Читать книгу Whirlwind Wedding - Debra Cowan - Страница 9

D avis Lee raised an eyebrow and gave him a steely-eyed look. “What was that about?”

“What?” Jericho said. He shouldn’t have touched her. Her skin was every bit as silky soft as it looked. She smelled like spring rain with a hint of lemon verbena, while he probably smelled like he hadn’t bathed in months. At least his drawers were clean.

“You were harsh. All she did was try to cool you down.”

“I can still do some things by myself,” he muttered, unsettled by the quick surge of blood he’d felt when she reached for him.

“So it was just pride?” The doubt in his cousin’s eyes echoed inside Jericho.

“Yes.” The plain fact was that every instinct he had honed over the last thirteen years as a Ranger screamed at him to keep as far away from Catherine Donnelly as he could. But even if he’d been able to move, he wasn’t going anywhere.

Andrew Donnelly was the boy he’d seen at the ambush. Maybe the one who’d shot and killed Hays. And Jericho had known by the flare of wariness in his eyes, clear blue like his sister’s, that the lad had recognized him, too.

Did his pretty nurse know that baby brother was riding with the McDougals? Was she protecting him? Was she involved, too?

Davis Lee leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. “I suppose you’re watching that door like a hawk because you don’t want her coming back in here to tend you some more?”

“Actually, I don’t want her coming back in here.” Jericho jerked his gaze to his cousin, relying on his ears to keep him apprised of her movements. “What do you know about her?”

“Not that much.” His cousin grinned. “She’s pretty.”

Jericho’s thigh throbbed and he grimaced. “How long has she been here?”

“Not quite a month. Her mother suffered from consumption, and toward the end, she sent for Catherine to come to Whirlwind and care for the boy.”

“Sent where for her? Where was she?”

Davis Lee frowned. “What’s got you all het up?”

“Where?”

“New York City. With some nuns.”

“Nuns?” His leg burned like blue fire and he felt more than half-spent. Still, he forced himself to concentrate. Besides their age, he and Davis Lee shared an interest in the law. And justice. His cousin’s instincts, except for one unfortunate incident, had never failed him. “Do you believe that?”

“I suppose.” Davis Lee paused thoughtfully. “Evelyn, her mother, talked about her a lot. Said she and her husband left Catherine with the nuns when they came to America from Ireland.”

“Why wouldn’t they bring their daughter to Texas with them?”

“Evelyn said she didn’t believe they’d survive here. At least with the nuns, Catherine would be fed, clothed and educated.”

“What about later?” Jericho was intrigued in spite of himself. “When the family had become established here?”

“I’m not sure. Evelyn never said.” He flashed another grin. “If you’re not interested, then where’s all this goin’?”

“Her brother was at the ambush.”

“What?” Davis Lee’s dark brows snapped together and he threw a quick look toward the kitchen.

Jericho heard the squeak of the stove door, the hollow tap of Catherine’s shoes on the wooden floor.

“Are you sure?” The other man lowered his voice.

“I’m not likely to mistake it.”

“You didn’t see the boy afterward? Here maybe? You weren’t very alert.”

“He was there. And when he came in a while ago, he recognized me, too.”

Davis Lee shook his head. “My posse has chased the McDougal gang several times and I’ve never seen the kid. Why would he be involved with those bastards?”

“I mean to find out.”

“You’re positive he was there? That he didn’t ride up on the scene afterward?”

Jericho kept his voice low, as well. “He had a shotgun. It was long for him, but he had control of it. He may have been the one who killed Hays.”

Davis Lee frowned. “Did you track him here?”

“After I lost the gang, I followed a set of tracks from the ambush. They led here, and Catherine—Miz Donnelly—answered the door.”

“Did you tell her? What did she say?”

“I keeled over before I could say anything about the boy. She’d probably protect him, anyway.”

“If he was with them—”

“He was.”

“She may have no idea.” Davis Lee shook his head. “Andrew went missing the day before and she was out looking for him. I’d say she was near panic.”

“Maybe because she knew exactly where he was.”

Davis Lee still looked doubtful.

Jericho shifted in the bed, trying to relieve the sharp pressure in his thigh. Weakness washed through him, but he fought it. “You believe her story about the nuns and New York City?”

“Yeah. Her mother was a good woman.” Davis Lee dragged a hand down his face. “And Catherine seems like a good woman, too.”

“Why? Because you think she’s pretty?”

“Don’t you?”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“You were shot in the leg, not the eye,” the other man pointed out wryly. “What do you want to do about Andrew? Want me to get him in here?”

Jericho felt himself sinking beneath a wave of pain. “Any news about the McDougals?”

“No. Nothing since the ambush. They’re holed up somewhere.”

“That’s my guess, too. And that kid probably knows where. I want to watch him for a while. His sister, too.”

“Are you telling me everything?” his cousin demanded. “Has she given you a reason to be suspicious?”

“If the boy’s involved with the McDougals, she may be, too. Does she have a beau?”

“No.” Davis Lee thought for a minute. “In fact, I haven’t seen her show interest in any man around here. She’s always polite, but that’s about it. The Baldwin brothers usually have some luck with the ladies, but I don’t think she’s accepted one of their invitations.”

“I can see why a man would be interested in her. Have you had any luck?” The thought of Davis Lee setting his sights on Catherine Donnelly struck an uneasy chord inside Jericho, but he didn’t know why.

“What makes you think I’ve tried?”

“You always try.”

Davis Lee grinned. “No luck. Yet.”

“And if she’s not interested in you, she must not be interested at all,” Jericho said dryly.

“Well, it does make a man wonder.”

“It makes me wonder if she already has a man.”

“Like a McDougal,” Davis Lee concluded. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think so. Wouldn’t we have heard if one of them had a sweetheart?”

“Probably, unless they found a woman who can keep her mouth shut. And maybe they did.”

“I guess if your commission from the governor is still active, you’re gonna see this through to the end.”

“I’m assuming it’s still active.” Because of the gang’s rampage throughout the state, the governor had issued a special commission for Jericho and Hays to work strictly on catching the outlaws. “But even if it isn’t, I’m going after them.”

“Because of Hays?”

“And the others they’ve murdered.”

Davis Lee stared hard at him. “Are you sure? You’ve wanted nothing but to be a Ranger your whole life, ever since your pa died and left you that old badge he had made out of a Mexican coin.”

“It was criminals like the McDougals who killed him,” Jericho reminded him with some effort. “He wouldn’t have stood by and let some politician tell him he couldn’t pursue outlaws just because of a piece of paper.”

“True enough.”

“So you’ll help me?”

“You can count on it.”

Jericho shook his cousin’s hand to seal the deal. “Before I forget, would you send a wire back East for me, to those nuns?”

“All right.”

“Could you do one other thing for me?” Jericho told him about the tracks he’d followed to the Donnelly house, made by a horse carrying a lightweight rider, and sporting a chipped shoe.

“You want me to check the barn for this horse?” Davis Lee asked.

“Yeah.”

“All right.” He rose from his chair and scooted it against the wall. “I’ll let you know what I find out, and I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you.”

“Could you hand me my gun and gun belt?”

Davis Lee did so and Jericho tucked them under the sheet next to his uninjured leg. “Thanks for coming.”

“You sure you don’t want me to wire your ma and sisters?”

“No. I’ll do it when I’m stronger. No need to worry them.” Jericho didn’t want Jessamine Blue making a trip from Houston to Whirlwind, a journey that would surely aggravate her rheumatism. His ma had already spent herself, single-handedly raising him and his four sisters.

“I’ll check the barn real quick,” Davis Lee said. “Then I’ve got to get over to Haskell’s. Someone broke in there last night.”

“Was anything taken?”

“Some food and maybe bullets. I’m sure Charlie, the owner, will know down to the last nail by the time I get there.”

Jericho’s energy flagged and he felt a quick flare of frustration at his weakness. Just the effort of thinking, trying to determine what Catherine Donnelly knew about her brother’s activities, sapped the little energy he’d had when his cousins had arrived.

“Take it easy, Jericho.” Davis Lee settled his fawn-colored cowboy hat on his head. “I don’t want to see you chasin’ that pretty nurse around.”

“Don’t worry. Wouldn’t be even if I could walk.”

The other man grinned and sauntered out.

A wave of fatigue and pain rolled over Jericho. He closed his eyes, hearing Catherine bid his cousin goodbye. He wished she would come in and wipe his face with a cool rag. Or bring him something to eat. Or plump up his pillow.

He wasn’t asking for her help, dammit. He had all he could handle when she did come in here. For all his denial to his cousin, Davis Lee was right. Jericho was more than aware of the beautiful woman who’d taken him in and cared for him. More aware than he liked.

Her clear blue eyes seemed to see to the depths of his black soul. And as much as he tried, he couldn’t dismiss her soft, lingering scent.

It didn’t matter what she looked like or that his body surged to life when she touched him. What mattered was her involvement with the McDougals.

“Hey.” Davis Lee’s low voice drifted through the window just behind his head.

Jericho craned his neck to see his cousin framed in the open space.

Concern darkened the other man’s eyes. “You were right. Their sorrel wears a chipped shoe on its right back hoof.”

The triumph Jericho had expected didn’t come. Instead, a weary resignation sighed through him. “Thanks.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Wait to see what you find out from New York City. Watch and listen until I can carry my own weight again.”

Davis Lee nodded soberly. “I’ll be back tomorrow and bring news if I have it.”

“All right.”

As the chirp of birds and the sawing of the wind carried into the room, Jericho felt himself giving out. Would Catherine Donnelly really be helping him if she were in cahoots with the McDougal gang?

His left hand curled around the butt of his revolver and he tried to make a fist with his right hand. He couldn’t even touch his palm with his fingers. Until he could protect himself, he’d better hope Catherine Donnelly was as innocent as she appeared.

A noise woke him. Night air flowed through the window as Jericho opened his eyes and listened hard. He’d heard the creak of a plank. It had to be from the front porch. The bedrooms were built off the side of the house and set back several feet from the porch.

A soft grunt sounded in the room next to his, then the sigh of a rope bed. It was Andrew coming home from somewhere. Did his sister know? Perhaps she’d been with him. But if she had, why would he come in through his bedroom window?

Jericho strained to hear more, but there was no further sound. Where had the kid gone, and why? Had he returned alone?

Jericho pushed himself up with his good hand and slowly swung his legs to the floor. Pain arrowed up his right thigh, but he steadied himself by holding on to the bedside table to help him stand. Biting the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning, he gripped the wooden edge until the room stopped rocking.

This was the first time he’d been up, and his leg burned in agony. Nauseous and trembling from weakness, he limped to the wall and flattened his hand against the pine, feeling his way to the door. It opened silently and he leaned against the jamb, breathing hard from his short trip. Sweat trickled down his bare chest and beneath the waistband of his light cotton drawers.

A full, fat moon sent light slanting into the front room that also comprised the kitchen. His gaze searched the shadows to his left until he saw Catherine. She lay on a pallet beneath the front window, her hair a curtain of midnight black flowing over her shoulder. The windows in his and Andrew’s rooms had been left open, but not in here. Stuffy air clogged Jericho’s lungs and he wondered how she could even breathe.

Her white, sleeveless nightdress shone in the darkness. Pale moonlight fell across one cheek; gilded her straight nose and smooth skin. One slender hand pillowed her cheek; the other lay across her waist, almost as if she were protecting herself.

As his eyes further adjusted to the dim light, he saw a sheet draped low over her hips. Her breasts were in shadow, but Jericho had a good imagination. He looked away, blinking to focus in the darkness and search the corners of the room. Everything was quiet and calm.

He shuffled closer. If Catherine had been out with the boy, she showed no signs of it. Her breathing was slow and steady. There were no hastily discarded clothes. Her dress and apron hung neatly on a wall peg next to the fireplace opposite Jericho’s side of the room. Beside them, a tin bathtub stood against the wall. Her wrapper was draped over the back of a rocking chair in the corner.

Pain snaked through him and ate away his strength. He could make out the cupboard against the wall to his right, the dining table in front of him. He gripped the edge. A moment of silence passed, then another. Andrew seemed to be in for the night, and Catherine appeared to have slept through her brother’s absence and return.

Trying to gather what little strength he had, Jericho turned to go back to bed. And hit his thigh on the table’s edge. Sharp, keening pain nearly drove him to the floor. His vision hazed and he cursed.

“Who’s there? What do you want?” Catherine cried out, startling him.

“Shh.” His fingers dug into the wood as he fought to drag in a breath. “It’s me.”

“What’s happened?” She rose, a hazy figure pulling on her wrapper and coming toward him.

“Didn’t mean to frighten you.” Pain was a vicious band around his thigh, and Jericho braced himself against the table. “I’m sorry.”

She stopped about a foot from him, her clean, fresh scent reaching through the thick night air. He wanted her to stay away, but it took all his energy to stay upright.

“What are you doing?”

At her accusing tone, he growled, “I’m on my way back to bed.”

“You shouldn’t be up. If you needed something, you could’ve just called out to me.”

Her voice was cool and guarded; he could feel her wary gaze. What did she think he was doing—coming out here to have his way with her?

“I heard a noise,” he snapped.

“What was it?” She looked around, alarm plain in her voice.

His lips twisted. “I’m not sure. Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”

Had Catherine really not heard her brother return? Or did she know he’d been out and was now protecting him? Jericho couldn’t stand here much longer. The floor seemed to shift beneath his feet, and the heat in his thigh made him wonder if it were bleeding.

“Let me help you.” She was once again the calm nurse who’d taken him in.

He wanted to refuse her assistance, but if he did he might fall at her feet again. Surely one time was enough for any man. “Thank you,” he said gruffly.

The agony in his leg had subsided to a dull, bone-pinching throb. Catherine moved to his uninjured side and braced her shoulder under his arm, then put an arm firmly around his bare waist.

For just a moment, he balanced there and let her cool beauty soak into him. He hadn’t allowed himself to be this close to a good woman in a long time. His arm rested on her shoulders and she gripped his wrist with her other hand. Her touch unleashed a longing he could scarcely admit. A long-denied part of himself greedily took in her clean scent, the brush of her unbound breast against his side.

“Ready?” Her body tensed to move.

He fought to keep his hand from drifting down her arm. “Yes. Ready.”

He took slow, halting steps, fresh pain tearing at his leg. She served as a crutch and let him set the pace. But the press of her body against his sparked a savage heat inside him. He tried to move faster, get back to bed so he could stop feeling it. Stop wanting to feel more.

He inched forward awkwardly, ignoring her teasing scent and the satin of her hair tickling his arm. An almost giddy relief washed through him when they shuffled through the doorway and he saw the bed. He stepped toward it, releasing her at the same time.

“Wait—”

His leg gave out. She clutched at him as he grabbed for the wall behind her. Agony wrenched his leg, rattling his teeth.

“Damn,” he muttered raggedly. Nausea rolled through him and sweat broke out across his forehead.

After long seconds, his breathing still uneven, he leaned against the wall.

Not the wall. Catherine Donnelly.

Bracing his weight on his good arm, Jericho eased back enough to look at her. She stood motionless, her gaze trained on his bare chest. Beyond the pain of his leg, a different kind of throbbing moved into his groin. Well, he could rest easy about the question of his manhood.

He felt every inch of her, and those inches felt damn good. The reason for his being here jumbled with the quicksilver reaction of his body to hers. Hard man to soft woman. Through the light fabric of her wrapper, her breasts teased his chest, while her hips and thighs pressed to his. Her breath fluttered against his throat, making his blood pound. He wanted to kiss her, peel down the straps of her nightdress and see the breasts shadowed beneath the fine lawn fabric. He wanted to run his hands through her hair, over her body.

“You are so sweet.” It took a second for him to realize he’d whispered the words. In that instant, he registered something else, too.

Though she stood rigid against him, she trembled—not fighting him, but warning him off all the same.

He shifted so that moonlight fell over his shoulder. She stared straight ahead, her face ghostly pale, her lips compressed.

“Catherine?” His whisper sounded harsh in the silence.

Her gaze lifted slowly to his and Jericho drew back. Terror swam in her eyes. He recognized that fear, and it had nothing to do with what he knew about her brother and the McDougals. She didn’t fear him as a Ranger. She feared him as a man.