LITMIR.BIZ

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on earth?”

      Her earlobes were twice the size they should be.

      She unpinned her hat and set it aside. Using the dipper, she filled the basin and soaked a small towel. Wringing it out, she pressed the cloth to her neck. The cool dampness was heavenly, but it didn’t last. In fact, it seemed to increase the burning.

      It had to help. Had to. She couldn’t walk around looking like this.

      She dipped the cloth in the water, wrung it out and pressed it to her neck a second time.

      Once again the relief was short-lived, and a touch of panic raced over her as she moved the cloth around her neck, pressing it against each section.

      “Here’s your bag.”

      She turned at the thud of her bag landing on a chair just inside the door.

      Gabe stood in the doorway, frowning. “You might want to get rid of that lace.”

      “I’ve worn this dress many times.” She had. It was one of her favorites. The fitted waist-length jacket was the reason, as well as the yards of delicate lace that encircled the collar and trimmed the hem. Pulling the cloth away in order to dip it in the water again, she stated, “The lace has never bothered me before.”

      The room had seemed large, until he stepped into it. Her heart drummed against her breastbone, and she took a step back as he came closer.

      “Hold still, I just want to look at that.”

      Considering his size and harsh attitude, his touch was gentle as he used one finger and thumb to grasp her chin. He tilted her head one way, then the other and then upward while using his other hand to pull aside the lace collar of her dress as he examined her neck. His expression softened as his examination continued, which made her gulp at how concerned he appeared to be.

      “I’ve never—”

      “How’d you get here again?” he interrupted.

      “I told you. We took a stagecoach from—”

      “Once the stage dropped you off.”

      “One of your hired hands picked us up.” Telling herself not to think about him, his closeness, his touch, she kept her eyes averted as he continued to examine her neck. The ceiling was high and painted white, as were the walls. It was a fine house. But it wasn’t holding her attention. He was pushing at her chin again, making her twist her neck one way and then the other.

      “I probably wasn’t listening real close,” he said. “Which hired hand?”

      She should remember the man’s name, but at the moment it eluded her. “I don’t know. Why?”

      “What was he driving?”

      “A wagon full of hay,” she answered, tugging her collar back in place when he let it loose.

      He released her chin and stepped back. “You ever have poison ivy before?”

      She let out the breath that had gotten stuck in her lungs. “Poi—No, never.”

      “You do now.”

      “That’s impossible.” She hurried back to the mirror and examined her neck more thoroughly. It was as red as before, worse maybe, as were the raised white blotches.

      “Do you know what it looks like?”

      “No,” she admitted while dipping the cloth in the water again, “but I wasn’t near any plants.” Pressing the cool cloth against her neck, she continued, “We were on the stage for nearly a week.”

      “It grows wild around here, especially down by Beaver Creek. That’s where Dusty was cutting hay today,” he said.

      That’s right. Dusty. Dusty Martin had been the man driving the wagon. “I didn’t touch the hay,” she said. “I sat on the seat with Ruby on my lap.”

      “Don’t need to touch it.” He pointed toward the tub. “You need to get out of that dress and take a bath. Scrub with soap and water. Rosalie will bring you some baking soda and vinegar.”

      An odd tingling started in her lips, and she tested the numbing sensation by nibbling on the bottom one before asking, “What for?”

      “To put on your neck. The itching won’t stop until you do. And from the looks of your face, you best hurry.” He turned about and left the room, addressing the housekeeper as he walked over the threshold. “Check Ruby for any signs of poison ivy.”

      “Already did,” the housekeeper said. “She looks fine.”

      Janette turned back to the mirror and gasped. Oh, dear heavens! Her lips were swollen twice their size, and so were her earlobes. “No. No. This can’t be.” They hadn’t been that way a moment ago. She pinched her lips together and flinched at how fat and numb they felt. After dipping the cloth in the water again, she wrung it out and pressed it to her lips. This was unbelievable. Poison ivy. She’d heard of it but had never had it. Couldn’t even remember if she’d known someone who had.

      Still holding the cloth against her lips, she pinched an earlobe with her other hand. Though the mirror showed her action, she couldn’t feel it. Her lobes were numb.

      Numb.

      “Go ahead and get undressed,” Rosalie said, walking into the room. She wasn’t elderly, but older and plump with a good mix of gray and brown hair and wrinkles that gave her cheery face a permanent smile. Dumping a kettle full of steaming water into the big tub, she said, “I have more water heating.”

      The itching was worse now, perhaps because she knew the cause. Janette put down the cloth and then sat down on the chair to remove her shoes. “Thank you,” she said, as Rosalie turned about.

      “Everything you need is right over there, on the shelf beside the tub. Put your clothes in that basket. They’ll need to be washed right away.”

      Not knowing much about poison ivy, but glad her lips still worked while being fatter than carrots, Janette asked, “Is it contagious?”

      “Only to those who are allergic to it,” Rosalie said.

      “You checked Ruby?” Janette pulled off her stockings. “She’s not itching?” The child had already been through so much; she certainly didn’t need this. Mentioning the itching made her neck start burning again. Or maybe it had been all along and the swelling of her lips had stolen her attention for a few minutes.

      “Yes, I checked her, and no, she’s not itching, but she’ll have a bath as soon as you’re done, just to be sure,” Rosalie said, walking back toward the doorway. “Stop scratching at it. You’re making it worse.” She shook her head. “That’s poison ivy all right. You must be really sensitive to it. Some people don’t break out for a day or two.” As she pulled the door shut, Rosalie said, “You’ll need to wash your hair, too.”

      Janette’s mind wasn’t on her hair. They wouldn’t still be here in a day or two. Of all things. Poison ivy. Why did this have to happen? She already had enough to deal with, namely Gabe Callaway. She’d considered taking Ruby directly to Kansas City, and probably should have but couldn’t. Once they got home, leaving again would be too difficult. Mrs. Hanks had said customers were stopping by daily in the last telegram she’d sent, a reply to the one Janette had sent from Mobeetie, stating she and Ruby would be leaving Texas as soon as possible.

      She’d sent another telegram to Mrs. Hanks during one of the stagecoach stops, stating they were on their way but making a brief stop in Kansas at the Triple C. She’d already been gone longer than she’d anticipated and did worry about Thelma being all alone.

      Janette huffed out a sigh as she tossed her stockings into the basket. It just couldn’t be helped. She’d brought Ruby to the ranch, to meet her uncle Gabe, just as Anna and Max had wanted. Anna had blamed herself for the rift between Gabe and Max and hoped that someday they would find a way to settle things. Every letter she’d written

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