Kendrick: Outlaw's Bride Part 13

Ethan gave her a quick kiss. He couldn't help it. She was such a delightful mixture of impatient child and caring woman, minx and starched-up lady. He quickly retreated to his seat on the wagon bench before he was tempted to do more.

Leah was standing on the porch with the Winchester in her hand when they arrived back at the ranch. "Where you been all day? Ma's been askin' for you."

It wasn't clear which of them Leah was speaking to, but both of them reacted to the urgency in Leah's voice.

Patch scrambled down before Ethan could come around the wagon to help her. "She's not any worse, is she?" Patch asked.

"I ... I don't know," Leah answered.

Patch saw the worried look on the girl's face. She paused to say, "Ethan, put the deer in a stall in the barn, please. I'll get to it as soon as I can." Then she hurried inside to Nell.

"Deer?" Leah said, eyes wide.

Ethan pulled Patch's trunks, bags, and hatboxes off the wagon onto the porch. He barked orders to Leah about taking care of the team as he picked up the doe and hauled her into the barn. Then he followed Patch into the house.

He found Patch sitting on the side of the bed, brushing the damp hair from his mother's forehead.

"There, there, now," Patch was crooning. "You don't have to think about a thing except getting well."

He watched Patch ma.s.sage his mother's temples.

"Does that feel better?" Patch asked.

Ethan stayed at the foot of the bed, afraid to come any closer. He could see his mother was worse. He couldn't lose her now. Not after everything she had been through to save the ranch for him. Leah needed her. He needed her.

Ethan wasn't aware of the sound of protest he made until Patch turned to look at him.

"Your mother's feeling poorly. She aches all over, and her stomach feels too upset for her to eat what Leah prepared. You sit with her, and I'll go make her some broth."

Patch relinquished her spot, but Ethan stood frozen by the foot of the bed.

Nell called to her son. "Ethan?"

Patch could almost see him bracing himself before he took the few steps to his mother. His eyes pleaded with her not to leave him alone. "I'll be back soon," she promised him.

His mother's eyes slid closed, and Ethan took advantage of the opportunity to look closely at her. He could see her veins through skin that was thin as ice on a Texas pond. Her right hand shook with palsy. Perspiration dotted her forehead and the narrow s.p.a.ce beneath her nose. Her lips were dry and cracked. Her breathing was shallow. She was so motionless, he thought she must already have fallen asleep.

Ethan felt suddenly like that boy of fifteen who had been forced to flee his home, confused and alone and frightened of what the future held.

He sat down beside his mother and gently laid his head down on her breast, as though he were a boy again, come to her for solace. The scent of her was familiar, even after all these years. It must be the soap used to wash her nightgown.

He felt his throat squeeze up tight and swallowed over the lump there. When he felt her hand in his hair, he closed his eyes and let her comfort him.

She spoke to him in a voice that was barely a whisper. "During the awful time after Alex died, when you were still in prison, I was tempted to sell this place. Boyd would have given me a fair price. You'll never know how close I came to accepting his offer. But I thought of how much this ranch had meant to you and your father, and I couldn't do it. So I hung on. I wanted you to have a home to come to when you were free."

Nell's fingers tangled in Ethan's hair and stilled.

He put his hand atop hers on his head. "This place and you and Pa were all I thought about in prison," he admitted. "I ... I think it would have killed me to come back and find it all gone."

"I'm dying, Ethan."

Ethan's nose burned. He closed his eyes against the sting of tears. "Ma, you ... Ma." He couldn't speak past the pain in his throat.

"You have to leave this place!" she said in a fierce whisper. "I can't bear to wake up another morning wondering whether this will be the day Jefferson Trahern kills my son! Take Leah and Patch and go somewhere far away from here and start over. Please, Ethan. Promise me you'll leave!"

She was clutching at him. Crying. Sobbing.

Ethan sat up and lifted his mother into his arms to comfort her, as though their roles had suddenly changed, and he was now the adult and she the child. He rocked her back and forth, offering the only comfort he could give her.

"Did you know that Patch and I have started to investigate what happened all those years ago? We're going to find the real culprit, Ma. Then Jefferson Trahern can hound him instead of me. Don't worry, Ma. Everything will be all right. I can take care of myself. You just concentrate on getting well."

Fortunately for both of them, Patch arrived at the door, bearing a tray that held a bowl of broth and a gla.s.s of milk. Ethan settled his mother back against the pillows and carefully straightened the blankets under her arms. But he didn't look at her. He didn't think he could face the terror and pleading in her eyes. "You eat some soup, Ma, do you hear me?" He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then left the room as quickly as he could.

Patch caught a glimpse of the exhaustion and despair on his face before he got away. She had stood outside the door, holding the tray of food for Nell, not willing to intrude on Ethan and his mother. Her heart had gone out to him.

As a child, she had never seen Ethan's vulnerability, only his strength. Needing his mother and being able to comfort her in turn made him seem more human somehow. She saw him suddenly less like a G.o.d to be adored from afar. He could feel pain. He could suffer.

Until this moment, Patch hadn't realized how little she knew about the man she had idolized as a child. Only now did she see how much more there was to Ethan Hawk than the friend who had tickled her ribs and ruffled her hair when she was twelve years old.

Patch wished there were something more she could do to help Nell and Ethan. She didn't know how Ethan could stand to watch his mother die. It was killing Patch.

She sat down beside Nell without saying a word and began spooning broth into her mouth, a teaspoon at a time. To her surprise, Nell managed almost half the bowl before she turned her head away. Then Patch held the gla.s.s of milk while Nell drank a swallow or two.

Patch set the tray of dishes down on the table beside the bed long enough to be sure Nell was comfortably settled to sleep, then picked it up as she turned to leave the room.

"Patch?"

"Yes, Nell?"

"Take care of him for me. And Leah."

"I will. Rest, Nell. I'll see you in the morning."

"Send Leah to me, will you?"

"All right."

Patch found Leah in the kitchen with Ethan. "Your mother would like to see you." Patch saw the dread in Leah's eyes, but there wasn't much comfort she could give. Nell wasn't getting better. She was much, much worse.

Once Leah was gone, Patch confronted Ethan. "Isn't there something we can do? I feel so helpless!"

"Doc Carter says there's no medicine that will make her better. She has the same thing my father had. There isn't any treatment."

Uncomfortable with Ethan's prognosis, Patch busied herself collecting the things she needed to care for the wounded doc. "After I make a quick change of clothes, I'm going out to the barn to take care of Dearie," she said. "If you'd like, you can send Leah out to join me after she speaks with your mother."

"Thanks, Patch. I will."

Patch was on her knees in the hay when Leah's wide eyes appeared in a s.p.a.ce between the slats of the stall.

"I could use some help," Patch said.

"What's wrong with her?" Leah asked as she slipped into the stall and squatted down beside Patch.

"Someone shot her in the leg."

"What are you going to do?"

"First I'm going to take out the bullet and bandage the wound. Then I'm going to take care of her until she's well. You can hold her head down and keep her busy at that end while I work on her leg. Make sure that blindfold stays tight over her eyes."

"All right." Leah reached out a hand to rub the doe's nose. "I've never seen a deer so close up before. I mean, one that wasn't dead."

The doe's nose twitched as she smelled Leah's hand.

"I think she likes me," Leah said with a flashing grin. The grin disappeared as she added, "Ethan will never let us keep her."

Patch noticed the "us" with satisfaction and said, "I'll take care of Ethan."

"You're braver than I am," Leah muttered. She rubbed the doe's coat, keeping her eyes downcast as she said, "Sometimes I don't think Ethan likes me."

Patch wiped the blood off her hands onto a towel she had brought with her and reached for Leah's chin. She tipped it up, forcing the girl to look her in the eyes. "Right now, you and Ethan are still getting to know one another. Love takes time to grow."

"Like a watermelon or a pumpkin?" Leah asked.

"Something like that," Patch replied with a laugh.

Love takes time to grow.

Patch couldn't remember a time when she hadn't loved Ethan. But it was becoming apparent that what she had felt as a child was a mere seedling that had been sprouting leaves and flowering vines since she had come to Texas.

Which made her wonder, as Leah had, about Ethan's feelings for her. She knew he desired her s.e.xually, but beyond that she was as much in the dark as Leah was. It was not a comfortable feeling.

Patch finished what she was doing as quickly and as painlessly for the deer as she could. She left Leah in the barn making friends with Dearie while she headed back to the house. There were some ch.o.r.es she had to do before she left for her supper at the Trahern house.

She tipped most of Nell's leftover milk into a bowl for the calico cat, but saved some for Max. Ethan had made a small wooden-slatted cage for the mouse, which spent its days on the kitchen windowsill. Patch usually moved the cage inside to the counter beside the pump at night. She did so now and poured a small amount of milk into Max's dish.

"I didn't know mice drank milk," Ethan said.

Patch smiled. "I have to admit it's an experiment. I just thought he has as much right to it as the cat."

They both watched while Max sniffed at the bowl, lapped at it once, then stuck both front paws into the milk and began drinking in earnest.

Patch laughed. "I guess he likes it."

The calico cat came bounding over as Patch set the larger bowl of milk on the floor beside the stove. The cat was a lot more dainty-her paws didn't go into the bowl-but she lapped the milk with equal relish.

Patch took off the ap.r.o.n she had donned to fix Nell's supper and laid it over a kitchen chair. "Would you mind hitching up the buggy for me while I finish getting ready."

"I thought it was settled that you're not going."

"I thought it was settled that I am."

Ethan put his hands on his hips and glared at her.

She put her hands on her hips and glared back.

"Ethan, I'm not going to argue with you about this. You're not my father or my brother or ... or my husband." Yet. "There's nothing you can say that will change my mind. So please, just tell me whether you're going to hitch my horse to the buggy, or whether I need to do it myself."

"I'll do it," Ethan said through tight jaws.

"Will you bring my trunks to Leah's room first?"

Ethan nodded abruptly and left the room.

Patch made sure she left something prepared in the kitchen for Leah and Ethan's supper, then headed for Leah's bedroom to change her clothes. Leah was there waiting, her hazel eyes wide with awe at the number of trunks and bags Ethan had brought inside.

"Arc all these trunks filled with clothes?"

Patch laughed at the look of amazed reverence on Leah's face. "Mostly." She opened the trunk in which she had packed her wardrobe and sifted through things until she found a princess dress of slate blue silk and a white silk fringed shawl. In another bag she found a pair of riding boots made of kid, with patent leather tops. In a third, smaller bag she found a cameo pendant framed in gold. It had been a graduation gift from her father and stepmother.

"Ooooh." Leah's admiration of the gown was obvious. She reached out to touch the silk, realized her fingers were dirty, and drew back. "I've never seen the likes of that."

"It needs to be pressed before I can wear it. Do you think you can find your mother's iron?"

Leah was clearly reluctant to leave the room for any purpose.

"Go find the iron and wash your hands, and you can help me unpack a few of these things before I go."

Leah rushed to obey. When she returned, she said, "I put the iron on the stove to heat. It'll be ready in a minute."

"You can unpack that bag," Patch said, pointing to a faded carpetbag. "Most of those things can be put in the top drawer of the chest, the one you emptied for me to use."

Leah's eyes were bright with excitement. Most of the items she recognized for what they were, although she had never seen such fine quality. A pair of kid gloves. A muslin fichu. A fan of ivory, embroidered in black silk. And two bolts of cloth, one of dark green wool and another of mint green silk.

Leah fingered the silk lovingly.

Patch draped the silk across Leah's shoulder. She turned the girl to face the oval mirror standing in the corner. "You'd look lovely in a dress made of this silk. Maybe we can-"

Leah sidled away. "Wouldn't have no place to wear it."

Patch saw herself years ago, wishing and wanting till her teeth hurt for a fine silk dress, yet not daring to hope. She made a vow to herself that, whatever happened between her and Ethan, she would make sure Leah had a dress made of mint green silk before the girl got too much older.

Patch was keeping an eye on the sun. It was on its way down when she finished dressing. Before she left the bedroom, she donned a straw bonnet trimmed with blue silk ribbons. The envy in Leah's eyes when she stepped into the parlor was enough to convince Patch she looked fine, but she wanted Ethan's approval. Only he was nowhere to be found in the house.

There had been a day, a long time ago, when Patch had dressed up just for Ethan. It had made her heart soar when he looked her up and down and said, "You're going to be a beautiful woman someday, Patch. Take my word for it."

Patch wanted Ethan to look at her now and tell her she had become everything he desired, and more. More importantly, she wanted him to acknowledge her as a lady. Because back then, she had fallen far short of Ethan's standards for ladylike behavior. In fact, she had gotten into a fight and ruined the beautiful dress she had been wearing. Even now she could remember Ethan's words of comfort and counsel.

"It isn't what you wear that makes you a lady, Patch. It's how you handle yourself around other folks. It's more than manners-although you have to learn them. It's knowing you're ent.i.tled to respect, and respecting the rights of other people."