Gabriel's Law Page 8

  But this time, he could fix it.

  * * * * *

  Thank God. Allie wanted to tell Brandon about her plans for the orphanage, and about the cattle, but now truly was not the time. She smiled at the doctor and rose, pulling on her robe. Her hand raked through her hair as it tumbled past her shoulders. She immediately reached for the pins on her night table and began to pin it up.

  The doctor sat down in the chair, pulling it closer to the side of the bed. He laid a practiced hand across Brandon's forehead and gave a nod of approval. "Better, better. Fever's down." Reaching for his stethoscope, he looped it over his head and placed the end of it on Brandon's chest.

  "It's still beating, Doc."

  Doc's brows drew together. "Mmm. I know. I want to hear your lungs – see if they're taking any fluid. Deep breath."

  "You gotta be joking."

  A smile touched the doctor's lips. "As deep as you can, son."

  Allie watched Brandon in the mirror's reflection as he complied, letting his breath out slowly.

  "Anything for the pain overnight?" Doc turned to Allie, and she shook her head.

  "Only the willow bark tea before you got here yesterday, and the morphine you gave him last night.”

  Doc's grizzled eyebrows went up. "That wasn’t much of anything. You have a high tolerance, Mr. Gabriel, I'll say that."

  He's had a lot of experience, Allie almost said, but she kept quiet, and the doctor went on with his questions.

  "How's your hand feel? No, don't flex it. Does it hurt?"

  "Hell, yeah, it hurts!"

  Doc smiled. "Compared to the rest of you, how does it feel?"

  Brandon blew out his breath, wincing at the sudden movement of his ribs. "Look, Doc, I've been down this road before – more than once. I'm gonna be okay. I think my ribs are cracked, so if you don't mind wrapping those up, I'd be much obliged. Allie's fixed my hand and everything else will have to just heal on its own. I hurt, but it'll pass."

  Doc gave him a long look. "I suppose you know how close that slug came to taking out your liver."

  "'Close' doesn't matter, Doc. It didn't."

  Brandon's affable façade was wearing thin. He was hurting more than he'd show, Allie knew. But the doctor could hold his own. He'd dealt with unhappy, hurting patients his entire career.

  "Yes," he replied slowly. "Thank the Lord it wasn't any worse than it was." He stood up and began to put away his stethoscope. "After breakfast, I'll change the dressings before I leave." He turned to Allie. "You do have bandages, don't you?" He gave her a wink, then said blandly, "I hear you requisitioned some yesterday along with the whiskey and rifle from Anderson's Mercantile."

  She grinned at his teasing. "I'll get them."

  "I'm going to head on over to Hobart to pick up my new partner here in a bit," she heard him tell Brandon as she left the room. "We'll check back by here on our way to Spring Branch, see how you're getting along this evening."

  Allie couldn't hear Brandon's muffled reply, but a feeling of unease settled over her at Doc's words. For today, at least, she would have to stand between Brandon and the men who wanted him dead; whether that meant the remainder of the Clayton gang, or the townsmen who had hired him.

  This time, if they came, she would not be aiming for a kneecap.

  Chapter 10

  Jay rose from the floor and pulled on his overalls. Doc Wilkins had gone inside the bedroom to see about Mr. Gabriel. When Big Mack had stirred in the night, Jay had immediately come wide awake, rolled off the makeshift bed and crawled over the rough wooden floor to lay eye-to-eye with the dog. He'd slept there all night.

  Jay cast a last quick glance at the sleeping dog. Mama had gone into the kitchen and he could hear the sounds of breakfast being prepared. "Jay?" she called. "I need some eggs."

  "I'm goin'." He headed for the door.

  In the barn, he patted the gunslinger's horse as he tossed some hay into the stall. "Wonder what your name is?" He fed their two horses and the doctor's, then returned to the black that Mr. Gabriel had ridden in on. "I have to go get the eggs now. But…I'll come back later."

  A sound from behind him caught his attention. He stopped himself from turning, moving steadily for the door.

  Someone was in the barn. He'd felt that prickle of fear a moment earlier, as if something just wasn't quite right. Stealthy footsteps sounded behind him. His heart pounded. He kept moving, knowing whoever was there didn't mean to let him make it out the door.

  The rough shove just below his shoulder blades sent him sprawling just inches from the open door. A low, familiar laugh came from behind him. He'd heard that laugh often enough in his nightmares to know exactly who it belonged to – Jimmy Smith.

  He tried to get up, but Jimmy fell atop him, pressing his face into the dirt and straw, knocking the wind out of him.

  "Eat some of that dirt, you little half-breed bastard," Jimmy taunted. His hand pushed at the back of Jay's head.

  Jay tried to turn to his side, but there was no way he could unseat the bigger boy.

  "Fight all you want. You ain't gettin' up 'til I'm good and ready to let you. My pa said he made that breed gunslinger beg. Let's hear you beg…breed."

  Anger overrode Jay's fear. "He did not! Mr. Gabriel never begged your pa for shit! You're a liar—"

  Jimmy twisted Jay's arm behind his back. "He said he did, and I believe him. Are you sayin' my pa's a liar too?"

  Jay blinked back tears of pain. "Mr. Gabriel didn't beg your pa for anything! He wouldn't."

  "How do you know?" Jimmy increased the pressure and Jay gasped. "How do you know what my pa did? You don't even have a pa."

  The old taunt still hurt worse than his arm. "I do, so! I do have a pa!"

  * * * * *

  Brandon sat up slowly, swinging his legs to the side of the bed. So far, so good. Doc had left him a few minutes ago to see to Big Mack. Brandon needed a quick trip out back, disdaining the discreet placement of the chamber pot within easy reach. He'd rather try to make it to the outhouse than use one of those things. He grasped the night table to give himself some leverage and came to his feet, surprisingly steadier than he thought he'd be.

  He took a slow step toward where his saddlebags lay in the corner. It felt good to be up, but he knew this first time, he'd have to make it brief. He pulled a clean pair of jeans from the leather bags and slowly worked them on, unable to manage all the buttons at the placket. Enough, though. He was decent. And his right hand hurt so that he was not going to do any further damage to it in trying to button everything up. He shrugged into a shirt, leaving it unbuttoned, and opened the bedroom door.

  Allie turned quickly from where she stood at the stove. "Brandon!" Concern and relief mingled in her expression.

  She hurried over to him, wiping her hands on her apron, then reached to touch his cheek. "Are you sure—" she broke off.

  Brandon laughed and took her hand in his, kissing her knuckles. "You mind if I take that brand new Henry along with me for company? I think, if push came to shove, I could manage it left-handed."

  She shook her head. "Take it anytime. It should still have a few shells in it. To tell you the truth, I can't remember how many I loaded yesterday."

  He kissed her forehead. "One was all it took, sweetheart." His lips curved as their eyes met. "Back in a minute."

  As Brandon took the first step down from the porch, an unfamiliar voice sounded from the open barn door. Jay's bitten off cry of pain came, sharp and agonized.

  He headed that way, as quickly as he could. Standing just outside the barn door, he looked through the crack where the door was hinged. A much larger boy sat across Jay's back. From what Brandon could see, he was alone, but Jay was no match for him.

  "I do, so! I do have a pa!"

  Brandon's gut twisted, his bruised lips tightening painfully. How often had he been taunted the same way? He started to take a step around the door, into the sunlight, but the other boy's words turned his blood to ice.

  "Wh
o would that be, you little blanket baby?"

  Blanket baby. Rage rose up inside Brandon, but he managed to quell it, not realizing for a moment that his own heart was beating the answer. The other boy said something and Jay responded, but Brandon didn't hear it for the angry rush of blood through his head.

  "Who's your pa, then?"

  "Mr. G-Gabriel. He's my pa. And if you don't get off me, you'll have to answer for it."

  The other boy hooted with laughter, making no move to rise. "What'll he do?" he mocked, putting a knee in Jay's back.

  Brandon stepped into the light, wiping all emotion from his face. He cocked the rifle and stood, his feet braced wide apart. "Get off," he warned tightly. "Or I'm liable to show you."

  The boy's head jerked up, his smirk fading quickly. He made no move to rise, at first, and Brandon took a step closer.

  "Get off. Now."

  Reluctantly, Jimmy released Jay and stood up. He cocked his head as Jay struggled to his feet, wiping the dirt from his face.

  "You okay, son?"

  A wide grin split Jay's face. He nodded. "Yes. I'm okay."

  "My pa said you begged him to leave you be," Jimmy said sullenly.

  Brandon didn't speak for a moment, and then he said, "Your pa's a liar, boy, if you're Arnie Smith's son."

  Jimmy moistened his lips, his hands fisting. "Mrs. Taylor hurt my pa, mister. Doc says he can't walk for a while."

  "Then, I'll wait."

  "Wait?" he asked warily. "For what?"

  "To kill him," Brandon answered softly.

  Jimmy swallowed hard and took a step back involuntarily. "Kill him? You – you wouldn't—"

  "You tell him I'll wait. I want to be fair…fair as it'll be between him and me."

  "But – you're a gun hawk! It can't ever be fair!"

  Brandon smiled coldly. "I'll give him better odds than waiting for him in a dark stable. That must run in your family." He jerked his head to the side. "Now, get out. And tell him what I said. He needs to get his affairs in order. I'll wait, but not forever. I'm ready to wrap this all up tight, myself."

  Jimmy glared at Brandon, pushing past Jay on his way out the door. Once he was outside, he turned back to look at Brandon. "The breed says you're his pa. That true?"

  "His name is Jay," Brandon replied stonily. "I better never hear you call him anything else." Somehow, everything had been taken out of his control. He glanced at Jay. His decision about staying had just been made. "He's mine, and what's mine, I protect." He nodded at Jimmy. "You tell your pa that, too." As Jay moved closer to him, the bond between them was forged. In something so unexpected and simple, his life had taken on a new direction. And, he thought uncomfortably, so had Allie's.

  Jimmy turned and ran as if the hounds of hell were on his heels.

  As he disappeared in the dusty road, Brandon looked down at Jay. He knelt slowly in the dirt, eye-level with the boy. Looking into Jay's dark eyes, he found himself faced with no choice but the one he'd just made. He opened his arms to the boy, and Jay carefully hugged him.

  Brandon's throat tightened. He wasn't sure if Jay's reticence was due to his uncertainty or caution at all the bandaging. His lips curved up against Jay's skin, his left hand stroking the child's silky hair. He held him away after a moment, looking him over, wiping away a streak of dirt under Jay's eye with his thumb.

  Jay brushed himself off, suddenly unable to meet Brandon's eyes.

  "Hey."

  Jay stopped moving, but still didn't look up. Brandon tilted his chin up until his coal black eyes met Brandon's. "You know, Jay, I didn't lie to you before. I'm not your real father." He shook his head at the words he'd used. He was saying it wrong. "What I mean is—" He blew out his breath. This was a commitment he'd never intended to make, but one that couldn't be avoided now. Jay was depending on him. And so was Allie. "I will be your father, now – for as long as I can."

  Jay looked up at him in sudden horror. "You mean – you might leave? But you can't!"

  "Hey – listen to me. You know, I'm – not so good at this father stuff. I never—" He stopped and sighed, wondering how to continue. "I never had a father, either. Maybe I won't know how. Or maybe I won't be a good one," he finished softly.

  "You will," Jay answered quietly. "And this ranch will be great, someday. When we get the cattle and the other boys to help – you'll be their father, too, right?"

  "What?"

  Other boys? Ranch. Was this what Allie had been on the verge of talking with him about when Doc Wilkins had interrupted?

  Jay's eyes widened. "I thought Mama had told you—"

  "Told me what?"

  But Jay pressed his lips together and shook his head, dust and straw flying from the mop of dark hair. He backed toward the interior of the barn, and Brandon stood up stiffly.

  "Mr. Gabriel, please don't tell her—" Jay started.

  Brandon shook his head. No more secrets. "Not this time, Jay. I need some answers. And I'm going to get them."

  * * * * *

  Allie had just put breakfast on the table when Brandon came through the door. His mouth was tight, and he looked away from her as their eyes met across the table.

  Doc sat forward, his coffee cup poised halfway between the table and his mouth. His gaze narrowed immediately as a scowl descended over his features. "You out to undo all my hard work, Brandon?"

  Brandon shook his head. "No." He stood the rifle by the door. "Just – washed up."

  "Ehhh…" Doc muttered. His look was doubtful. He winked at Jay who followed close behind Brandon. "I got the eggs, Jay. Sounded like you and Brandon were…otherwise occupied."

  Jay slid into his chair quietly. "Thanks, Doc."

  Brandon pulled a chair out opposite Jay's and lowered himself into it stiffly.

  Allie noted the brief expression of relief in his features. He'd been at the limit of his endurance. Pretending not to notice, she carried the bowl of steaming gravy to the table, setting it near Brandon's plate.

  Brandon glanced up at Allie, a stricken look in his dark eyes. "I – uh – guess maybe I ought to eat in the bedroom. I'm not really dressed for a meal—"

  "Don't," Allie said softly. She came around the table and knelt beside him. "Let me—" She reached slowly for the gaping shirt, bringing the two sides together.

  "Careful, now, Allie, don't pull it too tight," Doc protested.

  Allie didn't look at him. "No," she whispered softly. "I won't. I'll be careful." The second button slipped through the hole, and her fingers moved down to the third one. Brandon's eyes held hers, and she felt as if she were drowning. It went against everything in him, she knew, to allow her help, especially in front of Doc and Jay, but he was accepting it. Her heart pounded at his heated stare.

  Her blood heated at the desire in his eyes. It took every ounce of her resistance to stop herself from leaning forward those few inches and putting her mouth to his.

  Abruptly, Allie drew her hands away and stood, warmth rushing to her cheeks.

  "Left hand only, Brandon," Doc said, as if he'd noticed nothing amiss. "Are you ambidextrous?"

  Brandon glanced at Doc and gave him a slow grin. "After a fashion. Not as good with my left, but I can do a passable job."

  "That include everything?"

  Brandon's smile faded. "If you're askin' can I shoot left-handed, the answer is yes. But just like I said – not as well as I do with my right."

  Doc speared some flapjacks and forked them onto his plate, lifting his serious gaze to Brandon's. "I don't like leavin' you here – not at all. What happened yesterday ain't finished, boy, and—"

  Brandon's left hand crashed down hard on the table, and Jay jumped. "Dammit, Doc, don't'cha think I know that?"

  The two men sat staring at one another, the silence stretching taut and heavy in the room, until Brandon looked away and shook his head. "Sorry." He raked his hair back quickly. "I had no way of knowin' what was gonna happen—"

  "I'm not blaming you, Brandon!" The doctor was incredulo
us. "Ye gods!" He sat back in his chair. His gaze strayed to the window, and then he finished softly. "I'm sorry too. I didn't have any way of knowing, either. And there are lots of other good people in that town who didn't know – who weren't in on Arnie Smith's 'pact' – we aren't all bad."

  "I know. But now, it's just come down to figuring out who to trust. Everyone's an enemy – until we get it sorted out. If we ever do." He cocked a glance at Doc. "Go on and get your partner, Doc. We'll be all right today. I don't think they'll try anything yet."

  "But what about—" Jay started.

  "Better eat up, son," Brandon said, nodding toward the steaming plate of flapjacks. He would broach the subject of the ranch, the orphans, and the cattle with Allie – just not right now.

  "I know, but—"

  "Jay." Brandon reached for the plate and passed it to Jay, quelling him with a look. "Get some food in you. We'll have that game of checkers after we're done."

  Chapter 11

  After they'd eaten, the doctor motioned Brandon back to the bedroom. Jay rose to go saddle Doc's horse for him, and Allie began to clear away the dishes. As Brandon reached the bed, he sank down gratefully on the edge.

  "Go on, son. Lie down." Doc shook his head, his wispy white hair flying. "I don't know how you managed to sit in there and eat like you did."

  Brandon grinned. "I was hungry."

  "You know what I mean." Doc pointed a gnarled finger.

  Brandon's grin faded, and he looked down. "Yeah. I know what you mean." Carefully, he bent to pull off his boots.

  "No!" Doc stepped forward. "You cannot use that hand!"

  Brandon glared up at him, his anger sparking for a moment. But at the concern in the older man's face, it evaporated. He sighed, wincing. "I'm not used to – depending on other people, Doc. Not for anything."

  Doc cast a quick glance at the door, reaching to push it completely shut. "I've got something I want to say to you."

  "A secret?" Brandon extended his leg as Doc bent to pull off his left boot. "This house is full of 'em, it seems."