Outlaw Heart

by Samantha James

  Her gaze slid fleetingly to Kane. His head was tilted back against the seat, and his eyes were closed. He looked a little uncomfortable, his long limbs folded between the narrow seats, but she sensed he was asleep.

  Her hand slid out to cover Dillon's. She was very much afraid nothing she could say would ease his guilt. Only the passage of time could dull the hurt he felt right now, but she had to try. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she offered the only reassurance she could and prayed it was enough.

  "Pa loved you, Dillon. You had a job to do. Pa understood that—and he was proud of you! I'm sure that wherever he is now, he doesn't blame you. You're safe, and that's all that matters." She squeezed his fingers. "I think Pa would agree, don't you?"

  He sighed. "How did you get so smart, little sister?"

  "I guess I take after my big brother," she said with a watery smile.

  Abby was glad to note that although his mood remained somber, some of the bleakness had left his features. She pillowed her head against his shoulder and let the rocking rhythm of the stage lull her to sleep.

  She didn't know that Kane wasn't asleep at all. His shoulder throbbed like hell. He felt extremely awkward eavesdropping at such a moment. Oh, he'd tried not to listen, but his hearing was just a little too keen at times. He'd heard every word the pair spoke. Through the slit of his eyes, he'd seen her misty, tender smile, a smile she had yet to bestow on him. And try though he might, he couldn't vanquish the burning in his veins. He envied their closeness. He envied Dillon for being the recipient of such obvious love and adoration.

  He jammed his hat down over his forehead, thoroughly disgusted with himself. Jesus, if that didn't beat all. He was jealous of her brother!

  It was two mornings later when the stage pulled into Laramie. Dillon nudged Abby awake. She straightened, whisking stray wisps of hair from her cheeks and behind her ears as her eyes went straight to Kane. He was stirring as well. Abby tried to cover her anxiety as they disembarked from the stagecoach.

  Kane looked awful, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed by fatigue. But he seemed steady enough as he stepped from the coach. Dillon had rounded the wheel to retrieve their horses. Abby gnawed her lip uncertainly. Was Kane merely tired? It had been a long, exhausting trip for all of them. She hoped that's all it was, but it wouldn't hurt for him to see a doctor.

  She slipped her fingers into the crook of his elbow so that he was forced to halt. "We have an excellent doctor in town, Dr. Foley. In fact, his office is right around the corner."

  He squared off to face her. "How many times do I have to tell you?" His jaw was set stubbornly. "I'm fine, just fine!"

  Dillon stepped back into sight. He tossed a coin to the boy who led Midnight and his roan away from the coach, then turned to Kane. "Let's head on over to my office and we'll get you squared away." This time Kane didn't argue. His head was pounding and it required all his concentration just to put one foot in front of the other.

  A cheerful whistle greeted them at the marshal's office. There was a young man in his early twenties behind the desk, Doug Avery, his feet propped jauntily on the desktop. The chair came down with a thud as he recognized Dillon. He popped up like a jackrabbit.

  "Marshal!" A grin appeared from ear to ear. "We didn't expect you back until late this afternoon. The whole town's been abuzzin' like a nest of bees since we got your telegraph the other day—to think you was the one who finally rid the countryside of that vermin Stringer Sam! Heard he was damn good with a gun—but you proved he wasn't near as good as you." He beamed and grinned again.

  "I'm afraid I don't deserve much of the credit," Dillon said calmly. "If it weren't for our friend here, I might be lying six feet under instead of Stringer Sam." He inclined his head toward Kane, who had eased into the nearest chair.

  Doug took in Kane's unsmiling countenance, gulping when he recognized him. "You mean he..." His mouth opened and closed. "Well, I'll be damned," he finished weakly.

  "Do me a favor, Doug." Dillon scribbled something on a piece of paper. "Go over and see Mr. Percy at the bank. Kane here's anxious to claim his reward."

  Doug was out the door in a flash. Abby nearly groaned. The tale about Kane would be all over town before Doug ever reached the bank.

  The three of them were alone once more. Abby moved to whisper something in Dillon's ear. When Abby stepped back he cleared his throat. "It seems I also owe you for helping Abby track me down. It took a good piece of your time—is four hundred dollars agreeable?"

  Kane's head came up slowly. The reward for Stringer Sam was one thing, but taking money from Abby and her brother was another.

  "I didn't come to Laramie for a handout," he said stingingly.

  "If s hardly a handout," Dillon said evenly. "My sister hired you to find me. It's payment for services rendered, no more, no less."

  Kane had trouble meeting the other man's direct gaze. He had the feeling Dillon wouldn't be so generous if he knew what he'd done with his sister.

  Dillon glanced at Abby, who gave an encouraging nod. "In fact," he went on rather stiffly, "Abby and I have talked it over. We'd like you to stay at the Diamondback until you're fully recovered."

  Kane lumbered heavily to his feet. He looked from one to the other. He couldn't believe he was about to turn down cold hard cash. He'd never been noble before. Why now? But he didn't need anyone's pity, especially not theirs.

  His hp curled. "You think I don't know the only reason you're even making that offer is because I saved your life? Hell, everybody in the household would probably run screaming out the door if they thought an outlaw like me intended to sleep under your roof. You dug that bullet out of my shoulder and as far as I'm concerned, that makes us even."

  Dillon's eyes glinted. "Anybody ever tell you you've got a chip on your shoulder, fella?" He laughed grittily when Kane bristled. "Well, I don't suppose there's any use telling you you've got a job waiting at the ranch whenever you want it."

  "You sure as hell got that right. I told you, I don't need any charity from the likes of you two."

  Dillon's spine went ramrod-straight. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

  Before he could say anything, Abby stepped between them. "Dillon, please." The seething tension that flared between the two men had her holding her breath, afraid of what might happen next. She struggled for a calm she wasn't at all sure she could master. "Do you mind if I have a word with Kane?"

  "Not at all." He hitched his thumbs into his belt. He didn't move.

  Abby sighed. "Alone," she said pointedly.

  Dillon scowled. She could see he wasn't certain he liked the idea, but she refused to back down. "All right," he relented finally. "I'll get things squared away with the bank on that reward."

  The door slammed shut. Abby wasted no time but immediately whirled on Kane. "Dillon was right," she said hotly. "You do have a chip on your shoulder."

  "You think I should take that four hundred dollars, don't you." It was a statement, not a question.

  "Of course I do. You earned it."

  "Well, well. You just can't wait to be rid of me, can you?"

  She wanted to scream in vexation. "That's not it at all!"

  He ran a hand over his unshaven chin and pretended to ponder. "What then? Wait—let me guess! If I take that four hundred dollars, then I guess that makes me greedy and selfish. But if I refuse it, then that makes me a damn fool, doesn't it?"

  "You're a fool, all right—a fool not to take what you're owed!"

  "What I'm owed!" His insolent gaze swept to her breasts and belly, burning through the layers of clothing, stripping her naked. "Sugar, you're forgetting one thing," he sneered. "I've already been paid in full!"

  His implication was clear. Abby flinched as if she'd been struck. He looked like death warmed over, but he was as arrogant as ever—and his tongue cut as deeply as ever. He might as well have called her a—a whore!

  She welcomed the biting anger that rose, fast and furious.

  "You know, you're right, Kane.
Don't take that money. Go out and rob a bank instead. You'll certainly get a whole lot more!"

  "Fine!" he shouted, already marching toward the door. "Maybe that's exactly what I'll do!"

  "Good!" she taunted, trailing behind him. "See if I care! See if anyone cares—"

  She broke off. He'd stepped outside onto the sun-bleached planks of the sidewalk. But something was wrong. His posture was no longer arrogant. His gait was stiff and wooden-legged.

  Kane passed a hand before his eyes. What the hell was going on? It was no longer sunny and bright outside. There was fog swirling all around. He could hear Abby, her voice rising, then fading; it was eclipsed by a dull roaring in his ears. Abby's face flashed before him, then receded.

  "Kane?" His eyes were dull and unfocused. "Kane!"

  His knees began to buckle.

  Abby did the only thing she could. She propped her shoulder beneath his and slid her arms around his waist. He leaned heavily. Her back bowed. She staggered beneath his weight.

  Dillon had just emerged from the bank. "Dillon!" she screamed. He spotted her and broke into a dead run.

  He reached her just as Kane collapsed.

  Chapter 16

  "You say you traveled from near Buffalo?" Dr. Foley shook his head. "It really is a miracle he made it so far. He must have the strength of an ox."

  They were in Dillon's old room at the Diamondback, where they'd brought Kane after he lost consciousness. The wound in Kane's shoulder had reopened. When Dr. Foley peeled away the blood- soaked bandage, Abby took one look and nearly fainted. Clumps of crusted blood mingled with fresh blood and oozed freely from the place where Dillon had gouged the bullet from his shoulder. The entire front of his shoulder was purpled and bruised, but the flesh all around the bullet hole was fiery red.

  Dr. Foley muttered under his breath as he blotted away the blood. "From the looks of it, he's been bleeding a while off and on. It really should have been sutured."

  "We did the best we could," Abby defended both herself and Dillon weakly. "But we were four hours from the nearest town. Dillon rode in to try to get the doctor to come back with us but he was gone... When we caught the stage, I tried to get him to see the doctor but he just wouldn't do it!"

  "Oh, I'm not blaming either you or Dillon, dear. Without the two of you, why, the man might already be dead! But I think the trip here was more than his body could handle. He really should have sought medical attention as soon as possible."

  Her arms hugging her middle, Abby looked on from the rear of the room as he cleaned and stitched the wound to keep it from tearing open again. Dorothy stood just behind him, assisting when needed. By the time the basin on the bedside table was filled with bloodied rags, Abby was holding her stomach to keep from retching.

  All the sick fear she'd felt when Kane had first been shot had come hurtling back. "He won't die, will he?" She forced the question through bloodless lips.

  Dr. Foley straightened and wiped his hands on the towel Dorothy handed him. "I don't think he's in any imminent danger, unless infection sets in. I'll leave medicine that should help prevent that. What concerns me right now is his loss of blood--his weakened state won't help his recovery. I suspect it's going to take quite some time before he regains his strength."

  Abby's tone was anxious. "Shouldn't he be awake by now? He's been unconscious an awfully long time." All through Dr. Foley's ministrations, Kane hadn't roused even once. Abby couldn't help worrying..

  "He's in much less pain this way. Sleep is nature's way of healing the body. Let him rest while he can. He'll likely wake up thornier than a cactus."

  Both women listened carefully to his instructions. He left laudanum and medicine on the bedside table. Abby escorted him to the front door.

  "Don't be afraid to send for me if his condition worsens. You know where to find me."

  "I will, I promise." Abby nodded her thanks.

  He pinched her cheeks. "You look like I could knock you over with a feather, young lady. You need a good night's rest as much as your young man in there. See that you get it, all right?"

  Abby nodded. It wasn't until much later that she realized Dr. Foley had called Kane "her young man." If she hadn't been so tired, she might have smiled.

  She hurried back to Kane's room. Dorothy was pulling a crisp white sheet up over his chest. The very sight of him sent a shaft of fear through her. Was it her imagination, or was his skin only a shade darker than the bleached muslin sheet?

  She pushed a small wing chair toward the bedside. Dorothy hurried to help her. When they were finished, Abby straightened, brows raised quizzically. "There's no need for you to stay, Dorothy," she said with a faint shake of her head. "I'll sit with him."

  For a moment Dorothy said nothing. Abby's frenzied distress when they'd carried Kane inside had given her a bit of a shock. It didn't take long before the reason became very clear. Abby had never been one to hide her feelings. Her eyes gave her away every time. Dorothy laid her hand on Abby's shoulder. "Just give a holler if you need me."

  Abby nodded. Her gaze didn't waver from Kane.

  Outside the sky shone brilliant and blue. A noisy blue jay scolded his mate. A restless wind whipped through the gnarled oak tree outside, rustling branches and whipping leaves.

  It seemed odd to see him so silent and listless, his powerful muscles dormant and still. She'd have gladly endured his rancorous taunts, if only this hadn't happened. Oh, if only he were safe and unharmed!

  She brushed a sweat-dampened lock of hair from his forehead. "I told you you should have seen a doctor," she whispered. "But you wouldn't listen, would you?" Men, she thought, half-angry, half-despairing. Why were they always so convinced they knew best? Why did they think they had to be forever tough and strong? Why did they think it shameful to show any sign of weakness, no matter how small?

  So much had happened, she thought helplessly. And now this! A piercing stab of guilt rent her breast. If he'd suffered only a flesh wound, she wouldn't have been so worried. But what if he died? The thought was like a knife twisting over and over inside her. This was all her fault! She should never have involved Kane. She'd had no business dragging him into her troubles, let alone the kind of danger he'd had to face.

  Her hand crept into his. She weaved her fingers between his and squeezed, as if to impart her life's vigor into his. Minutes sneaked into hours. Dorothy tiptoed in with a tray for dinner, but Abby could scarcely eat a bite. By the time evening dimmed the horizon she could hardly keep her eyes open. Still, she couldn't bring herself to leave him. She dozed; a firm hand at her shoulder woke her.

  Hands on her hips, Dorothy glowered down at her. "When was the last time you had a good night's sleep?"

  Abby gave her a lopsided smile. "Do you know, I can't even remember?"

  "Then it's been a durn sight too long," Dorothy said sternly. "Scoot now. I've got your nightie all laid out and the covers turned back."

  "I can't. What if he wakes up? What if he doesn't remember where he is, or—or what happened?" She pushed a hand through her tangled hair. How could she explain? "I don't want him to be alone," she said finally.

  "And he won't be." Dorothy pointed to the rocking chair in the corner. "I'll be sitting right there, catching up on my knitting. If he wakes up, I'll give a yell that'll surely wake the boys in the bunkhouse."

  A current of understanding passed between them. Abby rose and gave Dorothy a hug. "Thank you," she whispered.

  In her room she dropped her stained, filthy clothes in a pile and tugged her plain cotton nightgown over her head. She crawled between sheets that smelled of sunshine and fresh air and bit back a groan. Her bed felt heavenly, comfortably soft and cozy. But she knew she'd never sleep a wink, not in a million years . . . That was her last thought.

  She didn't wake until almost noon the next day. She washed hurriedly and changed into a clean blouse and skirt. She didn't take the time to braid her hair but left it loose over her shoulders. She hurried from her room, anxious to see how
Kane had weathered the night.

  Dorothy was in the midst of changing his bandage. Abby's stomach lurched at the sight of his swollen, raised flesh, crisscrossed with ugly black stitches. While the wound didn't look any better, neither did it appear worse.

  She moved to the bedside. "How is he?"

  Dorothy's expression was somber. "Dr. Foley came early this morning. Said he's doing about the same. But he's been a little restless this morning." Abby laid a cool hand on his forehead. She frowned. He seemed rather warm.

  That wasn't the case by late afternoon. His temperature shot up. His skin was dry and burning. He started to thrash from side to side, moaning and tossing his limbs.

  "Kane—" She half-sat on the edge of the mattress and pressed her hand against his good shoulder, trying to quiet him. His features were flushed and contorted, his body rigid and unyielding. With a snarl and a mighty sweep of his arm he sent her tumbling to the floor. Stunned but unhurt, Abby scrambled to her feet. If he kept this up, he would tear open his wound once again. She had to get him quiet! Racing to the door, she screamed for Dorothy.

  It took Dorothy, Lucas and Grady, one of the ranch hands, to hold him while Abby tipped a glass of water laced with laudanum to his lips. It seemed to take forever before he swallowed what she hoped was enough. With a nod she dismissed the others.

  It wasn't long before the laudanum took effect. Abby poured fresh, cool water into a basin and carried it to the bedside table. There she wet the cloth and bathed his face and throat. Wetting it again, she dragged it slowly across his chest and arms. Over and over again she repeated the movement, seeking to cool his feverish skin. Her quiet murmuring soothed him. The tension constricting his muscles loosened.

  She bathed him until she was certain her arms would fall out of their sockets. Dorothy relieved her for a short while, and then she was at it again. It was nightfall before his flesh seemed cooler, his color more natural.

  Her shoulders sagged with relief. She laid her fingers against the raspy hardness of his cheek and smiled. "Thank heaven," she said aloud.