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“It’s too warm and I don’t see any fish in it.”
“We need to go.” Alice gripped his arm. “We can come back another day with a vial to collect water, but my neck is prickling. Someone is watching us.”
The moment she spoke, the hair on his arms raised to attention. He nodded his agreement and tugged the fidgety horses along the river and away from the fertilizer plant. When they’d reached about a mile away and the birdsong had returned, along with the fresh scent of the river, Alice stopped him. “We need to go back there. As soon as possible. Something is wrong. The oil. The dead fish smell. The hot water . . .” She bit her lip, and he fought the urge to stare at it.
“I agree with you, but if we’re seen, there will be dire consequences. Do you think those guards carry guns for show? I’d bet not.”
“All the more reason for us to know if something is going on there that shouldn’t. What are they hiding behind those guns?” She crossed her arms, her eyes blazing in righteous anger.
“We don’t have time to discuss this now. We need to get you home in time. If we take this road three miles, then turn, we’ll come around to your place from the other side.”
She nodded, and this time waited for him to help her mount. He doubted she would willingly ride side-saddle again with him, after all the ups and downs, but he was thoroughly enjoying the exercise. He’d bet this was one of the very reasons women were required to ride aside. It certainly wasn’t for safety.
He waited by her side until she tucked her legs into the horn and arranged her skirts, then he mounted and pulled up alongside her, encouraging his mount to a trot. The faster they got home, the more likely Alice would make it before the supper hour.
Kent was about to pass his own drive to deliver Alice home when Armstrong raced toward them, his mount wild-eyed. “Kent! Hold up!”
Kent pulled up on the reins, as did Alice. “What’s wrong, do you think?” she asked.
He was worried he knew exactly why Armstrong would be riding like that. “I’m afraid the sickness has hit us like you.”
Armstrong pulled to a halt at the end of the drive. “I was watching for you to return, but when I saw you weren’t alone, I had to catch you. We’re down one. Hard loss.” He panted, taking a second to regain his breath. “Just inside the barn.”
He turned to Alice. “I need to go see to the cow. Especially if this just happened.”
“About twenty minutes ago,” Armstrong confirmed.
She bit her lip. “I’m not supposed to go to your house, but I want to see if what is wrong is really like what we have. I trust you, but I’m supposed to question everything.”
He nodded, glad she still wanted to rely on science even when it wasn’t pretty. Death and sickness were a part of running a ranch of any kind. Never had he known a rancher who hadn’t dealt with some loss.
Following Armstrong, they soon came to the scene. He helped Alice once again dismount, though here she had a mounting block if she chose to use it. She covered her nose with one crooked finger as he made his preliminary examination.
He lifted the gums just like the sheep, the same almost garlic smell hit him for a brief moment. Ma didn’t plant garlic, she’d never liked it. Cookie had complained about that for years, begging her to try, but she’d never allowed the plant on the property.
“Garlic. Same smell as the sheep.”
She didn’t nod her agreement as he expected, allowing her to keep her nose covered. Instead, she lowered her finger and crouched next to him. “Nothing at the river smelled of garlic. Death, yes. But not garlic. What are these puddles? Was it drinking a lot before it died?” She glanced over her shoulder at Armstrong.
“No more than normal,” he answered. “They pant, like dogs. With great strings of saliva coming out of their mouths.”
“Just like the sheep,” she muttered. “You were right.”
“Get off my property!” Pa grabbed Alice under the arms and yanked her up, shoving her at Armstrong. “Get her out of here.”
“Mr. Douglas, I was doing nothing wrong.” She tugged at the jacket of her habit to straighten it.
“You’ve done nothing? How about everything? Every war has started by you. You’re the angel of death. You are a spawn of—”
“Pa!” Kent moved between his father and Alice.
Pa pounded his finger into Kent’s chest with each word. “Don’t. Ever. Call. Me. Pa.” He narrowed his eyes and lowered himself to look at the downed cow. “You aren’t a relation to me. Get that woman out of here. If I ever see her anywhere on my property again, I’ll just shoot her on sight. Plenty of land to bury a Johlman where no one will ever find it. This is her fault. Bad things happen when Johlmans are around.”
“You can’t threaten to shoot people and expect nothing to happen. Alice did nothing wrong. I’ve been with her the entire time she was here. She’s trying to help you.”
Pa stood and his glare alone was enough to make Kent want to take a step back, but he refused to show weakness. If he did, Pa would take advantage of it. Weakness was a hated trait.
“I know Armstrong asked you to come back here to watch me. I’m not as addled as you think. You want to watch the cattle, do it. But don’t you dare come into my house again after siding with a Johlman. You defended her? Fine. But that means you’re lower than the dirt on my boot.”
