Hell for Leather Page 4

  When she snorted at herself, she almost choked on the gravy.

  Fifteen minutes later, Sabrina walked over to the mill. The night air was cold enough that she could see her breath. Shivering, she tightened the brightly colored shawl around her shoulders and berated herself for not wearing the beautiful wool coat she’d splurged on last month. If she’d taken the time to walk back to the store instead of directly to the mill, she could have gotten it.

  However, she knew if she went back to the store, more than likely she wouldn’t have left again to go see Sam. It wasn’t as if the lumbermill was a bad place, but it held such dark memories of Ellen’s attack and Eric’s death, Sabrina avoided the building as much as she could. The hard-packed dirt beneath her shoes grew softer as she approached the front of the mill, the result of inches of packed sawdust.

  By the time she reached the door, Sam had already come out to meet her. He looked apologetic in the purple light of dusk.

  “I’m sorry, Sabrina, I should have met you at the store. I know you aren’t comfortable coming in—”

  Sabrina waved her hand. “It’s okay. I need to stop being foolish about the mill.” It would be hard, but she’d accomplished harder tasks. Confronting ghosts was messy business.

  “It’s not foolish. You’ve got reason to steer clear of a place that holds such bad memories.” Sam took her elbow in his hand and led her up the steps. “I appreciate you coming by. This afternoon Melissa started writing her name as ‘Mrs. Cody’ on her slate.” He shook his head. “She’s suddenly in love with this stranger, and no matter what I say, she just smiles and keeps on.”

  She’d had no idea Melissa had formed an infatuation for the dark Mr. Brody already. In fact, Sabrina didn’t even know the girl had met Cade.

  “He came into town just last week. How did she run into Mr. Brody already?” Shivers ran up and down Sabrina’s skin as the smell of wood permeated her nose. Her stomach churned as another shadow danced across her mind. Swallowing hard, she walked into Sam’s office and felt grateful when he shut the door behind him.

  “I thought it was at the store, but perhaps not. You didn’t introduce them?” Sam pulled out the chair beside his desk for Sabrina to sit down.

  “No, I didn’t.” Sabrina wondered how Melissa managed to finagle a meeting with the mysterious Cade. “She’s a resourceful girl.”

  Sam sat down heavily in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have no idea.”

  Sabrina held her breath, hoping like hell he wasn’t going to tell her that Cade had done something inappropriate with Melissa. She was just a girl and wasn’t yet ready to actually be with a man in earnest. Her encounters should be limited to her imagination.

  “What happened?”

  Sam slammed his fist onto the desk. “Nothing, as far as I know, yet when I caught her writing Mrs. Melissa Brody today, she told me it was just for fun, as if I believe that.” He leaned forward and speared Sabrina with a sharp look. “Now tell me what you know about Cade Brody.”

  He was being more pushy and aggressive than she’d ever seen him. It was very unlike Sam, which told her this was about more than Melissa’s obsession with a stranger.

  Sabrina covered his hand with hers. “Sam, what’s wrong?”

  He closed his eyes. “I can’t talk to her anymore. She refuses to even say ‘Good morning’ or ‘Hello’ to me. Half the time I don’t even know where she is. The men in the lumbermill think she’s got a secret beau. No one misses an opportunity to tell me I’ll be a grandpappy soon.”

  “I can hardly believe it.” Sabrina knew men sometimes joked with each other but this was going too far. “Why would they do that?”

  “I don’t know, but I feel like things are out of my control. She’s almost a woman and I can hardly stand the thought.”

  Sabrina couldn’t help Sam become a better parent since she had no experience herself. However, she felt obligated to listen because he was her friend.

  He looked into her eyes with the saddest gaze she’d ever seen. “The only good thing in my life is you.”

  The very last thing she wanted was to give Sam false expectations. She’d turned down Sam’s marriage proposals more times than she could count. He couldn’t possibly expect she’d up and say yes because he was travelling rough road with his daughter. No one wanted to marry out of pity, least of all Sabrina. She’d married Eric out of friendship and a misplaced sense of rightness. She’d never make a mistake like that again.

  “You have a lot of blessings, Sam, not the least of which is a successful business and a beautiful daughter.” Sabrina wasn’t going to allow Sam to wallow in self-pity.

  Sam stood and crossed the room to stare out the window. He let out a sigh, fogging the window with his hot breath against the cool glass. “Sometimes I wonder.”

  Sabrina wanted to slap her forehead in frustration. Sam was turning into a whiny child and she’d had about enough of it for the evening. “I’ve got to get back to the store, Sam.”

  As she walked to the door, he grabbed her arm, his fingers biting into her. Sabrina pulled away from him, then rubbed her skin.

  “You hurt me.”

  He threw his hands in the air and stepped back, anger clearly written on his face. “You’re leaving.”

  “I don’t know why you asked me here. I’ve told you what I know about Cade Brody, which isn’t much. You’re just going to have to talk to your daughter on your own.” She yanked open the door and stormed out, annoyed with her friend.

  Cade saw the roots on the ground in front of his door and frowned. His mysterious visitor seemed to think he needed help finding food, which was completely ridiculous. He knew exactly how to ride to Eustace for supplies.

  As if he would know what to do with roots anyway. Cade couldn’t cook worth a shit, beyond eggs, bacon and beans, so most everything he ate came from a can, a restaurant or a frying pan. He secured his horse in the lean-to behind the house, mumbling to himself about his mysterious visitor. When he got back to the house, he kicked the roots aside.

  He stepped through the door and a sharp object smacked him in the back. Cade stumbled and his hands grabbed for the doorjamb. He whirled around and reached for the gun that didn’t sit at his hip. Again. He straightened and looked down to find another one of those damn roots by his feet.

  “You little bastard.” Cade stalked outside, snarling, his pride wounded and his back smarting.

  “Excuse me, mister.”

  Cade looked up to find a young man driving a wagon. No more than sixteen, the kid had sprouts of whiskers on his chin, or perhaps they were dirt, mousy brown hair and too-big clothes that looked like they’d been owned by a man twice his size.

  “What do you want?” Cade snapped.

  “Mr. Fuller sent me up here with some lumber you wanted.” To his credit, the kid’s voice didn’t shake, but he swallowed hard enough to make his Adam’s apple bob. “You Mr. Brody?”

  “Yeah, that’s me.” Cade finally noticed the lumber in the back of the wagon. He’d been so distracted by the little shit plaguing him, his powers of observation had been seeing red along with the rest of him.

  He couldn’t wait to get his hands on the fool in the woods. His hands tightened into fists at the thought. Cade was not a man to be played with, but it appeared to be a lesson he needed to teach.

  “Mister?”

  “Fine. Get the wood unloaded.” Cade stared into the trees, willing himself to see something, anything.

  Thumps, grunts and loud bangs came from behind him, but Cade ignored the kid. He worked for Fuller, he could unload the wood alone. When he screeched like a little girl, Cade whipped around to find the kid hopping on one foot, a pile of boards scattered on the ground.

  “Jesus H. Christ, what the hell did you do?”

  “I slipped.” The kid’s face bloomed red and sweaty.

  Cade didn’t want to pay attention to the kid, but he did anyway. A year ago, he would have walked away and left him.

>   He held the kid’s elbow to steady him. The young man was skinny, but wiry and strong.

  “Is your foot broken?” Cade tried not to sound annoyed, but he had no desire to take the delivery boy back to Eustace. He wanted to get to looking in the woods again.

  “Might be. It hurts like the dickens.”

  “Shit.” Cade sighed and picked the kid up. “You might as well get in the wagon.”

  After setting the kid down on the wagon seat, Cade grabbed the rest of the wood and threw it in a pile by the door. He’d have to stack it later, not that he was looking forward to it.

  “What’s your name?” Cade started examining the kid’s foot.

  “Jeremiah.” The kid closed his eyes tightly, looking for all the world like he was going to fall on his face in the dirt.

  “Don’t go fainting on me like some girl now.” He used his softest touch on the rapidly swelling foot.

  “You a sawbones or something?” Jeremiah asked through clenched teeth.

  Cade snorted. “Not hardly. I learned a bit in the sal—building I grew up in. Seen a lot of, er, wounds in my time, helped out a doctor a time or two.” At least he didn’t faint at the sight of blood.

  “Is it broke?” Jeremiah peered over the top of his knee at the wound.

  “Yep, I think so. Dammit.” Cade glared at the woods. “I had something, no someone to find this afternoon.”

  “What?” The kid frowned and glanced at the trees.

  “Nothing, just thinking out loud.” If he was any kind of neighbor, he’d bring the kid back to town to get his foot looked after. Cade could also wrap the kid’s foot up and send him back alone.

  What if Jeremiah passed out on the way?

  “Shut up,” Cade growled at the voice in his head. It had started to sound remarkably like his friend, Brett Malloy, the most honest straight-shooter he’d ever met. Dumb son of a bitch needed to stop reminding Cade of what the right thing to do was. It was high time he made that decision for himself.

  “Are you talking to me?” Jeremiah inched back on the seat, setting himself up for a passel of splinters.

  “No, someone’s been squatting in my cabin.” Cade took his neckerchief off and wrapped Jeremiah’s foot. “It ain’t the cleanest thing in the world but it’s all I got besides a blanket, and I don’t rightly want to tear that up.”

  “You seen the ghost?” Jeremiah’s flushed face had become as white as milk.

  Cade stopped dead and stared at the kid. “Ghost?” What the hell was he talking about?

  “Oh yeah, the ghost of Livingston Valley. Old Louie used to tell stories about it. Spooked him something awful.” Jeremiah shrank back even further onto the hard seat, looking as if the ghost was about to bite him in the ass.

  “There’s no such thing as ghosts.” Cade frowned. “Whatever Louie told you was whiskey talking, nothing more.”

  “The ghost is real.” Jeremiah sounded like a preacher in church giving a passionate sermon. “One night I seen it out back behind the cabin. Louie had some chili for supper and gave me some. I was leaving and”—he swallowed hard—“it floated right at me screeching like an owl. Had soiled drawers that night, I did.”

  Cade swallowed the laugh that threatened to escape. It was obvious Jeremiah believed what he was saying, however, Cade didn’t. He’d seen and done too much in his life to believe in ghosts, except for the ones that resided inside him.

  After he finished wrapping the kid’s skinny foot, he noted the pale complexion and shaking hands. There was no way Jeremiah was faking the injury, which meant Cade needed to help him get back into town.

  “Be right back.” Cade took his time saddling his horse, running over and over in his mind why he came up here into the corner of the world to begin again. It appeared the world didn’t want him to stay hidden, rather it wanted him to stay in the light. God knows what Sabrina would think to see him in town yet again, considering he said he hadn’t planned on coming into town often. This would be the third time in a week.

  Jesus Christ and all the heavenly saints.

  Why the hell couldn’t things go right, for once? With a sour disposition, Cade cinched the saddle tight on the as-yet-unnamed horse and led him back to the wagon. As he tied off the reins to the back of the wagon, the kid watched him with wide eyes, looking like a damn hoot owl.

  Cade climbed up on the hard wooden seat. “Move over.” He reluctantly picked up the reins then clicked his tongue at the horses. “Lucky for you somebody taught me how to handle one of these things.”

  “Are you taking me back to town?”

  “That’d be why I’m in the wagon, boy.” Cade needed to stop thinking about the upcoming visit to Eustace, so he turned his attention back to what Jeremiah had said. “What did you see?”

  “You mean with the ghost?” Jeremiah winced as the wagon bounced over the rutted path.

  “Well I don’t want to know about your shitty pants.” Cade sure as hell didn’t want to hear any stories, but maybe the kid could give him a clue about his mysterious visitor. At least that would keep his mind off other things.

  “It was dressed something dark, with long white hair like a lady.” Jeremiah swallowed so hard, Cade heard his throat slide up and down. “It ran past me so fast, I almost didn’t see it. The air behind it smelled like pine so I knew it was the ghost that lived in the woods.”

  Smelled liked pine?

  “What do you mean it smelled?” Cade sat up straighter, now completely interested in the story. Ghosts damn sure didn’t smell like anything, that is if they even existed, which they didn’t.

  “It ran past me fast, but I was born in a mountain cabin, mister, I know what pine smells like.” Jeremiah nodded, his foot pain apparently forgotten.

  “And you said it had long white hair?”

  “Just like an angel.” The boy appeared to be half afraid, half in love with the mysterious “ghost”.

  Cade wondered if the boy was touched in the head. “More like some little shit who thinks it’s funny to pester me and scare foolish boys.”

  “Oh no, sir, it ain’t nothing like that. Old Louie said the ghost helped him out once or twice toward the end ’afore he died, like when he couldn’t get meat, there’d be a rabbit on the step for him.” Jeremiah believed every word he said judging by the earnest expression on his face.

  Cade didn’t find anything unusual about it. “Sounds like a neighbor helping out.”

  “You think what you like.” Jeremiah stuck his chin out. “I know what I seen.”

  It’s possible that whoever had been helping the old man was the same person harassing Cade now. What would be the purpose though? It wasn’t as if Cade was a decrepit old man who shit in his drawers and drooled. He could take care of himself. Living with Brett Malloy for four months had taught him a lot about that very thing.

  No self-righteous fool could change that.

  “All right, let’s say there is a ghost. Why the hell would it throw a turnip at me?” His damn back still smarted from the flying root.

  Jeremiah’s brows rose so far into the dirt on his forehead, Cade couldn’t see them. “It threw a turnip at you? What did you do, mister, call it a devil instead of an angel?”

  Cade had a fleeting thought that perhaps the angel knew a devil when he saw one.

  By the time they got close to town, Jeremiah had grown even paler and was sweating buckets.

  “You okay, boy?” Cade didn’t need the boy dying on him after delivering wood for a corral. Jesus, the whole town would likely lynch him.

  “Just feel a bit sick to—” With that, Jeremiah leaned over the side of the wagon and tossed up what was left of his last meal.

  Cade wrinkled his nose at the smell and his own stomach heaved. Too many memories slammed into him at once, the purple room, the gaudy curtains, a woman cupping his face and telling him it would be all right, then the flash of other faces, smells and times. A bit of gorge crept up his throat and with monumental effort, he swallowed it back a
nd tried to shake off the dark magic on his back. It had been so many years since he’d thought of that place and now it appeared the past was swinging around full circle to his present.

  He pinched his fingers in the traces to bring back his self-control.

  “I need to drop you off. Where the hell is the doc’s place?”

  “Ain’t no doc.” Jeremiah wiped his mouth on his sleeve, the spittle leaving a shine on the rough fabric.

  “No doc? Then what do the folks in Eustace do when they’re sick?” The image of Alexandra Malloy popped into Cade’s head. The beautiful blonde doctor had spoiled all future experiences with any physicians he might meet. However, he was supposed to stop thinking about the past. He couldn’t ever go back to see the Malloys because dead men don’t visit the living.

  “Clara Weathers is the closest thing we got. She delivers all the young’uns and has a good hand at doctoring.” Jeremiah pointed with a shaking hand. “Yellow house next to the store.”

  Of course it was next to the store. Why wouldn’t it be? After all, Sabrina must think Cade was a nuisance already, why not make it worse?

  With a fierce scowl, Cade stopped the wagon in front of the small house then set the brake. He glanced at the boy and noticed his eyes were starting to roll back in his head.

  “Dammit.” Cade jumped down and caught Jeremiah in his arms. The kid barely weighed as much as a saddle—Sam Fuller must not pay very much. As Cade walked up to the front door, he wondered if Sabrina was watching, then wanted to kick his own ass for even thinking about her.

  ———

  “He’s a devil, bringing blackness into Eustace.”

  Sabrina controlled the urge to roll her eyes. “Who’s a devil?” She continued dusting the cans of peaches while she waited for Ellen to continue.

  “That stranger. He wears a dark cloak around him as if it’s part of his skin. You’d best be careful.” Ellen looked away from the window with a frightened gaze.

  Sabrina stopped and walked over to where her sister stood. “What are you talking about?” She looked out the window and saw Cade carrying Jeremiah into Clara’s house. The boy’s foot was wrapped and he was as floppy as a rag doll. Something must’ve happened to him and Cade had brought the boy into town for help. It confirmed her instincts about him—he was a good man. “Looks to me like he’s being a good neighbor and helping Jeremiah. Lord knows not many people do.”