of these cuts and scrapes. What we really need is something to put on them.”
“How about some whiskey?” he asked with a smile as he slipped a small silver flask out of an inside pocket in his vest. “I know I ain’t supposed to have this, but I figure I ain’t the only cowboy who brung in a little who-hit-John tonight.”
“Not by a long shot,” Denny muttered as she took the flask from him. Keeping her back to the rest of the room so it wouldn’t be quite so obvious what she was doing, she got a corner of the handkerchief wet with the strong-smelling liquor and began wiping it on the injuries.
Markham caught his breath sharply and grimaced.
Denny told him, “Stay still.”
After a few more minutes of work, she had tended to his wounds the best she could and handed the flask back to him.
He took the bloody handkerchief from her as well. “I’ll wash this for you.”
“That’s not necessary. Just throw it away.”
“Not hardly! If nothin’ else, at least it’s a momento from a, uh, what do you call it, an auspicious evenin’.”
“I don’t know about auspicious. It’s been eventful, though. Nobody can deny that.”
“Walk outside with me? I could use some fresh air.”
Denny hesitated. She looked around the room. Somebody had wiped up the drops of blood that had fallen on the floor, the musicians had started playing another tune, and folks were dancing again. She saw that she and Markham were still the objects of some people’s attention, but for the most part those who had come to have a good time had gone back to that.
She didn’t see Brice anywhere. Maybe he actually had left.
“All right,” she told Markham. “I think I’d like that, too.”
She was aware of eyes still on them as they made their way through the town hall to the doors. There was nothing unusual about couples stepping outside during the evening to stroll under the stars, but the two of them had a bit more notoriety than normal because of Markham’s fight with Brice. Denny just did her best to ignore the attention. She didn’t figure it was anybody else’s business what she did.
The air still held a hint of the day’s heat, but it was beginning to cool off and felt good on her face as she and Markham walked into the dappled shadows under the trees that grew near the building. They weren’t the only ones out there. She heard the low murmur of male and female voices from not far away. The shadows provided a certain amount of privacy, but enough light came through the nearby windows that it wasn’t like the strolling couples were completely unobserved. A suitor might try to steal a kiss, but that was about as far as such things ever went at one of those affairs.
“I reckon I lost my head in there,” Markham said when they paused. “I sure am sorry about that.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Denny told him.
“Yeah, I do,” he insisted. “Ain’t no excuse for brawlin’ at what should’ve been a friendly occasion for all concerned.”
“Well . . . try to remember that next time.” Even in the shadows, Denny could see the grin that spread across his face.
“I’m hopin’ there won’t be no next time. Maybe Rogers has finally got the idea that you ain’t interested in him no more.” When Denny didn’t respond to that statement, Markham asked, “You ain’t interested in him, right, Denny?”
“At this point, that’s still none of your business, Steve.”
“It ain’t, huh?” Without warning, Markham took her in his arms and kissed her. It took her by surprise when his lips pressed hers, and her first impulse was to pull away, after which she would give him a good hard slap for being so bold.
She didn’t do either of those things. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back, and it felt good.
Long seconds ticked past while they embraced.
Finally, Markham lifted his head. “Still say it’s none of my business?” he asked.
Denny had a little trouble finding her voice, but when she did, she told him, “Don’t push me, Steve. I don’t like that. You ought to have figured that out by now, even if we haven’t really known each other all that long.”
“Sure,” he said easily. “You know I didn’t mean no offense.”
“I’m not offended,” she said, and that wasn’t a lie.
What she was . . . was confused.
* * *
Brad’s triumphant whoop broke into her reverie. She looked over at him and saw him yank the loop tight where it rested around the fence post that had been his target.
“Just like Smoke—I mean, Grandpa—taught me.”
“Good job,” Denny said.
He went to the fence and loosened the rope, then, coiling the lasso, he walked over to Denny and held it out to her. “Want to try?”
“Sure.” She welcomed the distraction. She took the rope, shook out the loop, twirled it a few times over her head, and then made her throw. The loop sailed out, opening perfectly, and settled over the post. With a flick of her wrist, she snapped it closed.
Brad let out a whistle of admiration. “That was pretty slick!”
“I’ve roped a lot of calves. A fence post isn’t running and trying to get away.”
“Can you teach me how to rope a calf?”
“We’ll get around to that,” Denny promised. She glanced toward the house. She had distracted Brad from worrying about Sally, and she was grateful she’d been able to do that. The concern for her mother still lurked in her own mind, though, crowded in there along with everything else she had to worry about.
CHAPTER 37
Smoke was in the kitchen the next morning, frowning as he drank some of the coffee he’d found Inez Sandoval brewing when he came in from the living room, where he had slept in a chair. Inez had reported that Sally had spent a restless night, but that an hour or so before dawn had fallen into a deep sleep. Inez had come downstairs to put the coffee on and get started on breakfast. Sally normally took care of that while Inez prepared breakfast for the crew, but the ranch hands would have to rustle up their own grub this morning while Inez took care of the Jensen family.
Smoke had tried to tell her that he wasn’t hungry, but she’d insisted that he eat some flapjacks and bacon. Once he started, he discovered that he had more of an appetite than he thought. He had cleaned the plate and was nursing his second cup of coffee. Denny and Brad weren’t up yet, and Inez had gone to check on Sally.
The way the cook/housekeeper hurried into the kitchen made Smoke fear the worst for a second. He sprang to his feet and was about to ask her what was wrong when he realized she had a big smile on her face.
“Señor Smoke, Señora Sally is awake. The fever has come down. She still feels warm to me, but not like before.”
“I’m going up to see her,” Smoke declared. His tone made it clear that this time, he wasn’t going to be denied.
He practically charged up the stairs, much like he had gone up San Juan Hill with Teddy Roosevelt and the rest of the Rough Riders a few years earlier. The bedroom door was open, and as his broad shoulders filled it, he said, “Sally?”
“Smoke.” The voice from the bed was weak, but he had never been happier to hear it. He rushed to her side and gazed down at her in love and relief.
Rather than being pale as she had been the day before, Sally’s cheeks were a bit flushed, an indication that she was still running a little fever. Her thick, dark hair was damp with sweat. Smoke rested the back of his hand against her forehead for a few seconds. Definitely still warm, he thought, but not burning up the way she had been before.
“Wh-what happened?” she asked in a strained whisper. “I remember being in the parlor and . . . and not feeling well, and then you came in . . . Was Dr. Steward here? I seem to recall seeing him, but it’s all fuzzy, like . . . like a dream . . .”
“He was here, all right,” Smoke said. “You’re sick, Sally. Mighty sick. But you’re better now, and you’re going to keep getting better until you’re well.”
“Oh, Smoke . . . I’m sorry . . .”
“Sorry?” he repeated. “What in the world are you sorry for? You haven’t done anything wrong!”
“I’m sure you’ve all . . . been worried.”
A damp rag lay next to the water basin on the bedside table. He picked it up and wiped it gently against her cheek. He could tell from the way she sighed that the coolness felt good.
“You’re damn right we’ve been worried,” he said, the gruffness of his voice trying but failing to conceal the depth of the emotions he felt. “You know good and well the Sugarloaf can’t get along without you. But it’s not your fault you got sick, honey. Not even close.”
“Where are . . . Denise . . . and Louis?”
“Denny’s here,” Smoke said, “but Louis is off on his wedding trip with Melanie. Don’t you remember?”
A new worry cropped up in his thoughts. What if the high fever had affected her brain? He had heard stories about people who got so hot from being sick that they were never the same afterward.
But then she said, “Oh . . . of course. How . . . silly of me. I just forgot . . . for a moment . . .”
“That’s all right,” he told her. “I’ll fetch Denny in a minute. She’ll be really happy that you’re doing better. So will Brad.”
Sally smiled and nodded weakly. She didn’t ask who Brad was, and Smoke was glad of that.
He didn’t have to fetch Denny. She appeared in the doorway, hair disheveled from sleep, clutching a robe around her. “Inez woke me up and told me Ma was better this morning.”
“That’s right,” Smoke said, beckoning her over.
Denny hurried to the bedside. “You really had us worried—”
“None of that, now,” Smoke broke in. “There’s nothing to worry about.” He hoped that was true, but a note of caution sounded in the back of his brain. Logically, it was really too soon to know if Sally was out of the woods. She was still sick, after all. Still running a fever even if it wasn’t as high as it had been the day before.
For the moment, they had hope, and that wasn’t to be discounted, either.
* * *
Dr. Enoch Steward’s buggy pulled up in front of the house around the middle of the morning. Smoke greeted the physician and told him about Sally’s improvement. Steward went directly upstairs to check on her, telling Smoke and Denny and Brad to wait in the parlor for him.
The smile on Steward’s face when he came back down the stairs was enough to make all of them heave sighs of relief.
“I believe the crisis is over,” the doctor announced. “Mrs. Jensen is still running a slight fever, and she’ll feel bad for several more days, perhaps a week, but unless her temperature shoots up again—which I don’t think it will—she should be out of danger.”
Smoke was on his feet, as were Denny and Brad. Smoke grabbed Steward’s hand, pumped it enthusiastically, and said, “We sure can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done, Doctor. That medicine you gave Sally did the trick.”
“The Aspirin powders helped a great deal, I’m sure, but her own constitution and determination probably did more to shake off the illness than anything else. Most people don’t realize just how important their own attitude is to their health.”
Denny said, “Nobody could ever complain about my mother’s attitude. She’s about as fierce and determined as anybody you’ll ever find.”
“That’s why I had high hopes for her recovery,” Steward replied with a nod. “Now, she’ll need to continue to rest for at least a week, perhaps two. When she starts to feel better, she may want to go back to her normal routine right away. Don’t let her do that. That might increase the chances of a relapse.”
Smoke nodded. “Inez and I can see to that, Doctor.”
“I’ll come back to check on her every day for a few days, and then we should be able to cut back on the visits.”
“We’ve all been in to see her this morning.” Smoke’s gesture took in himself, Denny, and Brad. “Hope that was all right.”
“Well . . . it might have been better if you’d waited another day or so, but you’d all been exposed already, so now all you can do is hope that you haven’t picked up the illness.”
“What about you, Doctor?” asked Denny. “It seems to me that you must be around sickness all the time.”
Steward smiled. “I certainly am, Miss Jensen. I’ve been lucky that I’ve never come down with anything serious. The odds may catch up with me one of these days, but that’s just part of being a physician, I’m afraid.” He put his hat on. “I need to get back to Big Rock. I’ve given Señora Sandoval detailed instructions on how to care for Mrs. Jensen. Don’t hesitate to send for me if you need me.”
He left the house, and a minute later they heard the rattle of buggy wheels as he drove off.
Brad said, “Let’s go up and see her again.”
“Hold on,” Smoke said. “You heard what the doctor said. Sally needs to rest as much as she can. There’ll be time to visit with her later. For now, let’s just go on about our business.” He looked at Denny. “You and I need to go back to the office and talk.”
A slight frown appeared on her face. “I want to talk to you, too.”
“What about me?” asked Brad.
Smoke put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and said, “I’ve got an important job for you, Brad. I know that all the members of the crew have been worried about your grandma. I want you to go out and find Pearlie and tell him everything the doctor just said. He can spread the word among the rest of the hands. It’ll be a real load off their minds. Can you do that?”
“Sure!” Brad turned and hurried out of the house.
Smoke and Denny didn’t say anything else until they were in Smoke’s office. Then Smoke perched a hip on a corner of the desk and said, “That was mighty good news, eh?”
Denny crossed her arms and her frown deepened as she looked at him. “You told Doc Steward that you and Inez would take good care of Ma. What about me? You think I won’t pitch in and help out?”
“I know you would if you were here,” Smoke said. “But considering what the doctor told us, I’ve got a hunch that you won’t be.”
“You mean . . .”
Hoping that he wasn’t making a mistake—he hadn’t forgotten that Steve Markham would be helping deliver those horses to Bob Coburn on the Circle C—Smoke said, “You were right when you said that a Jensen ought to be going along on that trip to Montana, and under the circumstances . . . it looks like you’re elected.”
CHAPTER 38
Big Rock
Clouds of dust hung in the air along the siding where Sugarloaf cowboys were loading the horses into livestock cars. When the train bound for Cheyenne arrived later that morning, it would pick up those cars and start the horses on their long, roundabout trip to their new home in Montana.
Denny and Cal sat on horseback, watching the loading. The mounts Bob Coburn was buying were well-behaved, but if any of them got spooked and tried to break away, Denny and Cal were there to head them off.
