“Let go! Let go!”
“If you don’t calm down, you will die!” he shouted at her, grimacing at the pain of her kicks against his legs as he ran with her toward the shade of a gnarled old piñon pine. He literally threw his rifle aside and forced her down into the grass, but she continued struggling.
“Dammit, calm down!” he yelled at her. “You have to lie still, Callie, or the venom will just travel faster through your blood!”
She finally quit fighting him, but she cried hysterically. “It hurts terrible!” she screamed. “Oh, God! Oh, God, I hate snakes! I hate snakes! What’s going to happen to me?”
“You’ll feel sick as hell and probably get a fever,” Chris told her. “I can help a little by sucking out some of the venom, but you running like that sure as hell didn’t help, dammit! Where’s the bite?” He pulled a jackknife from his pants pocket.
“My back! Down low! Lordy, what are you going to do with that knife?”
“I have to cut across the fang marks and suck out as much venom as I can.”
“No! Lordy, don’t go cutting me!”
Chris yanked her up by her shirtfront. “Listen to me, goddammit! If I don’t get some of that venom out, you will die. Now, you’d better cooperate, or I’ll slug you! You got that?”
She quieted, her body jerking in a sob as she stared at him in wide-eyed terror. “I’m scared,” she whimpered, jerking in another sob.
“Of course you are. Hell, I would be too.” He noticed her face beginning to flush, and her eyes started rolling back. “You hang on, Callie!” he told her, realizing she was beginning to lose consciousness. Some of the venom was probably already reaching her brain. He had no idea if trying to suck it out would even do any good after all her running and carrying on, but he had to try. Any little he could get rid of might help.
He ran over to his saddlebags and fished out a flask of whiskey, then grabbed his bedroll and ran back to where Callie lay, now just moaning and tossing. He rolled her over and jerked up her shirt, then yanked her britches partway down to see the ugly fang marks. The bite was turning purple.
“Jesus,” he mumbled. “Help me do this right.”
He’d seen this done once, but he’d never done it himself. He flicked open his jackknife, and taking a deep breath, he cut across the fang marks. Callie let out a mixture of a scream and a groan that tore at his heart. He tossed the knife aside and leaned down, squeezing the flesh and sucking hard, spitting out something bitter that was mixed with her blood. He figured the bitterness must be the venom. Good. He was getting at least some of it.
He repeated the process several more times, then doused the wound with whiskey. By then Callie was lying still…already dying, for all he knew. Why did that tear at his heart so? He wiped his mouth and then drank some of the whiskey himself before corking the flask and running over to their supplies, quickly untying ropes and letting things fall.
He opened a small leather satchel in which he knew they’d packed medical supplies, and he took out a roll of cotton strips and ran back to wrap the bleeding wound. He lifted Callie’s torso to get underneath so he could wrap the cotton around her midsection a couple of times, then he tied it off.
He quickly opened his bedroll and threw back a blanket, then yanked off Callie’s boots and britches. He carried her over to the bedroll and laid her down, removing the rest of her clothes. She would undoubtedly suffer a terrible fever. If the venom didn’t kill her, the fever could. He would have to keep her cooled, and that was easier if she wasn’t wearing anything. He could keep her bathed with cool, wet rags. He covered her up to the armpits, leaving her arms outside the blanket, then hurried back to Betsy, hastily unsaddling the animal and carrying the saddle back to where Callie lay silent. He set the saddle down near her head, then lifted her head and shoulders and managed to scoot the saddle under her so that her top half would be elevated. Somewhere he’d heard that also helped, something about helping keep down the blood flow to the brain.
He sat down then and took a deep breath, watching her for several seconds, wondering if she was already dead. She sure looked it. Her face now was as white as the clouds in the sky, and her lips looked slightly blue. Her freckled face was dirty from a mixture of dust and tear stains, and just then she did look like a kid.
What if she died? He tried to figure how he’d feel about that, and he didn’t like the answer. He’d long ago decided never to love again, never to care about anything or anyone. Now here was this lonely, lost, poorly educated, scared woman/child who had managed to creep into his heart without even trying. She was so full of life and spit and anger and cockiness that he couldn’t begin to imagine lowering her, lifeless, into a grave. Even the mess she was right now, she was still pretty, and it just then dawned on him that he’d been so concerned about her dying that he hadn’t even noticed how she looked naked…except for a brief sight of those full, firm, virgin breasts.
“Shit,” he grumbled, getting up. “You bastard, Mercy! The girl is probably dying.”
He left her to make some kind of order out of the things he’d unpacked so recklessly, then unsaddled his horse. He saw no sign of water anywhere and decided to water the horses using canteens. That meant he couldn’t give them much, because he’d need some to cool Callie if she developed a fever, which was a sure thing. He cursed the fact that they had not gone as far as he’d planned today. If they had, they would have reached a creek he knew meandered through lower land farther south. There wasn’t even good grazing grass around here.
He slung a canteen over his shoulder, led the four horses to the grassiest place he could find, and tethered them there, giving each one some water before going back to set up camp. It worried him, Callie lying there so still. He couldn’t even bring himself to go over and make sure she was alive, fearing the worst and for some reason unable to accept it.
With Callie’s bedroll, he made up a bed for himself right beside her, using his saddle to lean on. He checked the horses once more, then came back, picking up his rifle from where he’d thrown it, and laying it beside him. It was only then that he realized how hungry he was. He’d not eaten since the incident with Callie’s attacker late yesterday, close to twenty-four hours now.
He dug some jerked meat and a can of beans from their gear, using a hooked opener in his jackknife to open the beans. He found a spoon and sat down with a sigh, eating a couple of scoops of beans, then biting off a piece of meat. He set both aside then and stared at Callie, trying to figure out if she was breathing. Finally he noticed the blanket move. Yes, she was breathing.
He took a quick swallow of water, deciding not to make a fire for the simple reason he couldn’t spare enough water to make coffee, and besides, he wasn’t in the mood to heat anything. It would be chilly tonight, like it always was at night in this country, no matter how hot the day; but it wouldn’t be so cold that they couldn’t get by with just blankets.
He set the canteen aside and got to his knees, leaning over Callie. He brushed some of her thick auburn hair away from her face. “Callie?”
No answer. She didn’t even blink or turn her head. He felt for a pulse at her neck and realized it was very weak.
“Shit,” he muttered. He patted her cheek. “Callie? Come on, Callie, talk to me.”
Still nothing. And a touch to her neck and her cheek told him she was already developing a fever. He closed his eyes, angry with himself for having feelings for her. She was one strong, determined young woman. She’d give any man a run for his money, make any man proud to call her his wife. It was easy to tell she’d be absolutely beautiful with her hair done up right, wearing a pretty dress that fit her right, a little bit of education in manners and…
He sat back again with another long sigh, taking out a cigarette paper to roll himself a smoke. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Twenty-two
“Callie?”
Callie thought she heard someone calling her, but when she opened her eyes, everything was a
blur. At first she couldn’t think where she was or who the shadow was leaning over her. It took only seconds to be aware of the pain that wracked every inch of her and the fact that she felt on fire. She tried to talk, but she couldn’t. Her throat felt tight, and terror engulfed her when it felt as though she couldn’t get any air. She gasped, trying to sit up, and more pain tore through her whole right side, especially her right hip.
“It’s all right,” someone told her. “Stay calm, Callie.”
It was a man’s voice. Frantically she struggled for breath, and she sensed the man moving behind her. He put an arm around her shoulders from behind and placed his other hand under her chin, pulling her head back.
“Breathe deeply, honey,” he told her. “Come on. Relax and take a nice, deep breath. If you keep your head back, your airway will stay open. The swelling should go down in a few hours and you’ll be okay.”
Her mouth felt dry as a bone. “Wa-ter,” she managed to whisper.
“Keep your head back,” the man told her.
She was so hot and in so much pain, she didn’t even care who it was, as long as what he did helped her breathe. She felt him move slightly, and as she gained a little more awareness, she realized she was leaning against his chest. He put something wet to her lips.
“Here. I’ll squeeze the water from this rag into your mouth. I’m afraid you’ll choke if I pour it into your mouth from the canteen.”
She felt the water trickle into her mouth, and it felt wonderful, but it was difficult to swallow. Once all the water was squeezed from the rag, he used it to gently bathe perspiration from her face and neck.
“So…hot,” she groaned.
“I know. You just fight it, Callie. Twenty-four hours from now you’ll feel a lot better, I promise. Your throat will be better and the fever will probably break by then. We just have to get you through the night. You’ve been lying here over four hours and it’s just now getting dark. It’s a good sign that you’re alert again so soon.”
She thought a moment, scrambling to make sense of all this while the man continued cooling her face and neck. Slowly her memory returned…the familiar voice, the pain…snake! A snake bit her! She cried out and tried to sit up. She had to get away! Strong arms came around her, holding her close and tight.
“It’s all right, Callie. You’ll be all right. I promise. But you have to lie still. And keep your head back.”
He moved one hand to her chin again, pulling her head back. Callie fought tears, afraid if she started crying too hard, she wouldn’t be able to breathe.
“Chris?” she asked.
“It’s me. I’m glad you remembered to start using my first name. That’s another good sign.”
“Where’s…the…snake?”
“I shot the snake. And I managed to get some of the venom out.”
“So…hot,” she told him.
“I know.” A little cool water trickled over her head and down the sides of her face and neck, and she realized he must have poured it over her.
“Don’t…go…away,” she said, unable to keep a wrenching sob of terror from moving up through her soul. What was it like to die? She should have looked around better before squatting behind those rocks. Snakes loved to sunbathe on warm rocks.
“I already told you I’ll always be close by. Tonight I’ll stay right here every minute, until you feel that you can breathe better.”
Tears worked their way down her cheeks, and Chris wiped them with the cool rag.
“Don’t cry. It will just make things worse.”
“Will I…die?”
“No. Don’t even think about it. You’re too damn stubborn and ornery to die, and too damn young.”
Callie wanted to believe him. “You really…think so?”
“I really think so.”
“Don’t…let go…of me.”
“I don’t intend to.”
“If you…let go…I’ll…die.”
“Well then, I’ll hang on real tight.”
She wanted to smile but was in too much pain. “I never…hurt so bad…ever. Can’t…stand…to move.”
“Good. That means you’ll lie still as I want you to do.”
“I’m…scared,” she repeated.
“Well, so the hell am I. If you die, there’s no sense in me looking for the rest of those men, which means I won’t get your ranch.”
Now she wanted to laugh, but her throat just closed up on her instead. She started gasping for breath, and again he forced her chin back. She gasped for another breath.
“I was only kidding,” he told her. “I didn’t mean to get such a reaction out of you.”
“I…know. Just…wanted to…laugh.”
She heard him chuckle. “Want the truth?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes up to look at him, able to see him more clearly now. “What?”
He leaned closer. “I don’t want you to die, because I care about you more than you think. How do you like that?”
In spite of her pain, the words brought Callie a tremendous desire to live. She realized Christian Mercy was holding her close, and she didn’t even mind. And for him to admit he cared “more than she thought” was really something, considering how hard it must be for him to tell her that. “I’ll…be damned,” she managed to whisper.
“What’s that?”
She gasped for another breath, unable to answer. “My head…is starting…to hurt…something…awful,” she whimpered.
He trickled more water over her head. “I can’t do much about that, Callie. It’s just going to take time.”
Her sight started to go then. She felt the blackness closing in, tried to scream to Chris again not to let go of her but couldn’t get the words out.
Chris could see Callie was lapsing into hysteria, probably from the fever. She began gasping harder for breath and fighting him, kicking away her blanket and mumbling something about the heat. He held on tightly to her while at the same time he continued to trickle water over her hair and down over her neck and shoulders. He figured then that as long as she was naked and didn’t want the blanket, he’d reach farther down and pour water over her chest and belly, anything to try to keep the fever down. If it lasted too long, she wouldn’t make it.
Her strength astonished him, and for the next hour or better the battle was on. Chris was on the brink of figuring some way to literally tie her down, but finally she seemed to lapse into something he couldn’t decide was a coma or a deep sleep. After another several minutes he slowly moved back, then grabbed one of the blankets from her bedroll and wadded it up, putting it under her head to cradle her at a slightly better angle and give some softness between her head and neck area and her saddle.
He looked down at his shirt and pants, wet from pouring water over her head and neck, deciding to just leave them on and let them dry that way. He picked up the canteen and bent close to her, pouring more water over her hair and neck, and on down over her breasts and belly, feeling like an ass for taking a moment to study her naked body, yet unable not to. Hell, he was afraid to cover her up anyway for fear the fever would get worse again. Night was falling, and the temperature had dropped. If her body was cooling down, he had to let it. He would just have to watch her closely to make sure she didn’t start shivering.
A full moon had risen about the same time as the sun disappeared behind distant mountains, and there was still plenty of light to see that she had a damn pretty shape, a small waist and flat belly, slender thighs that led down to pretty calves. His gaze moved back to the dark hair that hid her virgin sweetness, and her breasts were so firm…
He couldn’t resist leaning down and kissing her full lips lightly, then turned away. “Lord God,” he muttered. He flopped down on his bedroll, deciding to wait a while before he pulled a blanket back over her, just to be sure her fever was heading down. He stretched out and stared up at stars that were becoming more prominent as the sky grew blacker. Yes, this definitely was going to be a long night.
; Chapter Twenty-three
Callie awakened to the sounds of birds singing and a horse whinnying. She opened her eyes to see Chris off in the distance, brushing down Breeze. She just lay there, watching him for a while, trying to remember all that had happened. She shivered at the memory of a snakebite, and one movement reminded her where she had gotten bit. Her right hip, just a few inches below the waistline, still ached fiercely when she moved, but she realized that the soreness in the rest of her body was gone.
She swallowed, then thanked God that she could breathe freely and her throat was not sore. She put a hand to her head, which no longer ached, and she could see clearly. She was coherent enough, in fact, to realize she was naked under the blanket that covered her.
She gasped and lifted the blanket to look “Lordy!” Her midsection was wrapped midway down her rear end. “Lordy!” she said a little louder. Had Christian Mercy done that? Why in hell did he have to take all her clothes off?
She pulled the blanket completely over her shoulders, realizing she had to pee. How in heck was she going to get up and walk without help, and how could she ask for help with such a thing, especially wearing nothing more than a blanket?
She glanced over at Chris again. He had apparently noticed her stir, and he was walking toward her now.
“Good morning!” he said cheerfully.
Of course he’d be cheerful, Callie thought. He got to sit staring at my naked body while I had no idea what was going on! Maybe he had done more than that!
“Glad to see you finally waking up. You’ve been lying there sleeping since late evening day before yesterday.” He came closer and knelt beside her. “I was beginning to worry the snake venom had affected your brain and you were in a permanent coma. They say everybody reacts differently to snakebite.” He frowned then. “You do know me, don’t you, Callie?”
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