Читать книгу Whirlwind Wedding - Debra Cowan - Страница 8

D arkness shifted into light. Day into night. Jericho was swept along on a vicious red tide of pain. He burned, then froze. Searing agony gripped his leg and throbbed in his arm. Images floated through his mind. The face of his partner, Hays. A dark-haired boy. A woman with a soft voice and gentle hands that soothed his blistered flesh. He rocked on the ebb and flow of hurt before sliding into sweet surrender.

Something woke him. Pain or the light spilling through the window?

He struggled to open his eyes against the glare of the sun, awareness trickling back. A sharp ache pierced his skull. His right leg felt as if it were on fire. And he was naked. He didn’t recognize the soft bed that held the clean, comforting scent of a woman. His gaze tracked from the right, noting a tall, dark-wood wardrobe in the middle of the wall, an open door, a small dressing table, a stand to his left holding a pitcher and washbasin. None of it was familiar. The window stood open a few inches to let in fresh, warm air, and a lacy curtain fluttered there. He was in someone’s house.

He sorted through the blur of memories in his head. The ambush outside of Whirlwind, a young boy shooting with the McDougal gang. Bullets tearing through his arm and leg. His partner’s scream of surprise. Hays Gentry had been dead by the time Jericho dragged his own lead-riddled carcass over to his side.

Using a length of rope from his saddlebag, he had fashioned a tourniquet for his thigh. He had wrapped a bandanna around his bleeding arm, then clumsily secured his lanky partner onto Hays’s dun mare, and trailed the McDougal gang as far as he could while the tracks were fresh. Hours later, he’d lost them and returned to the scene of the ambush, picking up a single set of hoofprints. Hoofprints that had led him here.

His gaze shot to the open doorway and he tried to sit up. Agony clawed through his lower body and he cursed. Easing down, he panted with the effort not to cry out. A clean white bandage wrapped his right wrist up to the middle of his forearm.

He recalled waking a couple of times and a woman holding a cup of cool water to his lips. Cool dampness on his forehead and chest. He’d been shot in his gun arm. And his right leg. With his left hand, he weakly patted his way across the sheet and felt the bulk of bandages beneath.

His thigh was wrapped tightly and throbbing as if a coyote had made two meals out of it.

“Sir?” The sweet, lilting voice was tentative. The speaker sounded breathless, as if she’d hurried to him. “Oh, good. I thought I heard you.”

Jericho struggled to focus on the figure in the open doorway. Her voice. “You helped me.”

“Yes.” She moved toward him, concern drawing her finely arched brows together.

Sweat stung his eyes and he blinked. She was pretty. More than pretty. Was he conscious? Her long black hair was pulled back with a white kerchief and flowed over one shoulder like ebony silk. He registered strong features and porcelain skin before his vision hazed. She leaned over him, smelling of sunshine and soap. A low humming sounded in his ears. She was talking.

“Dr. Butler removed a bullet. There was one in your leg, but not in your arm. You were shot twice in the thigh.”

“What’s my leg look like?” The room spun and he felt himself sliding away. He’d seen men with the same injury lose their leg to rot. “Will it keep?”

“I think so. You seem to be fighting off the infection.” She smiled and he could see her eyes were blue. Clear blue like that fancy bird made of colored glass his ma had.

“I made it to Whirlwind.”

“Yes. You were tracking the McDougal gang.” Her hand fluttered over the bandage on his arm. “Dr. Butler will check your leg when he comes.”

Jericho’s head swam and he felt himself slipping away. “I came to your door.”

“Yes. You told me your name, then went unconscious.”

“How long have I been here?” The pain pulled at him, dragging him into a black hole of helplessness.

“Three days.”

He grunted. “Your name?”

“Catherine Donnelly.”

“Cath—” Everything went black.

The next time Jericho awoke, the sun was setting. His mouth was as dry as wool, the pain deep and gouging. He felt someone in the room and turned his head to the right, staring into the prettiest blue eyes he’d ever seen.

“Hello,” she said softly.

“Hello.” His voice sounded rusty and dry. He remembered her. “Miz Donald?”

“Donnelly.”

“Catherine.”

“Your fever broke.” Triumph underscored her words as she fussed with the blanket draped over his body.

Pain pushed the fog from his mind. He felt as weak as a newborn babe.

“Let me get you something to eat.”

“Was I out a long time?”

“You woke earlier today. Do you remember?”

He nodded. Three days he’d spent in this bed. Useless. Helpless.

“Dr. Butler will be pleased when he comes by to check on you.” She seemed to glide out of the room, her fluid movements economical and controlled.

The plain gray dress and white apron draped her body in long, sleek lines. Curved in all the right places, she had full breasts and a slim waist. If a man weren’t careful, her blue eyes could draw him in, distract him enough to forget why he was here.

She returned with a thick crockery bowl and a spoon. Pulling a ladder-back chair close to the side of the bed, she set the bowl on the bedside table. A fragrant steam drifted to him and made his mouth water.

“Do you think you can sit up?”

He tried, bracing his weight on his left arm. The movement had his thigh jerking in agony, but he managed to get his shoulders against the wooden headboard at his back. Sweat broke across his face.

The woman carefully spooned soup into his mouth. He hadn’t thought he was hungry, but the rich chicken broth made him ravenous. Still, being forced to let someone feed him made Jericho feel as useless as a teat on a boar hog. His good hand clenched into a fist. “I can feed myself.”

Her face didn’t change, but he felt her doubt. “I’ll hold the bowl if you want to try.”

He nodded, taking the spoon from her. His hand shook as if he had the palsy.

Regarding him steadily with a hint of wariness in her eyes, she held the bowl. He dipped the spoon into the broth and brought it to his mouth, dribbling half of it down his chest. “Damn.”

“Here.” She rose and leaned toward him, using her apron to blot up the liquid.

Her touch was brisk and impersonal, but as she swiped the cloth from his chest to his belly, Jericho felt a jolt of heat. His grip tightened on the spoon.

She sat down, her fresh scent teasing him. “You’re very weak. Please let me help you.”

He didn’t have any choice if he wanted to eat his food rather than wear it. What little energy he did have had been used to sit up. Frustration rolled through him, but he relinquished the spoon. “All right.”

He sounded grudging even to his own ears, but she didn’t seem to mind. She took the spoon and fed him another bite.

“My partner?”

“Sheriff Holt took care of the man who was with you. The sheriff said you were his cousin.”

“Davis Lee buried Hays?”

“Yes.”

“Damn.” Jericho’s mouth tightened. If he and Hays hadn’t already been single-mindedly pursuing the murderous McDougals on special commission from the governor, yesterday’s ambush would’ve assured that Jericho would hunt them down and exact justice for all the people they’d killed. The gang had unleashed hell throughout all of Texas, parts of Kansas and Indian Territory. Jericho had no intention of letting them continue any longer than it took for him to heal.

“I want to pay you, ma’am.”

“Your cousin has already taken care of it.”

“And my horse?” He swallowed the last bite of broth.

“In my barn. The sheriff took your friend’s to the livery.”

“Thank you.” What the McDougals had done to Jericho was the least of it. He itched to lift the sheet and peel back the bandages on his thigh to judge for himself the damage those murderous bastards had wrought. His entire lower body was a throbbing mass of pain.

Alarm pricked him. Just what all had gotten shot off down there? It felt as if his leg was still attached, but what about his manhood?

“Are you all right? Maybe you should rest again.”

“I’m wonderin’ about my injuries. When do you think the doctor will come?”

“He’s been stopping by late in the afternoon, but it depends on his patients.”

“Humph.” Jericho wished Miz Donnelly would leave the room so he could just look at himself and get it over with.

“I can probably answer any questions you have.”

With that virginal face? “I doubt it.”

“I’m a trained nurse. Are you concerned about your leg?”

“I’ll just wait until he gets here to ask my questions.”

“I helped him remove the bullet. I’m more than capable of telling you what you need to know.”

Her clear, guileless eyes hinted that she had no idea what he really wanted to ask. “Somehow I don’t think so,” he muttered.

She pursed her lips and looked affronted. “You had lost a lot of blood by the time you showed up here. Part of your wrist bone was chipped, but there was no bullet. The tissue inside is damaged.”

“You say the doc will be by sometime this afternoon?”

She rose from the chair. “Yes, but there’s no need for you to wonder and worry. I’m sure I can put your mind at ease.”

She might be soft-looking, but she was as persistent as a hungry mule. He gritted his teeth and stared her right in the eye. “Was my manhood shot off?”

She nearly dropped the bowl in his lap. They both grabbed for it. Her hands fumbled over the top of his and she pulled away with the crockery.

Her face flushed bright red and she choked out, “You’ll have to ask the doctor.”

“That’s what I figured,” he growled.

She hurried out of the room. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

While she was gone, he patted his groin but all he could feel was bandages.

A few minutes later, she returned with a tin cup, which she held for him. Jericho sipped at the cool water as he studied her. Slight pink still tinged her lovely face and her eyes were bright. She kept her gaze averted. For some reason, her embarrassment caused him to smile.

He’d thought a trained nurse would be more pragmatic about the human body. Her obvious discomfort sparked a long-buried need in Jericho, a purely male urge to find out how much experience she’d had. Man-to-woman experience.

Where had that thought come from? His brain was muddled from the injuries, that’s all. The questions he needed to ask had to do with the ambush that had left him laid up and Hays dead.

Jericho glanced around the room. “I think I remember seeing a boy in here a couple of times.”

“My brother, Andrew.”

“How old is he?”

“Twelve.”

That could be about the age of the boy he’d spotted riding with the gang at the ambush. Was Andrew Donnelly the one who’d shot and killed Hays? Jericho needed to see that kid and examine the horses around here to check if any of their shoes matched the tracks he’d followed.

A knock sounded on the front door and Catherine placed the tin cup on the bedside table. “I’ll be right back.”

He closed his eyes as she left, as much to rest as to try and make out her words in the next room.

She reappeared with a thin, brown-haired man who appeared to be a few inches shorter than Jericho’s six-foot-four.

“This is Dr. Butler,” she said. “He couldn’t believe it when I told him you were awake.”

Jericho wasn’t sure how much longer he’d stay that way. Reaching out with his good hand, he awkwardly clasped the other man’s. “Thanks for what you did.”

“Captain, you should be thanking Catherine.”

“It’s Lieutenant, Doc.”

The doctor aimed a warm, affectionate smile at her. “Well, Lieutenant, you’re lucky to be alive, and it’s because of her. She saved your life.”

A slight blush stained his nurse’s cheeks as she moved to the left of Jericho’s bed. He looked over and nodded. A brief smile touched her lips before her gaze skittered away.

The doctor eyed Jericho critically. “You surprise me, sir. I didn’t expect you to survive.”

“You can call me Jericho.”

“Your color is much better and your fever seems to have gone down a bit. I’d like to take a look at your wrist and leg.”

“All right.” Jericho wasn’t too keen on having anything looked at, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

The doctor moved around the foot of the bed and up beside him. He cut away the bandage wrapping Jericho’s wrist and forearm. The flesh was raw and torn. His hand lay limply, curled inward on top of the clean white sheet.

“Can you move your fingers?”

He could, but couldn’t straighten out his hand.

“Hmm. Can you bend your wrist?”

Jericho tried and jagged pain flashed through him. “Can’t. There’s no give in it.”

“Don’t force it.”

“What does that mean, Doc?”

“Some tendons were torn by the bullet.”

“But I’ll still be able to use this hand again, won’t I?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“I will. I have to.” Jericho was a lousy left-handed shot. He had every intention of making the McDougal gang pay for what they’d done, and to do that he had to be able to use his gun hand.

“I need to see how it heals up,” the doctor said.

“How long?”

The other man raised an eyebrow. “Longer than three days. You’re getting stronger. I sure didn’t hold out hope for that, not like Catherine did. Let’s check your progress in another couple of days.”

“I’m gonna be gone by then. The gang’s trail is already cold. The longer I’m laid up, the harder they’ll be to find.”

“You listen to me, Lieutenant.” The doctor’s brown eyes turned stern. “You lost a lot of blood. By all rights, you shouldn’t be drawing breath right now. If you get out of that bed before Catherine or I tell you, you could rip open your stitches and bleed like a stuck hog. I can’t put any blood back in you. Understand?”

“Yes.” Jericho didn’t like the doctor’s words, but he appreciated straight talk. He did need to get on his way, but just the little time he’d been awake this afternoon had left him weak and shaky. He probably couldn’t even saddle his horse.

“I want you to give me your word you won’t try to leave.” Dr. Butler unbuttoned the cuff of his white shirt and rolled it back. “And that you’ll follow my orders.”

Jericho wasn’t used to following anyone’s orders, but he did owe Butler and Miz Donnelly something for saving his life. Besides, he wouldn’t be worth spit if he saddled up and rode out of here, then passed out. “You have my word.”

“Good.” The doctor glanced at the woman who stood quietly on the other side of the bed. “Catherine, let’s change the dressing on his leg.”

“I’ll get the bandages.”

As soon as she stepped out of the room, Jericho said in a low voice, “Hey, Doc, just what all was shot off down there?”

The other man grinned. “You still have your private parts.”

“Will they work?”

“I believe you’ll be fine, but there is some tissue damage. I’m also concerned about damage to your nerves. That shouldn’t affect your manhood, but it might be a while before everything is back to working order.”

Just as Jericho exhaled a relieved breath, the Donnelly woman returned with a handful of white strips torn from a sheet. Her face betrayed no emotion, but her eyes had darkened to near purple and her hands trembled. Since his manhood was still intact, Jericho didn’t care to tempt fate by letting this woman near him with a pair of scissors.

“Uh, Doc, since I’m awake now, I’d just as soon the lady not see me in the altogether.”

“She’s a nurse, Lieutenant. She’s been trained to ignore embarrassments.”

“Well, she ain’t never seen my embarrassments and I don’t aim for her to start. No offense, ma’am.”

“None taken. I’ll wait outside.” She left, and he thought she looked relieved.

Just what kind of woman had taken him in? Her voice smiled, but she didn’t. She obviously had nursing skills, but not the drawl of Texas. Where was she from? Jericho wondered if there was a Mr. Donnelly. Children? Was her brother the boy Jericho had seen with the McDougals at the ambush? And if so, was his pretty nurse involved with the gang, too?

As he nodded in response to the doctor’s instruction to stay in bed tomorrow, it wasn’t the boy who had ahold of Jericho’s mind. It was the blue-eyed woman who made him feel as if he mattered.

Catherine didn’t want to think about Jericho Blue’s manhood. She shouldn’t be thinking about it. But even the next day, as she drove the wagon back from Fort Greer, the memory of his blunt question brought heat to her face. She had been the one to insist she could quell his concerns. But she had nearly dropped the soup bowl in his lap.

Thinking about his—him—in that way opened up other thoughts, sharpened her unsettling awareness of the Ranger. Why couldn’t she simply think of him as another patient? Saints knew, she’d tended plenty of those.

Dr. Butler had told her it would take some time for Jericho to regain his strength. As much as Catherine wished for the man in her bed to get better and move on, she had no desire to see him at full strength. Just the taut, ropy muscles in his arms and legs hinted at the power he must possess when in good health. He was a big man. The idea of him regaining his strength reminded her too much of men who used brute force to intimidate.

She liked Jericho Blue much better when he was asleep. He wasn’t handsome, but she found his stern, chiseled face compelling. A sense of purpose and command surrounded him, as if he was a man who knew what he wanted and would stop at nothing to get it. She shuddered to think how he would be if he wanted a woman. No man had ever made her heart race from anticipation one second, intimidation the next. She didn’t understand it.

Around him, she felt skittish and on guard. When he’d woken, those silver eyes had been soft, then gone as sharp as a honed blade when he talked about the gang who had murdered his friend. Catherine didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that dangerous gaze.

She’d finally seen a smile, albeit at her expense. His blunt question and her catching the bowl that had nearly dropped in his lap had somehow amused him. If he ever turned a charming smile on a woman, Catherine suspected that woman might surrender her virtue and thank him for taking it.

Her own four years of nursing experience had brought her into contact with men in various stages of undress, some completely naked. Yet not one of them had ever put flutters in her stomach or made her dread the return of his strength. It had only been in the last year and a half that she had become so wary around men.

She didn’t like thinking about Jericho, but couldn’t seem to help herself. What she needed was to focus her thoughts toward helping him get better and out of her bed.

Softly clucking to Moe, she drove the wagon back from the fort. Catherine had talked to Dr. Butler about one of her patients in New York City who had injured his foot and ankle. The doctor had agreed to her plan of working with the Ranger’s hand, massaging the tissue and muscles in an effort to see if he could improve and eventually bend his wrist again. She hoped the Ranger would be able to fully recover.

The spring day was warm enough to cause a light sheen of moisture across her neck beneath the heavy mass of her hair. Still, she welcomed being outdoors.

She had left her patient in the very capable care of his cousins, Davis Lee and Riley Holt, along with Riley’s wife, Susannah. Riley’s petite wife had told Catherine they had an infant daughter whom they’d left with a friend named Cora. Catherine had thought Jericho and his family might appreciate the privacy to visit freely, and she could use a respite from his probing silver gaze. Just what did he contemplate so hard when his eyes narrowed on her?

Her gelding, Moe, plodded up the gentle swell of ground, his sorrel haunches glistening in the sunshine. They topped a rise that looked out over town. Fort Greer, where she worked with Dr. Butler, was about two miles northwest of Whirlwind and much farther than the distance Catherine had traveled in New York to reach the hospital, but she didn’t mind. The fort was self-contained, and because of that, its residents rarely came into Whirlwind. The town had been a natural outgrowth of people who weren’t with the Army, but wanted to settle on the prairie.

Catherine liked the distance between her house and the fort. She also liked the small, charming town where her parents, emigrating from Ireland, had come to join Catherine’s widowed uncle. He and Catherine’s father had pooled their money to buy the house, though her uncle had died in his sleep shortly afterward. Father had never gotten all the farmland he’d wanted so desperately, but at least his family had had a nice roof over their heads. Catherine’s mother had still wanted her to stay in New York with the nuns who’d taken her in at the age of six, so she would know Catherine was being fed and clothed.

In the letters she’d written to Catherine over the years, Evelyn had hinted that Robbie Donnelly’s drinking had become frequent and worse. Her father losing job after job had convinced Mother that Catherine needed to stay where she had a secure home and food. With money so tight, Evelyn could barely afford to feed and clothe Andrew. And so the family had remained separated. Catherine sometimes wondered if the hollowness at missing so much time with her family would ever be filled. She knew she would always regret that Mother had waited so long to send for her. They’d had neither hello nor goodbye after waiting fourteen years to reunite.

Whirlwind’s general store and telegraph office might be simple by New York standards, but she felt more significant in this town than she had back East despite all her hospital work.

She liked the vast open spaces. In New York, the sidewalks were always crowded and the streets always loud. Out here, a soul-soothing quiet settled across the prairie at night, broken by the occasional howl of a coyote or the chirping of crickets, the coarse call of a raven or whistle of a whip-poor-will. The town was laid out in the shape of a T, with the church on the east end toward Abilene. Catherine had attended three of the four Sundays she’d been here, and Andrew had grudgingly shuffled along with her.

Thoughts of her brother made her sigh. He had no interest in reuniting with a sister he’d never known. He appeared only at suppertime, and as she had learned a few nights ago, he habitually slipped out of the house after she sent him to bed. Thank the saints, the May nights on this West Texas prairie weren’t bitterly cold.

What was she going to do about Andrew? His sneaking out at night disturbed her, especially with the recent shootings by the McDougal gang. But since the night the Ranger had arrived, Andrew had been around more. She checked on him several times during the night, pleased and grateful to see him asleep in bed. He asked a lot of questions about Lieutenant Blue, wondering if the man were improving, and what he’d been doing at their house in the first place.

She thought he probably admired the Ranger, which was fine if Jericho Blue was a good man. Except for the unsettled sensation he put in her stomach, Catherine couldn’t point to any specific bad thing about him.

Her mother’s pale yellow house sat at the northeast end of town, on the outskirts. The nearest neighbors were in Whirlwind. Beside the small house was a fenced herb and vegetable garden, a root cellar and a spring house. The barn stood about fifty yards behind.

Whirlwind was visible from her bedroom window and an easy walk. Catherine felt secure and independent at the same time. The sheriff’s office was one of the closest buildings if she found it necessary to go for help. So far it hadn’t been, but since the Ranger’s arrival, she had found Sheriff Holt’s nearness comforting.

She would do well to keep her thoughts on Whirlwind’s handsome sheriff rather than the ragged stranger in her bed, but too many questions about Jericho Blue chased through her mind. The pain and regret in his silver eyes when she’d told him about burying his partner conveyed that Jericho had been close to the man. Who else did he care about? Was there a woman somewhere wondering what had happened to him?

The possibility caused a strange twinge that Catherine defined as nerves. The man unsettled her, though logic told her he was too weak to be a real threat. Yet.

Still, something inside her tensed up when he was awake. Even when he wasn’t looking at her, she felt his attention as if he were waiting for something. Something from her.

She was being fanciful. She’d been cooped up too long without fresh air. As she approached the frame house her father had built for her mother, Catherine noted the buckboard and black mare out in front. The Holts were still here.

Good. Catherine didn’t relish the idea of being alone with the Ranger. The quick introduction she’d had to the sheriff’s brother and sister-in-law told her she would like Riley and Susannah Holt. The powerfully built rancher and his petite wife were newly married. Susannah had told Catherine that she had taught Andrew in one of her charm school classes. Catherine had been thrilled to hear that her brother didn’t run away from everyone the way he did from her.

She unhitched Moe from the wagon, then unharnessed and quickly brushed him down, leaving him with some fresh hay before going to the back stoop of the house.

The sound of laughter met her at the door, bringing a smile to her face. She walked up the narrow hallway to the front room. As she stepped around the corner, Susannah Holt peeked around the doorframe of Catherine’s bedroom. Her blue eyes were kind and warm. “Hello! Was your trip all right?”

“Yes, fine. Thank you.”

The woman’s silvery-blond hair was piled on top of her head, stray curls teasing her neck. She wore a smart red-and-white gingham dress, making Catherine self-consciously aware of her plain chambray dress and apron, sprinkled with rusty Texas dust.

“How’s the patient doing?” She walked into the room behind the other woman and stopped in front of her dressing table.

Jericho sat up in bed just as she had left him, wearing the clean white shirt she’d found in his saddlebag. A dark beard covered his chiseled jaw, testifying to the fact that he was still too weak to shave. So far, he’d waved off Catherine’s offers to do the chore for him.

Secretly she was relieved. Just being in the same room with him put that strange heat in her belly. She didn’t want to be within inches of him. His dark, ragged hair was brushed back, drawing her eye to the scar on his left cheekbone. Though he still looked gaunt, there was a bit of color in his face.

Davis Lee Holt, the sheriff, smiled broadly at Catherine. His blue eyes sparkled. “I think Jericho’s on the mend, Nurse.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” She glanced at her patient, but couldn’t hold his gaze, which had turned hot and measuring.

“We sure appreciate you taking him in.” Riley Holt, a handsome, broad-shouldered man, flashed her a dimpled smile that made her wonder how his cousin would look if he smiled that way. “We’re gonna owe you a lot for this. We know he can be difficult.”

“Humph,” Jericho grumbled.

“If you have any problems at all, you send for me.” Davis Lee’s eyes twinkled.

“And you’ll lock him up?” she teased.

“If I need to.”

“Is this the kind of nursing you were taught?” Jericho’s tone was light, but Catherine felt his intense regard like a touch.

She smiled as the others chuckled.

Susannah touched Catherine’s arm. “I brought a few things. Flour, eggs and milk.”

The Holts had already done too much by paying for her mother’s burial before Catherine had arrived. “That wasn’t necessary, but thank you.”

“I also brought some biscuits. I thought Jericho might like them.”

“Do you like honey with them?” she asked her patient. “Haskell’s General Store had some fresh yesterday.”

“He’d eat honey on everything if you gave him a chance,” Riley said with a grin.

“Yeah, even tree bark,” Davis Lee added.

“Biscuits and honey sound good,” Jericho said to Catherine. Pain drew his features taut, but he didn’t appear in any hurry for his family to leave.

She saw him glance at his injured arm for the third time since she’d arrived. “I talked to the doctor about your hand.”

That blade-sharp gaze shifted to her. “What about it?”

“I had a patient in New York with a similar injury to his foot and ankle. He eventually recovered the use of both.”

“Surgery?” Jericho asked tightly.

“No. I massaged his muscles every day and he worked on trying to bend his ankle.”

Interest sparked in his eyes. “And it worked?”

“Yes. He was finally able to walk. He did limp, but he was pleased with his progress.”

“It’s worth a try,” Davis Lee said.

Jericho’s gaze measured her. “And you’d be willing to do that for me?”

“Of course.”

For a long moment, he was silent.

Catherine added, “If you want.”

He gave a curt nod. “Thank you. When do we start?”

“Dr. Butler wants to check you again tomorrow. He can tell us then when to start and how often it needs to be worked.”

“Good.” Jericho’s gaze went past her to the door. “Hello.”

She turned to find Andrew standing there. By the saints, the boy moved as silently as a ghost. No wonder she hadn’t known about his nightly disappearances.

“Hi.” She smiled warmly and stepped toward him. “How was school today?”

“All right.” His blue gaze locked on Jericho.

“Hello, Andrew,” Susannah said.

The boy’s gaze jerked to the blonde and he smiled, one of the few Catherine had seen. “Hi, Miz Holt.” His gaze moved to Riley and Davis Lee. “Mr. Holt. Sheriff.”

The two men greeted him warmly.

Catherine put an arm lightly around her brother’s shoulders, pleased and a little surprised when he didn’t pull away. “This is Lieutenant Jericho Blue. I don’t think the two of you have been formally introduced.”

“Hello, Andrew.” Jericho’s voice was nearly hoarse.

Beneath her touch, her brother stiffened slightly. “Hello.”

“So you’ve been to school today?”

He nodded, staring in rapt fascination at the big man.

“How old are you?”

“Twelve.”

Catherine thought Andrew’s voice shook slightly. Maybe he was as intimidated by Jericho Blue as she was. Well, the man was imposing, even laid up in bed.

As Jericho thanked Riley and Susannah for coming, Catherine noticed how her brother studied the Ranger. Perhaps his interest was due to the fact that Jericho was a lawman. Or the way he dwarfed the bed with his door-wide shoulders and long legs.

Jericho didn’t seem to notice her brother’s unrelenting study, but Catherine gave his shoulder a warning squeeze. She walked Riley and Susannah to the door, biting off the silly urge to ask them not to leave her alone with the big man in her room.

She wouldn’t be alone with him. The sheriff was still here. And so was Andrew, though she instinctively knew it would take more than those two to discourage Jericho Blue if he decided to cause trouble.

Surprisingly, Andrew followed her to the door.

Riley helped his wife into the buckboard. “Please let us know if you need anything,” Susannah said.

“Or if Jericho gets restless.” Riley walked back to where she stood on the porch, tapping his gray hat lightly against his thigh. “We really appreciate all you’re doing. He said the doctor advised against moving him because of all the blood he lost.”

She nodded.

“He also said you saved his life.” The big man extended a hand. “We’re much obliged.”

“I’m glad I have some nursing skills.”

“Thank goodness,” Susannah interjected.

“Davis Lee or I will check in every day,” Riley said. “Don’t want him wearing you out.”

“Visitors will be nice. That will help him along.” Their presence would also keep her from being alone with him.

The younger Holt leaned toward her and said in a low voice, “Don’t feel obliged to eat those biscuits. My wife hasn’t quite mastered the recipe.”

“I’m sure they’re fine.”

He chuckled. “If you break a tooth, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Riley Holt, I can hear you.”

Catherine smiled at the saucy grin on the blonde’s face as she shook a finger at her husband. The affection between the two glowed on both their faces.

“Good day.” Riley levered himself into the buckboard and picked up the reins. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“All right.” She waved as they drove away, then turned to see her brother standing uncertainly with his hands jammed in the pockets of his trousers. “What is it, Andrew?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head and moved with her into the house. “I thought maybe they would take him.”

“Shh.” She glanced toward her bedroom. “You know Dr. Butler said he’s too weak.” Why did her brother’s young face look so solemn? “Would you take the milk Miss Susannah brought and put it in the spring house?”

He hesitated. “Will the sheriff be here for a while?”

“I’m not sure. Did you want to ask him something?”

“No. Just curious.” He picked up the crockery jug and started out the door. “I’ll be right back.”

Bemused, she nodded. What was going on in that head of his? She stepped into her bedroom doorway and saw that Davis Lee had pulled a chair over to the bed.

Sweat glistened on Jericho’s face, giving witness to the effort it cost him to sit up for so long. She walked across the room. “You should probably lie back down.”

He nodded, grimacing as he braced his weight on his left arm.

She dipped a damp rag into the bowl of clean water she’d left on the bedside table. “Sheriff, would you like to stay for supper?”

“I can’t, Miz Donnelly, but thank you. Maybe another time?”

“Of course.” She reached over to gently wipe Jericho’s face with the damp rag.

He grabbed her wrist with his left hand. “I can do it.”

Her gaze jerked to his and she released the rag. “Of course.” Her voice sounded shaky and she curled her fingers into the pleats of her apron. “I’ll go start supper.”

“I won’t stay long, Nurse,” the sheriff said.

She walked out, her skin burning from Jericho’s touch, her nerves as raw as if he’d hooked an arm around her throat. It took a minute to steady herself, and as she stoked up the fire in the stove for cornbread, she tried to dismiss the stamp of his touch on her skin. Had that jolt to her bloodstream been fear? Or something else?

The sheriff could stay all night as far as she was concerned. She was in no hurry to be alone with Jericho Blue.