of them here.”
“I’ll be darned.” He leaned the Winchester against the wall. “You want some help?”
It took about twenty minutes for Cole to rummage through the trunk and pass what garments he thought might be useful up to Will. The work could have gone more quickly, but Will had some comment about every piece he examined, usually a vague, highly suspect reminiscence about the play or the role that had employed the particular costume.
“I don’t feel so bad now about chasing after Runt. Seems to me that if I’d been able to catch and kiss him, I would’ve known he was a girl long before now.” He held out a hand to assist Cole coming out of the cellar. “’Course, I don’t know if I’d have really kissed him. Truth is, I was always relieved when he got away.”
“I can imagine,” Cole said dryly. He brushed himself off and looked at the gowns and other garments Will had laid neatly over the backs of two chairs. “We have to talk about that, Will.”
That no-account Beatty boy frowned. “Talk about what? Tryin’ to kiss Rhyne, you mean?”
“Not exactly.” Cole closed the door on the root cellar and motioned Will to follow him into the kitchen. He kept his voice low so there was no chance that he would be overheard. “Have you thought about what you’re going to charge Judah with?”
Will rubbed his chin. “Seems like there should be something. I know he beat Rhyne. She said he walloped her pretty good.”
“That hardly describes what happened to her.” The gravity of Cole’s expression kept Will from interrupting. “What you say to people about bringing Judah in is your prerogative, but I’m hoping you’ll be cautious about what you reveal–and to whom. It’s going to be difficult for Rhyne when people learn Runt Abbot is a girl, but they don’t need to know she was pregnant and lost the child. No one’s health is improved by being the subject of that sort of speculation, and she’s bound to learn of it.”
“A lot of people know Judah has a temper, and they know Runt felt the hard edge of it most of the time.”
“My point is that no one intervened. Ever.”
“I can’t say that anyone exactly witnessed it. More like they saw the evidence. There were the older boys, don’t forget, and Runt, well, he wasn’t complainin’.”
“She wasn’t complaining,” Cole reminded him. “Then, or now. You must have noticed that. When she asked about Judah, she was concerned for you. She still is.”
Will couldn’t argue with that. “So what are you suggesting?”
“Charge Judah with assaulting you. It’s not a lie. He poked you with his stick, remember?”
Will rubbed his chest. “I’m not likely to forget.” He didn’t mention that he would have a bruise later. It paled in comparison to what Rhyne had suffered. “He took a couple of swings at me when I hauled him out to the privy.”
“He also threatened you.”
“That’s true. I suppose what he did to Rhyne doesn’t need to come into it.”
Cole nodded. “Good.” He saw Will hesitate, obviously uncomfortable. “What is it?”
“What about the other? The actual fact that there was a baby.”
“What about it?”
“Well, we don’t who the father was. If it wasn’t Judah, then it could be someone from town. It seems like I should be lookin’ into that, most particularly if Rhyne tells me it was rape.”
“She’s not going to tell you.”
Will thought Cole was probably right, but it was a disappointment that Runt wouldn’t trust him. “She might.”
Cole merely shrugged. He didn’t offer that in his experience it was more likely that she’d confide in a stranger rather than a friend. “Are you all right with this?”
Will nodded. “I’ve got no problem with it. What about you?”
“No problem.”
“Have you thought about what I should tell people when they realize you didn’t come back with me? People are bound to need a doctor while you’re gone. Seems like I should have something to explain it.”
“You can say that we found Rhyne with a fever and I stayed behind to treat her.”
“I suppose that’ll do,” Will said slowly.
“But you’re doubtful.”
“Folks expect to manage a fever on their own, not have the doc at their bedside for the duration. Maybe we should say she broke something … like an arm or a leg.” Before Cole could speak, Will dismissed his own suggestion. “No one would believe you’d be the one to stay behind and help her with the place. I’m going to have to send someone out here to do that anyway. How about we say she was shot?”
“Shot? Who shot her?”
“Miscreants, that’s who. People will believe anything about miscreants.”
“I suspect they will,” Cole said, his tone wry. “If you think that’s best, Deputy, I can support that story.”
“Good. I like it.”
“Now, you mentioned something about getting me some help.”
“You can’t look after Rhyne and do her chores, too.”
“I’m not incapable, Will.”
“No, but you’re city. Big city. I bet you never fended for yourself. Fed the chickens. Butchered your own meat. Milk probably came up right to your door and had the good manners to knock.”
Cole could see that Will was enjoying himself. Folding his arms, he leaned against the stove and waited for the deputy to wind down. The mere suggestion of a smile lifted one corner of his mouth, and he found himself oddly entertained by the picture Will painted of his New York life. Much of what that no-account Beatty boy said was true, but it didn’t follow that the picture was complete. To do that Will would have had to understand something about the demands of a house doctor, know the hours could be as long as a farmer’s, the pay as poor as a ranch hand’s, and the rewards as unlikely to be realized as those offered by the wanted posters.
“So what I’m saying,” Will concluded after ticking off six additional points, “is that you’re goin’ to need an extra pair of hands. I figure the Longabachs can spare Johnny Winslow for a spell, and if they can’t, then Ned Beaumont would probably hire himself out.”
“Whatever you think is best,” Cole said.
Will nodded. “One of them will be here in the morning.” He picked up the Winchester. “I should take this in to Runt. She’ll want to know that it’s close by. I’ll slide it under the bed.”
“That’s fine. Will you need help with Judah?”
“You might want to keep a watch for me out
