Hope (19 page)

“Then let’s go in.”

Hope took a deep breath. No telling what they were getting into this time.

Stepping back, she pointed to the goat. “She goes first.”

Chapter Eleven

“Come in!” the figure in the bed yelled. “Been waiting for ya!”

Hope entered hesitantly. “Is anything wrong?” she asked.

Dan tied the bleating animal to the porch railing and strode inside.

Nudging her shoulder, Dan whispered, “Don’t get involved. We’re here for a day’s rest; we move out tonight. Whoever this person is or whatever problems he or she is having, we aren’t getting involved. Understand?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she whispered back. “We’re not getting involved.”

It was obvious whoever—or whatever—was lying on that bed did have a problem. The cabin’s state of disarray, the way the individual’s hair looked as if he or she had thrown it in the air and jumped under it—something was wrong, all right.

Dan was right; they couldn’t take on one more person’s troubles. Every hour they tarried just caused more needless worry for John Jacobs.

Hope’s eyes roamed the stale-smelling room. The log home was huge, with massive pieces of hand-hewn furniture crammed about the one enormous room.

“Come closer. Don’t be afraid.”

Hope crept toward the voice, holding tight to Dan’s hand. “Are you ill?”

“Hurt my leg—been praying the Boss would send someone to help.” The figure motioned her nearer. “Don’t be shy; these old eyes cain’t see as good as they once did. Come closer.”

Though Hope would have complied, Dan’s steely grip restrained her. Clearing his throat, he said, “We’re just passing through. We saw your cabin and thought we might impose on your hospitality.”

A cackle rent the air, startling Hope. Wide-eyed, she stepped back.

“You’re welcome to anything I have, but you’ll have to fix it!” the voice crowed. “Pete’s sakes—come closer. I cain’t see ya.”

Wrenching free from Dan, Hope approached the bed. The voice sounded friendly enough. And it sure wasn’t Big Joe or Frog trying to trick them. “How long have you been here?” Hope asked.

“Abed? Two days now. I was startin’ to think I was a goner for sure.”

Hope edged nearer, focusing on the lone figure. The dim light revealed an old woman lying abed, her foot propped up on a stained pillow, her snow-white hair in wild confusion.

“Hello,” she said as Hope bent closer. “That’s better. Why, ain’t you a pretty little thing. What brings you clean out this way?”

“Well—”

Dan intervened. “We’re on our way to Medford, ma’am. We’d hoped to be there by now, but we’ve been delayed.”

A pair of faded molasses-colored eyes looked him up and down. “You’re welcome to stay the night with me. Hafta sleep on the floor; the bears are a real bother lately, comin’ around at night looking for food. It won’t be safe to sleep outside or in the barn.”

Hope turned to look at the floor. Would she ever sleep in a real bed again?

Dan nodded. “Thank you for your hospitality. We’ll be moving on tonight.”

“Tonight! Why, land sakes. A body shouldn’t be out there in the dark. You’ll stay the night and strike off early in the mornin’.”

Dan glanced at Hope.

The old woman smiled. She didn’t have a tooth in her mouth. “Glad to have the company. Maybe your wife will take a look at my wound. Tried to clean it myself, but ain’t had no luck.”

“I’d be happy to.” Hope located a bucket near the sink and filled it at the well in back of the house.

Dipping a cup of fresh water from the bucket, Hope held the old woman’s head as she drank thirstily. “Oh, my, that tastes good. I’ve been makin’ my peace with the Boss,” she said, dropping weakly back to the pillow. “Not many folks come this way. I figured I was about to be called home.”

“How did you hurt your leg?” Hope busied herself straightening the rumpled sheets. The bedclothes were a disgrace. They needed a good washing.

“Had a little mishap with the ax.”

“You were chopping wood?”

“Choppin’ at it. Charlie died last fall. Pneumonie fever, I’d say. My husband was a good man; had enough wood laid up for the whole winter. But now it’s gone, and I’m forced to do somethin’ about it.” She lifted the injured leg, chuckling. “At least Charlie left the old ax sharp.”

“Do you have any medicines?” Hope asked. She could cleanse the old woman’s leg and apply salve, then properly care for Dan’s shoulder.

The woman rose up on a frail arm, her eyes on the sling on Dan’s left arm. “Are you feelin’ poorly, son? You’re looking a mite peaked.”

Before Dan could answer, Hope fielded the question. “We’ve been walking for days. I apologize for our appearance. We look a sight. I’m Hope, and this is Dan.”

“Hope, huh? Well, you’re aptly named, young’un. ’Cause that’s sure what you’ve brought me. I’m Letty McGregor. Pleased to meet you. The Boss answered my prayer.”

“The Boss?”

“The Big Man—the Almighty. He’s my boss—” She paused, her razor-sharp eyes pinning Hope. “Ain’t he yours?”

“Oh yes, ma’am,” Hope said. “He is.” Papa would have switched her good if she’d ever called the Lord “Boss.” Just didn’t seem proper.

Letty pointed a bony finger at a shelf on the far wall. “See those jars and cups there? They’ve got herbs and such in them. Bring that biggest jar over here and a bowl to mix in.” She glanced at Dan. “Son, would you mind checkin’ on my mules? I fear they’ve not got a drop of water. Haven’t been able to tend them since I got hurt. Might have rained, but I ain’t heard it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’d appreciate that, young fellow. They’ve been faithful mules.”

Hope picked up the big jar of herbs and carried it to the bed, then searched for a bowl in the messy kitchen, jumping back, startled, when her hand encountered a roach.

“You’ve got a mighty good-lookin’ man there,” Letty called. “My Charlie was powerful handsome, too.”

Yes, Dan was powerful handsome. Any woman would be proud to claim him. But he wasn’t hers. “How long were you and Mr. McGregor married?”

“Nigh on to sixty-seven years.” Letty lay back on her pillow, staring at the ceiling. “Come from Missouri, you know. I was helpin’ Papa farm when Charlie comes along lookin’ for work. Papa hired him for room and board and a dollar a month. I was fifteen at the time. The first six dollars Charlie earned, we up and got married.” She shook her head, her lined face pale and drawn. Hope suspected she hadn’t eaten in two days. “Charlie was a fine man, God rest his soul. Buried out back—you’d see his grave if you was to look.”

Hope brought the bowl and a wooden spoon to the bed.

“Take a couple spoonfuls of that powder and add about half as much water.” Letty watched Hope’s movements. “That’s it—now, mix it up real good until it’s thick as mud.”

Hope wrinkled her nose as the vile smell permeated the area.

Letty chuckled. “Smells like the outhouse, but it works.”

When the mixture met the approval of Letty’s critical eye, the old woman uncovered her left leg.

Hope stepped back, sucking in a deep breath. The wound was bright red with the beginning of infection.

“It looks bad, but the salve will fix it right up. Spread it on the cut; by morning it’ll be workin’ on the poison.”

Dan returned, carrying a few sticks of wood in his good arm. Hope jumped up to help him.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” she scolded, taking the bundle from his arms.

“If you’re going to fuss over me, do it by serving me a hot breakfast,” he bantered lightly.

They pitched in and got a roaring fire going in the woodstove. Hope set a kettle of fresh water to boil.

“Bless you young’uns’ hearts.” Letty watched the activity from the bed. “I sure could do with a cup of tea when you get the time.”

“Yes, ma’am, hot tea coming right up.” Hope eyed the sink piled high with dirty dishes. No one was drinking or eating a morsel until she did something about that.

“There’s pork, beef, and deer in the smokehouse, Dan. And there’s a hen or two in the chicken coop. There’s plenty of eggs out there waitin’ to be gathered. You’ll find canned goods in the cellar. Land sakes, this couldn’t have come at a worse time,” Letty complained. “Spring comin’ on and I haven’t got nary a potato in the ground. Ain’t even got the soil tilled. Looks like I’m not gonna be able to now.”

“We’ll find everything we need, Mrs. McGregor. You just rest.” Hope moved about the small kitchen, moving quickly to restore cleanliness and order.

“While you’re thinkin’ on breakfast, maybe your man will come sit by me—let me have a look at that shoulder.”

Dan’s eyes darted to the green mass covering Letty’s leg, then back to Hope.

“It ain’t purty to look at, but this stuff’ll fix the problem. Now come over here; let me see why you got that arm in a sling.”

“He was shot.” Hope pushed Dan toward the chair beside Letty’s bed. He sat down, looking as if she’d thrown him before a firing squad.

Letty’s brows went up. “Bullet wound, huh? You running from the law?”

“No, ma’am.” Dan straightened defensively. “I am the law. I got this wound in the line of duty.”

Grunting, the old woman leaned over the side of the bed, peeling the bandage aside. Her eyes assessed the wound. “When Charlie built the house, there was a small band of Comanches livin’ nearby. They was a mean lot, causing all kinds of trouble. After a while they decided we meant them no harm, even began comin’ by for a cup of coffee or a biscuit I’d hand out. They shore loved my strong coffee—said they could hunt for days without tirin’ after drinkin’ a cup. They’re the ones that taught me about herbs and such.” Dan winced as her fingers examined the wound. “I trust the Boss for healin’, but I believe he helps us by providin’ plants and such toward that healin’. Herbs have been all Charlie and I’ve had through the years.” She grunted. “Worked real well till Charlie up and died on me.”

Hope watched Letty tend the wounded shoulder, her eyes trying to tease Dan into a better mood.

Letty chuckled. “You two remind me of the way me and Charlie was when we first had eyes for each other. Couldn’t git enough lookin’.”

“Mrs. McGregor, we’re not—,” Hope began, compelled to explain the situation, but Dan stopped her.

“Hope would appreciate a bath, if you’d be so kind.”

Letty cackled out loud. “And a comb wouldn’t be too far amiss. Traveling without nary a thing, are you?” Her sharp-eyed gaze missed little. “Must not afigured on being gone long.”

“No, ma’am. We didn’t figure on being gone long.” Hope quickly averted her gaze for fear of bursting out laughing. Neither had figured on being gone this long, and that was the complete truth.

“We’ve had to travel slowly because of the wound,” Hope admitted, absently patting Dan’s back.

“Well, the wound don’t look good. You boil some water, and we’ll get some hot compresses on it. You’re lucky the bullet went clean through.”

Hope nodded solemnly. “We have the Boss to thank for that.”

“Yes, coulda lost your man. Take that pot there and fill it with water, heat it to a roiling boil. Might as well get more pots goin’ so you can wash up before we eat. You’ll enjoy your meal more with the tangles out of your hair.”

Smiling, Hope wondered if the old woman had any idea what her own hair looked like.

Settling back against the pillow, Letty sighed. “There’s a pile of Charlie’s shirts in the chest there against the foot of the bed. Might even find a dress or two for you, Hope, and some clean undergarments, if you don’t mind wearin’ someone else’s duds.”

Pure joy filled Hope. Clean clothing! “I wouldn’t mind at all, thank you!”

“Should be me thankin’ you. I’d a-been a goner if the Boss hadn’t sent you my way.”

Hope carried in buckets of water, refusing Dan’s help. Carrying water was something she could do. “You rest that shoulder.”

Soon the smallest pot was steaming. Letty still fretted from her bed. “There’s muslin in the chest for bandages. Get a poultice on that shoulder; should look better by mornin’.”

Hope quickly readied the bandages; then amid vehement protest, she sat Dan down at the table.

He eyed the bandages and hot water. “This is going to hurt.”

“Not much.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“Pour some of that hot water in the bowl, dip in the cloth, and let it cool just enough for him to bear it,” Letty directed.

Hope followed the old woman’s instructions, flinching each time Dan’s face contorted with pain.

“This is for your own good,” she whispered.

The muscle in his jaw worked as she alternated hot compresses. She thought his shoulder looked even angrier with treatment, but Letty looked satisfied.

“Now, spread the herbs on, heavy-like, and leave off the bandage until we eat.” She watched Hope work, her birdlike eyes intent on Hope’s job. “Those pots hot enough for bath water?”

Hope glanced toward the stove. “I think so.”

“There’s a copper tub in the back room, what I call my bathin’ room. There’s plenty of soap in there—nothin’ fancy, but it’ll get you clean. Towels aplenty.”

Hope jumped up to check the pans of boiling water. The steamy liquid bubbled away. “I’ll bathe right after we eat, Mrs. McGregor.”

“Letty, sugar. Call me Letty, and you go on and take your bath. Won’t hurt us to wait breakfast a spell longer, and you’ll feel better. Your man and I can sit and talk awhile.”

Hope glanced at Dan, and he nodded, holding his smarting shoulder. “Go ahead. I’ll keep Mrs. McGregor company.”

Hope smiled, aware that it was the last thing he wanted to do, but he was a gentleman. She located the oversize tub, worn smooth by frequent use. A stand containing soap and towels sat nearby. She quickly filled the tub with hot water, tempering it with a bucket of cold, then stripped out of the tattered dress and underclothes. She sank into the water up to her chin and closed her eyes in ecstasy.

When she climbed out of the tub and toweled dry half an hour later, she whispered, “Bless you, Letty. And thank you, Boss.”

Letty’s dress hung on her slight frame like a feed sack, but it was clean and gloriously dry. Hope began to wonder if she’d ever wear her own clothes again.