Читать книгу The Marshal's Mission - Anna Zogg - Страница 14

Chapter Four

Later that afternoon, Lenora grabbed her sunbonnet and went to see what could be done about the chicken coop. The raised building still leaned at a crazy angle with only the attached framed wire fencing keeping it upright. Had the wind really blown it over? Amos had always promised to shore up the base but had never gotten around to it. Perhaps the flimsy wood had finally given way. The contorted fencing left gaps that would allow in predators.

But how to make it usable again? First things first—she needed to push the small coop upright. Then she could determine what else needed to be fixed.

“Toby?” Where had that son of hers got to? Earlier she’d heard him chatting with Cole while he chopped wood.

She shoved one corner of the building. It moved a little. She pushed harder, but it wouldn’t budge any farther. Lenora yanked open the wobbly door and went inside the fenced enclosure.

The reason she couldn’t right the building became obvious in a moment. One of the foundational posts was cracked. In the soft dirt under the coop, the partial outline of a boot print showed.

Lenora sucked in a breath.

The memory of the lurking form rushed at her. No doubt a cowboy boot made this print. And it had to have been before the torrent. Did Cole damage the coop?

Her breathing slowed as she wrestled with herself. What about that morning? The stories about his father, mother and brother? He looked like a gunfighter with the way he toted a gun on his hip, not a rancher.

“Was he lying?” She tightened the chin strap of her bonnet.

Their conversation after breakfast came back to her. Cole had referred to Jeb by his last name. She distinctly remembered calling the outlaw by his first. How had Cole known?

“You didn’t tell me about him.” Jeb’s words came back to her. Not because he didn’t know Cole, but because he hadn’t expected to see him? If so, they had put on a good act for her.

What did Cole want?

Pressing her hand to her forehead, she determined to keep him at a distance. Be polite, but uninvolved. Make sure he understood she tolerated his presence, but not welcomed it. As soon as he figured out she wasn’t an easy mark, he’d move on.

With that resolved, her gaze rested on the chicken coop. This had to be fixed, but how?

“Toby? Can you hear me?” she again called. Perhaps they could right it. Then she could secure the fencing and the coop would again be usable.

“Coming, Ma. Where are you?”

“By the coop.”

Her son soon joined her. Alone.

“We need to push this upright.”

Toby squinted at her in the bright sunlight. “Want me to get Cole to help?”

“No, we don’t need him.” Her sharp words cut the air.

Though he made a face, he said nothing more.

Together, they shoved against the building. It budged a little.

“Let’s rock it. Maybe that’ll do the trick.”

The two of them pushed rhythmically. Slowly they gained more ground. The fractured board suddenly gave way with a loud craack, and the building shuddered into an upright position.

Lenora stepped back. Even with one post broken, the coop appeared stable. “Let’s get some stakes to anchor the fencing.”

Toby looked at her as if she were crazy. However, he said, “Yes’m,” before heading to the shed. He soon returned with two hammers and an armful of stakes.

Thankfully Amos stored an abundance of tools and woodworking supplies.

She and Toby began the tedious task of pounding stakes into the ground. Soon perspiration trickled down her temples. Through her sunbonnet, the sun seared the back of her neck.

“Need some help?” Cole’s voice interrupted the thumping of the hammers on wood.

“No, thank you.” Lenora didn’t bother to look up as she spoke.

“But, Ma...” Toby piped up.

She shot her son a warning glance. “We are perfectly able to take care of this ourselves.” Rising, she faced Cole, aware of her heat-bruised cheeks and damp clothing. She spoke in a cool tone. “I appreciate your chopping wood. You’ve done more than enough.”

His eyes narrowed.

A trickle of sweat ran down her throat. When his glance strayed that way, she swiped it with the back of her hand. She forced her breathing to slow. And not be the first to break the silence.

“Suit yourself.” Cole turned on his heel.

“Ma,” Toby’s soft voice protested. “He ain’t—”

“Isn’t.” She whacked the stake with extra force. Before continuing, she glanced around to make certain Cole wasn’t nearby. “Tobias Joseph, we are not discussing Mr. Cole again. And I don’t want to hear you asking him for help. Do you understand?”

He took a long time to respond. Too long. “Yes’m.”

She caught her breath when he added, “But I’m still going to pray.”

For a moment, she gaped at Toby’s open defiance—the first time in his almost eleven years. He really was growing up fast.

Her eyes stung a little as she bent to her task. And it wasn’t just because of perspiration.

* * *

“I brought your supper, Cole.”

He looked up from his occupation to see Toby loitering by the barn door. Behind him hovered his faithful sidekick, Blister.

Was that how it was going to be? Though Cole had no idea what had come over Lenora earlier, he would oblige by staying out of her way. Her obvious dismissal—not only when he’d offered to help with the coop and now the glaring lack of a supper invitation—left him to conclude he was no longer wanted.

Had she rescinded that offer to stay as long as he liked?

“You want it?” Toby gripped the towel-covered tin pan.

For a moment, he nearly declined. But that would be stupid. “Much obliged.” He set aside the six-shooter he’d been cleaning. After Toby handed him the dish, he leaned against his saddle. “Want to join me?”

Now why had he said that? No doubt the boy’s supper awaited him at the house.

However, Toby’s face lit up. “Sure.” He sat nearby. A crooked grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. “If we run out, I know where to get more.”

Cole found himself grinning, as well. “Good. I’m hungrier than a hibernating bear.” Chopping wood had fired his appetite. Or perhaps his temper because Lenora had been so cold?

Blister sat on his haunches nearby. Tongue lolling, he was already salivating for handouts.

Lenora had sent her son with a generous portion of beans. With the pan between them, they used the accompanying biscuits to scoop up the juices. Blister whimpered and pawed the air when Toby ignored him too long.

“Sorry, boy.” He broke off a morsel and dabbed it in the mix before feeding his dog. “But that’s it.”

He gulped down the offering, then panted for more.

“No, go lay down.” The boy frowned at his pet. “That’s all you’re getting.”

After one grumble, the dog slumped onto his belly. However, his eyes continued to follow the boy’s every move.

Cole grinned, glad that the dog was well loved. And trained.

Worry lines marking his forehead, Toby ate slowly. “Cole?” When he looked up, the boy continued. “You mad at Ma?”

His frankness took him aback. “Nope.”

The boy licked his lips before continuing. “You say something to make her mad?”

His and Lenora’s showdown in the morning flashed through his mind. That was done and settled, right? “Not that I know of.”

Toby scrubbed a fist across the top of his head, a habit when he seemed puzzled. “I don’t get why Ma is mad now.” Food forgotten, he stared at nothing.

“Maybe she’s just scared.” The words surprised Cole.

A long-forgotten memory of his parents arguing came back to him. It had been late, and Cole was supposed to be asleep. Was he nine? Ten? He had crept partway down the stairs and listened to his mother accuse his father of uprooting their family because he would never be satisfied with their location.

When Cole had later asked his father about it, that’s how he had answered—Ma was scared. Now as Cole looked back, he understood why. Pa’s kind of discontent unsettled a woman.

An inevitable and more recent recollection followed. The last time Cole had seen his mother, she had accused him of that very thing—restlessness. Only he wasn’t looking for the perfect place to settle like his pa, but of trying to right the world of all its problems when that was none of his business.

“What’s Ma scared of?” Toby’s green eyes met his steadily.

“Not rightly certain.” Finished with his food, Cole brushed off his hands. “Your pa’s gone now. Maybe she’s worried about how she will take care of you and the ranch. All by herself.”

“But I can help.”

“Yes, and you do. But she’s facing some adult-sized chores. I know your ma’s tough, but I think she’s scared about getting it all done.”

Half-eaten biscuit still in his hands, the boy seemed to ponder. “Do you reckon that’s why she cries?”

Cole scratched his chin.

“I heard her last night. She didn’t cry much though. Not like before.” Toby’s frown deepened. “When Pa was alive, she used to cry a lot. I reckon she was really scared, huh?”

At a loss how to answer, Cole said nothing. How much did Toby know about his father? No doubt how the boy felt about Hackett. From inside the barn, Cole had witnessed hostility in Toby’s stance and tone of voice. But why such animosity toward the outlaw? Especially if Amos Pritchard and Hackett were so close?

“Toby.” Lenora’s voice reached them inside the building.

He ran to the door. “Be there in a sec, Ma.” Toby shoved the rest of his food into his mouth while Cole gathered the towel and empty dish.

“Oh, let me get your pa’s gun too.” Earlier, he had taken time to show Toby the proper way to disassemble it for cleaning. However, the work on the chicken coop had interrupted them. “Give me a second, and you can take it up to the house.” He quickly put the pieces back together.

The boy took the gun. “Can I ask you something, Cole?”

He grinned. “Sure.” Toby was an endless well of questions.

“You believe in God, right?”

“Of course.”

The youngster took a deep breath, face twisted in thought—another habit Cole had begun to notice. “I prayed that God would send someone to help Ma.” He squinted up at Cole. “Do you think God sent you?”

Cole straightened with a jerk. Hadn’t he himself wondered about God moving mountains? Only that morning?

“Can anyone know for certain the way God works?” He answered slowly, reluctant to agree but not willing to deflate the boy’s faith.

Toby hung his head, but it wasn’t in defeat. “If it ain’t you, I guess I need to keep praying.” Without another word, he turned on his heel.

For many minutes, Cole remained rooted in one spot. A dislike—of being dismissed—grated on him. Especially since Toby had unwittingly done it. The meaning seemed clear—if Cole wasn’t the answer to the boy’s prayer, then someone else would be.

Dismissed.

Toby wasn’t the only one. Earlier, Lenora had done that very thing. And Cole had no doubts which way she leaned. She wanted him to clear out. The sooner, the better.

Because she was hiding something?

His gut told him no. Over his career, not many fooled him. He saw no deceit in Lenora Pritchard’s deep brown eyes and clear forehead. How had she remained untainted by her outlaw husband? She was a delicate rose in a weed patch.

Maybe he should leave her in peace. She had enough to worry about. He didn’t need to add to it.

“Maybe she’s scared.” His own words pounded against him as dusk descended on the land. It didn’t take all his book learning to see that she had fallen behind with ranch work. Likely that would continue until she ended up clearing out. Then what would happen to her and Toby?

“It’s not my business.” The argument rose and escaped his lips as he stretched himself on his bedroll. But even as he spoke, the callousness grated on his soul. She was a woman in need. And he couldn’t call himself a man if he tucked his tail and slunk off just because she was slightly hostile.

Very well, he’d stay. Whether Lenora liked it or not. The only way she would force him to leave was if she stuck the rifle’s barrel in his chest and demanded he get off her land.