All or Nothing (21 page)

Chapter 30

RuthAnne watched the subtle rise and fall of Ross’s chest while he slept. Men in uniform seemed to be everywhere, milling about. The laundresses had come and offered food, clean bandages, and prayers. And that was what he needed most of all. Ross might require weeks of recovery, if he recovered at all. She had no way of knowing. She wasn’t a doctor. A sob lodged itself in her throat as she leaned on the table. She had finally stopped long enough to realize what she had done for this poor man.

There had been so much blood. He had been thrown from his horse into a rock, Bowen said. Landed hard and had been unconscious for over an hour. In the light of the lamps, she carefully shaved his hair around the wound. She had knitted him back together with the careful hands and tiny stitches of a seasoned seamstress. Bowen stood beside her, though everyone else had fled the room when she explained the task at hand. Someone would have to hold his head and the flaps of skin together while she stitched. Tight. With hands and arms washed to the elbow, they had pieced Ross MacEvoy back together again. Thank God he wasn’t awake, was all that she could think.

When it was all over, she started shaking. Bowen had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. Someone had given her a mug of tea. She heard strange music from outside. A drum. Chanting. As if it were coming from very far away.

Ross MacEvoy looked pale and small. His head was bruised, but she had inspected his skull as thoroughly as possible and was fairly certain all was intact. Still, dark hollows had formed below his eyes. He looked like he was sleeping, and yet...it was too quiet. His head wound would heal. The body was an amazing creation. It was infection that concerned her now. But he would have to fight that off himself. She had gotten him clean. She was sure of that. She had done all that she could do. The rest was in God’s hands. Outside, Charley sang the song of his Yavapai ancestors. It was a strange, lyrical tune. Sad. Anxious. RuthAnne sent her own prayers up for this fallen soldier.

****

“Where is he?” Josie demanded, bursting into the room. Ross’s wife wore a sensible tan skirt, apron, and loose white blouse, a small mound at her belly the only sign of the child growing within her. Her wealth of dark hair was swept back from a sheet-white face; her dark eyes were full of worry, expecting the worst.

RuthAnne looked up sharply, startled awake from the short nap she had allowed herself while watching her patient. She pointed across the room to Ross’s resting form. He was covered with a thin sheet, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. The bleached bandages were wrapped tightly around his head.

Josie leapt toward her husband, but RuthAnne spoke out sharply. “No. Don’t touch him without washing first.”

Glaring at her, Josie considered this for half a second and then nodded. Though it looked like she wanted to rip RuthAnne limb from limb, she quickly washed her hands and arms with soap and water from the basin.

Josie fell to Ross’s side, whispering to her broken husband and brushing his face with butterfly kisses. She inspected every inch of him: his cheeks, shoulders, hands, chest, and arms. She looked him over with sharp eyes, cooing over every abrasion and weighing their meaning toward her husband’s fate. It could have been much worse. Her Spanish words were foreign, but their meaning was full of her relief.

She traced the air above his bandaged head, fingers feather-light and birdlike as she inspected the damage done. RuthAnne averted her eyes from this tender, sweet moment. Josie was a woman, grateful that her husband was alive; Ross had been returned to her, but for how long? He radiated heat, skin flushed. He had developed a fever. RuthAnne chewed her lip, mind churning with thoughts of all that could go wrong.

She stood, stretched, and with a gentle squeeze to Josie’s shoulder, she left the two to be alone. Outside, Bowen leaned against the adobe post hospital wall. She walked over and placed a careful hand on his wounded arm. Her thoughts flicked to Josie and how she had all but covered Ross’s body with her own. The bond between husband and wife, so close as to not be able to tell where one stopped and the other began. She drew her fingers quickly away from Bowen as if burned.

“How is it?”

“I’ll make it.” His words were full of meaning. He would survive. Would his friend?

She had no answers for him, nodding instead to the post hospital. “It’s good that she’s here. If he is going to come back, it won’t be for soldiering.”

Silent understanding passed between them. They walked together through the shady cottonwood grove. Somewhere, anywhere, just to be out in the open air. To breathe. To feel alive.

She could hear the creek beyond, the slight breeze rustling in the leaves. Though the sunlight was hot, the breeze tickled and cooled her exposed neck and arms. Bowen was so near that her shoulder almost brushed his side. Goose bumps rose on her arms, but she knew it had nothing to do with the temperature.

Their hands somehow found each other, as if of their own volition. His fingers wrapped around hers, thumb idly tracing the back of her hand. It was reassuring, but more, somehow. He helped her step over a log as they crossed the old canal to the edges of the Rillito. The low creek water ebbed and flowed over the rocks. Its music filled her head and soothed her soul.

“I’ve never seen a man fall so hard or fast as Ross did for Josie,” Bowen said as they wandered together.

He drew her down to sit on the sandy beach by the water’s edge, pulling her close in the cool shade. The dappled light through fluttering leaves alternately shadowed and brightened his face.

“It was the same with her. She’s always said it was that hot, Mexican blood. Full of passion and romance...he didn’t stand a chance, once she set her sights on him. That Josie Jerez, she had a powerful aim...” He let out a small laugh of remembrance.

When RuthAnne leaned her body against his, the last piece of her puzzle finally clicked into place. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. “I think I finally understand what he meant.”

His words were thick, heavy with the emotion of the day. She looked up at him, seeing the line of his jaw; his dark hair that curled around his collar; the subtle shadow of his beard on his cheeks; the cleft of his chin; the intensity of his eyes. Still, she said nothing. Waiting.

“This is a hard life for a woman, RuthAnne. It’s not like back east, where people settle their differences in front of a judge. Today’s testament to that; Josie was sure that she’d finally lost her husband forever. You never know when we’re coming back...gone weeks at a time. What kind of way is that to have a marriage? To raise a family?”

Finally, she found her voice. “Who are you trying to convince, Captain? Me? Or you?”

Their gazes locked. She wanted to memorize every detail of his face, this moment, but there were no more words. Bowen drew her in for a soft, sweet kiss. Their lips met with the barest touch, and emotion washed a tidal wave, threatening to drown them both.

A vivid rush swept from the top of her head to the tips of her toes as their souls danced together. Their hearts beat in time. He filled every part of her, his soft, full lips warm on hers. He drank deeply, and she opened herself to him. His arm circled her waist, his strength surprising her as he laced his fingers in her golden hair, possessing her. Breathing her name on the wind, he embraced her fully. They were one body. One soul. As their kiss deepened, so did her feelings for this soldier. This man. Bowen Shepherd. She let it power over her in a torrent. Love. Passion. Devotion. All entwined together.
All or nothing
. She would give him all of her, if she could...but she could feel the power of his restraint. See the pain of longing in his eyes.

When their lips parted, their gazes remained locked. The rhythm of the water played in harmony with birdsong and the rustle of curling yellow leaves blowing along the shoreline. From the far end of the fort she heard a cadence being called. Troops must be returning from somewhere; as always, they were accompanied with the sounding of a bugle.

Reality beckoned, but Bowen continued to hold her. He drew her in for a long, firm embrace, his body trembling against hers. They were two halves of the same whole. As she relaxed into the strength of his arms, she smiled, realizing that he finally knew it, too.

After a long moment, he drew away. Standing, he pulled her to her feet with his good arm. Clearly, Bowen would ask no more from her than that tender kiss. She remained in awe of the need that filled her. She would share her life with this man. She had found love as she had never known it could exist. There were no words as he settled her hand in the crook of his good arm and walked her back to the hospital.

Chapter 31

A different twist filled RuthAnne’s chest as she watched Bowen ride off to the east with Reggie. Her thoughts were full of the day before, of what they’d spoken, and the intimacy they shared. In her heart, she’d become a wife once again, filled with thoughts of love—of the future. She prayed they would have one as he went off into the unknown.

The pass crawled with opportunists in search of treasure. She knew Bowen intended to put a stop to it once and for all. His voice barked with commanding orders as the company rode off. She waited. Watched. Prayed that he would turn to see her bidding him farewell. His shoulders were square and his back to her. Still, he must have sensed the weight of her gaze as he pulled his horse to a stop, letting the soldiers trot on ahead of him.

With a flick of the reins, he turned General around and rode to where she stood at the rise of a small hill.

“Ma’am.” He nodded to her. The official tone in his voice would have upset her had it not been for the glint of humor in his eye.

“Captain.” She all but giggled. Then, reaching up to General’s black mane, she gave the horse a good stroke. General nickered and lowered his stately head to her, rolling his bit in his mouth. She found her voice and spoke from her heart. “God go with you, Bowen.”

He stepped from the saddle, reins in one hand, the other reaching out toward her. She stepped to his side, and he removed his wide-brimmed, navy blue hat. “And with you, RuthAnne.”

He drew her close and leaned down to kiss her gently. Her heart filled her breast with warmth, and the depth of his kiss reached to the tips of her toes. She could get used to this. They parted, and he cupped her cheek with a gloved hand. “Time to go to work.”

He stepped back into the stirrup, swinging a leg over in a swift and dance-like movement. With a nod, he was off. When he would return was a mystery. His safety was in the hands of the Lord and his own good sense, which she trusted him to use. She knew better than to ask why he had to go back. The quest to bring the criminal back to justice drove him on. And if he found the man who shot him and injured his friend it would be even more of a reason to celebrate.

She watched until he vanished into the desert hills. The waiting arms of the mountains beckoned beyond. Their majestic peaks and slopes rose like titans from the desert floor, keeping watch over the pitiful humans below. Loneliness swept through her soul.

With Ross returned to his home in Josie’s tender care, there was nothing to do but get back to work. Idle hands were the devil’s playthings; her mother had always said so. With thoughts turning toward the trunk full of dresses sent from Amanda, and the promise and possibility of them, she returned to her quarters with deliberate steps.

RuthAnne wandered into the laundresses’ quarters. Dolly looked up from fussing with Katie’s curls. Katie couldn’t get away fast enough as her mother’s attentions were diverted, and she ran out of the room with a slight wave to them both.

Dolly sighed heavily and gave RuthAnne a solid hug. “With everyone gone, there’s not much to do around here but clean up. That’s the third time I’ve redone Katie’s pigtails. I can’t stand days like this. How’d it go with Ross?”

“Josie’s taken him home. Time will tell. The doctor will be out to their ranch later. Probably to tell what a horrible job I did!” They exchanged smiles, knowing she was being modest. If not for her quick work, he would have died for certain. The whole fort knew it.

“We do have one task in front of us,” Dolly said. “I’ve got a list of women and their measurements. We’ll plan a dance on Friday in honor of Ross’ recovery.”

“I doubt if he’ll be well enough by then, Dolly...”

“Well, we’ll plan another when he’s well enough to come out, then. Any excuse’ll do, you know.” She waved a hand and winked. “It’s not often we get this chance to celebrate a life saved. More often than not, it’s to honor one we’ve lost.”

RuthAnne nodded in understanding. She took the list Dolly offered and looked over the names with interest. Her eyes widened with her grin. It was time to get started with their fledgling project.

Chapter 32

Another long week passed, filled with infernal heat and storm clouds that gathered around the mountains but refused to bring rain. RuthAnne kept her eyes trained to the east, waiting for the return of the task force. And Bowen.

This week had also seen a new stream of patrons into the laundresses’ quarters, one rarely seen before. To the unaware, it simply looked as if women were coming and going, carrying bundles and leaving with empty hands and a lighter step.

Inside the laundresses’ quarters, the scissors and needles flew as RuthAnne trained Dolly, Moira, and anyone else who cared to learn about cutting and fitting dresses in the latest fashions. She interviewed the ladies as they traipsed in, getting a feel for what they would be comfortable wearing. She sketched ideas and various styles for them, using lead pencils and slate normally reserved for the children’s schoolwork. The best were transferred to brown paper and tacked to the wall, patterns made to fit women in a wide array of sizes and shapes.

“What time is it, Doll?” RuthAnne wiped her forehead. Her fingers ached from pushing yards and yards of fabric through the machine, just as her foot throbbed from running the treadle.

“Almost four. Let’s just finish this before Mrs. Anderson comes for her fitting.”

“Mrs. Anderson’s already here!” a tentative voice called from the front room.

Dolly hopped up, dropping her work to the floor. RuthAnne yelped, rescuing the taffeta from the freshly swept dirt floor.
She
’
ll never learn
, RuthAnne thought, brushing away the dust.

Dolly returned with Bella Anderson, who walked in with delicate steps and a wide smile just as RuthAnne finished the fastenings.

“Please tell me you could do something with that dress. My figure’s just not been the same since Johnny Jr. was born.” She ran her hands down her sides to wide, round hips, patting the rump she considered oversized as well. “Bearing children changes you. Good thing my Johnny doesn’t seem to care one way or the other.”

RuthAnne saw the light and love in Bella’s rich, brown eyes. She had a tumble of enviable auburn hair curling down her back and the smooth porcelain skin of a china doll. “You’ll be lovely in this. Let me just snip these threads here, and we’ll see for sure.”

RuthAnne clipped and inspected, seeing Bella’s hands twitch for wanting to touch the gorgeous fabric. It shone like sunlight on water in a vibrant daisy yellow. “Look how this compliments your coloring. Your husband’ll be the luckiest man at the party!”

RuthAnne directed her anxious customer behind the privacy screen and into her bloomers. While she stood, unabashed in patched cotton, on top of a crate hauled in for this purpose, they showed Bella how to hold her hands and arms up over her head, as if she were diving into a lake. With a nod, the two women settled the brilliant yellow taffeta around Bella’s torso as they stood in front of a cracked floor-length mirror.

The effect was instantaneous. Bella’s face lit up as RuthAnne fastened the hooks and eyes. No need for a corset, as she considered them evil creations, RuthAnne explained the stays she had sewn directly into the dress.

“They’re made from strips of reeds.”

“I can breathe!” Bella whooshed her breath in and out, demonstrating.

“That’s the idea.”

Dolly busily pulled loose threads from the waist of Bella’s dress and explained further. “RuthAnne had the notion to fashion stays from those reeds down by the creek’s edge. Isn’t the effect fabulous?”

“Well, whalebone stays are the best, you know,” RuthAnne said.

“But they’re almost impossible to come by and far too expensive for most of us...uncomfortable as all get out, if you ask me. Real bamboo’d be better, when Whit gets his hands on some. But this’ll do.” Dolly finished fiddling with the dress so Bella could enjoy it. “Take a turn, but mind that you don’t topple off the box.”

“Oh, this is
perfect
. I never dreamed...” Bella swished the skirts around her ankles. Her large, doe eyes filled with tears of gratitude. The yellow made her skin look golden, rich, and lovely. The three-quarter length gossamer sleeves enhanced her round shape rather than hiding it. “I look like myself again. As I did before we married, but...”

“But a woman, not a girl.” Dolly winked. “Bella, you’ll be the belle of the ball!” They hugged.

“Now, hold still.” RuthAnne took final notes and affixed the hemline with pins once Bella stopped her twirling on the apple box.

Bella reluctantly returned the dress and slipped back into her green gingham walking dress. She pressed some coins into RuthAnne’s hand. “It isn’t much, I’m afraid. But it would never be enough. You’ve given me quite a gift today, Miss Newcomb. I’m powerful grateful.”

They watched her leave with a spring in her step. “Now, if that don’t beat all!” Dolly laughed, counting the money and tucking it into the top drawer of RuthAnne’s bureau along with the other coins and bills neatly collected from their clients’ purses. “I don’t know why you don’t just run to town and shop up a storm.”

“That’s not how you run a business, Dolly. You scrimp. Save. And put all of your earnings into your future. That is, if you’re going to do it right.”

RuthAnne flexed her hands and stretched, walking to the door and looking out toward the rise of the Rincon Mountains in the east. She saw no sign of dust clouds; heard no trumpeting of arriving soldiers. A warm breeze stirred up a dust devil across the compound, blowing dirt, dust, and stray papers up into the air in a whirl before it vanished out of sight.

“No sign?” Dolly’s hand was warm on her shoulder.

RuthAnne gave a weak smile. “I’m terribly obvious, aren’t I?”

“You’re a woman waiting for her man now. That takes some getting used to.”

They set back to their chores, and RuthAnne mulled that over. Was Bowen her man? Did the kiss they had shared truly bind them together as she imagined that it had? Did he feel the same? Her heart yearned, like it would pour out of her chest and into a puddle on the floor.

Dolly collected trimmings, threads, and pins off the threadbare rug and paused. “You know, Bella was our last customer. There’s nothing more to do this week. It’s only Thursday, but why don’t you head out? Go and check on your patient. Ross and Josie would be glad to see you. I’ll hold down the fort, so to speak.”

“Do you think I could make it by sundown?”

“Honey, it’s August. You could make it there and back again before the sun goes down. Go see Alex for a horse. He’ll be pleased to chat with you; anything that keeps a man from working in all of this heat is a welcome excuse. Especially if it’s a pretty girl.”

With a quick hug, RuthAnne headed for the stables. She found Alex McDole mucking out the stalls, his hair wet with sweat, shirt soaked through from exertion. He swore a blue streak under his breath, ranting something about the way things should be, would be, when he had his own ranch. RuthAnne worked her fingers in her riding gloves, waiting for him to notice her, and finally cleared her throat to let him know he had an audience. Alex looked up with a start.

He straightened to his full height, sweeping a long-fingered hand through his shock of blonde hair. The sun on his face had aged him, making him appear older than his twenty-something years. His clear blue eyes went wide, caught in the act of complaining, but softened as they settled on RuthAnne.

She stood primly, straightening her dark brown split skirt and adjusting the waist of her billowy white shirt.

“Why, Miss Newcomb. Ain’t you a picture. What brings you by on this blistering hot day?”

“I’m afraid I’ve come for a favor.” She smiled, she hoped winsomely. “Would it be possible for you spare a horse for a day or two?”

“You running away, Miss Newcomb?” Alex leaned his wooden pitchfork against the dirt-brown adobe wall and winked at her.

She noticed how blue his eyes were. How if he put on a pound or two, he would actually be a fine specimen of masculinity. As it was, he was so tall and lanky that he gave one the impression of a walking skeleton with a shock of blonde hair.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Alex. I just...would like to pay a call to a friend.”

Alex cast a look over to the corral. “This one’s a mite more spirited than the last, I’m afraid. Are you up to it? The pickings are slim around here with everyone out.” They walked to inspect the white and brown paint mustang just finishing his dinner. The horse eyed Alex warily, giving a stomp of one hoof and a low whinny. “His name’s Broomtail. Not the prettiest of the lot, but he’s sturdy. Knows his way back home, if’n you lose yours.”

RuthAnne stood at Broomtail’s head, stroking his white muzzle and inspecting his mane, neck, and shoulders. She coughed at the dust that rose from his back when she gave him a good pat. The horse shook his withers at the base of his long neck with a hint of appreciation.

“He’ll do. I’ll help you get him ready.” She followed Alex into the tack room as he gathered saddle, blanket, and bridle.

She rounded up a currycomb, brush, and hoof pick. In tandem, they got the horse saddled up and set to ride.

Stepping into the stirrup Alex had adjusted for her, RuthAnne squeezed his hand. “Thank you. If anyone asks...”

“I ain’t seen you, but if’n I had, you probably were headed into town.” He winked, hand to the bridle, holding just tight enough to keep her from leaving. Their eyes met and held a long moment. An uncomfortable feeling washed over her at the unsettling look he leveled upon her. “Just between you and me, RuthAnne, what was it like?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean...” She set her boots solidly into the stirrups, wrapping her hands around the leather reins.

“Coming face to face with that big, bad Mexican. El Tejano. Was he as scary as folks say?”

RuthAnne’s mouth went dry at the mention of the bandit. Why was Alex pressing her for information?

He looked hopeful for a response, and made it clear he’d listen to whatever grim detail she’d give him, as he stepped closer. Could Alex be the bandit with the mask that wreaked terror upon all who had seen him and lived to tell the tale? That was ridiculous. Alex McDole was the wrong size; the wrong shape, entirely. Where Alex was lean and lanky, El Tejano had been well built, of average height and weight. Strong, overpowering while not looming. No. Alex was just a boy with a powerful imagination. He wasn’t the man who haunted her dreams. The man Bowen had made it quite clear he would bring to justice come hell or high water.

She adjusted her seat in the saddle. Her knees rested tight against the horse’s sides. She could feel the large animal breathing deeply beneath her. She heard the hollow clicking of the bridle as he worked it against his teeth. Broomtail was ready to go, and so was she. “Thanks again, Alex. I hope I’m not putting you out...”

“They said he took you to his hideout. Is that true?” Alex hazarded a glance her way, and she caught a glint in his eye. As if he knew something. Something more.

Her words seized in her throat, forcing her to swallow through it and smile to hide her concern. “Now, Alex. Don’t go getting romantic on me. There was a storm that night, don’t you remember?”

“How could I forget? You all came in like drowned rats.” He shook his head at the memory.

“And I’m a stranger here. I need a horse that knows its way home or I’d be wandering in the desert for an age! You told me so yourself.”

“Aw, RuthAnne, can’t you tell me something? I just love a good mystery. Don’t you?”

His eyes were full of adventure, and at once she realized his plan. Alex had a mind to go up into the mountains himself. He wanted to find El Tejano’s treasure without a thought to the risk.

“Truthfully, I’d rather not be part of this particular one. But I’ll tell you this, my friend. He was terrifying. And intimidating...and doing what he does, or chasing after him, is no way to earn a fortune, Alex. If you have faith, and are smart with your savings, you’ll get your ranch when it’s time—and a wife to share it with.” She squeezed his bony hand.

He nodded slowly, eyes sweeping the ground before meeting her gaze. His wistful look showed the stable master’s mind was filled with thoughts of adventure beyond the stable gates. He gave the horse a smack on the rump, sending them on their way. She sent him a wave over her shoulder as she rode out of the compound.