Caring for the Cowboy Read online

  “Well, then, may I be the first to welcome you to Creede.”

  She stared at the woman and nodded again, speechless. No one had wanted to talk to her for years. Except Myrtle, but she couldn’t count someone that crazy. Which reminded her … she reached into her pocket and pulled out the money Myrtle gave her. She looked at it, but didn’t recognize what it was.

  “What’s that?” Mrs. Honeycutt asked.

  Maja opened her hand to show her.

  Mrs. Honeycutt took one look at the coins and gasped. “My word!” She looked a little closer. “Where did you get those?”

  Maja looked at them too. They were like no coins she’d ever seen. “A f-friend.” What should she call Myrtle? She couldn’t exactly say, the crazy woman watching over a sick man my father beat and robbed. No, the less information she gave the better. She’d patch up the stranger, send him on his way and be on hers.

  “May I see one?” Mrs. Honeycutt asked.

  Maja nodded. The woman took one from her hand and examined it. “These are Roman coins. Why, that’s Julius Caesar on this one.” She picked up another. “And this is an 1804 silver dollar, my dear.” She glanced around. “I’m not sure of the exact value, but this is worth a lot of money.”

  Maja gasped, then quickly composed herself. She looked at the coins in her hand. There were almost a dozen, half of them like the Julius Caesar coin Mrs. Honeycutt now held.

  Mrs. Honeycutt put the first two back in her hand and picked up one more. “And this looks like a Spanish doubloon? How extraordinary!” She leaned in. “I hear these are quite popular with collectors.”

  Maja stiffened. Had Myrtle stolen them? Oh, just dandy – she was falling in with one criminal after another! At this rate, the wounded man in the shack would turn out to be a stagecoach robber. She closed her hand over the coins and stuffed them back in her coat pocket. Now what was she going to do? She couldn’t very well buy what she needed with Roman and Spanish coins.

  Mrs. Honeycutt smiled again. “You look disappointed.”

  Maja sighed. “I am. I need …” She shook her head and headed for the door.

  Mrs. Honeycutt followed her and touched her arm before she could leave. “I know it’s none of my business, but you seem terribly out of sorts.”

  You have no idea, Maja thought to herself. “Yes.”

  “Can I help?”

  Maja stared at her. She was a perfect stranger to this woman – a dirty, smelly one at that. “You want to help me?”

  “It’s the neighborly thing to do.”

  She stuck her hand in her pocket, felt the coins and clutched them. Was she trying to get her hands on one? Should she trust her? “How can you help?”

  “Well, you obviously came in here for something. What is it you need?”

  Maja frowned. There was just no way around it – she did need help. “I don’t know if I can pay you back.”

  Mrs. Honeycutt nodded in understanding. “Folks around here try to help each other out when they can.” She looked her up and down. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “Tea?”

  “Yes, my sister and I own the tea shop in town. Won’t you at least let me do that for you?”

  Maja didn’t know what to do. Should she trust her? Was she going to be robbed? Oh Pa, why did you run off and leave me like this? But he had run off, so she’d just have to do her best. “Very well.”

  Mrs. Honeycutt smiled, took her arm and led her outside.

  Baxter opened his eyes – well, one eye – and stared at the ceiling. He was still dizzy and sick to his stomach, but at least his head didn’t feel like an anvil being pounded on. More like a nail … “Where am I?” He slowly turned his head to the left and examined his surroundings.

  The cabin (shack, really) was old, probably left over from the early Gold Rush days. They dotted the area around Creede, and folks occupied them when they were passing through if they were lucky enough to stumble across one. He’d seen a few while rounding up stray cows, but this one he didn’t recognize. Not from the inside, anyway. He hadn’t been outside yet, so he couldn’t say if he’d ever seen it before.

  Speaking of outside, he should get up and take an inventory of his injuries. He let his eye wander. Where was the boy that took care of him earlier? There didn’t seem to be any sign of him now. He pushed himself onto his elbows, and his stomach roiled. “Whoa. Bad idea.” He eased himself back down, his head spinning. Maybe he should lie on his side – would that help? He tried but couldn’t manage it – his legs wouldn’t move. “What the …?” He looked down at his feet, and saw they were still tied like his hands had been.

  “Perfect.” Baxter eased his head back and waited until the room no longer spun out of control. “Hello?” he called with an effort. Listening was also an effort, but all he heard was his heart pounding in his chest. He was in a precarious situation – dizzy, bound, helpless, no gun … “Consarnit!” Not only did that dirty lowdown snake rob him and steal his horse, he took his gun too!

  Worse, if Baxter didn’t get free, he could be in big trouble. He didn’t see the bucket of water the boy filled earlier. Was it outside? If he wasn’t so dizzy and sick he could manage, but as it was, getting free could take time. He hoped he didn’t die of thirst first.

  “Where are you?” His eyes searched again for something that told him the boy would return. Again there was no sign of him, no sound. He was alone. Had he run off? Was he with the man that robbed him? Was he sent back to kill him and couldn’t go through with it? Questions ran through his mind but quickly dissipated every time he opened his eyes and dizziness hit.

  He’d have to forget about the boy for now and concentrate on getting out of there. If he didn’t free himself before dark, he’d stay where he was and head out in the morning. He’d get his bearings, then walk to Cooper’s ranch for aid. He’d also tell his friend he’d take his offer to work for him. After this he’d have to. He could use one of Cooper’s horses until he earned enough money to buy himself a new one and all the tack.

  And maybe in his free time he could get his hands on the man that did this to him. He seethed just thinking about it. He didn’t know which hurt worse: his head, his stomach, or his pride. That an old man got the drop on him and got away with just about everything he owned galled him. Oh yeah, he’d need a new gun too. Otherwise how could he shoot the snake?

  He sighed and resigned himself to keeping his eyes closed and trying to sleep. What else could he do? Maybe when he woke up he could get his ankles free, then head to Cooper and Hattie’s place. They’d fix him up. Yes, that was the plan.

  That resolved, Baxter fell asleep within minutes.

  Maja stood stock still as the ladies in the tea shop gawked at her. She was so used to their reaction she didn’t care. Thankfully Mrs. Honeycutt had brought her into the small kitchen, not the actual storefront. Not that Maja blamed her – she wouldn’t want to scare away her customers. What she did care about was getting back to the shack and the poor man still … her eyes widened. “Oh no.”

  “What was that?” Mrs. Honeycutt asked as she went to the stove, picked up the kettle and poured water into a teapot on the worktable.

  Maja shook her head and tried not to grimace. She hadn’t untied the poor man’s ankles! Did Myrtle do it? She hoped so! It was all she could do not to wring her hands as Regina Honeycutt and her sister Ariadne continued to examine her as politely as they could. They were curious and probably wondering the same thing everyone else did: what exactly did she look like under all that dirt?

  “Would you, er, like to sit down?” Ariadne asked. Ariadne looked like she wanted to, if the hand she held over her midsection was any indicator. She was clearly pregnant, though not too far along.

  Maja smiled and shook her head. Now that she remembered she’d left Pa’s victim half tied to the cot, she needed to get back quickly. She took one step toward the door. Crazy as Myrtle was, she had to assume that she didn’t untie the poor man.

  “Lemon
?” Mrs. Honeycutt asked as she poured her a cup of tea.

  She nodded. The women were both lovely. She liked their British accents and their kindness, at least so far. The minute they started asking questions and she had to avoid answering, things might change. She took another step back.

  “What’s the matter?” Mrs. Honeycutt asked. “You aren’t thinking of leaving already – you just got here.”

  Maja smiled. “I must go. I … left something …”

  “Not on the stove, I hope,” Ariadne said. “I did that once. Burned our best pot.”

  “I remember,” her sister said. “But we were both learning to cook at the time.”

  Maja smiled stiffly. “Something like that.” She glanced at the door behind her. If she took another step backward, she’d be against it and how would that look?

  “Pastry?” Ariadne asked, offering her a small plate.

  Maja eyed it. She was famished. But so was her patient, no doubt. She needed some ingredients for soup. Feeding him was the least she could do. And bandages – she needed bandages. “Is your shop closed?”

  “Yes, we open later in the day,” said Mrs. Honeycutt.

  “I see.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  She shook her head. “I … I need to get back.”

  “Did you just move to the area?” Mrs. Honeycutt asked.

  “No, ma’am, just … passing through.”

  “Please, call me Regina.” She poured herself a cup of tea and reached for a pastry. “Too bad you’re not staying in Creede. This town is growing and could always use a fresh face …” She stopped, her mouth half-open. “… I mean, new people and their talents.”

  Maja forced herself not to hang her head. Dirt was her defense. It protected her. Everyone left her alone. The woman didn’t mean anything by her words – it had just slipped out – but it stung. Maybe because she was beginning to like her.

  “Take us,” Ariadne said. “We came here with little talent for anything one might call industry. And look at us now.”

  “We started our shop at the suggestion of our friend Millie,” Regina said with a smile. “It’s been wonderful ever since.”

  Maja sipped her tea, stopped and stared at the pretty cup.

  “Anything wrong?” Regina asked.

  “No. Best I ever had.”

  “Yes, we import it,” Ariadne said with pride. “It’s nice to be able to bring a little culture to Creede.”

  Maja smiled again, this time out of admiration. If only she could do something as astounding. Not only had they opened a shop – and were doing quite well from the looks of things – but they were women! To run her own business would be wonderful. But what could she do? If she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself behind bars in the next few days.

  “Did you find anything interesting while you were at Crowthers’? Ariadne asked her sister.

  “Only that Lissy and Penny need to show better manners at times. Oh, and apparently Baxter Hicks is getting a mail-order bride.”

  “He is?” Ariadne turned to Maja. “Baxter Hicks is handsome, charming. Poor as a church mouse, though, but he works hard.”

  “We do like him,” Regina said. “He makes us laugh. He’s come into our shop a couple of times with Mr. and Mrs. White. They’re all good friends.”

  Maja sipped more tea and took a pastry off the plate.

  “Tell me, dear,” Regina said. “But … would you consider …” She exchanged a glance with her sister. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but would you like a bath?”

  Maja almost choked on the pastry. “I would, but … no. I have to go.” She set down her cup. “There are things I need.”

  “Yes, about that,” Regina said. “Do you have the money?”

  Maja froze. They both knew she didn’t. “No. Except …” She tapped her pocket, jingling the old, useless coins Myrtle had given her.

  “Remember what I told you earlier? I don’t mind, really.”

  Maja was torn. But she didn’t have much choice. “Thank you.”

  Regina smiled. “You’re more than welcome. Now sit down and have another cuppa.”

  Chapter 5

  By the time Maja made it back to the ramshackle cabin, it was afternoon. Regina and her sister had kept her in their kitchen until they were both satisfied she’d had enough to eat, then pulled food from their own larder and packed it into a large flour sack for her. On top of that, Regina escorted her back to the dry goods store for anything else she might need. It was the most kindness she’d received since her mother died, and the first time her stomach had been full in years. She cried halfway home.

  Home … could Creede be her home, she wondered? But no, not when her father had committed a heinous crime against someone. How could she stay and not be implicated? She had nothing to do with it, wasn’t even there when it happened, but would a judge see it that way?

  She pushed her thoughts aside and entered the cabin, where her patient appeared to be sound asleep. Maja took one look at his ankles and groaned. No, Myrtle hadn’t untied him – and worse still, she hadn’t thought to get a knife when Regina was blessing her with so much else. She’d have to use the rock from earlier. It was on the floor near the head of the cot, so she picked it up, checked his wound, then got to work, praying he was all right. He was silent as the grave as she carefully cut through the ropes, and he didn’t have a fever. So that was good.

  After a few minutes she succeeded and gently removed his bonds. His ankles weren’t as raw looking as his wrists had been, but she checked those too before fetching some fresh water. When she returned, she built a fire and started some soup with some potatoes and vegetables Regina and Ariadne were kind enough to give her and some beef bones purchased for her. They’d also loaned her a serving spoon and a ladle when she mentioned she had none. She’d return them when she left Creede, or got her own, or … something.

  Once the pot was boiling, she returned to the stranger. She’d cleaned and bandaged his wound, and it didn’t look like it had to be changed – good thing, as she had no clean cloths to replace the bandage with. The wound was still raw and open, but the idea of having to stitch it closed gave her the collywobbles. Another thought she set aside.

  That left the big thought: what to do with her life and the man’s with Pa gone who knew where. Leave Creede or stay? Fetch the doctor and risk the truth getting out, or continue as she was though she had few ideas about medicine? And what about the horrible loss the man suffered – his horse, money and other belongings? Would this man hold her responsible if he found out who she was? Would he have her arrested?

  The questions pounded at her. Should she do the right thing, even though there might be dire consequences? What would they be? Would the man take his anger out on her? They bounced around in her head, making it hard to think of anything else.

  For now she saw to her soup, had three cups – my, it felt good to have a full stomach for once! – then waited by his bedside in the gathering dusk, all the while wondering what to do when he finally woke up. Please, Lord, don’t let him be too angry …

  No sooner had she prayed than his eyes fluttered open. She froze, wishing she could light a lantern. She didn’t have one, or even a candle. But did she really want him to see her clearly?

  “Is that you?” he rasped.

  Maja went to the stove, ladled him a cup of broth, then helped him drink it.

  “It … cough … is you,” he said light-heartedly. “Where were ya?”

  She smiled. Considering everything he’d been through, talking had to be an effort, let alone sounding so casual and happy. “Went to town for supplies.” It was an effort for her, come to think. But at least he wasn’t saying she should be seen and not heard.

  He groaned, and without thinking she put her hand over his. It was a nurturing gesture, yet she felt something she never had before, an unfamiliar warmth in the pit of her stomach. She drew her hand away and put it on his forehead instead. Good, still no fever.
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  “Thank you,” he said, eyes closed. Soon it would be too dark for her to tell if they were open or not. “Can I have some more soup?”

  She got him some and helped him drink it.

  “That’s good. You’re a good cook.”

  She felt tears coming to her eyes. No one had ever complimented her cooking, if you could call it that – she’d just thrown stuff in water and boiled it.

  “I’d like to sit up,” he continued. “But … I dunno if I can without gettin’ dizzy. I can try …”

  She set the cup aside and very carefully helped him up. He moved his legs, tucking one under the other at the knee, then braced himself with his hands to keep from weaving. “Better. Gimme a minute.”

  She did, one hand on his shoulder in case he tipped backwards.

  “Head feels poorly,” he said softly. He looked at her. “Thanks for untyin’ me. Am … am I your prisoner?”

  “No, no!” She vigorously shook her head.

  “Well, it’s good to know we’re all friends here,” He did his best to look around. “We are alone, aren’t we?”

  She nodded.

  “That’s good. I don’t think I’m up to entertainin’. Or having to beat anyone up. Heh. At least my humor’s still intact. Hate to have had that stolen too.”

  She smiled and swallowed hard. “More soup?”

  “Yes, please.” He tried to take the cup, listed to one side and went back to bracing himself with his hands. “Well, I ain’t so proud I’d let myself starve. Can ya help?”

  He wanted her to feed him? She looked at the cup in surprise.

  “I won’t tell if you don’t,” he said with a crooked smile. It looked like it pained him.

  She smiled back, got him a refill – this time with a small potato and some carrots in it – and began feeding it to him. He swallowed, groaned, swallowed some more.

  “Mmm … got any bread?”

  She stared at him, mouth half-open. She hadn’t thought of making any, but Regina and Ariadne had given her flour and yeast. “I could, um, make some biscuits …” Or try to, she added mentally. She turned and eyed the pot on the stove.