"Sure." Jay climbed down from the bed, starting for the door.
"Don't go outside."
He stopped. "What if I have to go – out back?"
"You come tell us. Don't go out without letting us know, okay?"
The unspoken worry tinted Brandon's words, plain enough for Allie.
Jay shrugged. "Okay, then. I'll go get started on the list." He pulled the door shut behind him firmly as he went out.
Allie met Brandon's cool gaze with one of her own. "What now?"
He shook his head, a slow smile curving his mouth at her confusion. "Now…we figure out Gabriel's Law. Then, we'll go from there."
****
Doc Wilkins rode toward Hobart at a leisurely pace. He'd left himself ample time to be there ahead of the two o'clock stage. His mind whirled and spun like the desert tumbleweeds as he kept to the rutted path, due west from Allie Taylor's spread.
He'd had no choice but to tell Brandon about what Allie was facing with Arnie Smith. Allie would be livid. He shook his head. Maybe Brandon would have her calmed down by the time he got back to their place this evening. Maybe she'd realize that he'd only told Brandon about Arnie and his threats because he was concerned for her safety. And Jay's. Arnie would stop at nothing to own Allie's spread – and Allie herself. He would certainly not let Jay remain the impediment he'd been so far. Would he go so far as murder?
Not for the first time, Doc wished Allie had aimed a little higher. Arnie was pure evil. Allie would have saved herself a world of trouble if she'd only…
There had to be another way. Brandon Gabriel could be the answer, if his hand healed properly – and if those vultures waited until it had time to mend.
He happened to like Brandon, despite the fact that he sold his gun. There was much more to him than that – a tenderness in his eyes every time he looked Allie's way; the quick closeness between him and Jay… Brandon had brought Arnie's wrath to a head in more ways than one. But Brandon wasn't the kind of man to leave a job unfinished – no matter what the outcome was to be.
He had a kind of honor about him, Doc thought. Hired gun aside, he was loyal. Brandon would lay down his life to protect Allie and Jay.
The more Doc thought of it, the more anxious he was to pick up his new partner, Owen Morris, and get back to Allie's place. Something wasn't sitting right. There was the slightest prickle in the small of his back that he'd learned never to ignore. Didn't mean any one particular thing. Didn't mean someone was following, or watching. Didn't mean for sure there'd be trouble tonight. But it meant something.
As he rode into Hobart's dusty Main Street, he made straight for the livery stable. Renting a buggy would be best for the young doctor from Massachusetts who was coming all this way to begin a new life. Owen would be walking into a hornets' nest, but it was unavoidable.
He drew rein, dismounting stiffly. There was plenty of time to rent the buggy. Glancing at the sun, he judged the time to be somewhere between ten and eleven. The stage wouldn't be rolling in until around two o'clock that afternoon.
He looped Ol' Rooster's reins over a hitching rail in front of the livery and started toward the door, intending to make his arrangements first, then head for the saloon to wait in the cool interior.
He'd taken three steps when two boys ran out of the livery stable, nearly knocking him down. He grabbed the second one, holding onto his thin shoulders to steady them both for an instant. "Whoa, son, where you headed in such a rush?"
The boy looked up at him from under a wide-brimmed hat that was too big. Straight, cotton-blond hair escaped from where the hat set crookedly on his head.
"I'm sorry!" he said breathlessly, worry darkening his face. "Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to run into you."
Doc smiled, trying to put the boy at ease. "It's all right. I just wondered if someone was after you."
At that moment, three more boys came pelting out into the bright light, laughing and pushing each other.
"Hey! You boys! That's enough!" A surly bear of a man followed them out, and Doc could see another three or four boys behind him in the dark recesses of the stable.
Immediately, the laughter stopped. The boys all hung their heads and stood looking down at the dusty street.
"They ain't hurtin' nothin', Mr. Buell," the livery owner said, following the man outside. "They're just boys, been ridin' a long ways and glad to be almost to the end of the trip, that's all."
"Well, they ain't at the end yet, Mr. Glass." Buell turned hard eyes toward the livery owner. "And it ain't your business, now, is it?"