by Nancy Bush
She had to tell Harrison!
As if reading her mind, Blue brought one hand around her throat. “Say a word to anyone and Harrison Danner dies. I have my ways, Miracle. Just you understand that.”
Miracle nodded. She understood perfectly.
“Now, tomorrow, I want you to be ready to leave.”
“To leave?” she choked out.
“I’m going to help you take care of the Garretts, and you’re going to help me escape.”
“You can go now. No one knows you’re here. You can –”
He cut her off by squeezing on her windpipe.
“Didn’t I just say I was going to help you? If Jace Garrett’s father owes you something, Miracle, it’s time we collected.”
“No, Blue! I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“We’re going to get what’s owed you, little sister. And then…”
He left the sentence unfinished, but the way he looked at her made her blood freeze in her veins. While she stared into his hellish black eyes, she heard the pounding of hoofbeats outside and the rattle of wagon wheels. Harrison!
Blue flung her against the floor. Miracle knocked her chin and saw stars. She staggered to her feet, clattering and slipping down the stairs after him. She was too late; he was already disappearing through the door and into the dense fog.
She tried to shout, but the wind had been knocked from her lungs and she could barely stand. Her throat burned. She stumbled to the front door. Bobbing lantern lights and shouts could be seen and heard, but that was about it. Dragging her cloak more tightly around her, she headed barefooted in the direction of the noise.
The wagon had passed on, toward the infirmary. Miracle’s breath caught painfully. Outside the jail, the deputy stood facing in the direction the wagon had gone. “Excuse me,” Miracle said breathlessly. “Who was in the wagon?”
“Jace Garrett, ma’am,” he answered, after realizing who she was.
“What about Harrison Danner?”
“No, ma’am. He ain’t returned yet.”
Miracle felt faint. “And Sheriff Raynor?”
“They’s still lookin’ for that woman killer. Lost in the fog, I reckon. Won’t find him tonight.”
Cold, pelting rain landed on her head, and she shivered. At least it might wash away the fog. “How bad is Jace?” Miracle asked, her ears straining to the sounds of men unloading the wagon at the infirmary.
“Don’t rightly know. But he was shot, as I hear it. They brought him straight in.”
Miracle ran back to the shop. She would go to the infirmary as soon as she was dressed. Jace would at least know what had happened to Harrison. If there’d been some kind of shootout, then Brody might have been injured. Hopefully both Harrison and Sheriff Raynor were chasing him.
Her bare feet sounded light and fast on the stairs as she headed to her bedroom. She tried to close her mind. Under no circumstances would she allow herself to think Harrison might have been injured, too. Injured, or worse…
She fought the thought, but it invaded anyway, sending her heart pumping sickeningly hard against her rib cage. Blue could have been lying.
Even now, Harrison might be dead.
Chapter Fifteen
Harrison’s right arm throbbed with pain. He was amazed that he had that many nerves still intact to produce such burning fire. Rather than dwell on the extent of the injury, he was somehow comforted to learn the limb was functioning to its capacity. A damn painful capacity at the moment, he reminded himself through gritted teeth as he cradled the arm to his chest. Brody was a good shot.
Or had it been Brody? he wondered, frowning as a new thought struck him. Brody had been in a wagon, and Raynor’s men hadn’t stumbled across any wagon. Nor had they found the woman. How could Brody have pushed Miracle in the mud and gotten away that fast?
He remembered Miracle pointing in first one direction, then swinging around to point in another. Ice flowed through his veins. What did that mean?
He closed his eyes. What the hell was the matter with him? Pain was making him suspicious. He’d asked for no more lies between them, and she’d given her word.
“How’re you holdin’ up?” Raynor asked, swinging his bulky body around in the saddle to glance at Harrison. Harrison was astride Jace’s rangy buckskin. They’d managed to capture the horse on the road, but Harrison suspected his own mount was lost forever.
“I’ll live.”
Rain began to fall, damp, persistent, but misty rather than an out-and-out deluge. Good. It would melt the fog.
“I think we should go back. Brody’s long gone tonight, and your brother should look at that arm.”
“I’m fine,” Harrison argued tersely. He’d been the lucky one. Jace Garrett was in danger of losing his life. Though Harrison had no respect for the man, he didn’t want him to die.
“Danner, I’m going to have to protest. That arm bears lookin’ at right away.” Raynor stopped his horse and shifted to look at Harrison again. “If it makes you feel better, my men’ll keep searchin’ the area awhile.”
Harrison glanced around to the seven other men left. Two had taken Raynor’s wagon and Jace Garrett back to Rock Springs. There was no point in him staying any longer. It could be hours before any trace of Brody was found, maybe even until daylight.
“Dawkins, you go with Danner,” the sheriff ordered. “The rest of you fellas follow me.”
¤ ¤ ¤
“Is he going to live, Dr. Danner?” Billy asked anxiously, staring down at Jace Garrett’s unconscious form. Jace was lying on his back on Tremaine’s operating table, his face pale.
Tremaine snorted. “Yeah, he’s going to live. Took a bullet in the leg, but it’s just a scratch. The lily-livered fool fainted, that’s all. Near as I can tell, he should be out of here by morning.”
“He don’t look too good.”
“He never did,” Tremaine responded.
While Billy helped, Tremaine cut the offending bullet from Jace’s thigh, then stitched up the hole. Jace came to about the same time, moaning with pain.
He tried to sit up, then clenched his teeth and groaned. “Danner…?” He focused on his adversary’s face. “My God, I’m at the infirmary. Am I going to die?”
Tremaine threw back his head and laughed. “You’re too damn lucky to die!”
His laughter brought one of Raynor’s men scurrying into the room uninvited. He glanced around, looking for trouble. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Tremaine said, waving smelling salts beneath Jace’s nose. Color flooded Garrett’s cheeks, and he pulled away violently. Tremaine threw a look at the lawman. “You’re sure Harrison’s all right?” he demanded again.
“A nasty wound to the arm, but the bullet passed clean through.”
“Which arm?”
The man blinked. “Um, I’m not sure, Dr. Danner.”
“My leg,” Jace declared piteously. “What about my leg?”
“I cut the bullet out. Your nine lives are still intact, Garrett.”
“You cut the – Christ, Danner! You had no right! I could be –” He broke off, the pain in his leg making him jerk spasmodically, but he struggled upward anyway.
The blood rushed from his head, and Tremaine pushed him back down on the operating table, holding him there. “Stay put and tell me about Harrison. Raynor’s man said they found him making sure you were still alive even though he’d been shot himself. What happened?”
“We were blasted at close range. I thought the bullet hit my chest…” He lifted a hand to his throat.
“That’s why you – swooned?”
Jace’s lips went white with fury.
“Scared spitless, weren’t you? I can’t figure out why you went with Harrison in the first place. It’s not like you to do something out of the goodness of your heart.”
“Go to hell, Danner.”
“After you, Garrett.”
Tremaine’s laughter roared to the roof of the infirmary once again.
Harrison would have rather not bothered with the man Raynor had insisted escort him. He could jolly well get to Rock Springs by himself. And it was doubly infuriating when the man insisted he go straight to the infirmary. Tremaine would undoubtedly force him into one of the beds, and by God, he had too many things to take care of to waste hours recuperating.
But he was worried about Jace, so he stifled his impatience and walked through the doors of the infirmary and down the short hall to the operating room. To his total amazement Jace was awake and glaring daggers at Tremaine, who looked more amused than worried. Seeing Harrison, Tremaine broke into an out-and-out grin.
“Thank God Jace isn’t the only lucky one. They said you were all right, but I wanted to see for myself!”
“You okay, Jace?” Harrison asked with concern.
For some reason Jace’s face turned brick red with anger. “You can all go to hell!” he muttered furiously.
“Take him to the recovery room,” Tremaine told Billy.
“What’s he so all-fired furious about?” Harrison wanted to know as Billy began wheeling Jace down the short hall which led to recovery.
“I haven’t forgotten what you intimated about that dirty little half-breed, Danner!” Jace yelled, then swore at the pain the effort cost him. “Spread that around town and see what it gets you!”
“Another word about Miracle, and the next bullet you feel will be from my gun,” Harrison growled furiously, sorry now that he’d wasted so much time worrying about the selfish bastard.
“What’s that all about?” Tremaine wanted to know.
“Never mind.” There was time enough to explain later. Now that he was assured Jace was all right, Harrison wanted to find Miracle. “By the looks of him, he’s going to be fine.”
“Better than you,” Tremaine said sharply, eyeing the bloodstained sleeve of Harrison’s shirt and the way he favored his arm. “Let’s look at that.”
Harrison obediently let his brother make a cursory examination, though he refused to remove his shirt. “You must have done a terrific job putting the nerves back together the last time it was injured,” he grumbled. “Feels like hell.”
“I want to check it more closely.”
“Not now. I haven’t got time.” To Tremaine’s look, he explained impatiently, “I need to see Miracle.”
“You plan to wake her up at this time of night?” Tremaine arched a brow. It was near one o’clock.
“I’ve got a few questions I’ve got to ask her.”
Tremaine stared into his brother’s determined, white-lipped face and shook his head. He pulled back Harrison’s jacket, just enough to assure himself the wound was manageable, then grunted in agreement. “I’ve never known you to be so stubborn, Harrison. What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing.”
He left before Tremaine could offer up more resistance. He knew his older brother. Tremaine had been known to tie down unwilling patients if he thought it would be good for them. Harrison had no intention of slowing up now.
Weakness surrounded him three steps before he reached the shop’s front door. Frustrated, he shook his head and gritted his teeth, willing the dizziness to pass. He made it to the door and stopped, panting. Blast. The incredible energy he’d been running on had just drained out.
He tested the door, found the lock broken, and shoved it open against the crate that had been propped beneath it. “Miracle!” he yelled, not caring whether he woke Miracle, Uncle Horace, or half the population of Rock Springs.
Light footsteps sounded on the stairs before he was even halfway across the room. A lantern popped ahead of her, and Miracle appeared, holding the kerosene lamp in one hand, a knife in the other. Seeing him, she cried, “Harrison!” in wild relief.
“Do you always have to threaten me with a knife? What happened here?” he demanded, his senses clearing as he realized someone had broken in.
“Oh… the door. Uncle Horace smashed into it.”
“And broke the lock?” he demanded, unable to imagine Uncle Horace having the strength.
“It was rotted out,” she explained. “Are you all right? Oh, my God!” The light illuminated the dark stain spread across his shirt. “You’ve been shot, haven’t you?”
“It’s not serious.”
“Sit down!”
She sounded furious. Harrison opened his mouth to say more, but she practically pushed him into a chair beside the wood stove. He sank into it with a disgusting lack of strength.
Miracle stirred the remaining embers inside the stove until they glowed bright red, throwing off a shield of heat. Her sumptuous derriere was pointed in his direction, and he forced his gaze elsewhere.
“We didn’t find Brody, but he fired some shots off at us.”
“Did you see anyone else?”
“No…” Harrison frowned. “Not even the woman he kidnapped.” She was now systematically stripping off his jacket and shirt. “You can stitch me up if you want, but I don’t want any of your quack medicine,” he growled.
“You’re bleeding.” She spoke in the same no-nonsense tone Tremaine always used. “I’m going to stop it.”
“Not now. I need to know some things. When you were kidnapped, how many men were in the gang that captured you? I was just wondering if Brody was the last – goddammit!” He ended on a hiss as she peeled his shirt sleeve away from where it had stuck to his skin.
“Shhh. I’m going to have to cut this off with the scissors.”
“Would you just stay put and listen?” He grabbed her arm with his good hand, holding her tightly. “Those shots fired at me and Jace – someone wanted to kill us, but the fog got in the way. I don’t see how Brody could have gotten that far ahead of us, being as he was in a wagon.”
“He probably ditched the wagon somewhere along the way.” Her dark brows pulled together at the sight of his wound. “This is a mess.”
“How many men kidnapped you?”
“Three. Bushy Eyebrows, Jeb, and Brody. Jeb killed Bushy Eyebrows that first night.”
“And we found Jeb by Fool’s Falls, so they’re all dead except Brody. Brody must be the ringleader then.”
“Let me get the scissors.” She pulled his fingers off her arm and busied herself behind the shop’s counter. Harrison leaned back in the chair, studying her through slitted eyes. Was she keeping something from him? He didn’t like to think so. And why would she anyway? She wanted to capture those murdering renegades as much as he did.
Yet something didn’t add up.
“How’s Jace?” Miracle asked when she returned with the scissors, some strips of cotton bandages, and several bottles of concoctions Harrison didn’t like the looks of.
“Alive and well and apparently un –” He sucked air between his teeth as Miracle was forced to jerk the last bit of cloth away from his wounds before cutting the material away. “God Almighty, woman!”
“The bullet cut through your upper arm,” she said, eyeing the profusely bleeding area. “I’m going to have to squeeze the juice out of this tamarack bark and make a – “
“Stop it,” he demanded, grabbing her arm once more. “I want a description of Brody, as best as you can remember.”
“I’ve already told Sheriff Raynor –”
“Tell me.” Miracle glanced toward the fire, and Harrison noticed her swollen cheek again. “I’m going to kill that bastard for touching you,” he said flatly. “And anyone else who tries to do the same.”
Miracle should have been either annoyed by his proprietary tone – he didn’t own her, after all – or pleased. At least it was proof he cared in some way. But what she felt was panic. For all she knew, Blue could be waiting somewhere, listening, marking Harrison for death. “He was white,” she said. “With a dirty beard and stinking breath.”
“Sounds like half the men at the Half Moon.”
Miracle snorted as she swabbed at his cut with some carbolic acid. Harrison clamped his teeth together so tight
ly she thought he’d surely break them.
“I’ve got some brandy upstairs,” she said. “While I crush the tamarack, I want you to drink some and lie down. Don’t argue. It’ll give you the most strength.”
“And where do you propose I lie down?”
“You can use my bed. It’s just a cot, really, but it’s comfortable.”
“No. As soon as I’m back together, I’m going after Brody.”
“You can wait till morning,” Miracle argued.
“Brody’s not waiting. And he’s got a woman with him. Did you forget that?”
Miracle swallowed. No, she hadn’t forgotten. “Let Sheriff Raynor catch him. You need to rest.”
“The hell I do!” He glared at her, especially at the curve of her hip and tiny waist as she stood behind him and the fire, her lithe body silhouetted through her nightgown. If she didn’t move she was going to distract him for sure, and this time he wasn’t about to be distracted.
“Then stay put long enough for me to dress your wound.”
She moved to the shelves, reaching up to grab the jar of tamarack bark. Harrison’s eyes followed her, but when she glanced back he jerked around, scowling at the embers.
She took her own sweet time pounding the damn bark into juice. A person could die waiting for her kind of doctoring.
“Aren’t you finished yet?” he demanded irritably.
“Nearly.” She poured some of the tamarack juice onto a bandage and brought it to him, wrapping the bandage around his arm ever so slowly until the juice no longer seeped through. Harrison sat perfectly still, his jaw set. His nerves were on edge. When she leaned back to reach for the scissors her breasts touched his arm.
“There.” She eyed her handiwork critically. “No, wait!” she commanded when he made to rise. “You could use a dose of brandy.”
“Miracle, what the hell are you doing?”
She stiffened at his cool tone. “I’d like to bind that arm to your chest. It would keep it still.”
“The hell it would. I need this arm tonight. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to keep me here.”