collarbone or jaw is more like it. Cracked ribs. A broken arm.”
Cole’s dark copper eyebrows climbed his forehead. “He’s the runt? Are you sure?”
Will chuckled. “He’s that. Barely comes to my chin, and I know because he’s given me a few pokes in the chest. His size, or the lack of it, is usually what starts the fighting. Except for the ten-pound chip on his shoulder, he doesn’t carry much weight on him. Used to be when the Abbots were still performing, Runt’d have to play all the girl parts. Lord, but he hated that. He cleaned up kind of pretty, especially for Juliet and that other one–the wife of the Moor.”
“Desdemona,” Cole said. “Othello’s wife.”
Will snapped his fingers. “That’s right. Desdemona. Runt told me once that the only role he really liked was Portia.”
“From The Merchant of Venice.”
“That’s the one.”
Cole considered that. “Understandable.”
“How’s that?”
“A man playing a woman who disguises herself as a man. In Shakespeare’s day, men always played the women’s roles.”
“Could be so, maybe it was, but around here, we like the parts that are all woman. You take my meaning?”
“I do.”
Will thrust out a hand sideways to halt Cole’s forward progress. “We’ll hold up here. Wait for an invitation.”
Cole flexed his fingers around the reins, relieving some of the stiffness that had crept into them. “Sheriff Cooper didn’t mention that the Abbots were actors.”
“It’s been a while. I don’t suppose folks think of it much. When Judah and Delia came to town they just had the two boys and called themselves the Abbot Family Players. They sang, danced, and performed recitations. I barely remember that. I was pretty young myself. After Mrs. Abbot died they didn’t do a theatrical until Runt was probably six or seven. He did magic tricks then. Started playing parts when he was around eleven, I’d say. Quit everything … let me see, maybe six years back. He was probably seventeen or thereabouts. Couldn’t take the teasing any longer, I guess. Better for everyone, most likely. He was bound to kill someone for tryin’ to catch and kiss him. Don’t know that anyone would have done it, but it never came to that since he couldn’t be caught.”
“So that was the sort of teasing you did. You were hard on him.”
Will nodded. “Seemed harmless back then, just boys wanting to prove something we couldn’t even understand about ourselves, but I feel proper shame thinking about it now.”
“He’s come to trust you, though, so that speaks well of you.”
Will struck a thoughtful pose, rubbing the underside of his chin with his knuckles. “I wouldn’t say that he trusts me exactly. Tolerates, is more like it. He likes the sheriff well enough, so Wyatt doesn’t have to be as cautious. Of course, Wyatt always carries some of his wife’s biscuits when he travels. Makes him kind of popular with the outliers.” Will pointed to the cabin. “You might as well introduce yourself, Doc. Runt doesn’t seem to be of a mind to show himself without you giving him your credentials.”
Will tapped himself on the chest where his star was pinned to his vest. “I have mine right here.” He gave Cole an encouraging nod. “Go on. Tell Judah about yourself. He’s probably sitting on the other side of one of those dirty windows waiting to hear what you have to say. It’s a sure thing that Runt is somewhere close by.”
“Just talk?” he said, frowning. “About what?”
“Tell them who you are for starters. They know me, so it’s you that’s rousing their suspicions.”
Feeling perhaps as foolish as he ever had, Cole raised his head slightly and called out. “Hel-lo! Mr. Abbot! Ahoy, there!”
One of Will’s eyebrows kicked up. “Ahoy? We’re not exactly at sea, Doc.”
Cole very much felt as if he was. “It’s a perfectly acceptable greeting at a distance, one I heard employed at a demonstration of the telephone.” When Will simply stared at him blankly, Cole decided that explanation could wait. He tried again, shouting out so his voice would be heard clearly. “I am Coleridge Braxton Monroe.”
Will could only surmise the doc was nervous because there was no other reason to give all three of his names. Braxton? Rose never mentioned the patrician features accompanied a pretentious name. Will managed to keep from rolling his eyes but suspected that somewhere Runt was fixing to fire another shot, probably across the bridge of Coleridge Braxton Monroe’s noble nose.
“I’m the new physician for Reidsville,” Cole went on. “I was recently hired by the town to fill the position vacated by Doctor Diggins. I understand that you and your son Ru–” He caught himself and heard Will’s low whistle of relief. “Ryan may require medical attention from time to time. Sheriff Cooper encouraged me to get to know the outliers.” He loosened the strap on his black leather bag and carefully held it up. “I brought my medicines and instruments. If you will permit an examination, I will better understand how I may be of service to you and your son.”
There was no immediate reply, and Cole thought he would be forced to repeat all of it even more loudly. Will cautioned him to give it some time, and their patience was rewarded after a few minutes. The front door of the cabin opened and a man supporting himself with a cane limped out.
“Judah?” The question was reflexive. Even at his current distance, Cole could make out enough of the man’s features to know he had to be the father.
“Judah,” Will confirmed. “Don’t be fooled by the limp. He moves pretty well when no one’s watching him.”
“Why would he affect a limp?”
Will Beatty shrugged. “Acting’s in his blood, I reckon.”
It was as good an explanation as any, Cole decided, and he tucked it away until he had a better one.
“You invitin’ us in, Judah?” Will called out. “No biscuits, but I have Mrs. Easter’s rhubarb tarts. I know you like those.”
Judah shuffled to the edge of the canted porch and leaned his left shoulder into one of the supports. Still holding the cane he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Does Coleridge Braxton Monroe come with the tarts?”
“Afraid so!”
Cole watched Judah’s hands drop back to his sides. Apparently he’d done all the talking he was prepared to do across a distance. Judah turned away, but at the last moment, he flicked his cane in their direction and gestured to them to come forward.
“That’s it?” asked Cole.
“That’s it.”
“What about Ryan?”
“He probably won’t shoot us now, not unless his pa says to. C’mon. Let’s go.” He clicked his tongue and let his mount feel his boot heels. As they rode toward the cabin, Will opened up his saddlebag and took out a neatly wrapped parcel.
