McKettrick's Choice - Linda Lael Miller [87]
“You’d think he’d have a donkey, at least,” she called back to Holt, bemused.
He’d left Seesaw by then to take care of his own horse. “I’d like to see those ‘brothers’ he mentioned,” he replied.
About then, the other cowboys began wandering in, putting away their mounts, filling the water troughs with buckets from the neat stack out by the fountain.
Lorelei went back outside, looking for Melina, Tillie and the baby. The padre was still standing in the middle of the courtyard, glowing with pleasure, but the other monks remained out of sight.
A chill shivered up Lorelei’s spine. She smiled at the padre and headed for the quarters he’d mentioned earlier, where she and the other women would pass the night.
Sure enough, there were cots, four of them, complete with pillows and blankets.
Tillie sat stiffly in a straight-backed chair, watching while Melina settled the baby on one of the narrow beds.
Lorelei touched Tillie’s shoulder, and the other woman flinched as though she’d been startled out of a sound sleep. Her eyes were huge as she looked up at Lorelei.
“They’re all dead,” she said.
Lorelei went still, and so did Melina.
“Who?” Melina asked, when a few moments had passed.
Lorelei laid her hand to Tillie’s forehead, in case of fever.
“The other padres,” Tillie said, and trembled.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Melina wanted to know. Her hands rested on her hips now, and she looked peevish.
Tillie gulped. “They’re out there, walking around. But I can see through them.”
Melina crossed herself.
Lorelei crouched in front of Tillie’s chair, gripping her hands. They were trembling, and as cold as if she’d just dipped them in a mountain spring. “Tillie,” she said softly. “You’re tired. You lie down, and I’ll bring you some water and something to eat—”
Tillie wrenched her hands back. “I’m not hungry or thirsty, and I’m not tired, neither,” she said adamantly.
“Tillie, of course you are. We’re all—”
“I wish we’d camped on the trail,” Tillie broke in. “I don’t cotton to dead people.”
Lorelei and Melina exchanged a look.
“Maybe I’d better go get Mr. Cavanagh,” Melina said.
“So many of them,” Tillie whispered. Then she lowered her head and began to cry.
Lorelei stood, laid a hand on Tillie’s shoulder. Nodded at Melina.
Melina hurried out, and soon returned with Mr. Cavanagh.
The baby slept soundly on the cot, sucking his thumb.
Mr. Cavanagh dragged up another chair, facing his daughter. “Look at me, girl,” he said gently, as Lorelei stepped through the doorway, followed by Melina.
The courtyard was empty now, and for a moment, Lorelei was frightened—until she looked toward the orchard and saw Holt and the others sitting around under the trees, eating apples. She was hungry, and headed off in that direction.
Melina hurried to keep up. “Do you think it’s all been—well—too much for Tillie? Our running across those dead homesteaders and all?”
“I don’t know,” Lorelei said. She wondered if she should fetch Tillie food and drink, in spite of her refusal, and decided it would be best to wait.
“She’s slow,” Melina mused, “but I didn’t think she was crazy.”
The word crazy lodged in Lorelei’s middle like a Comanche arrow. “Tillie’s as sane as anybody,” she said, and instantly regretted her terseness.
As they approached, Rafe tossed Lorelei an apple, and she caught it handily. He smiled.
She polished the morsel on her shirtsleeve and bit into it. “Thanks,” she said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Holt watching her. He wasn’t smiling like his brother.
Lorelei was mildly pleased by that, though she didn’t know why.
The Captain, sitting cross-legged in the grass, was shuffling a deck of well-worn playing cards. “Anybody want into this game?” he asked, looking directly at Lorelei.
Recalling his cryptic remarks about holding and folding, Lorelei approached. “Sure,” she said, sitting down to