18

Nearly a week after the bank robbery, Kate opened the door to find Frank standing on her porch.

Yesterday, he’d stopped by the shop to ask her to have dinner with him, and she’d agreed. But he was early, which was so unlike him.

His gaze traveled down the length of her. She was wearing a red floral dress with a red waistcoat. “You look hands—uh…mighty pretty.”

“Why, thank you, Frank. You don’t look so bad yourself.” It surprised her to see him dressed in his Sunday best, including his red bow tie.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She nodded, though she didn’t look forward to the mile-long walk ahead of them. “I told you I’d meet you in town.” That’s what she normally did, but Frank had insisted on coming to the house.

“No need.” He stepped aside so she could see the horse and buggy parked in front. “Rented from the stables,” he said.

Kate pressed her fingertips to her mouth. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

For answer, he pulled out a kerchief and tied it over the lower half of his face. “We’re hoping that if I don’t touch the horse and keep my nose and mouth covered, I’ll be okay.”

“We?”

“What?”

“You said ‘we.’”

“Eh…Doc Avery and me.”

“I hope he’s right.” She would feel awful if Frank had another one of his spells.

“Shall we?” he asked.

Nodding, Kate called to her aunt. “I’m leaving.”

Aunt Letty appeared at the kitchen door, a smile of approval on her face. “Have a good time.”

“We will, Mrs. Denver,” Frank said politely.

He started down the porch ahead of Kate, then stopped and offered his arm. She blinked to make sure it really was Frank and not some impostor.

He seemed unusually quiet as they drove to town, and she knew that was a sign he had something on his mind. He didn’t even comment when she told him about providing Brett with a list of customers who had recently purchased peppermints.

“I hate thinking that one of my customers might be a Ghost Rider,” she said. The possibility had made her suspicious of everyone walking into the shop. Oh, how she hated that! Hated the questions that popped into her head whenever someone showed up in new clothes or sporting a recently purchased gold watch.

“You don’t know that’s true,” Frank said, his voice muffled by the kerchief. “Maybe the man never stepped foot in your shop. He might have gotten the candy from a family member or a friend.”

She let out a sigh. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Sorry, Kate. I…I don’t want you feeling bad.”

She smiled. “I know you don’t.”

He sneezed, and she gasped in alarm. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. The kerchief tickles my nose.”

She laughed, and he looked at her oddly. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just that you look like a bandit with that kerchief over your face.”

He laughed too.

Moments later, he surprised her by pulling in front of the hotel and setting the brake. The hotel restaurant was more expensive than the Feedbag Café, but before she could protest, Frank was already on the ground and making a wide circle around the horse to help her down.

He surprised her a second time by offering his arm. Feeling like one of those fancy ladies from the east, she laughed. “Oh my, aren’t you the gentleman?” He grinned as she slipped her arm through his. “Maybe you ought to get rid of the kerchief,” she said.

“What? Oh.” He pulled the kerchief off with his free hand and stuffed it into his pocket.

The noise greeting them in the hotel dining room was deafening. A group of boisterous cattle drivers was whooping it up, and Kate could hardly hear herself think.

The restaurant host greeted them and shrugged an apology. “Sorry,” he said, gazing at Kate. Because of the noise, he lowered his head next to hers. “We don’t have any tables available.”

Frank thrust his hands in his pockets, puckered his lips, and whistled.

Kate glanced at him with a frown before turning her attention back to the host. “When will you have a table available?” she asked, raising her voice to be heard.

The host gave her an apologetic look and said something, but between the noisy guests and Frank’s whistling, she had to ask him to repeat it.

“Tomorrow,” he said, making wild gestures with his hands. “I can have a table for you tomorrow.”

Shaking her head, Kate thanked him, and they left. Frank was still whistling as they stepped outside.

She planted her hands on her hips. “Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Whistling.”

Frank shrugged. “I don’t know. Just a habit, I guess.”

“Well, it’s annoying,” she said and started toward the Feedbag Café.

The proprietor greeted them at the door with narrowed eyes. Pointedly ignoring Frank, she inquired about Kate’s aunt. “Has she recovered from her scare at the bank?”

“Yes,” Kate replied. “Thank you for asking. But you know Aunt Letty. Nothing will hold her back.”

The restaurant owner, Mrs. Buffalo, showed them to a corner table. No bill of fare was necessary. The café’s menu hadn’t changed in twenty years.

“I’ll have the beef stew,” Frank said.

Mrs. Buffalo gave him a stern look. “Are you sure you wouldn’t want me to throw in some rice with that?”

“No, just the stew will do.”

Kate glanced at Frank with a puzzled frown. “Eh…I’ll have the chicken and dumplings.”

After the café owner left to place their orders, Kate leaned forward. “Mrs. Buffalo seems to be acting rather oddly, don’t you think?”

Frank shrugged. “I didn’t notice.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t notice the way she was looking at you all funny? And what did she mean about throwing in rice?”

“Who knows? Maybe she just sees that I’m a changed man.”

“That doesn’t explain her odd behavior.”

“Forget Mrs. Buffalo. Let’s talk about something else.” After a short pause, he added, “I like the way you do that.”

“Do what?” she asked.

“You know, shake out your napkin and put it on your lap.”

She frowned. “I don’t think I have any special way of doing it.”

After several aborted attempts at conversation, their orders arrived, and that’s when Frank really started reeling off compliments. He liked the way she held her knife, salted her food, and even buttered her roll.

“So, what’s new with leather?” she asked after he’d praised the way she cut her meat.

A look of relief crossed his face, and just like that, the old Frank was back. “You won’t believe this,” he said, looking as serious as a cocked pistol, “but one of my leather suppliers has upped his price again. Said there was a shortage. Do you believe that?”

Once the floodgates had been opened, there was no stopping him. He talked about leather until Kate’s eyes practically crossed with boredom. Through it all, she smiled politely, nodded when appropriate, and managed to ask a halfway intelligent question or two.

After they left the café, Frank covered his mouth and nose with his kerchief and suggested they ride out to the river. Kate was tired and wanted to go home, but since Frank seemed to have his heart set on taking a drive, she agreed.

“All right,” she said, stifling a yawn. She hadn’t been to the river since her near-drowning and wasn’t all that anxious to go back. Just thinking about what had happened there brought back the memory of being in Brett’s arms.

But Frank was trying his hardest to please her. The least she could do was meet him halfway.

It was a pleasant night with just a slight breeze. A waning moon held court amid a canopy of glittering stars. “I’m glad you talked me into this,” she said, inhaling the sweet air. “It’s a beautiful night.”

“I hoped you’d think that,” Frank said, sounding pleased.

Just before they turned down the road leading to the river, a distant sound made Kate stiffen. Sitting forward, she grabbed hold of Frank’s arm. “Stop!”

Frank tugged on the reins. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his words muffled by the kerchief.

“Listen.” Holding her breath, she strained her ears. This time, there was no mistaking the low-pitched bawls. “There it goes again.” She climbed out of the buggy and lifted the lantern off the side. “It sounds like an animal in trouble.”

Holding the lantern aloft, she picked her way through the tall grass growing by the side of the road and stepped close to the fence.

Craning her neck to see over the top rail, she spotted the problem. A calf was stuck in a muddy buffalo wallow, all four of its legs buried. “Oh, Frank, look,” she exclaimed.

A short distance from her calf, the mother cow gave Kate the evil eye and made a lowing sound.

“You better get back in the buggy,” Frank said. “That looks like one mean mama.”

He was right about that, but leaving was out of the question. The calf was still sinking, its head now barely above ground. The long, harrowing cries sent chills down Kate’s spine. If she didn’t do something, the animal would surely suffocate.

Setting the lantern on the post, she hiked her skirts to her knees and gingerly climbed over the fence.

“Dad-blast it, Kate,” Frank called. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Reaching for the lantern, she held it high. “I’ve gotta do something. I can’t just leave it.”

Keeping a cautious eye on the mother cow, Kate approached the distressed calf with slow, careful steps, speaking in a low voice. The cow lifted her tail and grunted.

“Whoa. I’m just trying to help your little one,” Kate murmured.

For answer, the bovine snorted and stomped around the wallow’s edge.

Heart pounding, Kate kept moving, the mud squishing beneath her feet. The calf arched its neck and let out a frantic bawl. “There now,” she said in a soothing tone.

From the other side of the fence, she could hear Frank cuss. “Hang it, Kate, why do you always do this?”

“Shh. You’re scaring it.”

The calf whimpered as she neared. Watching her with dark, fluid eyes, the mother cow lowered her horns and pawed the ground.

“It’s getting late.” Frank’s voice grew more insistent. “And it’s cold out here.”

“I know, but I can’t leave.”

“So, what do you want me to do?”

She inched closer to the distressed animal. “Drive to the Brandon farm and tell Mr. Brandon that one of his calves is in trouble.”

“I’m not leaving you alone out here. Not with the Ghost Riders on the loose and a mean cow about to attack.”

The calf let out another harrowing cry that brought a responding howl from its mother.

Kate’s mind raced. “I need you to distract her.”

“Ah, come on, Katie…”

The calf sank a few inches lower.

“Hurry! I need help,” she yelled in alarm.

“Ah, gee. You know what animals do to me. You know how I break out in spots and my eyes swell and my nose gets all red and—”

“Please, Frank. If we don’t do something, the poor thing’s gonna die.”

Frank paced back and forth, his curses rending the air. Finally, he threw up his hands and climbed over the fence. In the dim light, his red kerchief looked like a beard. “Okay, let’s get this done.”

Before he reached the wallow, the calf’s mother snorted and pawed the ground.

Frank pulled off his red kerchief and tossed it. Instead of distracting the cow, it seemed to incense her more, and she charged.

Yelping, Frank turned and ran, the cow at his heels.

While Frank kept the mother cow occupied, Kate quickly plunged into the thick of the wallow and sank to her ankles. Forcing herself to proceed with caution, she tested her footing before each step. The wallow was shallow around the edges but deep in the center.

Moving as close to the calf as she dared, she shoved her hands into the mud and grabbed hold of its front legs. The animal squirmed and fought to pull free, splashing mud everywhere. Face turned, Kate tried holding on, but the calf was as slippery as an eel’s tail.

Frank raced by a second time. Breathing down his back, the cow lowered her horns. “Do something. Quick!” he yelled.

“I’m trying, I’m trying!”

Slipping and sliding in the mud, she battled to hold on to the animal. The calf squirmed and bellowed. Tears of frustration sprang to Kate’s eyes. Already, she could feel blisters forming on the palms of her muddied hands.

Frank circled the wallow for a third time, gasping for breath.

“I can’t hold on!” she cried. Oh God! Unable to see for the mud in her eyes, she let go of the calf and wiped her face on the sleeve of her dress.

If only she had a rope. The thought gave her an idea and she grabbed her wet, sticky skirt. The fabric was too tough to tear barehanded, but the soft cotton of her petticoat gave way with little effort. Tying the strips of fabric together with muddied hands, she made a loop.

This she worked over the struggling calf’s head. Holding on to the end of the makeshift rope, she pulled. The calf was strong enough to pull back but not strong enough to help itself.

Frank jumped into the wallow, and mud shot up like a geyser. Mama cow followed him to the edge of the mudhole and stopped.

“Keep pulling!” Frank bellowed.

“I’m afraid I’ll hurt it.”

“Keep pulling,” he yelled again.

The twisted fabric cutting into her palms, she yanked with all her might, her feet slipping and sliding in the sludge. Gasping for air, she stopped to wipe the mud out of eyes with her sleeve and then gave the rope another hard tug. Just when she thought she could pull no more, Frank lifted the struggling animal out of the mud with both arms.

He had a heck of time holding the calf still so Kate could remove the makeshift rope.

The mama cow stuck a hoof into the wallow, looking mean enough to eat the devil with his horns on. With no time to waste, Frank tossed the calf onto the grass. He then grabbed hold of Kate’s hand. “Come on!”

Together, they ran to the fence and scrambled over it. Once they’d reached safety, she looked back. In the yellow light of the abandoned lantern, the mud-covered calf looked like it had been dipped in chocolate. The two of them were nearly as bad.

She stared down at her clothes in dismay. Her dress, shoes—everything was ruined. Frank’s clothes too. But had the mother cow attacked them, it would have been so much worse.

Now, the bovine stood over her young. Sniffing her calf from head to hoof, she set to work licking it clean.

Holding her muddied hands away from her body, Kate couldn’t help but smile. “Isn’t that the most beautiful sight you ever did see?”

When Frank didn’t answer, she turned, and her mouth dropped. Already, his eyes were swollen and his muddied skin covered in bumps. He looked like a warty toad.

“Oh, Frank, I’m so sorry.”

“Aaaa-choo! Why did I let him talk me into this?” Frank muttered. “Why?”

Him? Him who? “What are you talking about?” she asked. “Who talked you into this?”

He slumped against the fence and slithered slowly to the ground, muttering to himself. She clearly wouldn’t get a straight answer out of him tonight.

Kate stared at him in alarm. What had she done to the poor man?

“Come on. I’m taking you home.” She grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet. Since his eyes were now swollen shut and he couldn’t stop sneezing, getting him into the buggy was the hard part. After he had settled in the passenger seat, she took hold of the reins.

His condition grew steadily worse. By the time they reached town, the poor man was completely out of his head. Doubled over in his seat, he rocked back and forth muttering to himself.

It was hard to make sense of what he was saying, but it sure sounded like he was muttering something about pickles.