Garrett agreed. Leaning on the old trapper for support, he shuffled his way on legs weak as wet string. His back protested angrily and sweat dampened his brow. Outside, the bright sunshine hurt his eyes. He couldn’t tell what the temperature was. His focus was on answering his needs before he passed out.
Back inside and feeling better, he lay on the cot and waited for his ragged breath to return to a pace akin to normal. His back felt like a bonfire fueled by jagged pieces of glass.
“How’s the pain?”
“Bad.”
“Got some laudanum tea here.”
Garrett struggled up, drank as much of the tea as he could, then lay back again. The many questions he wanted to put to Odell about the shooting were soon forgotten as sleep pulled him under once more.
Garrett awakened, and had no idea how much time had passed since Odell helped him outside. Had it been hours, days? He was still in the windowless room, however. The pain in his back had subsided somewhat but was still viable enough to let him know he’d not be dancing a jig anytime soon. He was hungry and thirsty. “Anybody here?” he called out.
The door to the front of the office opened, letting in the light of day. Spring entered. Seeing her filled him with a soft glow.
“Hey there,” she said, walking over to the cot.
“Hey.”
She placed a light hand on his forehead. “No fever. That’s good.”
He agreed.
“Welcome back to the world.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you thirsty? Hungry?”
“Both.”
“Colt said to give you soft things to eat first. Would you like some eggs?”
“Yes.”
He wanted to tell her how grateful he was for her presence and her brother’s care but his brain was scrambled as the eggs she’d offered.
Whit stuck his head in the door and Garrett was pleased to see him, as well. Spring said, “Odell told me about you going outside. I wasn’t happy but I understand. Whit will help you if you need to again. I’ll get those eggs from Dovie.”
Feeling a bit closer to human as a man who’d been shot in the back could, Garrett silently offered up thanks for being alive.
After putting in her request for Garrett’s eggs, Spring sat in the dining room to wait for Dovie to bring the plate. Hazel Jarvis entered the otherwise empty space and walked over to Spring.
“Good morning, Miss Lee.”
“Morning.”
“If you have some spare time in the next few days, I’d like to speak to you.”
“About?”
Overdressed as always, this time in olive green, she fidgeted for a moment. “I—I’d just like to get to know you better.”
“Why?”
“I—you’re not like any woman I’ve ever met before. How did you become so strong and fearless?”
Spring wondered what this was truly about. Hazel was a privileged woman of her race and class. Spring saw no reason for her to be interested in a Colored woman’s life story. “I doubt your father would approve of you associating with me.”
“Agreed. He doesn’t care for you at all. Calls you unnatural and that you need to be shown your place.”
Spring wasn’t surprised.
“But I find you fascinating. And—”
“Hazel!” Her father’s angry voice cut her off. He glared her way from across the dining room and the now tight-lipped Hazel scurried to his side. As he quietly berated her, her face was mutinous and remained so as they took seats at one of the tables.
Dovie brought out Garrett’s eggs. The warm plate was wrapped in a towel to keep in the heat. “Thanks, Dovie.”
“What does Mr. McCray plan to do about his room here?”
“Not sure, but I’ll ask him and let you know what he says.” Ignoring Hazel and her father, Spring went on her way.
Back at Colt’s office, Garrett and Whit were talking when she entered.
“So what’s the last thing you remember?” Whit asked.
Spring untied the towel around the plate and found scrambled eggs and two biscuits.
“The ducks.”
Spring paused.
Whit chuckled, “Ducks?”
Garrett explained. “Just before I fell off the horse, I’d stopped to let a family of ducks cross the road.”
Spring thought his gentleman’s ways had almost cost him his life. Then again, she stopped for duck families many times, too.
With Garrett being unable to sit upright for any length of time and lacking the strength to feed himself, she and Whit ended up helping him into one of the office’s chairs. It pained Spring to hear his labored breathing and to see the sheen of perspiration on his face brought on by such a simple maneuver.
“Did Matt Ketchum shoot me?” he asked them once he settled into the chair.
“More than likely,” Whit replied. “But I need evidence to prove it.”
Spring forked up some of the eggs and fed him a bit of it. “Regan has put up a reward for information but so far no one has come forward.”
“Did you send word to my folks?”
“Yes. Odell said they sent back a number of questions, which he answered as best he could.”
“I hope they’re not too worried.”
“We’ll let them know that you’re now awake and eating,” she said reassuringly. “That might help ease their concerns.”
By the time he finished the small helping of eggs and half a biscuit, he was exhausted and had to be helped back to the cot. Spring thought how much easier taking care of him might be were he at her place and able to rest in a real bed. Colt’s back room wasn’t equipped to house patients for lengthy stays, thus the reason he was having the hospital built, but she wasn’t sure if Garrett had healed enough to make it to her place in the back of a wagon rolling on a rut-filled road. He must have read her mind because once he was supine again, he asked, “How much longer do I have to stay here? Sleeping on this cot is about as comfortable as a length of pine.”
“I could move you to my place, but I’m worried about you being tossed around in the wagon bed. Colt will have my hide if the ride undoes your healing.”
“I’m willing to chance it.”
“All right. Let’s talk more tomorrow.”
“I’d rather we do it today, Spring. Preferably now.” There was a firmness in the eyes trained on her.
She looked to Whit. He replied with a shrug, adding, “I’m sure we could find something to pad the wagon. Dovie may have some old mattresses and pallets we can borrow. Odell may have something useful, too.”
“I can’t heal if I can’t get some decent sleep,” Garrett pointed out.
She knew he was right, but she still worried about making him worse. “Okay, let me ask around. My wagon is at home so I’ll see if we can borrow Odell’s.”
“Thank you,” Garrett said.
It took Spring an hour to get everything ready. Dovie donated two old mattresses. Odell offered to drive and threw in a couple of hides to cover the mattresses and offer more cushioning. Once they got Garrett aboard and comfortable, she placed in a bag clean bandages, a vial of laudanum, and a tin of the salve they’d been putting on his wounds. Word spread that McCray was leaving, so by the time the wagon was ready to go, a small crowd had formed. As she mounted Cheyenne, she saw Jarvis, his secretary, and his daughter watching from the edge, but Matt wasn’t with them. In case of another attack, she was armed with her Colt and a rifle she’d borrowed from Whit. He was mounted on his stallion and would be riding along, too. She gave Odell the okay to pull off, and with her and Whit flanking the wagon, their small party headed out of town.
As they made their way down the road, Spring kept one eye on Garrett and the other on the surroundings. She doubted Ketchum or whomever had been responsible for the attack would be brave enough to repeat it with her, Whit, and Odell present, but she didn’t let her guard down. Visually sweeping the road ahead, she focused on the trees and thick vegetation l
ining the way. Garrett had been given laudanum before they left town with the hope it would make him sleep for the duration of the journey, and so far, it was working. Each rut in the road tossed him, however, sometimes gently, other times roughly. A few deep holes shook the wagon so forcefully, winces crossed his sleeping face. She worried about him and would continue to until she had him home and in bed.
When they finally reached her cabin, getting him inside proved difficult. The laudanum had him so groggy and foggy-brained, Whit and Odell had to position him between them and wrangle him like a drunk. Once inside, they maneuvered him into the spare room and eased him down onto the big bed.
“Thank you,” she said gratefully.
Odell asked, “You sure you’re going to be able to handle this by yourself?”
“Pretty sure. How about you come check on me tomorrow, just in case.”
“Will do.”
Whit said, “Do you have everything from the wagon? The medical supplies and his clothes?”
She nodded. She’d packed up all his possession from his room at Dovie’s. Spring hadn’t the means to settle his bill but Dovie kindly told her not to worry. Garrett could pay what was owed when he was strong enough to come back to town.
After saying her goodbyes to Odell and Whit, Spring looked in on Garrett. He was beneath the blankets and quilts, and his breathing as he snored sounded less labored than before. The big feather mattress would cushion him in a way the cot hadn’t. Moving him felt right. Having him with her felt right, as well.
She checked on him on and off during the day and each time she peeked in, a sense of peace rose inside. Who knew she’d become attached to a nosy newspaper carpenter. In some ways he was nothing like the men she’d grown up around. He didn’t wear a gun belt and she’d never heard him curse. He’d cooked for her and didn’t mind washing dishes. Kindness seemed to guide his steps, and he offered that same kindness to her freely and without judgment. He’d made her wonder more than once what it might be like to not walk through life as a woman alone.
As promised, Odell dropped by the next day and brought disturbing news. Porter James’s mill caught fire last night.
Spring was shocked. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No, but the place is a total loss.”
“How is that possible? Did he leave a lamp burning?”
“No. Seems deliberately set. Whit said there was a strong smell of kerosene when he rode out to look over what was left.”
Spring thought about Jarvis and his talk of building a mill. “Could Jarvis have been involved?”
“No one knows. Dovie says he left for Cheyenne yesterday afternoon and is due back this evening, but it’s pretty coincidental, don’t you think?”
She agreed. “Poor Mr. James. Is he going to rebuild?”
“No. He says that’s it for him. Once he tidies up his affairs, he plans to go live with his daughter and her family down in Denver. I’ll miss that old codger very much.”
As would everyone else around. He’d helped expand Regan and Colt’s house last year, and did the work on fixing up the boardinghouse that Dovie managed. She thought about Colt’s unfinished hospital. Progress on it had stopped because of winter, and now? Would his small crew of workers be able to continue without his supervision? If Garrett recovered would he be able to take over the construction when he healed up and returned from back East? She had no answers, but she was sorry Porter James would be leaving Paradise.
Odell said, “Speaking of Jarvis, he wants to meet with all the landowners on Wednesday to discuss what he’s calling an investment opportunity we’ll be interested in.”
“Are you planning to attend?”
“I am. Know thy enemy is the first rule of survival.”
“I’d like to hear what he has to say, too, but I can’t leave Garrett here alone, at least not yet.”
“Understood. I’ll be sure to let you know how it turns out. How’s your fella doing, by the way?”
She decided not to challenge Odell on calling Garrett her fella. Even if she did, he wouldn’t stop, and honestly, thinking of Garrett in that way no longer made her grumble and gripe. “He slept well last night. Ate a little bit of breakfast earlier and is asleep again.”
“Moving him was a good idea.”
“I think so, too. Let’s hope Colt agrees when he returns. Any word from Garrett’s folks?”
“Got a wire late yesterday from a Melody. Says she’s his sister?”
“Yes. He’s mentioned her.”
“She said to tell him he’s in her prayers. She wanted to know how far Paradise was from Cheyenne.”
“Maybe she’s coming to visit?” Spring speculated. “If Colt were injured someplace far away, I’d certainly want to see him, no matter the distance.”
“You might be right. We’ll just have to wait and see. I’ll let you know if she sends anything else.”
Spring wasn’t sure how she felt about meeting a member of Garrett’s family but knew that didn’t matter. If the sister did come, he’d be pleased, and Spring would do her best to be welcoming.
After promising to stop by again the next day, Odell left. Spring spent the rest of the morning taking care of her animals then peeked in at Garrett. He was still sleeping, so she left him to begin turning the soil for her garden. The growing season was short and now that the weather had warmed, she wanted to begin planting as soon as possible.
A short while later Lacy stopped by to drop off the kittens she’d asked Spring to take in. There were three. The fur of one reminded her of Odell’s beard, so Spring named it Odell. A brown-and-white one that blinked up at her like an owl got named Hoot, and the third one, a gray with black stripes down its sides, hissed so angrily, Spring christened her Snake. She carried them to the barn where her mousers Queen Victoria and Cleopatra held court. When she entered, both black cats came slinking out of the shadows. Spring sat down on the hay-covered dirt floor to see if they’d venture over to investigate. The mewling kittens drew their immediate attention. When the queens began licking the little ones, Spring smiled. “You like your new babies?”
She ran a hand down the back of each of the big cats. “I’m going to get them something to sleep in. Be right back.”
Leaving the kittens with their new mamas, she went to the house, grabbed two old pillows, a couple of ratty towels, and a big basket that she’d once used for laundry until Paint got a hold of it last year. His chomps reduced it from eight inches high to three. When she returned to the barn, she set the new bed near a wall and placed the kittens inside. As they immediately tumbled out, she added more feed to the queens’ bowls and set some cream out for the babies. After stroking them all affectionately, she left them to get better acquainted while she went back to her garden.
Garrett opened his eyes and peered around the room. He didn’t know how long he’d slept but he remembered eating breakfast. He just didn’t know if that was the present day, the next day, or how much time had passed. The clock on the nightstand showed eleven. The windows were bright with the light of day, so it was morning. He needed to get to the washroom, but having no idea where Spring was, or the ability to maneuver down the short hallway to find her, he decided to attempt it without assistance. It was a slow go. He managed to get there and back without keeling over, but he was so winded from the journey, he instantly fell back into sleep.
When next he opened his eyes, the hands of the clock were on twelve and one. Sunlight continued to stream through the windows, so he assumed it to be the same day. His stomach growled with hunger, and again he wondered where Spring might be. And then, as if she’d heard his mental call, she was in the doorway. The sight of her filled him with something rivaling the day’s sunshine. He didn’t care that the front of her shirt and trousers were covered with dirt and that there was a matching streak across her forehead. To him, she was still lovely.
She said, “Glad to see you awake.”
“Glad to be awake.”
“Hungry?”
/>
He nodded. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Just since breakfast.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
Somewhat frustrated by his condition and being bedbound, he said wistfully, “Wish I could jump ahead a few weeks and be healed up.”
“The future will come soon enough,” she said softly. “There’s potato soup. Do you want some?”
“Yes, please.”
“Let me clean up and I’ll be back.”
When she returned he struggled to sit up.
“Hold on. Let me help.” She set the tray down and gently added a slew of bracing pillows and a folded quilt against the headboard. Her nearness wafted over him, making him again wish to be fully healed so they could pick up where they’d been before he was shot. She must’ve seen something in his eyes because she paused and asked, “What?”
“Just missing you.”
“I’m missing you, too,” she said softly. “So let’s get you healed up.”
But just sitting up made him break out in a sweat.
“You okay?”
“Let me catch my breath a minute here.” Having to admit he had about as much strength as a newborn sparrow played havoc with his manly pride, especially in front of the woman he cared so much for.
She placed a hand on his forehead. “No fever.”
“Good. Hate being laid low this way.”
“Understandable, but nothing to be done but bear it for now.”
“A man doesn’t like looking weak in front of his partner.”
“It’s not like you planned this, McCray. You didn’t shoot yourself in the back.”
“Still.”
To his surprise, she leaned in and kissed him, leaving him dazzled and breathless in a different sort of way.
“Are you ready for this soup now?”
Wanting more than food, he returned the kiss, hoping it conveyed how much more nourishing he found her to be. When he’d gotten his fill, he reluctantly eased away. “Now I am.”
She stroked the stubble that had grown out on his cheek. “Parts of you might be injured but your lips work just fine.”
“Good to know.”
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