Marry Me. Jo Goodman

      “Out.”

      “I know that, but where does he go? I couldn’t make out the direction of his shot.”

      “Upstream a piece, I expect. He usually walks that way when his tolerance for my company is at its nadir. I send him out when my tolerance for him has reached the same low point.”

      “Which was it today?” asked Will.

      “The latter.”

      Will nodded. “All right,” he said, coming to his feet again. “I’ll leave you two here and go find Ryan. Maybe I can convince him to come back long enough to meet the doc and have a go at conversation.”

      Cole thought Judah looked as though he wanted to object. There was just enough hesitation in his manner to suggest he was searching for a reason to keep Will in the house. He tried to set Judah’s mind at ease. “The examination is painless,” he said. “And I’ll be asking you to answer some questions about your medical history that you may not want the deputy to hear.”

      “I may not want you to hear the answers either,” Judah said.

      “That’s certainly your prerogative.”

      Judah’s eyes followed Will as he crossed the cabin. They lingered on the doorway after he ducked out.

      Cole set his bag on the table, opened it, and removed a small clothbound notebook and pencil. He held them up so Judah could see and didn’t miss the surprise in the man’s eyes. Cole’s tone was dry, the arch of his eyebrow ironic. “I don’t think I’ll be needing the bone saw just yet.”

      Will chose to stretch his legs with a brisk walk rather than look for Runt on horseback. He knew his quarry couldn’t be too far upstream or he wouldn’t have been able to see his and Cole’s approach earlier. Every so often he turned, surveyed the point in the distance where he and Cole had been when they heard Runt’s shot, and figured as long as it was in sight Runt was still within a shout.

      If he’d come alone to the cabin, Runt would have joined him, no matter how out of sorts he was with his pa. Escorting the doc, though, made Runt even more suspicious than Judah. And that was quite a feat since Judah didn’t trust his right hand with what his left hand was doing.

      “Hey, Runt! Where the hell’d you get to?” Will waited a few beats, but except for his own soft echo, there was no reply. “Aww, c’mon, Runt. I had to bring the doc out. Sheriff’s orders. Wants him to meet everyone, including you outliers. He’s been to the Fabers, the Beauforts, and the Goodalls. He even went up to see Mrs. Minich on his own and managed to charm the old biddy. So far, you’re the only one that shot at him.”

      Will sat down in the grass, stretched his legs out on the slope pointing toward the stream. He leaned back on his elbows and spoke conversationally to the trees at large. “The doc’s okay, even if he does have three names and doesn’t know much about anything ‘cept doctoring.” Will decided he wouldn’t mention that Coleridge Braxton Monroe had at least a passing familiarity with Shakespeare. That wouldn’t settle Runt’s nerves. “He actually thought you meant to kill him, if you can believe it. I didn’t have it in me to tell him that he’d be dead if that was your intention. I brought him up Colley’s trail just to feel him out, take measure of his mettle. It wasn’t right, I grant you, but he did okay. Stayed in his saddle and didn’t puke. Didn’t complain, come to think on it. Doc Diggins would have staked me out on the ridge and removed my entrails with a spoon for a trick like that.”

      “Lord, but you’re grisly with your words.”

      Will hadn’t heard Runt approach him from behind, but he had expected that would be the direction he’d choose. “Hey, Ryan.” He glanced over his shoulder and nodded once in greeting. “I do paint a picture, don’t I?”

      “That’s a fact. You always did.”

      “Have a seat.” Will patted the ground beside him. “Now that you’re here, there’s no hurry. Your pa’s being examined.”

      “More likely, it’s the other way around.”

      Will chuckled. “Don’t I know it.” He looked back again. “You’re not going to sit?”

      “I don’t think so.”

      Will’s easy smile faded as he regarded Runt more closely. “Are you all right, Ryan? You’re paler than the doc was on Colley’s trail.” Runt carried his prized Winchester rifle under his arm, but Will couldn’t help but notice that his hold on it wasn’t entirely steady. The barrel, while pointed downward, wobbled ever so slightly. So did Runt’s legs.

      This was where Will knew it got as tricky as trying to balance a shot of whiskey on his nose. If he pointed out what he saw, Runt was sure to take exception. He might even take himself off. Then there’d be hell to pay, especially if something was really wrong with him like Wyatt suspected. Keeping quiet, though, didn’t seem like it had much to recommend it. Silence always suited Runt just fine.

      Will decided that accusing Judah was the way out of his dilemma. “Your pa take his stick to you again?”

      Runt hesitated. “How’d you know?”

      “Thought I saw blood on it.”

      “Could’ve been, I suppose. He walloped me pretty hard.”

      Will saw Runt shrug. That, and the way he spoke, seemed to make his words more of a statement of fact than a complaint. “What’d you do?”

      “Can’t say. Don’t know.”

      “He didn’t tell you?” He waited while Runt lifted his hat brim a notch and wiped his brow with his forearm. The sleeve of his flannel shirt came away damp and streaked with dirt. Will always thought that even if Runt was held down in a tub of suds, he’d still emerge the worse for wear. Dust motes hung in the very air around him, suspended like cigar smoke in the Miner Key saloon. The corners of his eyes were creased black, and there was a muddy smear on his right cheek. He wore gloves, but it seemed possible the grime had worked its way through the leather a long time ago.

      Squinting up at him, Will said, “You know you can leave, Runt. Like your brothers did. Judah would learn to manage the spread, or he’d come back to town. Maybe mine for a spell. Take his share of what he can bring up from the ground same as every other miner. I bet Abe Dishman would hire you to work on the spur. You could ride the rails between here and Denver for free.”

      “Sounds like you have my life figured out.”

      Will offered up a sheepish grin. “It’s always easier to do with someone else’s.”

      “You still married to Miss Rose?”

      “I am.”

      “Then I think you’re doing all right for yourself.”

      Will had to agree. “Thank you. I reckon I am.” Runt had sidled closer so Will no longer had to look over his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye he could still see the slight waver in Runt’s stance. “How old are you, Runt?”

      “Twenty-three.”

      “That’s what I thought. You think much about gettin’ hitched?”

      “Now and again.”

      “There’s some new girls at Miss Adele’s. Could be there’s someone for you.”

      “I’m not sure I want a whore. No offense meant.”

      “None taken. I made my peace with how Rose made her living before I started courting her. I can’t see that you saying it outright is giving offense. Hell, the hardest thing she ever did was turn the fancy house over to Miss Adele. She cried off and on for five of the worst days of my life. I never saw a woman use as many handkerchiefs as she did, and I had to keep a couple or three spares in my pocket every time we went out. It wasn’t the honeymoon I’d imagined.”

      Will heard Runt chuckle but noted