walked to the gate knowing he’d just taken the lead in steer roping. He stepped behind the pens looking for Dan but the rain was driving so hard he couldn’t see more than the dark outline of the barn. He guessed most of the hands sleeping around chuck wagons would be in the dry hay tonight.
Slashing through the mud, he headed toward the barn hoping to find Dan and congratulate him. When he stepped out of the rain at the side of the corral, he heard someone coming up fast behind him.
He swung around expecting Dan, but a fist caught him so hard in the stomach he folded over. All he saw were three men in oil slickers, boots and dark rain-drenched hats. The next blow knocked him against the side of the barn and he thought he heard the chime of silver spurs.
Rowdy shook his ringing head and came up fighting. He knew he hit one man hard enough on the jaw to knock him down and felt another’s nose crack beneath his knuckles, but their fists rained down worse than the storm. Finally, when he twisted to avoid one blow, a man behind him hit him hard in the back of the head with what felt like an anvil.
Rowdy crumbled and the dark night turned black. Vaguely, from far away, he thought he felt a few kicks to his ribs and then nothing.
Chapter 8
“Miss Hayes. Laurel?”
Laurel shifted in her chair by the window and looked around the café. Everyone from the rodeo seemed to have moved into the hotel out of the rain. Most of the cowboys were in the bar in the back, but her father had insisted she stay in the parlor surrounded by nursing mothers and whining children ready to go home.
She’d heard rumors that even though the dance tonight had be cancelled, there were still games the men called “outlawed events” going on. There the betting was heavy. Those not out in the rain participating were inside awaiting the outcome.
She had no idea where her sisters were, but her father had gone upstairs with several men to drink and play poker until the rain let up enough to head for home.
Staring out the window she decided that might never be.
“Laurel?” The whisper came again as if it were drifting in the wind.
She studied the people around her. No one was even looking in her direction.
“Laurel,” the voice whispered again.
This time she had a direction to follow. Three feet away she saw Bonnie Lynn serving tea to one of the older women.
“Yes,” Laurel took a chance and answered.
Bonnie Lynn only spared her a quick glance as she straightened. “Follow me.”
Laurel didn’t ask questions. She stood slowly, looked around and followed several feet behind Bonnie Lynn as they left the room and moved into a hallway to the kitchen that served both the parlor and the café.
“What is it?” she asked as soon as Bonnie Lynn turned around in the quiet passage.
“Dan’s at the kitchen door. He says he has to talk to you.”
If it had been anyone but Dan O’Brien, Laurel would have thought it was some kind of joke her sisters were playing on her.
“From the look on his face, I think you’d better hurry,” Bonnie Lynn said as she slipped into the kitchen.
Laurel tried not to look at the rotting food and dirty dishes scattered around. The place was so busy it looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in weeks.
Just outside the back door, Dan stood in the rain. Bonnie Lynn was at her side as they stepped onto the tiny back porch. “What is it?” Laurel yelled over the rain and the kitchen noises behind her.
“It’s Darnell, miss. He’s hurt. I don’t know what to do for him.”
Bonnie Lynn’s hand caught Laurel’s arm before she could step into the downpour. “Wait, miss. Take my cape.”
It took all her control to stand still as the maid wrapped a cape over her shoulders. She pulled the hood up and Dan offered his arm.
“Where is he?” Laurel asked as she matched the big man’s stride.
“In the old barn down by the corrals.”
“What happened?”
“One of the men who work the stock said he saw three cowhands kicking something in the mud. He didn’t know it was a man until he almost fell over him when the cowhands walked away. We got him in the barn, but he’s bleeding, miss, and I wasn’t sure what to do.”