She stumbled as she drug the last piece of brush into place.
Could she make it? How much farther could she push herself? Already, she’d forced herself far beyond what she’d thought she was capable of. But she had to keep going.
With numb fingers, she gathered firewood and pine needles in the failing light, and rummaged in saddle bags until she found some matches.
When the tiny flame sputtered into life, she nearly cried. There wasn’t much she could do about blisters and an empty stomach. And she sure couldn’t waste time worrying about where rustlers might be out there in the darkness, but she could get some heat going to ease her tight muscles.
Jett probably wouldn’t like where she’d placed the fire. He’d say it was too close to the sagebrush fence, or not close enough to where they’d be sleeping, or maybe too close to the overhanging tree boughs. But she didn’t care. He could move it when he got back if he wanted to.
Something cracked in the darkness of the tree line.
Marlee froze. She held her breath, her whole body straining to hear over the thump of her heartbeat.
But there was no other noise.
It was most likely a gray squirrel, curious about her fire. She was probably just a bit jumpy. Spooked about being out here in the dark and the cold without Jett. Or anyone else.
Nothing but the cold breeze prickling along her neck.
Exaggerating any noise because she felt so vulnerable.
Ten minutes ago, she’d thought she’d heard the soft nicker of a horse coming from the trees, too. It had scared her until she’d realized it was probably just the sounds from Calamity and Fat Cat, bouncing off the rocks.
She shook herself and turned back to the fire. No sense in getting jittery.
Fear wouldn’t help her stick this out.
Marlee held stiff fingers over the heat and smoke and stared into the fire. She needed to calm down. Needed to take slow, even breaths and force her thoughts in another direction.
Like the look on Dad’s face when she’d left. The stern disapproval and the way he’d shaken his head. He hadn’t said much, but his face screamed disappointment. The last thing he’d said to her cut so deep, it still bled.
Don’t come back until you’re ready for a real career.
Marlee scooted closer to the fire and set her chin. Like it or not, this was her career. And if she was going to make it, she had to keep pushing.
Flames flickered lower.
She didn’t have the luxury of getting spooked at the slightest sound. And she’d get nowhere by sitting around feeling sorry for herself.
Right now, she had enough strength to get more firewood.
And enough strength to shove away thoughts of failure.
Firewood. Warmth.
“Lord, thank you for warmth,” she said through stiff lips, and then forced herself to stand and trudge beyond the firelight to find more wood.
She had just fed the fire and stretched out on her bedroll when she heard a grunt and then a shower of pebbles hitting behind her.
“Jett?”
There was no answer.
Maybe it wasn’t Jett.
She grabbed her knife roll, flicked it open and sprang up, a chef’s knife in both fists. “Jett?”
There was crashing and then a terrible sickening thud and a man’s groan.
Two scrambling steps and she was there, bending over him. Her breath came fast, and her heart thudded, blood whooshing loud in her ears.
Jett lay on his back, eyes closed, face white in the firelight and twisted in pain.
Marlee knelt, fear balling up in her stomach. “Are you okay?”
He grunted.
“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean,” she snapped. She swallowed a sob.
Fine nurse she’d make. She trembled all over.
What if he was seriously hurt? She wasn’t a medic. She had zero first aid training. There were rustlers nearby, and now Jett lay nearly unresponsive.
“I’m okay,” he said, but when he opened his eyes and tried to sit up, he gasped again in pain.
“I’ll help you—”
“Put the knives down first,” he said through clenched teeth.
But before Marlee had a chance to move, a raspy voice spoke behind her.
“Put the knives down, lady. Real slow. And step away from the cowboy.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Marlee froze, her eyes flying to Jett’s face. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, catching the firelight. The man was in a lot of pain, but his eyes were steady. They were telling her to be calm. To follow instructions.
She glared at him. The thing Jett Maddox always seemed to forget about her was that she was not a quitter.
“I’d listen, if I were you,” another voice said. “We just want the cattle, but we can’t have y’all two interferin’ with our little party.”
Stories of the rustlers whirled through Marlee’s head. These men might kill them anyway, no matter what she did. They’d shot at Ben Rockspur. And besides, no thief wanted witnesses.
She started to lower her hands. Right in front of her knees, Jett’s gun was strapped to his hip. If she was quick enough, she could pick it up when she set the knife down.
“Just drop them knives,” the first voice said. “No need to ease them down.”
“I refuse to drop them,” she hissed. “I’m not taking a chance at accidentally slicing him.”
“Suit yourself,” the voice said. “But that fall he took probably already did all the slicing he can take.”
Marlee gulped. That might be right.
All the more reason to get these men out of there so she could get Jett some real help.
* * *
Maybe Marlee had cracked.
Jett glared at her and tried to get her to read reason in his eyes. But she wasn’t paying any attention to him. Her gaze was locked on his gun.
“Gonna get us both killed.” His voice was so hoarse from pain, he could barely hear it himself.
Maybe she hadn’t heard him either. Because she didn’t move a muscle. Didn’t even blink.
Like it or not, he was going to have to somehow get moving, even though every painful movement assaulted him with waves of blackness closing in. The minute she got a hold of his gun, the situation was going to get out of control real fast.
But to his horror, he couldn’t move his arm. He tried again and again as her hand came down, closer and closer to his holster. But each time, his vision clouded over with pain, and the nausea nearly overwhelmed him.
Between the adrenaline and the pain, everything happened both fast and slow at the same time.
Marlee drilled him with one last look—her brown eyes hardened with determination—and then in a flash, she’d un-snapped the holster and slid his gun out in such a smooth motion, he wasn’t sure she’d really gotten it.
And in the next moment, she’d whirled and fired three times toward the darkness where the men lurked.
Somebody yelped, and Marlee hollered like a banshee. Silhouetted against the fire, she charged toward the darkness, hair flying, and knife-blade flashing. She cocked her arm and threw her chef’s knife hard in the direction of the yelp.
A solid thunk, and a shriek. And then dust and curses flew, and the ground shuddered with hooves.
And then her face floated up above his, curls falling over her shoulder and brushing his face as she cupped his face in her cold hands.
She didn’t look like a banshee now. Nope. She looked like a woman who was about ready to dissolve into tears.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Marlee couldn’t help it. The tears came so fast, they dripped off her chin and splashed his face before she could stop them. Jett’s face was as white as whipped cream, and his eyes kept rolling back in his head. It was too dark to tell if he was bleeding.
“Please, God, let him be okay,” she whispered.
A few minutes ago, he’d been awake enough to insist she leave his gun alone. But no
w, his eyes were closed, and he lay so still.
Was he even breathing?
Her arms trembled as she bent over him, holding her cheek to his lips. They barely warmed from his breath.
“Jett,” she whispered.
But he didn’t respond.
Complete helplessness closed in like a pack of wolves circling their prey. She choked back a sob and smoothed his hair back from his face. She slid a trembling finger under his jawline, searching for his pulse. It was there. But she wasn’t a trained medic. She had no idea if it was too fast, too weak, or too slow.
“All Your paths are mercy, steadfast love, truth and faithfulness.” She murmured the verse she’d read last night and as her heart reached for God’s help, the panic began to clear.
At least enough for her thoughts to come one at a time.
Should she move him? She’d heard that was a bad idea. But he was probably in shock, and it was cold and growing colder. Cold was very bad for shock. And people could die from shock.
She leaned in, pressing her flushed cheek to his as she gathered her thoughts.
Even if she did try, how could she drag him all the way over to the fire?
“Jett, wake up and please tell me what to do,” she whispered, even as her mind raced to piece together a plan of action.
“What you’re doing is good.”
Jett’s rough whisper startled her, and she jerked her head back.
His white face lay motionless, except for a twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“I’m glad you appreciate my concern, cowboy,” she bit out. She dashed at her tears with the back of her hand. Nothing doused panic like a flood of anger.
He started to chuckle, but it ended in a groan that tightened her gut and had her leaning forward again.
Instinctively, she smoothed his hair back again, and stroked his cheeks, soft murmurs of comfort slipping out of her lips.
“Nobody’s ever fussed over me like this.”
She froze, then yanked her hands back.
“Ouch!” He yelped as his head hit the rock under him. “Easy now.” He opened his eyes, a twinkle of humor edging out the pain she’d seen in them earlier.
“Faker.” Marlee folded her arms.
He grunted as he tried to sit up. She watched as his face tightened with pain. He struggled for a minute, then laid back, eyes closed and breath coming hard.
“I’m not helping if you’re going to make fun of me,” she muttered.
“Sorry,” he said. His eyes were still closed, and his voice hoarse. “Trying to distract myself from the pain.”
Marlee swallowed panic. “What hurts?”
She reached for him again. At her touch, tension in his face released and he opened his eyes. The humor was gone, replaced by pure pain. Her throat burned with tears again.
“My shoulder,” he said between slow breaths. “It’s dislocated.”
Marlee’s stomach clenched. “What do we do?”
He looked into her eyes, then, and she had the strange sensation that he was searching for something. Dread twisted her stomach tighter, but she set her chin. She had to be strong for him.
“You need to jerk it back in place.”
Marlee gasped. “No,” she said through stiff lips. “That sounds painful, and I don’t think I can—” She sniffed. “We should get you back to camp with the others, and they’ll know what to do.”
He shook his head and his dark gaze fixed on her, unwavering.
She pressed her lips together and hugged her chest. The adrenaline that had fueled her strike on the rustlers was fading, and her arms and legs trembled. Her muscles were so weak now, the idea of climbing back up on Calamity and riding back to camp seemed impossible. And there was no way she could shove Jett’s shoulder back into its socket.
“Marlee,” he whispered.
She sniffed and swiped at her tears. Behind the pain in his eyes, there was gentleness and strength. She sucked in a breath of frosty pine air. His eyes told her he believed in her.
It felt good. No one had ever looked at her like that. Like she was capable of more than she knew. But still, her gut knotted and turned on itself.
“It will hurt,” she said.
“Yup.” His eyes held her steady.
“I don’t know how,” she whispered. She didn’t want to hurt him. He was irritating. He was arrogant. But he was also…sweet in his own way. She swallowed a lump.
“I’ll show you,” he said. “But I need you to be quick.”
She stiffened and then blew out a calming breath. While he waited for her to muscle up some courage, he was in pain. Yet his eyes held hers with tenderness. They told her that she wasn’t the kind of woman who would sit on the sidelines, no matter how often she doubted her own abilities.
“Ok,” she said. Her voice sounded far stronger than she felt.
“I’ve had this happen before,” he said. He was trying to keep calm, but pain squeezed short breaths out between words. “Kneel next to my side, just under my armpit, and—” He stopped for a moment and breathed hard.
Marlee scrambled on the cold rock with numb and trembling limbs until she was in place.
“Bend my elbow until my arm is extended straight.”
He groaned as she followed his instructions, and she bit her lip.
If this didn’t work, they were going to be in a world of hurt.
“Now, I’m going to relax my muscles as much as I can. You move my arm. Don’t jerk on it. Use a smooth motion and take my wrist. Pull slightly on my arm to give it a bit of tension. Then move it up like you’re having me make a snow angel.”
Marlee took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut in the dark. Tears oozed out. She was a chef, not a paramedic. She was a city-girl, not a tough cowboy.
How in the world had she gotten way out here in the middle of nowhere, attacked by rustlers, and trying to take care of an injured man while freezing to death?
Her pride. That’s how.
“Marlee.” His voice brushed against her softly in the darkness. “You can do this. You’re a lot tougher than you look.”
A sob tore past her lips as she gripped his wrist and then moved his arm up.
He cried out with a tortured groan that stiffened her resolve, and then there was a popping sound.
Marlee tightened her grip. “Did I get it?”
His laughter, full of relief, surrounded her as he tugged lightly, pulling her toward him. His arms closed around her.
“You got it,” he said. His voice sounded stronger now, and he curled his fists in her hair.
Marlee laughed, too, letting relief and the warmth of his arms melt into her shaking body.
* * *
Jett held Marlee close, even though pain lashed through his ribs. He didn’t care that her laughter nudged against his ribcage, intensifying the discomfort.
He pulled back, running his hands over her hair. Her eyes were wet with tears. For him.
As her laughter died, something expectant sparked in those deep brown eyes. He could breathe through his pain, but he wasn’t sure he could muster a single breath with those velvet eyes softening over him.
He wanted to kiss her.
Pull her closer, and feel her sweet lips against his. Wanted to show her with his mouth everything he was thinking and feeling.
But he couldn’t. He had to keep his mind on the job at hand. He was no good to anyone laying there, letting the pain addle his brain into thinking up delirious visions of kissing a feisty brown-eyed chef with wild silky curls.
Nope.
He needed to get himself together. Get them both to safety. And then finish the job of getting the cattle back to the ranch.
He cleared his throat, and shifted. “I think I broke a few ribs,” he said.
Marlee blinked. In an instant, the melted warmth of her chocolate eyes cooled. Carefully, she pulled out of his arms, a flush tinging her cheeks in the light of the campfire.
Oh, man. He didn’t mean to embarra
ss her.
It’s just that he couldn’t keep holding her. He’d have kissed her. Already, he was starting to forget why kissing her was a bad idea.
“Anything else hurt?”
He shook his head. “Only a few scrapes and bruises, I think.”
“If your shoulder still hurts, will you be able to ride?”
Jett tightened his mouth. It wasn’t shoulder pain he was dreading. It was the excruciating pain he’d face while bouncing around on Fat Cat with broken ribs.
“No choice,” he said.
He sat up and a piercing wave of blackness and nausea hit him.
He waited a moment, waiting for the ache to subside before he tried to stand.
“Put your weight on me,” she said, sliding her shoulder under his armpit.
He opened his mouth. He wanted to say if he did that, he’d end up squashing her small frame. But the effort and torture to stand was like swimming against a current of agony. It stripped his strength, left him gasping for air, and nearly buckled his knees.
“Good thing we haven’t unsaddled the horses,” she said.
He grunted because there was no way he could get his tongue to work when moving his feet took all his strength.
When they got to Fat Cat, he leaned on the saddle for a moment to catch his breath.
He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d make it up on the big roan.
In the quiet, wind mewled along the rocks around them. By now, the wolves’ calls had subsided somewhat, and even the crickets were still.
“Maybe we should stay here, Jett,” she said. “They probably won’t come back, and we could stay warm enough if we keep a fire going.”
Jett shook his head in the dark.
The air smelled sharp. That meant snow. Tonight.
“Can’t,” he said. “Snow.” He wanted to say more, but that was hard to do with his jaw wired shut from the agony of cracked ribs and a throbbing shoulder.
She stood, quiet and calm by his side, her hand circling in trails of comfort along his back. He looked down at her. In the starlight, her dark eyes seemed larger.
He stifled a chuckle. He’d never been so grateful for pain in all of his life. Because otherwise, he might do something rash and kiss her right there.
Love on the Range: A Looking Glass Lake Prequel Page 9