Dan had been riding Old Red every day so that the horse wouldn’t get wild, and he wasn’t too fresh today. But he hadn’t been ridden by Jubal for quite a while, and he was a little skittish.
It hurt when Jubal lifted his left leg up to the stirrup. It hurt like a son of a gun when he stuck that leg into the stirrup and braced his entire body weight on it while he slung his right leg over the horse’s back. He had to clamp his teeth together in order to keep from bellowing in pain when Old Red decided to take exception to this activity and skittered a little bit.
Even when Jubal had made it into the saddle and the pressure on his left leg was relieved, his thigh still burned and throbbed like crazy. Jubal began to wonder if this had really been such a good idea after all. He’d eat hog slop before he’d admit that to anybody, though.
Maggie watched him from the door of the house. She had intended to ignore Jubal Green and his foolishness because his stubborn attitude made her mad, but she found that she couldn’t bear to do that. She was too frightened for him. So she stood there in the open doorway worrying her apron with nervous fingers, and watched. She had to squint her eyes up tight to see what was going on.
“He looks like it doesn’t feel very good, Annie,” she murmured to her daughter.
Annie was playing on the kitchen floor with a little wooden horse and rider that Four Toes had carved for her. “Feel good,” she said to her mama.
“Stubborn man,” muttered Maggie.
“Stubban,” agreed Annie.
Maggie’s heart lurched when Jubal kicked up Old Red and they began to trot around the barnyard. If she squinted her eyes up real hard, she could see his lips pinched together and white with pain.
Jubal was in agony. He saw Maggie standing at the doorway and determined to himself that he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of watching him give up. So he continued to ride Old Red in circles around the barnyard, even though he was sure he’d never walk again afterwards. He wished Maggie would go back into the house so he could quit this foolishness with his dignity intact.
Maggie was holding her breath. She was just sure Jubal would open that dratted thigh wound again. She knew he was in pain and her eyes filled up in sympathy.
“Damned man,” she whispered.
“Damman,” Annie parroted happily.
That perky statement startled Maggie, and she glanced down at her child.
“Oh, Lordy, I’d better start watching my mouth,” she told herself. She wondered sadly what kind of terrible mother she must be to swear in front of her baby girl, and figured her aunt had probably been right about her all along.
Jubal finally couldn’t stand it another second. He was sweating with agony. His entire lower body felt as though he’d been kicked by a mule, and ferocious pains were radiating from his wounded right shoulder and down through his arm and chest and back. He decided he’d proved enough for one day and reined Old Red in with an effort that made him curse furiously under his breath as blinding pains shot through his upper body. Sweat beaded on his forehead and began to dribble down his face.
He looked around, hoping to spot Four Toes, and didn’t see him. He had hoped the man would be close by to take custody of Old Red when he dismounted.
“Well, that’s too bad,” Jubal decided. “I’ve got to get down or pass out right here in the saddle. Again.” Maggie had described her first encounter with him. So he sucked up a huge breath of air in preparation for the enormous, agonizing effort this was going to cost him.
Maggie watched in apprehension as the big roan horse came to a slow stop. Her hands went to her mouth when she saw Jubal’s body heave with the exertion of slinging his right leg over the horse’s back. She was already running toward the barnyard by the time his boot hit the ground.
“Stay there, Annie,” she called to her daughter as she took off.
Jubal’s leg buckled under him because he was too weak to stand. He tried to right himself by clutching at the saddle, an effort that startled Old Red into shuffling away. That jarred Jubal’s wounded leg and it, too, buckled, effectively trapping his boot in Old Red’s stirrup.
Maggie skidded into the barnyard just in time to grab Old Red’s reins and keep him from dragging Jubal off.
“Be still, horse,” she said, very gently, to Old Red.
She wanted to scream her frustration and fear at Jubal, but she remembered Kenny telling her to always speak softly to horses so as not to frighten them. It was advice he used to forget on a regular basis himself, but Maggie didn’t. Her heart was slamming in her chest so hard she was sure it would burst right out, but she had Old Red under control in a second.
While she was calming the horse, Jubal was furiously trying to disengage his boot from the stirrup. Since neither one of his legs wanted to work and he couldn’t use both of his arms, he was having no luck at all in that endeavor.
He was also swearing ferociously to himself, embarrassed to death that his stubbornness had caused him to do such a blamed stupid thing as get himself stuck in a stirrup. In front of Maggie. Jubal didn’t want to look like a fool in front of Maggie Bright more than he didn’t want to look like a fool in front of anybody else on the face of the earth.
He was also in agony. His entire body was throbbing by this time.
“Stop it, Mr. Green,” Maggie commanded quietly but sternly as she calmed down Old Red. “Just lie still.” Her fury at him for hurting himself made her voice shake.
Jubal gave up and did as he was told. If pain hadn’t completely wiped out any color he’d gained over the course of his recovery, he would have been blushing in humiliation. He lay on his back with his boot in the stirrup and called himself every vile name he could think of and then made up some new ones.
When the horse was completely settled, Maggie tied Old Red’s reins to a fence post. She was trembling when she finally knelt down next to Jubal and carefully disengaged his boot heel from the stirrup.
Jubal watched her from the haze of pain that was fogging his brain and realized that tears were streaming down her cheeks. He frowned. It didn’t seem right to him that she should be crying. He was the one who hurt.
“You just put your arm around my shoulder, Mr. Green, and I’ll help you into the house,” Maggie was saying to him. The gentleness she had assumed for Old Red was still evident in her voice because she was too worried right now to think about how much she wanted to holler at Jubal.
Jubal just absolutely hated feeling helpless. Still, it felt pretty good when he put his arm around Maggie’s shoulder and felt hers slip around his waist. He allowed her to help him to his feet before he asked the question that was uppermost in his mind.
“Why are you crying?”
Maggie sniffed back her tears and nearly buckled under Jubal’s weight as they began a slow walk back to the house. Her throat felt like it was stuffed full of rocks and it took her a few seconds before she could answer his stupid question. When she did speak, her words sounded somewhat strangled.
“I’m crying because I was so damned worried about you, you stubborn, fool man,” she said. “You could have killed yourself,” she added, and her tone conveyed a vivid collection of anger, worry, and fear.
Her arm tightened around his waist. Maggie could barely restrain herself from bawling right here on this man’s shoulder, she’d been so scared for him.
Jubal couldn’t think of anything to say to Maggie. Thank you sprang to mind, and he didn’t know why, especially when he realized he wouldn’t have been thanking her for helping him, but for worrying about him. That didn’t make any sense to him.
He was still in exquisite pain. His whole lower body felt as though an elephant had stepped on it, and the right side of his torso was on fire.
“Ho, mama. Ho, Juba,” said a happy Annie as they passed her outside the doorway.
Normally Maggie thought it was cute the way Annie called Jubal “Juba.” Today, she was so worried, she didn’t even notice her daughter’s cheerful greeting.
; Jubal said, “Hello, Annie,” before he limped past her into the house.
Maggie led him through the door of the little house and on into the bedroom. She didn’t stop in the kitchen. Jubal was somewhat surprised. He expected her to dump him into a chair and yell at him.
“You lie down now, Mr. Green. I’ll get those boots off you and then get you some tea and find Mr. Blue Gully.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bright,” Jubal said through teeth clenched in pain.
Maggie helped him ease down onto the bed.
He felt like such a damned fool.
Maggie had to squat down next to the bed so as not to drop him into a heap on the covers. She ended up with one arm under his back and the other encircling his chest, an intimate embrace that would have embarrassed her if she hadn’t been too upset to think about it.
If Jubal hadn’t been so abashed at what his own stubborn foolishness had reduced him to, he would have enjoyed the feel of Maggie’s firm breasts pressing against his chest. He was sorry when she wriggled her arm out from under him and removed her other arm from his shoulder.
As soon as Maggie had disengaged her arms, she dashed to the foot of the bed to remove Jubal’s boots.
“I’ll take the right one off first, since that leg’s not gunshot,” she announced.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bright,” Jubal said again, humbly. Lord, he hated being humble. It didn’t come naturally at all.
The right boot came off easily.
Then Maggie took a deep breath. “I’ll try not to hurt you, Mr. Green,” she said as she picked up his left boot.
It’s too late for that, thought Jubal grimly, and his whole body clenched from the jolt of his leg being lifted. But he ground his teeth together and clung like a barnacle to the mattress as Maggie wriggled the boot down his calf and off of his foot.
She was crying again by the time she had worked it off. She put the boots together neatly at the foot of the bed and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.
“There,” she said.
She wanted to scold Jubal for frightening her and making her hurt him, but she didn’t know how to put the words together. How did you tell somebody that it made you want to run and hide to have to do things to them that hurt them, even though those things were going to help them in the long run? It didn’t even make sense to her; she knew it wouldn’t make sense to Jubal.
Jubal saw her tears and felt bad. “I’m sorry I’m causing you more work, Mrs. Bright,” he mumbled. He was unused to having to make apologies and he hated it.
“Work?” Maggie said, astounded. “Work?” She stared at him.
“I know you don’t have time to nursemaid me anymore,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have tried to ride Old Red. I’m sorry.” He was annoyed that she hadn’t just said, “That’s all right,” or something and gone on about her business.
Maggie’s eyes overflowed again. The ridiculous man thought she was mad at him because he was causing her extra work! Maggie couldn’t believe it, and her anger got the better of her all at once.
“My God in heaven, Mr. Green, I don’t care about the work. I haven’t done a lick of work since the three of you showed up here, anyway. I was scared to death you’d hurt yourself. And you did, too!”
Jubal wished to God she’d stop crying. It was breaking his heart to watch her and not be able to do anything about it. He wanted to hold her and tell her that everything was all right.
Then, all of a sudden, her words penetrated the blanket of pain and embarrassment that was nearly smothering him. His eyes narrowed in concentration.
“You were worried about me?”
“Worried about you?” Maggie cried, furious at his stupid question. “I was scared to death.”
For some reason, Jubal felt a smug sense of satisfaction begin to worm its way into his agony. She was worried about him. It wasn’t the work. It was him.
“Come here, Mrs. Bright,” he said, and held out his good left hand.
Maggie wiped her eyes again and sniffed suspiciously. “Why? I have to go get you some tea.”
“Come here first.”
He was speaking softly and looking at her with those dratted sea-green eyes in a way that drew Maggie like a magnet. She didn’t understand why she felt compelled to obey him, but she did. She knelt by the bed next to him and her hand, of its own accord, sneaked out to brush the hair away from his forehead.
Jubal liked that a lot. “Thank you for worrying about me, Mrs. Bright.”
Maggie swallowed. “You’re welcome,” she whispered.
Jubal’s gaze was caressing her face, and she began to feel real funny. Then his good hand brushed her hair back, just as she had just brushed his. The touch sent whispery shivers down Maggie’s spine.
“Do you feel better?” she asked to break the spell.
“I feel like hell,” he murmured.
“Serves you right,” sniffed Maggie.
Jubal grinned an arrogant grin. “I guess it does.”
His eyes were pulling her closer and closer to his face. She knew she was going to kiss him a second before she did it. It was probably the shortest kiss in the history of the world, because the moment her lips touched his, she realized what she was doing and immediately withdrew. Then she blushed a furious red and scrambled to her feet.
Jubal smiled at her as she jumped up, and he couldn’t figure out how he could be feeling so good when he was feeling so bad.
Maggie whirled around and ran like a spooked jackrabbit into the kitchen. She pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks as she leaned against the kitchen table, wondering what on earth had possessed her back there. She was shaking when she put water on to boil for tea.
“My God, I must miss Kenny even more than I thought I did,” she whispered to herself and her daughter, who was galloping her wooden horse across the floor in delight.
Then Maggie attempted to recall what Kenny looked like. Try as she might, every time she managed to conjure up the lean, lanky image of her kind-hearted, sweet-natured dead husband and picture his big, loving, calf-eyed grin, that image was immediately replaced by the tall, rough-hewn features of another man, a man with green-flecked eyes, broad shoulders, pretty, sun-streaked hair, and a hard face.
“Lord Almighty,” Maggie breathed. “What kind of disloyal, no-good person am I, anyway? I loved Kenny. He near to saved my life. He gave me a home of my own and my beautiful baby, and I can’t even remember what he looked like.”
By the time the water boiled, Maggie was crying tears of miserable regret and thinking her aunt had been right about her all along. She wiped them away disconsolately, and decided she’d better try to forget about her own shortcomings for a while. Right now, she had to see what needed to be done for Jubal Green. She could whip herself about her many weaknesses later.
She wondered if the miraculous pain-killing bark that Dan Blue Gully had given her for her headaches would help ease Jubal’s pain any, so she got out her carefully stored leather pouch and laid it on the table next to the teapot. Then she went over to stand at the bedroom door. She didn’t dare go inside again until Dan had been found.
“The tea’s steeping, Mr. Green. I’m going to find Mr. Blue Gully now.”
Jubal was lying in the bed, stiff with pain. He knew he should relax, but he hurt too much to ease his muscles yet. He wished Maggie would come back in and put her hands on him again. She had soothing hands.
“Can’t you do it yourself?” he asked. “Dan’s got work to do.”
Maggie shook her head and didn’t budge from the doorway. She had her arms crossed in front of her and looked mighty tough. She glared at him, mostly to keep herself from crying in fright.
“No, Mr. Green. Mr. Blue Gully’s the one who knows about gunshot wounds, not me. And don’t you dare move from that bed while I’m gone outside to find him for you.”
Her voice had taken on a commanding tone to cover her nervousness and worry. She was terrified that Jubal might have reopened his thigh wound. T
hat wound was much more serious than the shoulder wound had been, and if it opened up again, infection and gangrene were real possibilities. And, although they had never discussed it, Maggie was just sure Jubal Green would strenuously object to amputation.
Also, while she might indeed have been able to examine the thigh, she blushed at the thought. It was, after all, one thing to hold a naked man’s thigh when the naked man was unconscious, fevered, and in danger of dying. It was another thing entirely to strip a recovering and all-too conscious man whom she had just kissed and handle that man’s naked thigh.
Jubal sighed with frustration. Now Dan Blue Gully was going to know what an ass he’d been, too. Jubal knew he’d never live this day down.
“I won’t move, Mrs. Bright,” he said unhappily. He didn’t add that he wouldn’t have been able to get up even if he’d been so inclined. His entire body felt as though he’d fallen off a high cliff onto pointed rocks and bounced against granite outcroppings on the way down.
“All right,” Maggie said. She left him with a parting sniff that Jubal believed to be one of contempt, but which had actually been necessary for Maggie to swallow her tears.
She found Dan Blue Gully out behind the barn, helping Four Toes Smith build a pen for goats. Four Toes had decided Maggie needed goats, even though Maggie wasn’t quite sure why. She didn’t argue, though.
As soon as he saw her, Dan put down his hammer. “Figured you’d be coming to fetch me pretty soon,” he commented calmly. “Four Toes told me what Jubal was up to. Fool man,” he added.
Maggie was so relieved, she could barely speak. When she’d left the house, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to find Dan or not. “He’s really hurting, Mr. Blue Gully.”
“Of course, he is.”
“Do you suppose that bark you gave me for my headaches might help his pain any, Mr. Blue Gully?”
Dan scratched his chin and thought. He was still thinking by the time they got back to the house.
One Bright Morning Page 12