“Man,” he had muttered, taking a chair. “Might’s well just throw a pair of handcuffs on you, right now, Doc, for all the freedom your nurse gives you. She’s a tough one, she is. Wouldn’ta been surprised to see a shootin’ iron in her hand, guardin’ the door to keep people out.”
“I reckon she’s entitled.” Gabe was lounging against as many pillows as it took to prop him semi-upright, and carefully spooning rice from a bowl of hot chicken soup. “The girl done a fine job, both with Elander and with me. Musta been scared to death, too. But she’s got grit.”
Paul crossed one long leg over the other and grinned. “Well, Letty is my sister-in-law, and I will admit that, in this mood, as your hospital warden, she even puts the fear of God into me. Patched you up to your satisfaction, huh?”
“Seems to be. I figure to be outa this bed by tomorrow, and movin’ around a bit. Maybe out and about in a week. If my nurse will let me.” He returned the grin. but weakly.
“I reckon you taught her well, Gabe, to take hold as she did. She’s prob’ly out there timin’ the length of my visit, so I’ll fill you in while I can.”
The young farming couple had had such high hopes for their future. Married only a year, putting their roots down on some fifty acres of land, and with their first child due soon, everything seemed to be going their way. Then tragedy had struck.
On Thanksgiving Eve, Gabriel, called far too late to make any difference in the outcome, had fought all through the night and all of the next morning to get mother and son safely past danger. To no avail. Their double funeral had taken place several days later.
“Lawrence was just about b’side himself,” said Gabe, remembering. “Well. You saw him. You know. I thought he was gonna throw himself into that open grave, right next to Marcella. He kinda went off the deep end after that.”
Until his recent departure for Atlanta, at his mother’s behest, Gabe had visited the grief-stricken farmer once or twice a week, in an effort to help him emerge from the darkness in which he was existing to some semblance of sunshine on the other side. Drinking too much at home, alone, had led to frequenting several of Turnabout’s saloons. No wonder he had needed money.
“I never dreamed he might be robbin’ stages to get by. Never realized he might take it into his head to kill me, in retaliation for the deaths of his family.” Appetite gone, Gabe put aside his half-empty bowl and sighed. “And you got proof that he’s the one responsible?”
Paul nodded somberly. “Found some stuff at his house that had been reported stolen, when the coach was hit before. A necklace, a silver pocket watch—that kinda stuff. He’d given up on farmin’, so he musta needed some kind of income. But there wasn’t any violence till Friday, when he saw you on that run.”
“Me. The reminder of all the bad he’d gone through.”
“Yeah, for sure. Guess everything came crashin’ down on him like a ton of bricks. In his state of mind, it was easier to get killed himself, than to go on livin’ as he was.”
From the kitchen came the scrape of a wooden chair being moved, and water running in the sink. To heat for coffee, hopefully. By now, both men, still talking desultorily, could use a cup.
“Marcella has a brother livin’ up by Little Rock,” said Gabriel, after a bit. “I’ll write him, when I’m back in business again, and let him know what happened. He’ll have to decide what to do with their—personal effects...”
“It’s a hard life. And it’s gotta be hardest on the women.”
“You got that right. I never figured—”
“Well, Paul, I see you’ve interrupted my patient’s mid-morning meal,” Letty, appearing silently in the doorway, observed. “Are you planning to keep him from his nap, as well?”
A faint blush rose into the sheriff’s tanned cheeks. These Burton gals...!
“Oh, get off your high horse, Miz Barclay,” said Gabe, grinning at his friend’s discomfiture. “We’re just shootin’ the breeze, that’s all.”
“Yes, that is all. Skedaddle, Paul. I’m sure you have a multitude of details to clear up at your office. Citations to hand out for chicken ranching, or something.”
There was no point even attempting to argue; the battle was already lost. With a shrug, Paul pulled his loose-limbed frame upright, reached for his hat, and sent a farewell smile Gabe’s way. “Sleep well, Doc. I’ll be back again tomorrow, if I’m permitted to.”
The arch of his brow included Letty, who relented only slightly. “You may try. As long as he hasn’t had a relapse.”
“Relapse, schmelapse,” snorted Gabe, as his visitor ambled away. “Can’t keep me from talkin’ to anyone, Missy.”
“I can while you’re still bedfast. Want some coffee?”
“Bless you, I’d just about give both my lungs for a cup of coffee. How’s that sister of yours?”
Surprised, Letty paused before leaving to run her errand of mercy. “Oh, Gabe, to tell you the truth, I’m not sure. I mean, she holds a lot inside—although probably she confides a lot more in her husband than in her sister. But she’s very uncomfortable, and I know Ben has felt so very worried about her. He couldn’t wait until you got back. Not expecting that you’d get back all shot up full of holes, of course, but—”
“Hold on, hold on, slow down.” One-armed, Gabriel tried to push himself up higher against the pillows as if to halt the spate of words. Bedsprings creaked underneath his weight, and his head bumped lightly against the wall behind him. “She’s what, now?”
His nurse, taking the seat Paul had vacated a few minutes before, proceeded to enlighten the doctor on her sister’s condition, her symptoms, and Letty’s own inexperienced treatment. Gabe asked intermittent questions; Letty provided scattered—and sometimes unsatisfactory—answers.
Relieved to have something else to sink his teeth into, to get his mind off the itchy, constrained, painful healing of his mutilated body, he mulled the situation over.