Page 112

Tomorrow, one ring would tell Rusk what he expected to hear.

What happened after that would depend on whether Whit’s men were ready.

Eden turned the page and began to read.

Chapter Nineteen

The church bell rang once at nine.

Jesse heard it through the clinic window. Across Flat River, men who had spent the night hiding near the old road would watch for movement. Bass had agreed to appear ready to sign over the south crossing. Whit and Marshal Davis had agreed to let him try, provided nobody acted without their say-so.

Jesse had agreed to stay in bed. That was the part of the plan he liked least.

Eden had come down from her room upstairs after breakfast, wearing a blue dress Jesse hadn’t seen before. He liked it well enough to forget what he’d been about to say when she entered.

Now she stood beside the window, the curtain drawn except for a narrow gap. She had brought fresh paper for her notebook and insisted he finish his breakfast before they began watching the street.

He knew she was tired, and so was he. She had kissed him yesterday, and every time their eyes met, he remembered it.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“Mr. Arden is sweeping the boardwalk. There’s a wagon outside the mercantile.” She peered through the gap. “And a dog sleeping beneath it.”

“Dangerous fellow?”

“The dog?”

“Mr. Arden. He ought to keep a closer watch on his street.”

“He has been watching it since dawn. I doubt he has missed much.”

Jesse smiled. He had helped choose the positions for Whit’s men, though Whit had wisely kept some of them to himself. A good plan needed fewer people talking about it.

“You could sit,” he told her.

“You could stop telling me to sit.”

“Could. Won’t.”

She came to the chair beside his bed. Her hand found his, light and certain. They had grown comfortable with that small liberty. Jesse wanted a great deal more than the liberty to hold her hand, but this morning was no time to say so.

A boot scraped against the floorboards in the front room.

Eden’s fingers tightened.

Tater guarded the clinic door. He had a rifle beneath the counter and instructions to admit no one without the sheriff’s approval. Jesse listened.

A man spoke, pleasantly enough. “I’m looking for Dr. Pickett.”

Jesse had never heard the voice. Beside him, Eden drew a sharp breath.

She had gone pale.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“That voice.”

He waited.