Wystan Read online

  The crushing weight of responsibility on her shoulders was almost visible. They slumped under her problems. If he thought she’d looked peaked before, now she looked on the verge of breaking down into tears.

  They had secrets in Berner that wouldn’t behoove any outsiders to know. Dangerous things lurked on the streets, things Wystan and his brothers had to mind. This fragile-looking schoolteacher would probably keel over if she had any idea what sort of place she’d stepped into.

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry for your trouble, but you’ll have to—”

  “Wys, I have a problem at the clinic. The young woman who arrived with Miss Duke needs to stay.” Like an apparition, Eban appeared out of nowhere, his overcoat and waistcoat missing, shirtsleeves rolled up past his elbows. “She’s not going to be comfortable on the trail. The best thing for her would be to rest here.”

  Miss Duke turned to Eban. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Pleurisy. If she gets enough rest, she should recover. Right now, your sister is helping her settle in at the clinic. I’ll do everything I can for Miss Brookshier.” Eban turned his candle-bright smile on the schoolteacher.

  Wystan frowned. “No.”

  Miss Duke gaped. “You can’t refuse to let Beryl stay. It’s Dr. Heckmaster’s clinic.”

  He ignored her. “Eban, we’ve talked about this.”

  “I don’t think these women are quite what we talked about, brother.”

  “I’m sorry, but you’re refusing to let us stay because we’re women?” Miss Duke put her hands on her hips and glared. “If we were men—”

  “I’d say the same thing. It’s nothing to do with you being a woman. It’s because there’s nothing here for you. No work. Your chances of finding some down the road is slim, but it’s better than dying here.” Wystan plucked the toothpick from his mouth and flicked it away. “Eban, give Miss…Brookshier, was it? Give her the medicine you can spare and get that wagon rolling.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Wys.” Eban’s shoulders squared. “In fact, I refuse to let them leave.”

  Sometimes being the oldest of three brothers was trying. Wystan clenched his jaw.

  “Miss Duke, I need a word with my brother. If you’ll excuse us.” He didn’t wait for her to agree. Grabbing Eban by the arm, he led his brother inside the jail and slammed the door. “What happens when they find out?”

  Eban’s gaze dropped. “They won’t.”

  “Right now, things are real calm. Easy to control. Tonight…” A humorless laugh left his throat. “How long do you think a sick woman would last in a town like this?”

  “You make it sound like there’s no control here. I thought that’s what we were doing. You’re the sheriff. Make it clear these women are protected. Miss Duke’s sister is just a little girl.” Eban’s shoulders tightened visibly. “They’re lucky they made it to town. There’s no way of knowing where Tell is or who’s with him.”

  A strong argument, but Wystan stood his ground. “You let them stay one night, they’re gonna want to stay two. We’ve got our hands full already. You know that.”

  A glimmer of anger appeared in Eban’s dark-blue eyes. “She’ll die. I don’t want that on my conscience.”

  Wystan had no special training, no extra schooling outside what he’d gotten as a boy, which in the grand scheme of things was pretty insufficient. Tell hadn’t given a fig for book learning either. Eban was different. He wanted to help the citizens in town, rather than keep them from creating chaos in the outside world.

  He expected nonsense like that from Tell, who probably didn’t remember much about what had happened to their parents, but he thought Eban knew better.

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  The spark of anger turned into a flame. “Pleurisy is serious. We’re not talking about a head cold. She could drown in her own fluid. She’s underweight, fevered, and coughing up sputum an abbeylubber wouldn’t touch.”

  Wystan grimaced at the mention of sputum. “If this were a regular town, it would be different.”

  “When did you turn into such an unfeeling bastard? Even after Ma died, you weren’t so cold,” Eban said. “Don’t think about it. Listen to me for once. A woman needs my help and you’d have me turn her away. I can’t. I won’t.”

  Bastard, was he? Wystan gritted his teeth and leaned forward. He’d whupped Eban often enough when they were boys, and wrestled with worse on a weekly basis. “What are you gonna do, Eb? If I say she goes, then that’s it. My word is law here, in case you forgot.”

  “It’s my clinic. I guess that gives me the right to decide who stays there.”

  Over his brother’s shoulder, Miss Duke peered through the round window in the door. He could tell she was standing on her tiptoes, straining to see. They’d been loud. It was hard to say what she’d heard. He felt certain neither of them had mentioned anything too abnormal.

  “This isn’t over, Eban. I expect you to heal her up fast and get them out of here. I’ll do what I can to warn everyone before dark, but it’s up to you to bar the door at night.”

  “Thank you.” Eban’s words were short, his posture stiff. “I’ll let the Dukes sleep near Miss Brookshier tonight. Keep them all in one room. It’s safer that way.”

  “I can’t wait to give Miss Duke the news. I’m sure she’ll fall all over herself with gratitude.” He brushed past Eban and threw the door open.

  Miss Duke took a step back, her face pink. She tucked her hands behind her back. Her eyes were hazel, almost green, but with a light-brown ring around the outside and little flecks like broken-up autumn leaves.

  “Eban insists that you stay, even though I argued against it. Believe me, you’re better off somewhere else, but I doubt he’d listen if God wrote it in the sky. So you go with him, get whatever you need out of your wagon, get inside the clinic and stay there. Savvy?”

  She shrank away from his harsh tone. “Y-yes.”

  Eban stepped around him and muttered, “Bastard.” He offered his arm to Miss Duke and they stepped into the street.

  Wystan’s mouth tightened as he stared after his brother’s retreating form.

  “You’re sure Beryl will be all right? Sylvie can’t get sick?” Miss Duke’s voice drifted back to him, full of worry.

  It wasn’t a wolf’s responsibility to look after a sheep. Everyone knew that. So it shouldn’t be up to him to keep strangers out of the jaws of the nightmarish hell that could potentially open on Berner’s streets when the sun went down.

  Eban was ten kinds of foolish for thinking he could get the job done. He didn’t want one woman to die on the trail, but he’d sentenced three to perish here. Miss Duke glanced over her shoulder. Her brow furrowed when she caught him looking.

  It wasn’t that Wystan didn’t care; he didn’t want to care.

  Chapter Three

  Rhia hesitated in the clinic hallway. She heard Sylvie talking as though words were what she breathed instead of air.

  “I thought he was going to get run over! You should have seen him step in front of Ponce and Hernando. He wasn’t a bit afraid. I think I’ll marry him, Beryl. He’s so handsome. Didn’t you think he was handsome? Those blue eyes. Just imagine what it would be like to kiss him.”

  Beryl said something, then coughed. Dr. Heckmaster had warned Rhia that Beryl shouldn’t get excited or talk too much, but with Sylvie around, remaining calm and quiet was next to impossible.

  “I wonder where Rhia is.” Sylvie sounded worried.

  What was she supposed to tell them? Sheriff Heckmaster hadn’t been any help. He’d told her to take them somewhere else—anywhere as long as it wasn’t Berner. With little money and already owing a debt to the doctor, she didn’t have many options. Staying in Lincoln hadn’t been one. She was so tired of struggling and putting up a cheerful attitude for her sister.

  If worse came t
o worst, she could always work in a brothel. She flushed thinking about the way those women dressed. With nearly everything showing. No, making money on her back wasn’t an option. The good news was Berner didn’t appear to have any brothels. Of course, if it didn’t have a school, staying here wasn’t much use either.

  “Do you need something, Miss Duke?”

  Dr. Heckmaster’s voice made her jump. She spun and faced him with her hand pressed to her throat. How did he move so quietly?

  “No, I…” She lowered her voice. “I’m not sure what to tell them. Beryl will worry when she learns your brother doesn’t want us here.”

  Eban’s expression darkened. “Ignore Wystan. The three of you can stay until Miss Brookshier is on her feet again. It might be a couple of weeks, but Wys will go out of his way to avoid you, so put him out of your mind.”

  “You’re not a veterinarian, are you?”

  He grimaced. “Not in the least. Not quite a doctor either, but the closest you’ll find for miles. I hope I can help Miss Brookshier.”

  “You already have, by standing up for us.” Rhia smiled. “Thank you, Dr. Heckmaster.”

  “Please, call me Eban. We don’t stand on formality here.”

  His smile warmed her to her toes. Sylvie wasn’t wrong about the doctor’s handsome face. “Heckmaster is an interesting name. I’m not sure I’ve heard it before.”

  His lips thinned, his smile replaced by a cool look. He seemed to struggle with an answer, then inclined his head toward the door. “I’m sure your sister is worried about you. It’s difficult coming to a new place sometimes. If you need anything, I’ll be up most of the night. Please don’t try to leave the clinic. The…ruffians come out at night.”

  She nodded. Ruffians? In a town that seemed all but empty? “All right. Thank you for putting us up and for defending Beryl’s need for rest.”

  “My pleasure. Good night.”

  He left without a sound.

  Rhia pasted a smile on her face and opened the door. Sylvie bounded to her feet.

  “I was worried!”

  “I know.” Her lips trembled as she tried to hold the smile. Beryl studied her and understanding dawned on her thin face. She wouldn’t say anything until Sylvie was out of earshot. “I had a long talk with the mayor and tried to get some things settled, then I got caught up talking with Dr. Heckmaster. You weren’t a nuisance, were you, Sylvie?”

  If she switched topics before her sister could ask questions, they might avoid talking about the situation for days.

  “Isn’t Dr. Heckmaster nice?” Sylvie’s face lit up like a torch. “He said we have to take good care of Beryl and she’ll be well before we know it. It’s lucky we got here when we did, Rhia.”

  “It is, but you shouldn’t talk so much. Beryl needs to rest and it’s hard to do that when you’re chattering like a magpie. I brought our bags with our nightclothes. Get changed for bed.” Managing her sister’s bedtime was something Rhia felt capable of. Sylvie would put up a fuss about going to sleep early, but they were all exhausted.

  “We didn’t have dinner. My stomach is chewing a hole through my body.” Sylvie frowned and rubbed her middle.

  “I have soda crackers. They’ll have to do. Eban—Dr. Heckmaster—said we shouldn’t leave the clinic at night and I’m not sure where we could get dinner anyhow. I didn’t have time to look around. Maybe tomorrow.”

  Sylvie’s frown grew, but she didn’t argue when Rhia held out the carpetbag. Beryl stifled a cough behind her hand and sank deeper into the pillows propping her up. Her pale face alarmed Rhia, though her friend seemed more comfortable in the narrow bed than she had in weeks. Rhia spread blankets on the floor beside the bed. It wouldn’t be as bad as sleeping beneath the wagon. A roof over their heads was something she’d missed. She could still hear the crickets, muffled as they were behind the walls. Sleeping inside might take some getting used to again.

  She tried not to watch as Sylvie undressed. Her thin shoulders and hips stuck out, body dwarfed by one of Rhia’s hand-me-down gowns. Sylvie stayed quiet as she ate a handful of crackers. Rhia’s heart cracked, knowing her sister needed better food. If she couldn’t find work, they’d starve. She pushed another sheet of stale crackers at Sylvie, who gobbled them down. Her stomach grumbled, but she ignored it.

  “Sleep beside me?” It seemed like only days ago Sylvie had been a bouncy toddler with hair soft as chick down, and now she was half-grown.

  Rhia brushed a crumb from Sylvie’s mouth. “Of course. Sometimes it’s hard to sleep in a new place.”

  There was a lot of shifting and tossing while they struggled to find comfortable spots, but after a while, Sylvie snored lightly. Rhia lay on her back, staring into the darkness, fretting about the future. If she couldn’t find work, she worried she’d have to put Sylvie in an orphan home. Sylvie might be mistreated and they’d never see each other again.

  Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as she thought about the terrible circumstances that had brought them here. She sniffed and wiped the tears away.

  “What did the sheriff say?” Beryl whispered.

  “There’s no teaching job. The ad was a mistake. He didn’t know anything about it. In fact, he was very rude. He told me to get out of town.”

  “What are we going to do?” Beryl’s voice contained little hope.

  “Stay, that’s what. He can’t make us leave.”

  Sylvie shifted in her sleep and Rhia paused, hoping her words hadn’t woken her sister.

  “He could make us go if he wanted to. He could fine us, or throw us in jail.”

  “That’s the opposite of leaving. Besides, he wouldn’t want to lock me up. I’d make every waking second a nightmare for him.” Rhia smiled, thinking of all the ways she could irritate the sheriff. Singing, reciting history or mathematics, complaining about the accommodations. Then she was ashamed of herself. Sheriff Heckmaster was rude and uncouth, but that didn’t mean she needed to lower her own sense of decency.

  Beryl muffled a cough. “Was he as handsome as his brother?”

  “No!”

  Sylvie snuffled and turned away from Rhia. The denial was too loud and Rhia was sure Beryl caught it. She’d gotten a look at the brothers side by side. Eban’s indigo eyes were lighter than Wystan’s, his face smoother, though she doubted there was more than a year or two of difference in their ages. Wystan was practically a knuckle dragger compared to Eban’s kind, reassuring manner. Yet, she’d admired the way he carried himself with the confidence of someone comfortable in his body. Had he bothered to smile, she felt sure she wouldn’t have noticed Eban at all. There were similarities between them in size and build, though Wystan was leaner and looked like he spent more time in the sun. Eban’s hands were softer, his nails neater, as was his overall appearance.

  “Rhia?” Beryl sounded drowsy.

  “Hmm?”

  “Did you drift off?”

  Not the way her friend was thinking. “I must have. You should go to sleep. Dr. Heckmaster’s orders.”

  “He said we could call him Eban. It’s a nice name, don’t you think?”

  Rhia smiled. “You sound like Sylvie. Not falling in love with him, are you?”

  Another round of coughing. “Maybe. What’s wrong with falling in love?”

  “I guess you’ll have to get well and let him know you’re planning a wedding.” Although she trusted Beryl, she hadn’t known the other woman long. They’d met on the trail a few weeks ago, when the body-wracking cough had occurred less often. Rhia half feared it was consumption and that she’d exposed Sylvie to the disease, but when she’d spotted Beryl sitting beside the road looking as worn and tired as she felt, she couldn’t ignore her.

  At that point, one more mouth to feed hadn’t amounted to much as Beryl became increasingly listless. She hadn’t been plump to begin with, but it seemed she lost more weight
every day. Her long blonde hair was dry as straw and her face was gray and pinched. In spite of the illness, she remained lighthearted, reassuring Rhia that she hadn’t made a mistake by leaving Nebraska, and providing adult conversation when Sylvie slept.

  Sylvie’s small body curled against her. Rhia matched her breath to her sister’s and thought about tall grass as far as the eye could see. Sometimes thinking about curling waves of grass made her sleepy. Tonight it turned her thoughts to rain, and rain to rivers, which reminded her she hadn’t used the outhouse. The urge to go was a lot stronger than her need to sleep. She sighed, envious of the snores coming from either side of her.

  Careful not to wake Sylvie, she inched away and pushed the blanket down. Her roommates slept on. Rhia tiptoed across the floor, stubbing her toe on the carpetbag Sylvie had left in the middle of the room. She swallowed a curse and opened the door a minimal amount. The lights in the hall were diminished, relieving the worry that a glow might wake either of them.

  She put a hand to the wall to guide herself, hurrying in case she was missed. In the dark hallways, she stumbled blindly, struggling to remember where she’d come in. Eban’s promise to be awake didn’t offer much hope because she didn’t know where he was. She didn’t want to call out, too embarrassed to admit her predicament.

  Her hand touched a round metal doorknob. Relief washed through her. At least she knew the clinic wasn’t an endless labyrinth. When she opened the door, the night air cooled her skin. For a moment, she relaxed and laughed silently at her nonsensical fears.

  A howl loud enough to shatter her eardrums broke the still, moonless night. Rhia pressed her hand to her mouth to smother a cry. Coyotes? Wolves? And then she realized she had no idea where the outhouse was. She’d be hanged if she wandered around in the dark looking for it.

  Except the urge was worse than ever since the howling started. She couldn’t return to bed yet.

  The howling increased, sounding close enough it might be a street or two over. The ruffians Eban had warned her about didn’t seem to be in residence tonight. They would have chased the noisy beast off. Or they might have joined in. She didn’t want to run in to anything human or animal. Shuffling across the parched grass, she put her hands out in hopes of discovering another building. She tripped over the hem of her nightdress and hit a wood structure.