Mud and bits of grass clung to his shirt over his left shoulder, more on the side of his head. Clearly, when her mare reared and bolted, her hooves trampled him, stepping on his torso, striking his head. Holding her bloody fingers to his throat, she found his pulse, beating slow but strong. “Thank God,” she breathed, some relief spreading through her.
Despite the agony that ripped through her when she moved her left arm, Charlene needed it in order to tear a strip from the hem of her skirt to bind her arm with. Awkward, using her teeth, she tightened the cloth over her upper arm and tied a small knot. Only then did she remember that she had been shot at, and those who did the shooting might come looking for them.
Standing, holding her breath in near panic, she gazed around the banks of the river, the hills, and saw nothing. No one marched toward her with rifle leveled, no more gunshots exploded, she didn’t fall over dead with a bullet in her heart. Breathing slightly easier, she bent once more to Tyler.
Shaking his uninjured right shoulder, Charlene tried to rouse him into consciousness, patting his cheek, calling his name. “Tyler. Tyler, you have to wake up.”
Beginning to panic again when he didn’t, she feared his head injury might be worse than it appeared. What if I can’t wake him up? What then? Charlene stood up, striding to the river. Standing in the water, she let her skirts soak in it, then lifted the heavy cloth in her hands. Taking it back to him, she wrung her saturated dress over his face.
That did the trick. Tyler, spluttering and snorting, raised his hands to his head, trying to ward off more water dropping into his nose and mouth. Charlene knelt beside him again, her hands grasping at his. “Tyler, thank God,” she cried, near tears. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t wake up.”
Tyler groaned, his right fist at his temple. “That fool mare,” he gritted, his jaw clenched as he fought to get up. He fell back down with another groan. “My head feels like it’s cracked wide open. My shoulder –”
“She got you there, too,” Charlene said, sniffing back her tears. “Is it broken?”
“Don’t think so.”
Tyler grimaced as he tried again to get up, crying out in agony as much as Charlene did. But with her help, he stumbled to his feet. “Where’s the mare?” he asked, trying to look around.
“We’ll find her,” Charlene replied, helping him to stand with his right arm across her neck. “Can you get on your horse?”
Tyler, almost tripping over his own feet, leaned against the bay’s saddle. A thin trickle of blood oozed down from the scrape in his scalp. “You get up on him.”
“Absolutely not,” she snapped. She pointed imperiously at the horse, anger replacing her previous panic and fear. “I am not as bad off as you. Now get on that horse, mister, this instant.”
He grinned, a weak grin, but there nonetheless, his gray eyes sparkling with amusement. “Do you ever lose any arguments?”
“Haven’t yet.”
“One day.” He nodded wisely. “One day.”
Charlene pointed her finger again, a silent and implacable demand for obedience. Grasping the saddle horn with his good right hand, Tyler put his foot in the stirrup and dragged himself aboard. Gasping for breath, sweat running in rivers down his face, his hair lank and oily, he closed his eyes and breathed raggedly.
“My hat,” he whispered. “Please.”
Charlene picked it up near where he had fallen, then handed it up to him. Tyler set it on his head, his legs dangling to either side of the horse. Taking the bay’s reins, Charlene started walking, her wet and heavy skirts dragging at her. Her arm continued to burn, but a quick glance showed her the bleeding had mostly stopped.
“There.” Tyler pointed. “Your horse.”
Sure enough, the mare hadn’t fled very far, and grazed on a patch of grass, her reins tangled in a thicket of prickly pear. Leaving the bay to stand quiet, Charlene approached her, half fearing the horse would bolt again. Stepping closer, she discovered a bloody furrow in the horse’s gray flank. The mare eyed her with some suspicion as Charlene untangled the reins, then turned her back toward Tyler.
“She didn’t spook,” Charlene said, her tone grim. “She was shot.”
“Damn. She all right to ride?”
“I hope so because I didn’t bring my walking shoes.”
Charlene glanced up in confusion as Tyler choked on his laughter, holding his right hand to his damaged arm. “You need to quit making me laugh, Miss Quinn.”
With the bay’s reins in her left hand, the gray’s in her right, Charlene swung into the saddle, biting off words she wasn’t supposed to know as searing pain lanced both up and down from her wound. Taking a moment to simply sit, hoping the worst of it would pass, she breathed deeply for a few minutes.
When she could speak, she said, “I will certainly try to refrain from causing you amusement in the near future.”
Unbelievably, Tyler chuckled again, wincing and grimacing. “Did you really say all that? You have quite the way with words.”
Nudging the mare into a quiet walk, Charlene led the bay by his reins, noticing Tyler kept both hands on his saddle horn. No doubt, he feared he might pass out and fall, or simply fall. “I suppose so,” she replied. “My parents insisted I read a great deal all through my youth.”
“I enjoy reading,” Tyler said. “But I hardly have the time.”
“A great failing for us all,” Charlene agreed. “When I have any time, I am usually too tired.”
Glancing at the sun as it started its descent into the west, casting its yellow-gold beams over the hill country. A hunting hawk called out, high overhead, its mate answering a distance away. “Hawks mate for life,” Charlene said, trying to spot them in the sky. “Did you know that?”
On the bay beside her, Tyler nodded, a brief bob of his head. “Yeah. I knew it.”
“Hard to believe that some animals can have the same inclinations as people.”
“Not all that hard to believe, Charlene,” Tyler said. “There is so much about the world around us we may never understand.”
“True, I suppose.” She offered him a wry grin. “I can still find it fascinating though, right?”
“Since I do, I suppose I can extend that interest to you.”
Now it was her turn to chuckle. “Thank you, kind sir.” Liking Tyler more and more, finding him so comfortable to be with, Charlene almost forgot she had met him only a few days past. It seemed that she had known him for most of her life, and though she was certain he had his faults, she couldn’t come up with a single one thus far.
Keeping a watchful eye on him in case he lost consciousness, Charlene asked, “Can you move your left arm?”
Gingerly, wincing, Tyler did. “I don’t think it’s busted,” he said, his tone low. “Just badly squashed.”
He glanced at her, his hair hanging half over his face. “How’s your arm? Still have a bullet in it?”
“I don’t think so,” she answered, also flexing it. “I think it just grazed me.”
“Then, I reckon we both got lucky today.”
She watched him, biting her lower lip. “Tyler,” she said slowly. “Who would have shot at me?”
He lifted his good shoulder in a shrug. “Charlene, I have been wondering that myself. We were both down, both vulnerable, yet whoever it was chose not to come close and finish the job. Why?”
“Maybe it was just to scare us – me.”
He slowly shook his head. “There was more than one rifle. One hit you, one hit the horse, others went wide. Forgive me for saying so, but whoever did it were not good marksmen and took off immediately.”
“I did look around for anyone who might be around with a gun,” Charlene replied. “I saw no one at all.”
“Then they had horses.”
“None of this makes any sense at all,” Charlene snapped, frustrated and in despair. “When they find us alive, they’ll try again.”
Tyler’s smoky gray eyes on hers informed her that notion had occurred to him as we
ll. “You are going to have to be real careful from now on, Charlene.”
“I suppose it’s a good thing I agreed to have you guard Tosahwi.”
“I expect it will be a while before I’m up to any guarding. Maybe Vic can lock you up in jail.”
Outraged, indignant, Charlene whirled on him. “Never.”
“You’ll be protected.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Ah.” Tyler tried to move his arm into a comfortable position, grimacing. “I didn’t think you’d go for it, anyway.”
“You should never have mentioned it in the first place.”
“Why not? It’s a good idea.”
Charlene lifted her nose in the air. “It was boorish and uncouth for you to have suggested I be arrested for simply being a victim.”
He laughed, then bent over, gasping. “Please, stop. I beg you. Making me laugh kills me.”
“Serves you right.”
When he lifted his head, she gave him a small smile to let him know she didn’t truly mean what she said. “Thank you for thinking of my well being.”
“Any time, ma’am.”
Dusk had fallen as they finally rode into Bandera, the usual pedestrians, riders, and drivers mostly gone from the street and sidewalks. A few cowboys rode through town, and several horses stood tied to hitching rails outside the saloon. The usual piano music rose from it, and Charlene scented beer and whiskey on the breeze as they rode past.
“Tyler? Miss Quinn?”
Charlene turned her head at Sheriff Barker’s query, observing Tyler from the corner of his eye do the same. Barker strode from the sidewalk into the street to confront them, his drooping mustache quivering. Even in the near dark, Charlene noticed the anger in his blue eyes.
“What in tarnation happened?” he demanded, striding to stand between their two horses.
“Someone shot at us, Vic,” Tyler answered. “Grazed her arm, hit the horse. Me, I got trampled.”
Charlene blushed to the roots of her hair as Barker’s loud swearing blistered the atmosphere around them. “Now who in damnation would be shooting at you two?”
“Wish we knew,” Tyler replied, his voice exhausted. “Look, Vic, I need to go to the hotel or someplace. Charlene needs the doctor.”
“I can speak for myself, Tyler.”
Charlene gazed down at the bristling sheriff. “He will stay at our house where my mother and I can look after him. I don’t believe I need the doctor’s care. So if you would kindly escort us to my house, as I will need your assistance with Tyler, it would be greatly appreciated.”
Barker glanced from her face to Tyler’s, baffled. “Did she just give me an order?”
“It would seem so,” he answered. “And I think you should obey it, too, Vic. If you know what’s good for you.”
Muttering what sounded like more swear words under his breath, Sheriff Barker marched down the street ahead of them, leading the way to Charlene’s house. Olivia stood on the porch, her shawl clutched around her body as though cold, clearly watching for them. And from what Charlene could see of her face, she was worried out of her mind.
“Charlene!” Olivia gasped, running down the steps to open the small gate to the yard. “What in God’s name happened? I was so scared something had happened.”
“Something did, Mother,” Charlene replied, feeling her own pain and exhaustion rise to overwhelm her. “But just know we’re both all right.”
While Sheriff Barker helped Tyler down from his bay, Charlene slid down from her saddle. She rubbed the mare’s silky neck under her mane for a moment, appreciating that she hadn’t run all the way home to the livery stable.
“Come in, dear,” Olivia implored, “into the house. You, too, Sheriff and Tyler. Get inside.”
Charlene half smiled at her mother’s ability to take charge of them, and recognized that without Tosahwi in their life, such a drastic change would never have come about. Lamps lit the interior of the snug house, and the inviting smells of roasting beef made Charlene’s mouth water. Olivia guided Charlene to an armchair and bullied Sheriff Barker to sit Tyler on the sofa.
“Now, Sheriff,” she ordered, untying the knot to Charlene’s makeshift bandage, “run to the kitchen, there’s a pot of hot water on the stove. Pour it into a bucket with cold and bring it and wash rags here.”
Charlene laughed silently at Barker’s outraged countenance, his blue eyes hot, his jaw slack.
“If I wanted to be ordered around by a woman,” he stated firmly, scowling at Olivia in a fierce way that no doubt intimidated folks in the past. “I’d have married my own.”
Olivia merely pointed in the direction of the kitchen and snapped her fingers. Charlene met Tyler’s grin with her own as Barker sullenly obeyed her, stalking toward the kitchen and muttering under his breath. Though Olivia peeled her sleeve away with gentle movements, Charlene couldn’t control her wincing, nor her low cry of pain.
“Hold still.”
Doing her best not to move, biting her lip, Charlene stared at Tyler as her mother probed the wound on her arm. “It looks like a deep gash,” Olivia murmured. “I’ll know more when I clean it. Sheriff, where’s my warm water?”
“Coming, coming, you old biddy.”
Sheriff Barker carried a basin of warm water into the room and set it on the floor at Olivia’s side. He handed her the cloth, then stood back, his arms folded, to watch. Olivia scowled, her brows furrowed. “What are you doing just standing there?” she demanded. “Go have a look at Tyler. Make sure he remains among the living.”
Barker raised his hand as though to start arguing with her, but Olivia stared him down. Charlene watched in fascination as the two locked eyes, a contest of wills in her living room. Olivia won when Sheriff Barker slumped his shoulders, lowering his hand. Rolling his eyes, he grumbled his way over to Tyler to start helping him out of his shirt.
Charlene could not halt the cry of pain as her mother gently washed her arm, cleaning away the dried blood, opening the wound back up to ooze again. As she worked, Olivia hummed soothingly under her breath, a melody that had comforted Charlene when she was a young child. It calmed her frazzled nerves and enabled her to relax somewhat.
“Sheriff,” Olivia said, frowning at the now clean wound. “Come here, please.”
“Come here, go there, do you ever cease barking orders, woman?”
She ignored his complaint as she gestured toward Charlene’s arm. “Do you think we need to stitch that?”
Sheriff Barker ran his fingers down his mustache, peering at the wound. He shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t. Just bind it tight, like.”
“I’ll cut bandages.”
Rising, Olivia hustled into the other room as Sheriff Barker stood once more over Tyler. “I reckon your head needs cleaned, Tyler,” he said. “I’ll leave that to the missus. But not much can be done about that –” He gestured toward Tyler’s chest – “except give it time.”
Charlene gazed at the incredible black and blue bruising that extended from Tyler’s left collarbone and traveled down his shoulder to his chest and ribs. An exact print of a horse’s shoe rose starkly in the center. “My God,” she whispered, staring.
“Too bad he can’t keep that as a souvenir,” Barker chuckled. “It’ll go away as he heals.”
“I’m lucky nothing is broken,” Tyler said, peering down at it and running his hand over its face.
“Even so, you’ll be pretty darn useless as a watchdog over these folks and the boy.” Sheriff Barker groused as though it were all Tyler’s fault, but Tyler merely nodded with a half smile.
“I know,” he said, his eyes on Charlene. “What do we do about it?”
“Sheriff,” Charlene ordered tersely. “Bring his pallet from outside into Tosahwi’s room and set it on the floor. They can bunk together for now. I’ll still sleep here on the couch. If Tyler has his rifle, he can still protect us.”
Sheriff Barker set his hands on his hips, scowling dangerously. “Now why is it I have
two of y’all barking orders at me now? When did I ever hear a ‘please’?”
Charlene waved her right hand dismissively. “You’re a public servant. Now serve.”
Charlene thought Barker’s eyes would pop out of his skull and roll down his cheeks. He opened his mouth to protest, his eyes blazing when Olivia stepped into the room behind him. A giggle rose to her throat and hung there, but she maintained her stern expression as best she could. Laughing would only negate her command.
“Just do it, Sheriff,” she commanded with her hands full of linen. She sat down and turned her attention to Charlene and Tyler as she sorted it out to begin cutting, ignoring Barker’s presence. “When you are able,” she said calmly. “You must go see Tosahwi. He’s worried and wants to make sure you’re both all right.”
An Unconventional Bride For The Rancher (Historical Western Romance) Page 11