Читать книгу High Country Hero - Lynna Banning, Lynna Banning - Страница 11

Chapter Six

The trail wound up through the timber, then reached a lush green meadow fed by a gurgling stream. The doctor kicked her horse into a canter and caught up with Cord.

He didn’t want her any closer. He resisted an urge to dig in his spurs and gallop away from her, but he guessed she’d eaten enough of his dust for one day. The wind was picking up, so it was even worse now.

For the next quarter mile they rode side by side through the camas and meadow rue without saying a word. The quiet didn’t seem to bother her, but it got under Cord’s skin in a hurry. Not as much as those undergarments, fluttering from the back of her saddle in the warm afternoon wind, but enough that his already parched tongue felt like a dried corncob. He couldn’t wait until it got dark and they made camp. He’d take a couple of pulls at the whiskey flask, roll himself up in his blanket and forget how raw and hungry his nerves felt. Another hour until sundown. He had to hold it together until then.

He glanced at the sky, then at the thick forest of maples and blue spruce covering the mountains ahead. The wind lashed the branches and the sighing sound set his teeth on edge.

Her voice at his side jolted him. “Tell me something, Mr. Lawson?”

“Depends what you want to know.” He knew his reply sounded surly, but some instinct told him to duck and run, not answer questions. She was full of questions.

“I want to know who you were chasing. Before you needed a physician’s services, I mean.”

“I don’t think you do.”

Her eyes blazed like two purple amethysts. “Don’t tell me what I want! I hate it when someone thinks for me.”

“I still don’t figure you want to know.”

“But I’m interested! I’ve always been curious about things I don’t know.”

“That why you chose to be a doctor?”

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact. My baby brother di ed of diphtheria when I was ten. The day we buried him I decided I wanted to know why he died. I wanted to know what a doctor would have done to save him.”

Cord’s gut tightened. “Some things in life you can’t control.”

“It is ignorance that leaves one vulnerable. At least that is what I fervently believe.”

He snapped his jaw shut and counted to ten. “You’re one of those goddamned ‘truth will make you free’ types, is that it? You think if you dig up enough facts, you can just take charge of the outcome. Choose hell or happiness. Life or death.”

“Of course, within reason. Things you know are the means to understanding life. It follows that if one understands, one can correct what is wrong. Illness, for instance.”

“Let me tell you something, Doc. Real life is mostly about feelings, not facts. Feeling hungry. Feeling tired. Feeling the sun on your back. Feeling good, or…feeling like you want to die.”

She sniffed. “That is an extremely limited philosophy.”

“Maybe. In the long run, it’s the only one that matters.”

“Oh?” Her eyes bored into his like two blue bullets. The wind lifted her hat brim, and she jerked it down tight. “And just what exactly makes you so sure of that?”

“Managing to stay alive for thirty-seven years.”

“But…what have you done with those years?”

“Laughed some. Cried some. Mostly tried to enjoy them.” He didn’t think she really wanted to know about the black times.

“Is that all?”

“That’s all. How old are you, Doc?”

“Um, well, I’m—” She drilled him with those eyes again. “That is a distinctly personal question, Mr. Lawson.”

“Yeah. But I’ve seen you with half your duds off, so you want me to guess?”

“I will be twenty-six in December,” she said quickly.

“And what have you done with your years?”

She straightened her spine just enough to make him smile. “I have used them to investigate. To understand about life. I have studied. Learned.”

“Have you enjoyed yourself?” He wanted to add something about sensual pleasure, but one glance at her tightened mouth and he thought better of it.

“Reasonably, yes. I have a purpose in life. An honorable calling. I am…content.”

He snorted. “Content! You don’t understand jack squat about life, Doc.”

“I do, too! I understand a great deal about living a worthwhile life. You are a footloose thirty-sevenyear-old drifter who doesn’t belong anywhere. It is you who doesn’t understand about life.”

He gritted his teeth. “You think so, do you?”

“I think so, yes. I know so.”

“Well, you’re dead wrong, Doc.” She was a prissy, stuck-up female with a brain too big for her britches. He clenched his jaw even tighter. “And if the opportunity presents itself, I’ll show you what I mean.”