Читать книгу The Lawman Claims His Bride - Renee Ryan - Страница 12

Megan burrowed deeper under the blanket and forced her mind to relax. But no matter what position she attempted, peace eluded her. Too tired to sit up, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to capture a few moments of sleep.

Every part of her body hurt, resulting in an allover ache that went far beyond the physical. The pain brought an odd sense of relief, a bold reminder she was alive.

Alive was good. That meant God still had a plan for her life. Megan clung to that hope, even as dark thoughts tried to surface.

Shivering from a sudden burst of cold air, she pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and took a slow, steady breath. The smell of blood and death hung in the air. She didn’t want to know why that scent was so strong. Why it seemed so real, so tangible.

Best to forget, a voice whispered in her head. Yes.

Yes. She let her mind go blank, let her sense of time and place garble in her head. The nothingness soothed her.

Distant, hollow voices buzzed around her, like an annoying mosquito.

She took another, slower breath.

At last, sleep began to claim her, promising a temporary respite, if only she could give in to the blessed darkness. She reached out to the void. But then the watery sounds in her head began to form into clear, distinct words.

“You must allow me to wake her.” The urgent request came from somewhere close by. “It’s not good for her to sleep this long.”

A low, menacing growl followed. “I said, leave…her…alone.” There was a deadly calm in the carefully spoken words. And an unmistakable threat. “I mean it, Shane.”

Dr. Shane was here?

“You have to trust I know what I’m doing, Logan.”

Logan, too?

Megan wanted to see him for herself, wanted to know he was real and not a dream like she feared. But opening her eyes required too much effort so she tucked the blanket under her chin and prayed for sleep to return.

“Step back, Logan. Or I’ll have the sheriff personally escort you out of here until I’m through examining her.”

A brief moment of silence filled the room.

“All right. Wake her.” Another pause. “But do it slowly. Don’t scare her.”

A masculine sigh accompanied the sound of footsteps. Very loud footsteps. Like hammers to nails, pounding relentlessly in her head.

She shied away from the noise.

“Megan.” A gentle hand touched her shoulder. “Megan, you need to wake up now.”

She moaned in protest, even as her mind placed the familiar voice. It did indeed belong to Shane Bartlett, the doctor from the clinic connected to Charity House. She knew the man well. Trusted him implicitly. Not only because he was married to her good friend Bella, but because he was an exceptional doctor. Compassionate and thorough.

“Megan.” The hand shook her again, a little more firmly this time.

“Sleep,” she mumbled.

“No. No more sleep.”

She tried to protest again, but her mind drifted over a dark void of shifting images, images she couldn’t quite capture.

Best to forget…

If only her head didn’t hurt so badly.

Eyes still firmly shut, she lifted a hand to touch the tender spot above her temple. The movement sent unspeakable pain spearing behind her eyes.

Another moan slipped through her lips.

“Megan. You need to open your eyes.” Dr. Shane’s voice came at her stronger this time. More insistent. Closer.

Too close.

She snapped awake and sat up with a jerk.

A burst of light flashed before her, momentarily blinding her. She breathed in a quick gasp, blinked past the grit in her eyes, but the room remained hazy. The sickly odor of mold and something else filled her nose. What was that other smell?

She didn’t want to know.

“Sleep,” she muttered again, then squeezed her eyelids shut and started to lie back down.

“No.” The doctor’s hands caught her by the shoulders before her head connected with the pillow. “Stay with us.” He urged her back to a sitting position.

She managed a squint. The sun spread golden fingers of light across the floor, chasing shadows to the outer edges of the room. She opened her eyes fully and connected her gaze with a long row of iron bars. She’d spent an entire night in jail.

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Megan, darling, don’t cry.” The words washed over her like a soft plea.

She turned her gaze in the direction of the voice. “Logan,” she breathed.

He moved toward her slowly, his steps relaxed, careful, as though he didn’t want to scare her with any sudden movement.

The dear, dear man.

“Logan, wait just a moment.” Dr. Shane stopped his progress with an outstretched hand.

Ignoring the command, Logan continued toward her. No hesitation. No hitch in his step. Just bold purpose.

Dr. Shane muttered something about “arrogant, single-minded lawmen.” Megan didn’t listen to the rest of the words. She was too busy watching Logan’s approach.

He crouched down in front of her and placed his palms on her knees.

His movements were still slow, but the fierce angles of his face and the severe expression in his eyes said he was anything but calm.

At the sight of all the intensity directed at her, a quick jolt of fear slithered down her spine.

Megan instinctively leaned back. Away from Logan.

There was a flicker of hurt in his eyes but then he gave her a wide, nonthreatening smile.

Remorse instantly filled her. This was Logan. Her Logan. There was nothing to fear from him. Just being near him was all she’d ever wanted, all she’d ever craved. “You’re still here,” she whispered.

He swung around then sat beside her on the cot. As before, the ancient springs creaked in protest under the additional weight.

Reaching down, Logan took her hand and laced her fingers through his. “I’ll never leave you again.”

The magnetic force of his sincerity took her breath away. For one fleeting moment, every dream she’d ever had about this man and their future together seemed possible.

In the next moment, an onslaught of images beckoned for release and a feeling of dread balled in her stomach.

Her vision blurred.

Logan slung his arm across her shoulder to steady her. “Doc. Do something. She’s losing color.”

Dr. Shane was at her feet in an instant. But he was too close.

She suddenly felt trapped.

“No. Please. Step back.” She waved her hand in his direction. “I need…” She let her voice trail off, not sure what she needed. “Just…give me a moment.”

Breathing slowly—very slowly—she pressed her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose and ordered her mind to slow down. But her thoughts continued running in countless directions. There were too many images fighting for release.

Sights, sounds, smells all came at her at once, attacking her in rapid succession.

“Breathe, Megan,” Logan urged softly in her ear. “Just breathe.”

She tried to do as he suggested. In. Out. In. Out.

Her efforts only made matters worse.

Blood roared in her ears.

Logan’s grip on her shoulder tightened, reminding her she wasn’t alone in this terrible, terrible mess.

Why was there no comfort in the thought?

Was she fooling herself? Was she grasping at a dream she’d built in her head over the last five years?

Confusion and panic tangled together in her mind. Rather than giving in to either, she called on one of her favorite verses. Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavey laden, and I will give you rest.

One heartbeat passed.

And another.

By the third she shrugged away from Logan’s support and tried to stand.

“Megan,” he began.

“No.” She thrust a palm in his direction. “Don’t help me. I need to do this on my own.”

Brave words. Necessary words. She had to call on her strength, like always, or risk losing more control than ever.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t quite get her feet underneath her. Logan grasped her elbow gently. Once she caught her balance, she stepped away from him.

Pain shot through her right foot. And she lowered back down on the cot.

“What is it?” he asked. “What—”

“Just wait a minute, Logan.” Dr. Shane cut him off. “Give her a moment to find her bearings.”

Logan gave an unhappy grunt in reply, but surprisingly didn’t argue this time. Keeping his eyes on her, he moved to the opposite end of the cell in three ground-eating strides, then leaned a shoulder against the brick wall.

The hard look he shot Dr. Shane reminded her of…of…

She pressed a shaky hand to her quivering stomach and felt the knots tighten beneath her touch. What was wrong with her? How could she possibly be afraid?

This was Logan. Her Logan.

Confused, she turned her attention back to Dr. Shane. There was certainly nothing threatening about him. His clear blue eyes held compassion while a hint of concern showed on his handsome face. His dark hair shot out in every direction, as though he’d run his hands through it too many times.

He slowly crouched in front of her, placed his fingertips on the inside of her wrist and began counting her heartbeats. After a moment, he nodded in approval. “Do you hurt anywhere other than your head?”

“My back aches a little. But that could be from sleeping on this cot.”

He cracked a smile. “I wouldn’t rule out the possibility.” His smile disappeared. “Where else does it hurt?”

“Sometimes…it hurts to breathe.” She drew in a sharp breath and winced. “In my ribs.”

Nodding, Dr. Shane probed the area gently. She pulled back and hissed when his fingers landed on an especially tender spot.

At the sound of her gasp, Logan pushed away from the wall and rushed forward. “Megan.”

Dr. Shane glared him back a step. Then another. Impatience flared out of both men, but Logan finally relented.

Muttering under his breath, the doctor turned back to Megan. “Do you hurt anywhere else?”

“My ankle.”

He lifted her foot and Megan stifled a gasp. The swelling told its own story. Sometime during the evening she’d acquired a minor sprain.

Still holding her foot, Dr. Shane reached for his bag. Digging inside with his free hand, he pulled out a roll of linen bandages and began wrapping her ankle with deft fingers.

“Do you remember falling?” he asked, eyes focused on his work.

Megan forced her mind to concentrate. To focus. Surely a fall that had resulted in a sprained ankle would be somewhere in her memory. “I remember…” She searched her mind. And searched. And searched. “Nothing.”

The doctor must have heard the panic in her voice, because his eyes softened. “Don’t worry.” He tied off the bandage with a firm knot. “Your memory will return with time.”

If only she could believe him. If only she could remember what had happened in Mattie’s boudoir. If only she could say that she knew, without a doubt, she hadn’t killed Cole and that she knew who did. The man who killed him was…

He was…

She glanced at Logan. Then just as quickly folded her hands in her lap and looked away. Her gaze caught sight of the blood on her dress and she choked back a sob. “I have to change my clothes.” She couldn’t hide the desperation in her voice.

“Of course.” Dr. Shane touched her clasped hands and squeezed. “Bella is gathering everything you’ll need. She’ll soon be here to help you.”

“Bella?” Logan hissed. “Who’s Bella?”

“Pastor Beau’s sister and my lovely wife.” Dr. Shane rose and turned to face Logan.

“Your wife?” Logan stared at him for a long, tense moment. “You got married?”

“Two years ago.”

Blinking hard, Logan ran a hand down his face. “You’re married,” he repeated, his voice filled with disbelief. “And I never knew.”

“Our first child is due any day now.”

“A child, too.” Something flashed in Logan’s eyes, something sad and regretful, but he didn’t comment again.

He paced.

Even in the confines of the small jail cell he moved with unmistakable authority. There was no hesitation in him, no pause. Every step he took said Logan Mitchell knew who he was and what he wanted out of life. Handsome, kind, capable, he could have his pick of women.

And he’d chosen Megan.

But five long years have passed. The thought settled over her like a heavy weight. In that time she’d changed. She’d gone from a child who helped around the orphanage to a woman in sole charge of the nursery. She’d grown in her love for the Lord, as well. Best of all, she’d discovered her artistic talent and had used it to turn the bedroom walls of Charity House into joyful expressions of God’s unconditional love for His children.

In Logan’s absence, she’d learned so much about herself. Surely he’d discovered things about himself, as well.

Was he still the man she remembered?

It was disloyal to think otherwise.

As if sensing her change in mood, Logan stopped pacing and turned to face her. “Megan, everything’s going to be all right. I promise.”

How could he be so confident? How could either of these men stand here and give her such promises? She’d lost a part of her life last night and everything hinged on her remembering those forgotten hours.

“What if I never remember?” she whispered to no one in particular.

“You will,” Logan said. “You just need time to heal.”

Time. There was that awful word again. Time had kept her and Logan apart. Time threatened them now.

She swallowed back a sob, chagrined at her inability to contain her emotions.

Logan moved closer and searched her face as though he could pull the missing memories forth by his will alone.

If only he could.

She knew she was letting him down. Yet some other instinct, something buried inside her lost memories, hinted that the blackness in her mind was about protecting Logan.

How could that be?

“Megan,” Dr. Shane interrupted her thoughts. “Focus on getting well. Once your body heals, your mind will follow.”

Logan took her hands in his. “And until then I’m going to make sure you’re safe.”

Those were the same words Sheriff Scott had uttered to her last night. Fighting a sense of defeat, Megan lowered her head and sighed. “You’re going to leave me in here until you find the real killer.”

It made the most sense, even if she couldn’t bear the thought of another night in this cold, drafty, depressing jail cell.

“No.” Logan shook his head fiercely. “I’m not going to leave you locked up like a common criminal. I went to Mattie’s this morning. I have proof of your innocence.”

“You…you do?”

“Yes.” But he didn’t expand, which made her wonder if he really had proof or if he was still basing his assumption on what he thought he knew about her.

Before she could press him for more information, for anything to give her a sense of the truth hidden deep within her mind, he steered the conversation in a different direction. “As soon as I make the arrangements I’m going to take you home.”

Home? No. No. They couldn’t take that risk. “I can’t go to Charity House,” she said in a panicked voice. “We can’t put the children in danger.”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m taking you to my home, where I grew up.”

His words took a moment to settle over her. “You want to take me to your family’s ranch?” Pure joy spread through her. Logan came from a large, happy family with a mother. And a father. And lots of siblings.

“It’s the best solution,” he said. “The only one.”

Glory.

“Will that be all right with you?” he asked.

She wanted to jump off the cot and fling herself into his arms. She wanted to tell him, yes, yes, yes.

But reality held her back. She was the daughter of a prostitute, raised in an orphanage with children from similar backgrounds as hers.

His family might never accept her.

Then again, surely the people who’d raised this wonderful, kind, godly man would have equally gracious hearts.

“I…” Not sure what to say, she lifted her arms in the air and he immediately tugged her into his embrace.

She rested her cheek against his hard, muscular chest and breathed in his scent.

For the first time since she’d walked into Mattie’s brothel yesterday Megan felt at peace. “Yes, Logan, I want to go home with you.”

“Good.” He blew out a long breath then set her away from him. “We’ll leave immediately. We’ll—”

“Logan, no.” Sheriff Scott slammed into the jail cell, his lips twisting at a furious angle. “You can’t take her away.”

At the sound of those five angry words, spoken with such conviction, Megan’s hope shattered.

Sheriff Scott wasn’t going to let her leave with Logan.

That meant she would have to spend another night in jail, alone, with no relief in sight.

How would she ever bear the torment?