The Christmas Journey (8 page)

“Almost one o’clock.”

He grimaced. “So, I was out for nearly a day.”

“Two. It’s Monday.”

Two days! And he wasn’t likely to be fit for travel today
either. He certainly hoped whatever was plaguing Belle would hold off another few days.

Miss Wylie pulled up a chair next to his bed. “So, I suppose the telegram is for your friend in Foxberry. Guess she’s probably worrying over what happened to you. ’Specially since the train started running again this morning.”

There was likely an “I told you so” lurking in her words, but Ry decided to ignore it. “Which is why I need to send the telegram off as soon as possible.”

She held the pencil over the paper. “Ready whenever you are.”

“Send it to Belle Anderson—no, make that Belle Hadley—in Foxberry, Texas.” He’d almost forgotten her married name.

Which brought up a question that had nagged at him since he first received her telegram. Where was her husband?

J
o scribbled the name and destination. She’d figured it would be this Belle person—he’d kept going on and on about needing to get to her the whole time he’d been locked in that fever. He’d even mistaken her for Belle once and tried to reach out to her.

She pushed that thought aside, feeling uncharitably annoyed by this woman she’d never even met. “What do you want it to say?”

“The text should read
Unavoidably delayed in Knotty Pine. Will resume travel earliest possible or send funds for you to travel here if you prefer. Please advise if there is anything I can do to assist in the interim. Yours, Ry”

Jo kept her head down as she wrote down his message. Had he been carrying a torch for this woman all these years? Sure sounded like it was someone he was sweet on. And someone who needed a man to look out for her.

Well,
she
didn’t need a man to look out for
her
. After all, she’d been taking care of this household for going on six years now without anybody’s help.

And once she could ease out from under that yoke, she was
fully prepared to set off to see the world, just like Aunt Pearl, all on her own. No siree, she didn’t need a man or anyone else looking out for her.

“Here we go.” Cora Beth sailed into the room, carefully balancing a tray holding a steaming bowl of broth. Jo noticed there were also the fancy details her sister was so good at—like a crisply folded napkin and a pair of pansies arranged next to the bowl. A man like Mr. Lassiter probably appreciated such niceties.

Sure enough, he gave her sister a welcoming smile. “Mmm. That smells good.”

“Cora Beth’s broth is better than Doc Whitman’s medicine for what ails you.” Jo stood. “I’ll stop by the telegraph office on my way to the livery and make sure Amos sends this right away.”

Cora Beth set the tray down. “Actually, Jo, I was hoping you’d help Mr. Lassiter with his lunch. I’m doing some baking and can’t leave things unattended for long. Besides, Mr. Lassiter has some questions about how he ended up here.”

Jo held up the piece of paper. “But the telegram—”

“Don’t worry about that.” Cora Beth plucked the note from her fingers. “Uncle Grover’ll take care of it. And he can let Freddie know you’ll be a little late getting back to the livery.” With that she breezed out of the room as if the matter were settled.

“Who’s Freddie?”

Jo shifted her focus back to the man lying in the bed. “Freddie Boggs. He’s the son of one of the local farmers. He helps out at the livery when I can’t be there.” A telltale rumbling lifted one corner of her mouth. “From the sounds your innards are making I’d say you’re ready for this broth.”

“It’s that loud, is it?”

“Uncle Grover probably heard it clear down the hall.”

He winced as he tried to sit up.

She put out a restraining hand. “Hold on. Let me help you.”

“I’m not helpless,” he grumbled.

“Wasn’t saying you were, but no point overdoing it first thing out the chute.” She grabbed a quilt from the foot of the bed and folded it into a large, plump rectangle. Then she slipped a hand under his back and provided some support and a little extra push as he sat up.

Once she had the blanket in place, she stood back. “How’s that?”

“Comfortable. Thanks.” His gaze scanned the room, pausing to study the large pin-covered maps decorating the far wall, before moving on to the mismatched furniture and the wooden train on the top of the chest of drawers.

Finally he turned back to her. “So just where am I?”

“I told you, you’re at our place. The boardinghouse.”

“But whose room is this?”

She could tell by the way he looked at her that he’d already guessed. There was really no reason for her to feel so selfconscious, but her cheeks warmed anyway. “Mine.”

He frowned. “And where are you staying?”

“One of the extra guest rooms upstairs.”

“So not only do you come to my rescue
twice
against those thugs, but you give me your room as well. Seems my debt to you keeps mounting.”

If only he would stop staring at her so…well, so fiercely.

“Don’t get to feeling you’re getting special treatment. The only reason we put you here is because it’s on the first floor and saved us having to cart your delirious carcass up the stairs.”

She pulled her chair closer and picked up the bowl and spoon. “And it’s not like I haven’t done this before. Whenever any of the family takes sick they end up in here. It’s easier for Cora Beth to keep an eye on the patient when they’re close to where she spends most of her days.”

“And at night?”

How did he know just what questions to ask to get her all flustered? “We took turns sitting with you.” Better not to dwell on how difficult the past two nights had been, how worried she’d been—they’d all been—over his condition.

Jo ladled up a spoonful of broth and gave him her cheeriest smile. “If you think this smells good, just wait until you taste it. Cora Beth is one of the best cooks in these parts.”

He swallowed and smiled in agreement. “You’re right. It’s delicious.”

“Like I said, Cora Beth has a real knack for cooking. Come Thanksgiving week, the whole house is going to fill up with some of the most toothsome smells you can imagine. Plumb makes my mouth water just thinking on it.”

“Your sister introduced herself as Mrs. Collins. Where’s her husband?”

“Philip died just on four years ago.”

“And so you moved in with her to help out.”

“You have that backward.” Jo wasn’t quite sure why his misguided assumption bothered her. “This is the home my grandfather built and where we grew up. My sister moved back in here with us.” She ladled up another spoonful. “When Philip died, Cora Beth had a two-year-old kid, another on the way and not much in the way of funds.”

“So you took her in.”

She shrugged. “She’s my sister and family takes care of each other. Besides, Ma needed help running the place, not to mention that she liked having her grandchildren close by.”

“Liked?”

He sure didn’t miss much. “Ma passed away a year after Philip.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing for you to apologize for—it wasn’t your fault. Besides, she got to see her youngest grandkids born and spend time with them. And her passing was easy. She simply went to bed one night and never woke up.” Josie stirred the broth before offering him another sip. “Ma never was one to fear dying. Always said she was just passing through this world to get to the next.”

He eyed her over the spoon, his expression like Uncle Grover’s when he was studying a new kind of bug he’d stumbled on. “So,” he said after he’d swallowed, “in addition to running the livery, you take care of a household that includes Danny, and your sister and her two kids.”

“Three kids. Cora Beth’s youngest turned out to be twins. Then there’s Uncle Grover.” She could feel the walls closing in on her just listing them all. She loved her family, but sometimes she wished they were a bit more able to fend for themselves.

“Uncle Grover?”

“He’s actually Philip’s great-uncle. A good man but kind of forgetful-like. Once Philip passed on, Uncle Grover didn’t have anyone else to watch out for him, so he just sort of tagged along with Cora Beth when she moved back here.”

“And now he’s part of the family too.”

“Family’s important. And it’s not just made up of blood kin. It’s like with Danny. When he was just a toddler, his family was passing through town and his pa got bad sick. They stayed here at the boardinghouse ’til he could get his strength back, but he never did. His ma passed two days after his pa.”

“And your folks took him in.”

“He didn’t have anyone else. And he’s as much my brother today as makes no never mind.”

She thought she saw a shift in her patient’s expression, but it was there and gone so quickly she couldn’t be sure.

“Mind if I ask a question?”

She rolled her eyes. “Seems like you’ve done nothing but since you woke up.”

He ignored her gibe. “Why did you come after me?”

She ladled up another spoonful. “I saw Clete and Otis ride out after you and something about the way they were acting just didn’t smell right. I tried to get the sheriff to handle it but he wasn’t around.”

“So you decided to come yourself.”

“Two against one just didn’t seem fair.” She lifted her chin. “Sorta like when you came to Danny’s rescue.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Not exactly the same thing. Even the Good Samaritan didn’t go chasing after trouble.”

“But he didn’t shirk his duty, either.”

“Even so, it was a brave, selfless act. You could have gotten yourself killed—very nearly did.”

She shifted, uncomfortable with the direction this had taken. “But I didn’t, thanks mostly to you.”

He brushed her words aside. Then he crooked his head. “That first shot, just before the ambush, that wasn’t a hunter, was it?”

“It was supposed to be a warning, but I was too late.”

“Not too late to save me.”

His voice had taken on that deep timbre again—the one that seemed to set an echoing vibration inside her. And he was staring at her as if trying to see deep into her mind. Whatever it was he saw there, his expression made her all fidgety feeling.

Time to change the subject. “So, with Thanksgiving and Christmas coming up, I suppose you’ll be spending time at Hawk’s Creek with your own family.”

His expression closed off. “It depends on how long Belle needs me for.”

She nodded sympathetically. “Nice of you to be willing to
sacrifice your holiday to help a friend. But maybe it’ll work out so you can do both.”

He waved a hand, dismissing her concern. “It’s not as if they’re expecting me. My family doesn’t do much to mark the holidays.”

She fed him another spoonful of soup while she absorbed that surprising bit of information. “I guess every household has its own set of traditions. But holidays just seem sort of a natural time for gathering close to family.”

His expression turned thoughtful. “Actually, it wasn’t that way when I was growing up. My mother loved the holidays and started decorating the house in late November. She always gathered family and friends around on Thanksgiving and Christmas, especially those who were alone. She made the day as festive as she could.” He paused a fraction of a second. “The year I turned thirteen, though, she passed away two days before Christmas.”

Josie’s heart went out to him and his family. “That must have been hard on all of you.”

He seemed to give himself a mental shake. “Naturally none of us felt like celebrating that year,” he said matter-of-factly. “The next year, Pa didn’t want us to bring out any of the decorations mother was so fond of, or host any of the festivities. So we had a quiet day that, except for the elaborate meal Inez insisted on cooking, was barely distinguishable from any other.”

For goodness sake! “Your pa should be ashamed of himself.”

“What?” His wrinkled brow told her it wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting.

“I don’t like to speak ill of someone I never met, but the way he acted seems mighty selfish, to my way of thinking. He robbed his children of the joy that comes with celebrating the holidays. And what about the happier memories of your mother? Do y’all ever talk about her?”

“I don’t know how we got off on this subject.” There was a bit of a huff to his tone.

“We were asking each other nosy questions is how.”

His brows lifted at that but then he grinned. “So we were.”

He leaned against the pillows as she set aside the now empty bowl. “Thank your sister for the meal. I’m feeling stronger already.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“When’s the next train to Foxberry?”

“Tomorrow.”

He nodded. “I might need some assistance, but I should be well enough to travel by then.”

“Hold on there. I don’t care if you have the Queen of Sheba waiting for you in Foxberry, you aren’t in any shape to be getting on a train, not until Doc says you are. There’ll be another southbound come through in three days. Your friend’s waited this long, a few more days won’t hurt.”

His glare would have stopped a rearing stallion. “I think I’m the best judge of what I can and can’t do.”

“Oh, yeah. Like you were back at the meadow when you wanted me to head back to town without you?”

His jaw clinched. “That was different.”

“Not by my reckoning. Don’t think I don’t notice the way you flinch every time you move that arm of yours. It’s still paining you, and more than just a bit.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Huh! You’ll manage. What kind of tomfool statement is that? Doc says you lost a lot of blood and that fever didn’t help much. You’re weak as a day-old pup and have just about as much sense.”

“I’m getting stronger by the minute and I have a whole day to rest. Besides, I don’t need a functioning arm to ride a train.”