Whirlwind Wedding

“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?”