One Pink Rose; One White Rose; One Red Rose (20 page)

After he'd removed the tray, he sat down on the side of the bed to discuss the situation. “We need to talk.”

She dropped the napkin onto her lap. “You're leaving.”

“Isabel . . .”

“I understand.”

Her face had turned stark white. He shook his head. “No, I'm not leaving. I'm going to have to do something about your lack of supplies.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

“I could use more flour and sugar. I'm almost out.”

“I'm going into town.”

“They won't let you come back.”

He put his hand on top of hers. “Listen to me. It isn't good for you to get upset. I don't plan to stroll into the general store in the middle of the day. Give me a little more credit than that.”

“Then how . . .”

He grinned. “I'm going in during the night.”

She looked shocked by the possibility. “You're going to rob Mr. Cooper?”

“We need supplies, and I want to pick up some clothes. I only packed one extra shirt and pair of pants to come here. I'll leave money on the counter.”

“Oh, you can't do that. Mr. Cooper will know someone came into the store and he'll tell Boyle. He tells him everything. It's too risky, Douglas. One of them might guess you're helping me. Wait, I know what you can do. Hide the money under the papers on Cooper's desk behind the counter. He'll eventually find it, and it doesn't matter if he ever figures out how it got there. We'll know we didn't steal, and our consciences will be clear. Yes, that's what you should do.”

“Why does Cooper tell Boyle everything?”

“He just does,” she replied. “So do some of the others. Only a handful of men stood up to Boyle. Dr. Simpson was one of them. He even lied to him for my sake and told him the baby wouldn't be born until the end of September. He was trying to give me more time to figure out a way to get away from Boyle.”

“Good. We'll let Boyle keep on believing the lie for as long as possible. Did the doctor ever come out here?”

“Once.”

“Did he tell you where the lookouts were?”

“I remember he told me they were lazy because they stay on the hill just outside town, blocking the road leading here. They take turns going back and forth into Sweet Creek.”

“I saw those lookouts on my way here. I was wondering if he mentioned any others posted near you. It was dark when I came down the last hills, and I might have missed them.”

“I don't think there are any more. There really isn't any reason for them to watch the cabin. They know I can't go into the wilderness. If I tried to go west, it would take over a week to get to the next town. In my condition, I couldn't risk it. No, the only safe way out is through Sweet Creek.”

“If they aren't watching the cabin, that's good news.”

“Why?”

“The longer I can go without being spotted, the better, and if they aren't watching the field, I can go back and forth from the barn and exercise the horses. I'll make certain Boyle's men haven't changed their lookout points first.”

“When will you leave for the general store?”

“As soon as it's dark. Are you going to be okay by yourself?”

“Yes, but it's dangerous for you to go riding in the dark.”

“It won't be any problem,” he exaggerated. He tried to pull his hand away from hers, but she held on tight. “Tell me everything you know about the layout of the town.”

Her memory for details was impressive. She described each building in detail. She even knew exactly where Cooper had his inventory placed inside his store.

“Now tell me where Dr. Simpson's house is located. I want to find out how many men are watching him.”

She did as he asked, and then said, “You won't be able to bring much back with you unless you take the buggy, and it's too dangerous. Boyle's men will hear the squeaky wheels.”

“I can fix that. You stop worrying, and don't expect me back before morning. I'll leave the rifle and extra bullets next to your bed . . . just in case Boyle decides to come by. God, Isabel, I hate to leave you, but I . . .”

She threw her arms around his neck. “Please come back. I know you didn't ask for any of this. I'm so sorry I got you involved, but, Douglas, I really hope you'll come back anyway.”

He put his arms around her and held her tight. “Calm down. I'm coming back. I promise.”

She couldn't seem to let go. She hated herself for being so dependent on him. She had never depended on her husband, but then she had understood his weaknesses. Douglas was the complete opposite of him. Nothing seemed to faze Douglas.

“Parker needs you until I get stronger.”

“I'll be back,” he promised once again. “You have to let go of me.”

“Can I do anything to help you?”

“Sure. Give me a list of the things you need. I don't want to forget anything.”

“There's a list in the drawer in the kitchen. I started it weeks ago.” She sounded frantic when she added, “I called it my wish list.”

He didn't realize she was crying until she released him and sank back against the headboard.

“Ah, sugar. Don't cry.”

“I'm just a little emotional today. That's all.”

He had to do something to make her trust him. He checked on little Parker, then picked up his pocket watch, told her what time it was, and put it back on the dresser. When he looked at her again, he saw the fear still in her eyes.

“You know what you need, Isabel?”

“It's all down on my list,” she answered.

“I'm not talking about supplies.”

“Then, no, I don't know what I need.”

“Faith. Try finding a little while I'm gone, or you and I are going to have words when I get back.”

The hard edge in his voice didn't upset her. She was actually comforted by it. He would come back, if only to give her a piece of his mind for doubting him. He was arrogant and proud enough to do just that, and, oh, it was so wonderful to have him snapping at her. He acted as though he belonged with her and Parker.

“I didn't mean to insult you.”

“Well, you did.”

She tried to look contrite. She didn't want him to leave on a sour note. “I'll find some faith. I promise.” There was a definite sparkle in her eyes when she added, “You be careful, sugar.”

O
ld habits die hard. Douglas had never forgotten how to pick a lock or get in and out of a building without being seen. He'd spent several years living on the streets of New York City, surviving by his wits and his criminal skills, before he met his three brothers and his baby sister, and headed west. Before that, he'd been in an orphanage. Granted, he'd been only a boy when he'd perfected his criminal technique. But it was like making love to a woman. After you learned how, you never forgot.

His experience as a petty thief came in real handy now. So did the rain, for it kept the night owls inside their homes. Boyle's men weren't a problem, just an inconvenience. Douglas stashed the buggy in a cove near their lair on the hill overlooking Sweet Creek, then crept up on the four men and listened to their conversation in hopes of gaining some useful information about their boss. He didn't learn anything significant. Other than taking Boyle's name in vain several times because he'd assigned them this miserable duty, the men spent the rest of the time boasting to one another about the number of shots of whiskey they could swallow in a single sitting. They were incredibly boring, and after listening to their whining complaints for almost twenty minutes, Douglas hadn't heard anything significant. He was about to make a wide circle around them and continue on when Boyle's men decided to leave their posts and go back into town for the night. Not only had the weather finally gotten to them, but they were also certain their boss would never find out.

Their laziness made Douglas's task easier. He made six trips on his sorrel back and forth from the general store to the buggy with supplies Isabel would need, then headed across town to Dr. Simpson's cottage.

He didn't knock. He went in the back door because, just as Isabel suspected, Boyle was keeping a close watch on the physician. He had a man stationed out front. Douglas spotted the guard leaning against a hitching post across the street with a rifle in one hand and a bottle of liquor in the other. There wasn't anyone watching the back, however. Douglas figured Boyle had ordered one of his men to do just that, but like the complainers up on the hill, he'd probably sneaked home too.

Douglas had forgotten that Isabel had told him Simpson was married. His wife was tucked in nice and tight beside him, sleeping on her side with her back to her husband. All Douglas saw was a puff of gray hair above the covers.

He didn't use his gun to wake the elderly man. He simply put his hand over the doctor's mouth, whispered that he was a friend of Isabel Grant's, and asked him to come downstairs to talk.

The doctor was apparently used to being awakened in the dead of night. Babies, Douglas knew, often came during that inconvenient time. Although the physician seemed wary, he didn't argue with him.

His wife didn't wake up. Simpson shut the door behind him and led Douglas to his study. He pulled the drapes closed and then lit a candle.

“Are you really a friend of Isabel's?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And your name?”

“Douglas Clayborne.”

“You don't intend to hurt Isabel?”

“No.”

The doctor still didn't look convinced.

“I want to help her,” Douglas insisted.

“Maybe so, maybe not,” Simpson replied. “You aren't from around here, are you? How do you know our Isabel?”

“Actually, I only just met her. Her husband sold me an Arabian stallion a couple of months ago, but I was expanding my business back then and couldn't come for the horse until I'd hired some extra hands.”

“But you're a friend. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

Simpson stared at him a long minute, slowly rubbing his whiskered jaw until he had worked out whatever it was that was bothering him, and finally nodded. “Good,” he said. “She needs a friend as big and hard-looking as you, young man. I hope to God you are hard when it comes to protecting her. You know how to use that gun you're wearing?”

“Yes.”

“Are you fast and accurate?”

Douglas felt as though he were undergoing an inquisition but didn't take offense because he knew the physician had Isabel's safety uppermost in his mind. “I'm fast enough.”

“I saw your shotgun on the table in the hall,” Simpson said. “Are you also good with that weapon?”

Douglas didn't see any harm in being completely honest. “I prefer my shotgun.”

“Why is that?”

“It leaves a bigger hole, sir, and if I shoot someone, I shoot to kill.”

The doctor grinned. “I expect that's the way it ought to be,” he remarked.

He sat down behind his desk and motioned for Douglas to take a seat across from him.

He declined with a shake of his head.

“How's our girl doing? I sure wish I could see her. I expect she's getting big and awkward about now.”

“She had the baby last night.”

“Good Lord Almighty, she had the baby? It came much too soon. What'd she have? A boy or a girl?”

“A boy.”

“Did he make it?”

“Yes, but he's thin, terribly thin . . . and little. His cry is real weak too.”

Simpson leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “It's a miracle he survived. Besides being weak, is he acting sick?”

“I don't know if he is or not. He sleeps most of the time.”

“Is he nursing?”

“He's trying to,” he answered.

“Good. That's real good,” he said. “His mama's milk will fatten him up. Tell Isabel to try to nurse him every hour or so until he's stronger. He'll only take a little each time, but that's all right. If the baby refuses to eat, or can't keep it down, then we've got a real problem on our hands. I don't know what good I could do for him if he gets into trouble. He's too young for medicine. We've just got to pray he makes it. A chill will kill him, so you've got to keep him varm all the time. That's real important, son.”

“I'll keep him warm.”

“I don't want to sound grim . . . It's just, you have to understand and accept the facts. There's a good chance the baby won't make it, no matter what you do.”

“I don't want to think about that possibility.”

“If it happens, you have to help Isabel get through it. That's what friends do.”

“Yes, I will.”

“How is she doing? Did she have any problems I should know about?”

“She had a difficult time with the laboring. She looks all right now.”

“You helped her bring the baby?”

“Yes.”