Chapter 14 #2
The words were directed into her ear. The tone was calm; the breath was warm. It surprised her that she recognized the voice because their only exchange had been so brief, but she was confident that it was Gideon Welling who was holding her.
Jane made no attempt to struggle. She held herself still but not relaxed. He was holding her close enough to feel her tension.
“You know there’s no point in screaming,” he said. “You’re not hurt and no one except for that fellow in your henhouse is going to hear you. He’d probably want to come after you, and that would surely get him pain for his trouble. That sound right to you?”
Jane drew in her lips so they would not rub against the palm of his leather glove. Her nod was almost infinitesimal.
“Good,” he said pleasantly. “I’m going to take my hand away, step to the side, and you’re going to go back in the house. I’m going to be right behind you. We’re clear on that?”
When she nodded again, he did exactly as he said. So did she. Immediately upon entering the kitchen, her eyes darted to the gun rack. She did not realize that some small movement of her head had given away the direction of her glance until Gideon spoke.
“That’s a fine Remington you’ve got there.
Good for long range. Go on, you have a seat at the table while I remove temptation.
That’s right. Over there. All the way at the other end.
” Gideon removed the Remington rifle from the rack, examined it, and then did the same with the Winchester.
“Another fine piece here. There’s an empty space.
That must be what Morgan’s carrying. I don’t see him riding out without one. ”
He did not seem to expect a response, so Jane said nothing.
“You stay where you are, ma’am, while I attend to these.”
His confidence that she would do as he wanted made Jane set her jaw, and yet she knew it was not misplaced.
What were her choices when Max’s situation was unknown to her, and she had no means of escape?
She watched him disappear with the rifles and listened to his footsteps for some indication of where he was taking them.
It was a good strategy on his part, she thought.
She would never find them quickly enough to use them.
On the other hand, he had left her alone in the kitchen where there was an astonishing array of weapons.
Jane chose her sharpest paring knife and put it in her apron pocket.
Even if he found it, it was easily something she might have been carrying in her apron before he accosted her.
Jane made certain she was sitting exactly as he left her when he returned to the kitchen.
Even the cookbook was still open in front of her.
Gideon sniffed the air. “What’s in the oven?”
“Potatoes.” Jane felt absurdly delighted that he appeared to be disappointed.
“Huh. Well, that’s something at least. Are you going to have enough for guests?”
“I would have to know how many guests.”
“How many potatoes you got in there?”
“Six.”
Gideon nodded, satisfied. “I reckon that’ll do us fine.” He wandered over to the window and looked out. “You being so accommodating and all, I figure you remember bumpin’ into me in Bitter Springs.”
“I do.”
“You know who I am?”
“Gideon Welling.”
He looked over at her, a narrow smile creasing his face between his mustache and his new growth of beard. “So you figured it out. I’ll be damned.”
“Most likely.”
Gideon’s eyes sharpened momentarily, then he chuckled. “Yeah. Most likely.” He pointed to the cookbook. “What are you making with those potatoes?”
“Eggs Susette.”
He whistled softly. “Eggs Susette. I don’t believe I’ve ever tasted the like before.”
“I’ve never made them before.”
“I suppose this is in the nature of an experiment. No harm in that. I always think it’s good to try something new. Like comin’ here. This is new.” He looked out the window again.
Jane merely stared at his profile.
“Where is Morgan?”
“Around and about.”
“See? Now that’s an unacceptable answer. I’d hoped for better since we are getting along so well.” He stood back from the sink and began to unbutton his coat. He casually parted it to reveal his gun belt and the weapon riding low on his hip.
“Is that a Remington .44-caliber?”
“It is.”
“The Model 1858 or the 1875?”
“Jesus. Do you have ice water in your veins? Either one will shoot you dead.”
“Mr. Welling, my blood has been running cold since you waylaid me on my own back porch. You made a point of showing me your gun so I thought you meant for me to remark on it.”
“Lord, help me. It’s the Model 1875.”
“Do you carry an extra cylinder or find that you can reload as fast without exchanging it?” Even from her current angle, Jane could see that Gideon’s dark eyebrows were rising toward his hairline. He did not answer her question, though. Instead he pointed toward the window.
“Here they come,” he said. “And none too soon to my way of thinking.” He went to the door and opened it. “Stay where you are, Mrs. Longstreet. There’s no cause for you to be jumpin’ up like someone lit a fire under you.”
Jane sat, but she did so slowly and with what she regarded as a certain air of dignity.
“About time,” Gideon said.
Jane pressed down hard on her lips to keep from crying out when she saw Max.
He was standing, but only just. The men on either side of him were more responsible for holding him upright than he was.
The tender flesh all around his left eye was badly swollen.
If he had any vision there, he would not have it much longer.
Blood still oozed from a split lip. His jaw sagged oddly to the left, and Jane wondered if it was broken.
She knew the moment he saw her because he made an effort to stand taller.
She shook head, and her eyes pleaded with him not to do anything that would make his situation even worse.
Max’s hands were bound. Jane could see that his knuckles were bloody and swollen. She admired his pride for still holding them in tight fists. It must have pained him. She also noticed that his gun had been taken away.
Jane dragged her eyes away from Max’s bruised face to look at the men on either side of him.
They had not emerged unscathed, but Max had not been able to return the damage proportionately.
The larger of the pair, a man with a barrel chest and broad, sullen features, also had a cut lip, although his blood was already drying.
The other was chewing on a matchstick and working his jaw from side to side.
He did not have the narrow range of motion that Max did, but Jane could tell he was nursing a substantial blow.
“Please let him sit over here,” Jane said. “I want to tend to him.”
The two newcomers regarded her with a mixture of surprise and suspicion; however, they both looked to Gideon for their orders.
“You better do what she says,” Gideon told them. “My brother’s got himself a wife full of a sass and brass. Put him over there beside her.” He pointed out the men as they helped Max to the table. “Big fella’s Avery. The other one’s Dix. Dixon, but mostly he goes by Dix. This is Mrs. Longstreet.”
“Ma’am,” said Avery.
“Ma’am,” said Dixon.
Jane wished they had scowled at her. Their mannerly greetings and polite smiles were more disturbing. She wondered if anyone expected her to introduce Max.
“That’s Max,” Avery said to Gideon. He set one of his large hands on Max’s shoulder and pushed him into the chair that Dix held out for him. Once Max was down, they both pushed the chair close to the table.
Gideon said, “Did you get anything out of him besides his name?”
“No. He’s not much of a talker.”
“Well, we’ll see if that changes.” He looked at Jane. “What do you need to look after him?”
Jane told him, and Gideon sent Avery to collect it. “A basin of fresh water also. Please.”
Gideon jerked his head toward the sink, and Dix went to fetch it. “Did you take care of the horses?” he asked.
“Out of sight, just like you wanted,” said Dix. “Marcie’s finishing up. He should be along directly.”
“And the others?”
“The others? Oh, yeah. Everyone’s exactly where you want them.”
“Good. We’re settling in.”
Dix put a bowl of water in front of Jane. Avery returned from the washroom and placed the items she asked for beside the bowl. He handed her a washcloth.
“You two can go into the parlor for a spell. Warm yourselves at the fireplace while I get acquainted with my sister-in-law. I’ll send Marcie in when he gets here.
Don’t get too comfortable. Everyone’s got to take a turn outside on lookout.
” When they were gone, Gideon removed his coat and hung it on a peg beside the empty gun rack.
He stuffed his gloves in a sleeve and placed his hat on another peg.
Jane watched him run his fingers through his hair in a gesture that was reminiscent of Morgan. It was unexpected, and Jane confronted her first moment of real despair since Gideon Welling had appeared. Searching for composure, she began to minister to Max’s wounds.
Gideon pulled out a chair at the end of the table opposite Jane, spun it around, and sat. “He’s lucky.”
“I doubt that he thinks the same.”
“Maybe not, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not dead. That’s makes him lucky.”
If those were Max’s choices, Jane was inclined to agree. She did not say so, choosing instead to concentrate on bathing his face. She gently touched his jaw and encouraged him to try to move it. He did, but with great care. “I’m so sorry, Max.”
“Why are you sorry?” asked Gideon. “If Morgan were to apologize to him, I could understand. But you? Seems a mite excessive.”
“I sent him out for eggs.”
“Well, then, you’re right to be sorry.”
“Which I still require.”
“What? Oh, you mean the eggs. Marcie can get them before he comes inside.”