If you could point me in the direction of the local pharmacy?” She pushed past them both and made for the bathroom door.
James took her arm. “You’re coming with me. Stop being so stubborn. It’s obvious you’re hurt. Miss Glory can fix you right up.”
He caught a glimpse of Lucille gaping at them in the bathroom mirror. News of this bathroom encounter would be all over town in an hour.
“Thanks for the suggestion, Mrs. Bozeman.” He leaned into Charlotte, whispering in her ear, “If you don’t want your business common knowledge, let’s continue this outside.”
He stayed near her as they walked through the diner. Charlotte briefly glanced at every face in the crowd, as if taking their measure. She opened the door and stumbled, pitching forward a half step. The full weight of her body leaned against him. She smelled like some kind of flower—a rose, perhaps. It was as though a touch of spring had breathed life into a dreary November day.
Charlotte stiffened and drew back. A prickly rose, this one—beautiful but full of thorns. James clenched his jaw. Didn’t matter how she looked or smelled or felt. This woman was a whole host of complications he didn’t need or want. He’d get her medical attention, find out why she came to Lavender Mountain and then escort her to her truck and wish her well.
“If you’re on the run as you claim, the last thing you want is an infection to set in that injury. Miss Glory really can help you.”
“If I agree, will you give me a ride to my truck afterward and let me go?”
“You’re in no position to negotiate. You trespassed on my property and pointed a gun at me, as well. I believe I’m holding the trump card.”
“Okay, okay,” she muttered.
She hobbled beside him until they reached the store.
Miss Glory’s shop, The Root Worker, was dark. Glory claimed the light deteriorated the herbs strung along the rafters. The placed smelled like chamomile and always reminded him of the time he and his sisters, Darla and Lilah, had all come down with the flu at the same time. Their mother had infused the small cabin with a medicinal tonic provided by Miss Glory.
“What brings you here today, Jim Bob?” Glory asked, grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle. She swiped at the gray fringe of hair on her forehead. Her deeply lined face focused on Charlotte. “And who’s your friend?”
James quickly made introductions. “She’s here because of a lump on her head, a twisted knee and cut skin on her right thigh. She refuses to see a doctor, so I thought I’d bring her to you.”
Glory didn’t even blink an eye. No telling how many strange stories she’d heard over the years.
“I’ve already cleaned it out and bandaged it,” Charlotte said. “Don’t see the need for anything else.”
“How bad do your injuries hurt?” Glory asked gently.
“I wouldn’t turn down some aspirin.”
“Hope you’re not so stubborn that you ignore any signs of a concussion or infection. You start runnin’ a fever or see red streaks flame out from the flesh, you get to a doctor quick, ya hear?”
Surprisingly, Charlotte nodded her head slightly. “I will.”
“You seein’ double or got the collywobbles in yer tummy?”
“None of that.”
Every moment he spent in her company, his doubts about her story grew. He remembered her steady aim and fierce eyes as she aimed a gun dead center on his chest. This wasn’t a woman who ran away from danger. She’d confront it head-on.
“Tell you what I’m gonna do, darlin’. I’m sending you home with a gallon of my sassafras tea. You drink a big ole glass of it at least three times a day. That sassafras is my special tonic that’ll clear up any nasty germs brewing in yer body.”
Miss Glory went behind the counter and rummaged a few moments, returning with a couple of items.
“A little poultice to draw out infection,” she said, pressing it into Charlotte’s palm. “And a few capsules filled with feverfew, devil’s claw and a couple other goodies. Much better than an ole aspirin.”
Charlotte shook her head. “I don’t—”
“Now don’t you fight me on this, child. I see the pain in them eyes of yers. You’ll need a sharp mind to be of any use to anyone and you can’t have that without rest. Take it before you go to bed at night.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte murmured, stuffing the poultice and pain packet in her backpack.
“Jim Bob, grab a gallon jug of sassafras tea on yer way out. It’s in the cooler by the door.” Glory rested an arthritic-weathered hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. “I see danger surrounding you, child. They’s people wish you would go away from here and never come back.”
James was used to Miss Glory’s eerie predictions. He wasn’t sure he believed in all that hocus-pocus, but people around here claimed she had the sight. Couldn’t hurt to pick her brain. “What do you know?” he asked sharply.
“Me?” She threw up her hands and cackled. “I’m just an old woman who’s been around too many years to remember, and can sense people’s energy.”
He was reading too much into the old lady’s ramblings. Wouldn’t have even bothered coming to her shop, but Lilah swore that Miss Glory was the only one who helped her get through a difficult pregnancy and then again helped with her colicky baby.
Charlotte backed away to the door, suspicion hardening her classical features. “Who am I in danger from?” she asked sharply.
“That’s not for me to say. But I suspect you know the answer to your own question.”
Charlotte nodded and continued edging to the door.
He wasn’t going to let her run again. James plopped down a couple twenties on the counter. “Will that cover everything?”
Miss Glory nodded and leaned in, her breath a whisper against his ear. “Watch after her. She needs help whether she likes it or not.”
James shook his head. “I’m no one’s protector,” he grumbled. He had his own demons to fight. His tour of duty overseas had left him unwilling to get involved in others’ problems, beyond what was required as an officer. Lilah often fussed that he’d become too withdrawn. But whatever—all he wanted was to perform his duties and be left alone.
Charlotte gasped suddenly and flung herself against the side wall, away from the shop door. A couple of mason jars filled with herbs crashed to the floor. The scent of something earthy, like loam in a newly plowed field, wafted upward.
“What is it?” Instinctively, his right hand went to his sidearm and he surveyed the scene outside. On Main Street, a sleek black sedan accelerated and turned out of sight from the town square.
“Are they gone?” Charlotte asked past stiff lips.
“Whoever was in that vehicle? Yes. What’s
