He went over to the bed and pulled the sheet up over her thin body. He hesitated, wanting to lean down and touch his lips to her forehead. To hug her. But that might wake and frighten her. Instead, he locked the picture of her into his mind.
Elizabeth was standing just outside the room. “I will take good care of her.”
“I know that.”
“Be careful,” she said softly.
“I’m hard to kill. And ?nd.”
“I’ll still worry.”
“Doc or Abe will keep you informed.”
“The doctor doesn’t like me.”
“He’s just a cautious man, Elizabeth.”
“Liz,” she corrected.
His heart tugged again. He sensed that no one called her that but her father and Marilee. She’d just torn down a barrier.
He wondered whether he could tear down his as well. He wondered whether he could ever be whole again. He hadn’t told Elizabeth that, like Marilee, he had nightmares. His were about the killing ?elds, about the boys he had killed, the friends he had lost in a nightmare called war.
He touched her cheek. “Be wary of Delaney.”
She nodded, her eyes fearful but not, he knew, for herself. For him.
He left.
The guards were still trussed when he checked on them, though two were awake and struggling. He tapped them on their heads again. He didn’t want anyone following him.
Then he retrieved Chance, mounted, and rode toward their canyon.
ELIZABETH’S father was better the afternoon after Seth’s predawn visit, though still in a great deal of pain. He refused to talk about his heart condition, closing his eyes in pretended sleep when she tried to broach the subject.
A sense of loss had ?lled her the moment Seth had left. It would be there until he returned again. It was made more dif?cult by the fear she had for her father.
Howie appeared at the door of the bedroom. “The major is here,” he announced ?atly.
He didn’t like Delaney either. Delaney had always treated Howie dismissively, even with contempt. Elizabeth had never understood how her father tolerated it.
She and her father exchanged a glance. He knew her suspicions now. He hadn’t agreed, but neither had he argued about it.
Howie had barely made his announcement when Delaney shouldered his way inside.
“What happened last night?” he said angrily.
“Other than more of our cows being rustled?” she said tartly.
“My men were attacked and tied up.”
“Where?”
“Here, dammit. I want to know what happened.”
“I didn’t even know they were here,” she said. “You should have informed me you were ?nally taking our requests for protection seriously. They must not have been the most competent of men, though, if they allowed themselves to be taken while what’s left of our cattle was being rustled.”
His face mottled in anger. “
“He?”
“Sinclair. I want to know where he is now.”
“I have no idea. He did not con?de in me. In truth, he doesn’t care much for us. Claims we stole this land. Still, he did help Papa.”
His face got redder. “My men were watching for him. He must have returned last night.”
“I thought your men were here to protect our cattle,” she said with surprise in her voice. “And why on earth would Mr. Sinclair visit us last night?”
Delaney shoved past her to her father’s bed. “Michael, where is he?”
Her father shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean. I have been sleeping. Laudanum, you know. And if my daughter says he wasn’t here, then he wasn’t. She doesn’t lie.”
Delaney eyed both of them with disgust. “You aid him and you’re as much a criminal as he is.”
“A criminal?” she asked. “What did he do?”
“He attacked my men.”
“Oh, they saw him then?”
He stomped to the door. “If you see him…”
“I’ll send Howie immediately,” she said. She very consciously did not add the two words,
He slammed the door behind him.
She turned back to her father, who looked stunned. Delaney had always been smooth and charming around him.
“That’s the real Delaney,” she said.
Chapter Twelve
SETH STAYED AT the hideout, going out at dusk with his brother and the other three men who rode with him. Each night they gathered a few more animals, herding them back into the valley.
Information was coming from newly hopeful ranchers. They spied on the army details and reported to Abe. Abe’s son reported to someone else who, in turn, met Colorado at a speci?ed place. If cattle were sold or rustled, Seth knew about it nearly immediately, and the cattle were quickly liberated before anyone could change the brands.
Five days after McGuire’s shooting, Doc arranged for Seth to meet with the marshal he’d mentioned. They met at the home-the old Keller place-Abe had offered him. As far as either Doc or Abe knew, Delaney was unaware that Seth used it.
Dillon accompanied him partway, then veered off to a position where he could watch the road. If more than one rider approached, he would ?re two warning shots.
Seth hid Chance in a clump of trees half a mile from the ranch house, then found a tree about an eighth of a mile from the house and climbed up into it, found a comfortable perch, and waited.
An hour later, a lone horseman wandered in, dismounted, and sat on the porch of the house. Seth recognized him as the man in the saloon but still he waited thirty more minutes. He had learned to be cautious.
He ?nally lowered himself through the branches and dropped to the ground, taking his pistol from its holster as he landed.
Aiming it at the lawman, he approached.
The man watched him without blinking. He didn’t stand. He didn’t go for his gun, or the ri?e lying on the steps beside him.
“Use your foot to push the ri?e off the step,” Seth said.
The lawman obliged and started to stand.
“Don’t!” Seth said.
The lawman settled back down. “Sinclair?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest.”
Seth ignored the comment. “Doc says you’re honest.”
“I try to be.”
“Did he tell you what’s going on around here?”
“Enough to bring me here.”
