Depending on the Doctor (Nevada Bounty Book 2)

by Margaret Madigan

  “Sorry Miss Lydia,” Billy said, ducking his head.

  “Sorry isn’t good enough,” she said, indignant.

  I was about to remind her what kind of men they actually were, and that she shouldn’t have such high expectations of them, when I heard a whoosh from the window. We all turned to see the curtains go up in flames. For a moment, we just stared as the fire ate at the curtains of one window, worked its way to the ceiling, and to the curtain of the next window. When the basket of kindling next to the fireplace caught with a roar, and sparks lit the table cloth, the men finally jumped into action, running for water.

  I ran for Lydia. “Come on, we need to leave.”

  “There’s a blizzard outside. Where are we going to go?”

  I stopped and stared at her. Was she really advocating staying? “We’re leaving. Clyde’s not dead, and nothing good will come of us staying here.”

  “The men won’t hurt me,” she said. “They’ll stand with me against Clyde.”

  I shook my head. “No, they won’t. He’s their leader, and not all of them have decency in them. They’ve been following him for a long time. He’ll threaten them, and they’ll do as he says. Besides, in the end, they’re all a bunch of criminals.”

  At the bunks, I grabbed as many blankets as I could. By now the fire raged pretty well, engulfing a lot of the cabin. The men splashed buckets of water on it, but it spread too fast.

  I shoved Lydia toward the door. “Grab our coats,” I told her.

  We shouldered our way out, past Pete, Jed, and Lyle.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Lyle asked.

  “I’m taking her to the barn,” I said. “I need to treat her burn, and she can’t help here, anyway.”

  He grunted, then went back to fighting the fire.

  We both slipped our coats on and hurried for the barn. The darkness prevented me from checking my wound, other than a quick touch with my fingers. Seemed to be a flesh wound, but I couldn’t feel an exit hole. It didn’t seem to be bleeding too badly. The cold would help keep the bleeding to a minimum, and my worst worry—other than getting the bullet out—would be infection.

  In the barn I went for the supplies I’d hidden. “Start saddling two of the horses,” I told her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just do it. I hid some supplies over here. It’s not much, but it’ll have to do.”

  There were a couple of saddle bags hanging from pegs on the wall. I grabbed them and stuffed the few supplies I’d saved into them, but it was barely enough to fill one bag. I rolled two of the blankets.

  She still worked on saddling the first horse when I joined her.

  “Let me see your hand,” I said.

  The burning cabin didn’t offer enough light for a thorough exam, but I could palpate the blisters. She’d probably sustained third degree burns.

  She tried not to whimper when I touched her hand, but it had to hurt. “That was very brave of you,” I said.

  “It was stupid. But at the time it seemed like a good idea.”

  “Go put your hand in the snow. I’ll finish the horses.”

  When I had the horses saddled and ready to go, I led them out of the barn and helped Lydia into the saddle, then handed her a blanket to wrap around herself.

  I hoisted myself into the saddle and did the same. “Wrap the blanket around your head, too.”

  I showed her what I meant. I’d tied the horses together so we couldn’t be separated in the blizzard. Riding in this weather was a fool’s errand, but it was the best chance we’d get to escape. With the weather, there wouldn’t be any guards in the pass, and with the gang distracted by fighting the fire, they wouldn’t come after us. At least, I hoped not.

  “Let’s go,” I said. I gave the horse my heels and we rode off into the howling storm.

  I was convinced we were going to die. We’d been plodding through the wind and driving snow for hours. At some point I noticed that the air had gone from dark to gray, and I had to assume the sun had risen. Otherwise, there were no landmarks, no signs of where we were. I couldn’t see mountains or ground or sky. I could barely see Emmett’s horse in front of me.

  The blanket and coat made no difference in the driving snow and wind. Even with it pulled close around my face, my eyes felt like frozen pebbles, and each breath blazed a frozen trail into my raw lungs. I’d lost sensation in my fingers and toes hours ago. After a while, I wished we were back at the burning cabin. The only consolation was that I couldn’t imagine any situation in which Clyde and his men could follow us.

  I hoped Emmett had some idea where we were going, but how could he? By now we were both snow blind, and the horses had to be, too. It seemed pointless to wander aimlessly. For all we knew, we were roaming in circles, or worse yet, we could amble right over the edge of a cliff and not realize it until we were halfway down.

  I lost track of time, drifting in and out of fitful sleep, jerking awake as I started to slide out of the saddle.

  Sometime in the late afternoon, the snow and wind let up long enough to get a sense that the sky had darkened. My stomach rumbled something fierce, and my bladder burned so badly I thought for sure it would burst. More than anything, though, I was grateful for the lull in the wind. The snow still fell, but at least the wind didn’t drive it like needles into any patch of exposed skin.

  Emmett reeled my horse in, pulling the rope hand over hand, until I rode right next to him. He yelled in my ear, over the sound of the remaining wind.

  “See that dark patch over there? I think it’s a cave.”

  I just nodded. I didn’t think I had the energy to make myself heard.

  We trudged the distance to our destination. As we drew nearer, it became obvious we’d been riding parallel to a large bluff, which I found startling since we could have been just a few feet from it and in this weather, never would have known.

  The dark spot Emmett had seen took shape the closer we got, and turned into an opening in the cliff wall. We had to dismount and lead the horses through some deep snow drifts over top of a steep rocky slope to the mouth of the cave.

  The opening was barely tall enough to hobble the horses so they could huddle together, but the roof and sides sloped sharply deeper inside the cave, until Emmett and I were forced crouch. At that point, I would have rolled into a ball inside a tomb if it meant getting out of the wind and snow.

  “I’ll start a fire,” Emmett said, scooting closer to the opening so the smoke wouldn’t suffocate us.

  He’d had the good sense to pack some kindling and a couple of the logs he’d chopped. It wouldn’t be a roaring blaze, and it wouldn’t last long, but it would be enough heat to thaw us and keep us from dying.

  When the fire burned steadily, Emmett sat close next to me, offering me an apple and a chunk of dried meat. “Found a supply of jerked meats and a barrel of apples when I explored the barn. Figured if we ever escaped they’d be useful.”

  I bit into the apple and didn’t care one hoot when juice dribbled down my chin. “Oh, Emmett, it’s heavenly. Thank you.”

  “You’re quite welcome.”

  He shifted and winced, grabbing his side.

  “Are you all right?”

  He opened his blanket and coat to reveal a large red blotch on his shirt. “Clyde’s a bad shot, but not bad enough to miss me completely.”

  “Oh my heavens, Emmett, you’ve been shot this whole time? We need to take care of that, don’t we?”

  “Yes, but I’m at a loss how we’ll manage. I can’t operate on myself, and you essentially only have one useful hand. We need to treat your burns, too, or your hand will get infected.”

  “Just tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it.”

  “We need to check us both for signs of frost bite, too. Unfortunately, I don’t have any medication or tools with me, so treating anything will just consist of washing it clean with snow and wrapping it in the cleanest cloth we have between us.”

  “Maybe my pett
icoats?”

  He nodded. “Probably. We’ll need some cloth to clean and dress my wound, too. You may as well just remove the whole petticoat.”

  The heat of a blush creep up my neck and into my cheeks.

  “That blush is dangerously appealing, Lydia, and if I weren’t shot I might just take this time to see how much of the rest of you I can make flush that lovely shade of pink.”

  My un-burned hand went to my cheek. It stung with what should have been shame, but came closer to desire. I couldn’t imagine what he’d do to me to make the rest of my skin burn the same way, but I had the vague sense that I wanted to find out.

  “Close your eyes,” I said. “I’m going over by the horses where I can stand and remove the petticoat.”

  I crept near the entrance as best I could, trying to keep the petticoat as clean as possible. When I stood in front of the horses, whose hind quarters were still exposed to the cold outside, but whose bodies blocked the worst of the wind, I peeked out into the whiteness. The sun had gone down, but the storm still raged. I wondered how long it would last, and what the world would look like when it finally blew itself out. A frisson of real fear settled in my belly. Without enough fuel to keep a fire burning, we could freeze quickly. Of course, the cave was small enough that maybe the stone would hold the heat from the fire, and all four of our bodies, so we could stay warm a little longer. Maybe we’d starve before we froze.

  I hiked up my skirt, trying to use one hand and mostly failing, and untied my petticoat, allowing it to pool around my feet. Trudging all day through the blizzard had numbed my burned hand, but now it began to thaw, and felt like I still held the fiery log in my grip, cooking the flesh of my palm. On the other hand, my toes hurt like they were being stabbed by a thousand needles.

  Back in the depth of the cave the storm didn’t seem as threatening, aside from the cold and the occasional whistle as the wind reached the opening. Emmett had reclined on his back with his legs bent at the knees. He didn’t look so good.

  “Emmett?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Don’t pass out on me. I need you to tell me how to help you.”

  “You’re right. I’m just so tired.”

  “That’s not good, is it? I mean, I’m tired too from riding all night and day, and from being cold for so long, but are you tired from exhaustion and cold, or tired from the injury?”

  He chuckled. “Probably both.”

  Tears welled in my eyes and I did my best to swallow them down. I couldn’t afford to be afraid, but all I could think of was being trapped in the middle of nowhere with an unconscious Emmett, slowly freezing to death where nobody would ever find us.

  Emmett reached up and wiped a tear away with his thumb. “No tears, sweetness. I need you to see clearly. Don’t want you to miss and make a mistake.”

  “What do you mean, make a mistake?”

  He handed me the hunting knife. “You need to get the bullet out.”

  I rocked back on my heels. “Oh no. I’m not cutting you.”

  “If you don’t, it’ll sit in there and fester. I won’t be able to start healing, and if I keep riding with it in there, it could work itself into a worse place.”

  “These are hardly the conditions to do a surgical procedure, and with a hunting knife? No.” I crossed my arms and shook my head at the ridiculous suggestion.

  “Fine,” he said, heaving himself up onto his elbows and putting his hand out for the knife. “I’ll do it myself.”

  “You absolutely will not,” I said, pulling the knife out of his reach.

  He flopped back on the blanket. “Lydia, stop being difficult. It needs to be done and unless one of the horses can do it, it needs to be one of us.”

  “Be reasonable. It’s not clean here, there’s not enough light to see what I’m doing, and I only have one good hand. What would be worse for you, leaving the bullet in and maybe getting an infection? Or having me cut into you blind and slice into something important? Not to mention, I don’t have anything to sew you back up with.”

  Obviously frustrated with me for not complying with him, he threw an arm over his eyes, leaving visible only the thin, tight line of his lips and the dark stubble growing in around his usually neat goatee. Despite the circumstances, I wondered what he’d look like clean shaven. Probably younger. Probably handsome, although I suspected that Mr. Emmett Wilder looked handsome in any condition, except dead, which he might be if we didn’t get out of here and get him taken care of.

  “At least tell me how to clean it and bandage it,” I said. “And then my hand.”

  He sighed and moved his arm so I could see his eyes again. “We don’t have anything to boil water in, so we’ll just have to use fresh snow to clean with. Tear a piece of your petticoat to use for cleaning, a piece to dress my wound, then tear a lot of strips to tie around me and to tie around your hand. Then go scrub your hands—even your injured one—with snow. After that, bring some snow in here to wash my wound. Then I’ll walk you through bandaging.”

  I did as he asked, tearing my petticoat into various sizes and lengths of strips for bandaging and cleaning. While I did it, I watched the fire. We had exactly one more log, and then what? How long did it take to freeze to death?

  “It’s not as if these bandages are clean, but I don’t want to put them in the dirt, so I’m just going to lay them on top of you while I go wash my hands,” I told him. He’d closed his coat to keep as warm as possible, so I placed a neat pile of the pieces of my petticoat on his belly then went to the opening of the cave and squatted to one side of the horses, who had huddled together to share their heat.

  Outside, the world may as well have disappeared beyond the dark gray wall of blowing snow just feet in front of the cave. I shivered and tried to concentrate on washing my hands. The only good thing about the situation was the snow was so cold it numbed the burns on my hand to the point where the pain disappeared again.

  When my hands were clean, I collected some snow in a piece of cloth I’d brought with me and took it back to Emmett.

  “Okay, tell me what to do.”

  I moved the pile of bandages to my own lap, and he opened his coat, vest, and shirt. The bullet hole wasn’t all that big, though quite a mess of dried blood surrounded it, and it still oozed a little.

  “Wet one of the cloths with snow and clean the blood away from the wound,” he said. “If there are any pieces of shirt in the wound, remove those if you can.”

  I nodded and went to work, gently scrubbing away the blood. I didn’t see any other debris in or around the wound. “It’s not bleeding anymore, just oozing a bit. Is that good or bad?”

  “Not sure. It may mean no major vessels were injured, which is good. Now we just have to hope it didn’t puncture any bowels.”

  I shifted my focus to his face. He looked exhausted, but he still offered me an encouraging smile. His eyes crinkled at the sides, and something inside me swelled. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was my heart.

  I brushed hair from his forehead and smiled back at him. His skin was cool and dry, at least for now. “You’ll be fine,” I said. “Now that it’s clean, how do I bandage it?”

  “Fold another piece of cloth and place it over the wound, then wrap the strips around me to hold it in place.”

  I put aside the wet, bloody cloth and selected another piece from my lap, folded it, and used it to cover the wound. With the blood gone, and the bullet hole covered, his body looked normal. Except my reaction to him was anything but normal. His broad chest was dusted with dark hair, and a ladder of muscle covered his ribs and melted into more muscle stepping down his belly. Before I knew what I was doing, I traced the line of hair that divided his abdomen and disappeared down his trousers.

  My heart stuttered in my chest. I licked my lips. I remembered seeing Isaac in Beth’s bed after he’d been shot. He’d been shirtless, and he’d looked similar, but I hadn’t given him a second glance. Why, then, did the sight of Emmett’s body turn me in
to a puddle of desire? Why did my body pulse and ache for his? I hardly knew the man. It was shameful, abnormal. There must be something wrong with me.

  “Lydia?”

  I snatched my hand back in shock. Amusement colored his voice.

  “I’m…” I choked on my throat closing in shame. I couldn’t look him in the eyes. Instead, I busied myself with the cloth strips. “I’m sorry. That was wrong of me. I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

  He lifted himself using his feet so I could wrap the bandage underneath and back over the top of him, to tie it. “Oh, Lydia. I hope it does happen again, but after I’m healed, and can do something about it.”

  I tied the bandage, but didn’t meet his eyes. I couldn’t. I was too humiliated. Good girls didn’t fondle strangers. That was something Daisy would do, or even Beth, but not me.

  I closed his shirt, and left it for him to button, then started to scoot away, but he grabbed my arm. “I still need to bandage your hand.”

  “I’ll do it myself,” I said. I wanted some distance between us.

  “No. You won’t be able to manage one-handed.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  I didn’t want him touching me. My body had betrayed me enough already. If he touched me again, I didn’t know what I’d do.

  “Lydia.” His voice sounded firm. I looked him in the eyes. They were concerned. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut tight. “Not a word. It’s over. Please don’t bring it up again.”

  “I want to talk about it.”

  “No.” I scooted away.

  “All right, fine,” he said. “If it’ll keep you from crawling into a corner, I won’t talk about it. Just let me wrap your hand.”

  I opened my eyes and chanced a quick glance at him. He looked sincere, with no blame or revulsion at my behavior, so I moved closer and handed him the remaining bandages.

  He held out his other hand, waiting for me to give him mine. I steeled myself against his touch, and put my hand in his, but instead of embarrassing lust, his warm, gentle touch inspired calm. Even on his back, he worked efficiently, wrapping my hand without breaking any of the remaining blisters, and tying it off.