payment for—” She let out a small laugh and pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “How stupid of me.”
“No, ma’am. I don’t expect payment.” He wished she would sit down. She was looking paler by the minute and what he had to tell her was not going to improve matters. “Please.” He motioned to the chair.
She waved him off. “If you don’t expect payment, then forgive me, but I see nothing else we would have to discuss.”
Lord help him, but there was no easy way to do this other than telling her straight out. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out the folded papers. He set them on the table and slid them toward her.
* * *
Rachel stared down at the folded papers, her heart pounding. She reached out a tentative hand and picked them up, unfolding them with deliberate slowness. The words swam before her eyes and a strange buzzing rang in her ears. This wasn’t happening.
It couldn’t be.
“He put your land up as collateral.”
Except it was.
“It appears I’m the new owner of the Circle S ranch.”
The room swayed and tipped and swerved.
“Ma’am?”
Mr. Beckett sounded far away. She tried to find him, but it was hard to keep her eyes focused. She couldn’t catch her breath. Why couldn’t she catch her breath? Blackness encroached at the corners of her eyes and her legs turned weightless.
“Ma’am?”
Something scraped loudly across the floor. A blur passed before her eyes before something solid enveloped her.
Then there was nothing.
Caleb shoved the table out of his way. The coffee cup crashed to the floor, rendering the chip in the rim redundant as pieces scattered across the hardwood. He caught Mrs. Sutter under the arms and hauled her against his chest, but the impact was not enough to revive her.
“Aw, hell.”
He scooped her into his arms and headed for the lobby, ignoring the gaping stares of the waitress and the sorry excuse for a chef who lumbered out from the kitchen, a stunned expression on his face and a dripping ladle in his hand.
Caleb took it all in with one sweeping motion, sizing up the situation and ruling both of them out as able to offer assistance. The pimply faced boy behind the front desk, with his wide-eyed expression, didn’t fit the bill either.
What was he supposed to do now? It served him right. He had watched her growing paler, noticed the way she wavered. He’d offered her food, such as it was here, and tried to get her to sit down. When she didn’t, he should have stopped. She’d been through enough today. His news could have waited. He could have waited.
“Sir! Sir!” The boy jumped out from behind the counter and ran up the stairs behind Caleb, slipping in front of him as he reached the first floor landing.
“Out of my way,” Caleb snarled. He was in no mood to be polite. This day—heck, this week—had gone from bad, to worse, to downright catastrophic. “You want to make yourself useful go get the doc and send him to my room.”
“Your room? Wouldn’t...uh...” The boy had yet to clear out of his way and the way he was fidgeting back and forth raked across Caleb’s taut nerves.
He bit the words out. “Wouldn’t I what?”
The boy’s eyes widened and he flattened his back against the wall. “Her room is over there,” he said with a jerk of his head pointing in the opposite direction to where Caleb was heading.
“Her room?”
“Y-Yes, sir. Mrs. Sutter and the boys. They’re in room 205. T-To your right.”
Caleb blinked. He hadn’t realized Mrs. Sutter was staying at the same hotel. He wasn’t sure why her being here made him uncomfortable. Part of him didn’t like the idea of her in such squalid surroundings. The other part...well, the other part didn’t like it, was all.
He turned toward room 205. “Open the door,” he ordered.
The boy obeyed without argument. “I’ll go get the doc,” he said, then disappeared, his clumsy footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Caleb walked to the narrow bed in the center of the room and placed Mrs. Sutter in the middle of it, settling her limp body against the horse-hair mattress. He was surprised by how light she was curled in his arms and how reluctant he was to let her go. He sat on the edge of the bed and tapped her cheek with his hand.
“Mrs. Sutter?” Her skin was smooth and soft beneath his calloused palm. “Mrs. Sutter?”
A sudden movement caught the corner of his eye. Caleb spun away from the bed, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun but coming up empty.
The young boy he’d seen in the church stood frozen in place next to a cot pushed against the far wall. Wide gray eyes stared up at Caleb.
When he spoke, the boy’s voice barely made it to a whisper. “Is she dead?”
Caleb shook his head, willing his heartbeat to return to normal. “Just a faintin’ spell.”
To her credit, Mrs. Sutter stirred, adding credence to his words. The boy relaxed, and for the first time Caleb noticed the raggedy toy in his arms. A dirty old rabbit sewn together out of canvas. The kid clung to it as if it were a lifeline.
“She’ll be fine,” he added. “It’s been a rough day, burying your pa and all.”
“Mr. Sutter weren’t my pa.” The boy pulled the rabbit up under his nose and hugged it tighter.
Caleb absorbed the information but couldn’t make sense out of it. Maybe the widow had been widowed before Sutter.
Mrs. Sutter stirred again, and the young boy crawled out of the chair and drew closer to the bed. A tentative hand reached out and touched hers, little fingers curling inside her palm. “She doesn’t get sick. She said she don’t have time for it.”
Caleb nodded. Sutter had been dead wrong about his wife. In the few short hours Caleb had known her, she’d proven herself capable of withstanding tragedy and facing ugly truths. This was a woman who knew the harsh realities of life. A sense of reluctant kinship filled him. He knew what it was like to have your life destroyed.
He pulled a rickety chair out from a corner, lowering his aching body into it. It had been a long few days.
“You got a name, son?”
“Ethan.”
Caleb nodded and scanned the room. “Where’s the other boy?”
Ethan crawled up onto the bed and laid his head down on the pillow next to Mrs. Sutter. It bothered Caleb how motionless she was. He didn’t have much experience with fainting, but he found it worrisome she still hadn’t woken. He watched her expressionless face. Beneath the black wool dress, the gentle swell of her small breasts rose and fell. Relief made him breathe easier.
A minute had passed since he’d asked his last question. The boy, Ethan, stared at him over the top of the rabbit’s head. He tried again.
“Where’s your brother?”
“Brody ain’t my brother, he’s hers.” A small finger released its hold on the rabbit and pointed at Mrs. Sutter. Another mystery solved.
“Where is Mrs. Sutter’s brother, then?” Caleb knew when someone was evading a question, and this boy was doing a brilliant job of dancing around its edges.
Silence.
“Son?”
The