7

Kate left the shop early the next morning to make deliveries. Most of them were to shut-ins. The shop made no money off such deliveries, but the smiles she received were payment enough.

The moment she drove her horse and wagon away from the winding streets of Haywire, she relaxed, and the nagging pain in her neck began to subside. She’d hardly slept the night before. Each time she’d closed her eyes, a vision of the outlaw came to mind.

Not wishing to ruin the day with such dark thoughts, she inhaled the rich fragrance of warm grass and blooming wildflowers. It had rained the night before, but only a few clouds remained. The brief shower had left the air clear and fresh.

This was by far her favorite time of year. That’s why she’d chosen to have a spring wedding, rather than waiting for the more traditional month of June. The sun’s golden glow spread over the land like warm honey, but that wasn’t the only thing that lifted her spirits.

Today, the earth was dressed to the nines in its finest attire. Bluebonnets stretched across the prairie for as far as the eye could see, filling the air with a pleasing, sweet fragrance.

Cattle raised broad white faces as she drove by, ears perked. Birds rose from the tall grass in graceful flights. Butterflies and bees vied for nectar.

The calm, peaceful scenery cleared Kate’s head and allowed her time to think. Maybe Aunt Letty was right; maybe she had been too hard on Frank. She’d always known he had a jealous streak. As a young girl, she’d been flattered, but that was before she’d come to know that jealousy had nothing to do with love. Rather, it stemmed from insecurity. Knowing Frank’s background, she couldn’t blame him for feeling insecure, but that didn’t make his possessive nature any easier to bear.

Since the day was too pleasant to dwell on such thoughts, she focused her gaze on the long, narrow dirt road ahead.

After making two stops, one to a Civil War amputee and another to a bedridden grandmother, she reached the small adobe house owned by Old Man Fletcher. His wife had died ten years earlier, and since then, he’d not left his house.

She knocked on the door. It took so long for Fletcher to answer that she feared something might be wrong. Just as she reached for the doorknob, she heard his gruff voice.

“Come in.”

She threw the door open and found him sitting in his usual upholstered chair, his well-worn face resembling a peach pit. “Thought you could use something sweet,” she said, holding up a basket packed with his favorite treats. He was particularly fond of the candy she’d named Uncle Joe’s Licorice Balls, but he also favored peppermint candy.

He grunted and indicated the table next to his chair with a toss of his near-bald head.

She set the basket by his side. “Did I wake you?” she asked.

“Wake me? No, why?”

“When you took so long to answer the door, I thought you were asleep.”

“Don’t I wish.”

She studied him. He didn’t look like his usual cheery self. Today, his eyes were dull, and he appeared distracted. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“Nope. The trouble is not sleeping.”

“I could ask Doc Avery to stop by. Maybe he can give you something to help.”

Fletcher made a face. “Forget it. The last time that ole sawbones forced me to take that vile poison he calls med’cine, I stayed sick long after I got well.”

Kate laughed. “I still think you should have him check you over.”

He scoffed, his eyes dark and remote. “Can’t a man feel a little under the weather without calling in the cavalry?” He tossed a nod at the basket by his side. “So, what did you bring me today?”

“All your favorites,” she said. “I also brought you the latest Mark Twain.”

“That’ll keep me occupied,” he said.

She glanced around the room. Fletcher usually kept his place spotless, so the muddied boots by the door seemed out of place. “Anything else you need?”

“How about a rich woman willing to play nursemaid to an old man?”

“If I find one, I’ll send her your way.”

He managed a wan smile. “You do that.”

“I better get a move on.” She hated to rush away, but she had a lot more deliveries to make and wanted to finish before the heat of the day. “I’ll stop by next week.”

She left with more than a little concern. Fletcher lacked his usual sparkle. Maybe he was just tired. He did say he was having trouble sleeping. Still, it might not be a bad idea to ask Doc Avery to stop by and have a look.

Leaving Fletcher’s house, Kate drove her wagon along the old trail following the river’s edge. The route would take her slightly longer to reach her next destination, but the scenery was worth it.

Beneath the bright glare of the sun, the normally muddy water looked like a strip of shiny brown taffy. Had it not been for the deliveries she had to make, she would have been tempted to stop and sink her feet into its murky, cool depths. How she longed to put the fishing pole kept handy in the wagon to good use! She hadn’t gone fishing since Uncle Joe died. The shop now took up most of her time.

A movement on the river caught her eye, and she pulled the wagon to the side of the road for a better look. Was that what she thought it was? Squinting against the water’s glare, she shaded her eyes with her hand.

At first, she thought it was an alligator. None had been spotted this far north, but that was still a possibility. She narrowed her eyes. The current caused the object to turn slightly, allowing for a better view. She now saw that it was a log, and clinging to it was a white spotted dog.

Alarm coursed through her, and she gasped, “Oh no!”

Farther downstream, the river dropped into a series of rocky waterfalls. The dog’s life was clearly in danger. She must do something, fast!

Setting the wagon brake, she scrambled to the ground and pulled off her shoes and stockings. Quickly unhooking her skirt, she let it drop to her feet. Tugging on the ribbons of her bonnet, she tossed it away and took a running leap into the frigid water.

Her muscles stiffened in response to the cold, and she immediately regretted not removing her petticoat. The buoyant fabric caught the river’s undertow and threatened to drag her down. Nonetheless, she kept going. Kicking hard, she sliced her arms through the water. Between the strong current and the weight of her nether garments, she made slow progress.

Surfacing, she treaded water to get her bearings and spotted the log no more than fifteen feet away.

The muscles in her arms and legs burned, and she felt limp with exhaustion. Fearing her ability to keep fighting the strong current, she wiggled out of her petticoat, hoping that would help, and her garment floated away like a giant marshmallow.

The dog let out a whining sound, then wagged its tail and barked as if cheering her on.

“Hold on,” she called. Wearing only pantaloons from the waist down, she found it easier to kick now, but the flow of water kept pulling her under. Kicking harder, she lengthened her stroke. Progress was slow, but persistence paid off, and she made it to the middle of the river. The log bobbed up and down just out of reach. Gasping for air, she kicked with all her might, but it was no use. The log drifted away, and the dog howled like a lone wolf.

The canine’s safety paramount in her mind, she swam as hard as she could. Just as she was about to reach the log a second time, an excruciating pain shot up her calf.

She threw her head back and tried to float, but the current dragged her under. Breaking through the surface, she spewed water and gasped for air. She tried to flex her foot and kick through the cramp, but the murky depths sucked her in again. Gathering her strength, she shot upward, sputtering.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, she doubled over and stretched her leg until her lungs screamed for air. Popping her head out of the water, she moved her arms as if climbing an invisible ladder but couldn’t stay afloat long enough to fill her lungs.

Icy fingers of terror gripped her heart. No, no, no! This can’t be the end. Don’t panic! Mustn’t panic… God, no!

She thought of Aunt Letty. Her dear, sweet aunt. What would become of her? Kate had promised her uncle she’d take care of her. Oh, Uncle Joe, forgive me. She thought of…of… Her mind went blank.

Darkness closed in on all sides. All at once, she was back on that orphan train. The rank, sour smell of cattle filled her head. Frank was halfway out the open door. She grabbed his feet, but he slipped away from her grasping hands. Helplessly, she watched his body fly out of the train and into the night air like a bat from a cave.

She opened her mouth to scream but instead gulped a mouthful of water. She couldn’t move. Her arms, her legs, her body felt stiff as marble. Suddenly, she was five years old again, standing by her mother’s bed.

“Wake up, Mama, wake up,” she cried. But her mother wouldn’t move. Hadn’t moved all day.

Desperate now, she shook her mother’s lifeless body, sobbing, but no one in that dark, dingy tenement building came to help her. Nor was there anyone to tell her what to do. She was all alone. Fear unlike any she’d ever known washed over her.

She threw herself across her mother’s lifeless body. As she lay there, crying her heart out, firm, ironlike fingers reached out to grab her. All at once, she knew how it felt to be in the unrelenting grip of death.