Picking up the canteen, he opened the cap. His blue eyes, steely once again, never left her face as he began to pour water over the wound. To Jordana, it felt more like a knife raking over the wound rather than liquid.
She gritted her teeth, determined not to let him see how much it hurt. Her head began to spin, however, and fighting to stay conscious, Jordana blinked hard several times.
“Why did you want to circle around?” he asked as he worked. “You could have found a way to avoid the battle completely.”
“I was . . . going to help my friend. . . .” She had begun to feel faint, but the thought of Caitlan revived her a little.
“That was a fool thing to do.”
“Is Caitlan all right?” Jordana asked.
“Sure she is.”
Jordana wondered how he could know, since he had been with her. She was deciding whether to trust him when he continued.
“So who are you and how’d you end up out here?”
She guessed he was trying to distract her and help her remain alert. Thinking it a good idea, she tried to keep up her end of the conversation, though at times her voice sounded far away in her ears. “My name is Jordana Baldwin,” she said, her voice raspy. “I’m here with my brother. He’s a photographer.” She was breathing in shallow, rapid breaths. “We’re taking pictures of the area.”
“In the middle of a war?” he asked in disbelief.
She moaned in spite of her attempt to mask her pain. “It’s a job.”
“Stupid job, if you ask me.”
“Well, I didn’t.” She gasped for breath as he swabbed her arm with a cloth.
“Try to relax. I know this isn’t comfortable, but the wound’s really not all that bad.”
“According to you,” she muttered.
“Captain!” a man called.
“Over here,” answered Jordana’s rescuer.
Jordana looked at the man and fought to keep her vision from blurring. “You’re a captain?”
“That’s right.” He reached into his pack and took out a blue bottle.
“Captain!” A young man with a freckled face and red hair halted a foot away. Jordana watched as he gave a quick salute. “Two of them are dead, sir. We have the rest. The other woman is unharmed.”
“What about Newt Barnes?”
“Wounded, sir.”
“Get them secured and on their horses. We’ll deposit the women with the young man we met on the other side of the bend.”
“Yes, sir!” The soldier did a quick about-face and hurried to do as ordered.
Jordana screamed out in pain as the captain poured part of the contents of the blue bottle onto her arm. “That—hurts!” she declared, trying to pull away from his grip.
“I—know,” he replied with the same kind of stilted emphasis on his words that she’d used with hers.
She thought she detected a certain amount of amusement in his tone.
“Just get me back to my brother and he’ll take care of me,” Jordana said.
“I have to stop the bleeding,” he replied very calmly. “It isn’t all that bad of a wound, but it’s bleeding a great deal. We have to stop that or you’ll bleed to death.”
The idea of dying now, after she’d managed to escape Newt and live through the battle, stilled Jordana. She tried to think about anything but the ministerings of the captain, but it wasn’t working very well.
“So how’d you give Barnes the slip?” the man questioned her as he applied pressure to her arm.
Jordana felt her head grow hot. It suddenly seemed as if there were no air. She let her head fall back so that she could open her mouth and draw a breath. It didn’t help and she feared she might faint at any given moment. “I cut . . . my hair,” she finally murmured and lowered her gaze to meet his amused expression.
“You cut your hair?”
“He had a knife and I took it out of his boot.”
“Ah yes. The knife you tried to kill me with,” the captain replied. “You know, you’d have a whole lot better time of knife fighting if you’d keep your eyes open during the actual fight.”
She gave him what she hoped was a look of contempt. “I thought you were going to kill me. I’m still not sure that isn’t your intent.”
He chuckled dryly. “You sure have a temper and a mouth to match.” He checked the wound, seemed satisfied with the results of his work, then started to bandage her arm. “So you cut your hair off? How does that figure in for an escape?”
“He was holding me down on the ground by standing on my hair. I had it braided and it was pretty long. When I pulled his knife, I cut the braid and ran.” She shook her now shoulder-length brown hair back and forth and marveled at the lightness. The movement did nothing whatsoever for her dizziness. Reaching her right hand up to steady her head, she murmured, “I think I’m going to like it short.”
“You look silly,” he told her, then tore the end of the bandage and tied it tightly around her arm. “I know this is tight, but it needs to be. Leave it that way until tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir!” she said, saluting as the young soldier had done. “Any other orders?”
He studied her for a moment, then began putting his things away. “Yes, give me your hand and I’ll help you up—unless you want me to carry you.”
“I’m not an invalid, nor a silly female, as you put it earlier.” Jordana scrambled to her feet. “I can . . . I . . .” But the instant she was in a vertical position, the field spun before her eyes. Helpless, she looked down at the captain, who still knelt beside his pack. Her knees wobbled and gave way just before her world went black. From somewhere in her mind she heard the captain growl something about “aggravating females who never listen” and then she knew no more.
Jordana awoke to feel strong arms around her and a warm chest behind her. Momentarily disoriented, she stiffened, thinking her nightmare with Newt was still going on. In a panic, she twisted around nearly shaking loose the blanket that had been secured around her shoulders. Only then did she realize that though she was atop a horse, the rider behind her was a different man. They were being followed by a half dozen or so other mounted soldiers. She did not see Caitlan with them but remembered one of the soldiers saying she was all right.
“Sit still,” he demanded.
“Where are we?”
“Making our way back to your brother. Now stop squirming around.”
“I am not squirming,” Jordana protested. “I merely woke up to find—”
“You passed out cold, making me nearly break my neck to catch you before you hit the dirt. Had you listened to me in the first place, you might never have taken a swoon.”
“I did not swoon,” Jordana retorted, her mind filled with distasteful visions of helpless young women. “I lost a lot of blood and it made me light-headed.”
He said nothing, but Jordana heard him heave a sigh of disgust. He certainly was a difficult man to get along with. It hardly seemed to matter that she could be just as stubborn.
“Why is it taking so long to get to my brother?” she asked. It seemed they had been riding forever, even if she had been unconscious part of the way. Twisting back around in order to get her bearings, she was startled when the captain jerked her against him.
“Sit still, Miss Baldwin, or I’ll be inclined to discipline you—something that I daresay should have been done long ago.”
Jordana was quite taken aback. “Of all the nerve!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms against her chest. “I’m merely concerned about my brother and my friend. I’m anxious to see that they are well.”
“Your companions are fine. Part of my unit headed back just before us and your friend was with them. We’ll be at your wagon in a few minutes.”
“Were all the bushwhackers captured?”
“That’s right.”
“Were any of your men hurt?”
“That’s kind of you to ask.” He seemed sincere. “As far as I know, they’re all right.”
“I
would have felt terrible if any had been harmed trying to rescue me. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t come along. However, I think I could have done some damage if I’d been forced to. I certainly thought long and hard about it once that knife was in my hands.”
“Good thing you ran instead,” the captain murmured. “You’re not much of a knife fighter.”
“Perhaps I shall learn,” Jordana replied haughtily and turned back to face forward.
They picked their way along the barest hint of a trail, and Jordana prayed it wouldn’t be much farther. The pain in her arm shot upward into her shoulder. She longed for a good long rest and maybe some of her mother’s pain remedies. Smiling at this thought, she relaxed and eased back against the captain. She decided he wasn’t such a bad sort of man. In some ways he reminded her of G.W. with his laughing blue eyes. He wore his gruff exterior much like his uniform, and Jordana wondered if he hoped the attitude would impress people as much as the cavalry garb. But he had tenderly cared for her wound and even wrapped her in a blanket.
She spied the wagon first. “There’s our camp!” she exclaimed, leaning forward.
“And not a moment too soon,” the captain said in sheer frustration.
Several soldiers were already at the campsite. Jordana could see no prisoners, a fact she was quite thankful for. She hoped never to lay eyes on Newt and his gang again. But she was extremely happy to see Brenton and Caitlan standing in the midst of the camp.
“Brenton! Caitlan!” Jordana cried as they approached the wagon in single file.
“Jordana! Thank God!” Brenton rushed forward and reached his arms up as the captain came to a stop. Jordana was shocked to see his face all black-and-blue and his nose swollen from the kick he had received earlier.
Jordana went eagerly into his arms, fussing about his appearance and forgetting her own pain. “Brenton, what have they done to you! Oh, you look terrible.”
“Thanks,” Brenton said with a lopsided grin. “Good to see you too.” He then extended his hand to the captain, who was still mounted. “My name is Brenton Baldwin. I’m grateful for what you’ve done here today.” They shook hands. “I’m sure we would all be dead now but for you and your men.”
“We’ve been chasing this particular gang of bushwhackers all over the Kansas and Missouri border,” the captain replied. “They’re a deadly bunch. They kill pretty much at will and don’t much need a reason. Your sister and her friend are lucky to be alive.”
“I see your shirt is covered with blood. Are you wounded?” Brenton asked.
“No, but your sister is. She took a bullet in the left arm. I dressed it as best I could, but you need to be getting her to a doctor. It’s not a bad wound; the bullet appears to have mostly grazed her, but it bled a lot.”
Brenton paled at this news and turned to put his arm around Jordana. “Are you all right?”
She smiled. “I’m fine. Just a bit weak.”
He frowned and for the first time took a closer appraisal of her, noticing the blanket wrapped snugly about her. “What happened to your hair?”
“It’s a long story,” Jordana replied. “I’ll tell you later.”
“I’d like to know your name, sir,” Brenton said, looking up at the captain. “It’s important to know who one has to thank for these kinds of things.”
The soldier nodded. “Captain Richard O’Brian,” he replied. “I’ve just been transferred to Fort Leavenworth from Larned. I’m heading up a unit of mounted volunteers in a campaign to quell the border wars.”
“And would you be Irish, then?” Caitlan asked.
“On my father’s side, but his people came to this country a few generations ago. I had a great-grandfather who fought in the Revolutionary War.”
“On the side of the colonies or the British?” Jordana asked tartly.
A smile lightened O’Brian’s stern features. “Actually, he was one of George Washington’s officers.”
“Well, you have done him proud, then,” Brenton replied. “And I won’t hesitate to write letters to the proper authorities and let them know of our gratitude for what you’ve done this day.”
The captain touched the brim of his forage cap. “I’m glad we came in time.” He turned in the saddle and motioned his men forward. “Now I must take my leave. I need to see our prisoners back to the fort.”
“Certainly,” Brenton replied.
“Oh, and not to be telling you your business,” O’Brian said, locking his gaze with Jordana’s, “but don’t be letting your sister tell you she doesn’t need to be seen by the doctor.”
Brenton laughed. “I see you got to know my sister rather well out there.”
O’Brian’s expression never changed, but he nodded and replied, “I’m glad to be only dealing with the likes of outlaws.”
“I resent that remark,” Jordana said, pushing away from Brenton’s steadying hold. “I didn’t cause you any more grief than . . . than—” Her vision blurred again, but she was bound and determined not to pass out. “I wasn’t any trouble . . .” she managed to say before she began to sway on her feet. Brenton quickly supported her from behind.
“Godspeed to you, Captain O’Brian,” Brenton replied. “I’m sure we both have our work cut out for us.”
The troopers rode on. Brenton turned Jordana in his arms. “So have you finally had enough of adventure?”
She smiled weakly and reached up to touch his battered face. “Have you?”
“I’m not the one who craved adventure. I merely wanted to explore the nation and take photographs.”
“And that’s not adventure?” Caitlan gave Brenton a coy grin.
“I suppose it is a form of adventure, but you know my sister. She seems to thrive on putting herself in danger. Now let’s get you inside the wagon and then I’ll hitch up the horses.”
“No, you tend to Jordana and I’ll hitch the horses,” Caitlan said softly. “After all, I’ve not had anything but my pride injured today.”
“Your pride?” Jordana and Brenton said at the same time.
“Aye,” Caitlan replied, smiling. “That outlaw Jake said he liked a woman with a good broad backside.” She shrugged. “Never really saw meself from behind, so I was always supposin’ it wasn’t that bad.”
Jordana laughed. “It’s not, Caitlan. I certainly wouldn’t be worrying about the opinions of those mangy outlaws. Would you say her backside is too broad, Brenton?”
Brenton flushed crimson at this. “I hardly think . . . well, that is to say . . .”
Both Jordana and Caitlan burst out laughing at his discomfiture. “Men,” Jordana said, weakly leaning against Brenton’s hold. “Sometimes they can be so peculiar.”
32
“I’ve tried to be very frank with Mr. Thorndike,” Victoria confided in Anna, “but I’m afraid things are a bit out of hand.”
“He knows you’re a married woman?” Anna replied, pouring Victoria a second glass of lemonade.
It was an especially warm July day. Victoria had come to visit her friend in part to escape the oppressive heat in her tiny apartment. But she knew she had also come because she could no longer bear the burden of her crumbling marriage. She desperately needed to talk to someone before things grew any worse.
“Yes, but I fear I’ve led him astray.” Victoria’s voice betrayed her guilt.
Anna smiled sympathetically. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
Victoria nodded. “I’ve longed to tell someone. You were away with Ted in San Francisco, and then Kiernan was leaving for Donner Pass, and there never seemed to be any time to come and have a long talk about the situation.” She paused for a moment to consider her words, then added, “Christopher Thorndike is simply a most persistent man.” She took a long sip of the cool drink and waited for Anna to say something.
“Persistent in what way?”
“He sends me flowers and notes. He pleads with me to meet him for luncheons and dinners. I’ve made it quite clear that such
things are unacceptable and that my husband would never approve, even based on the innocent friendship that Mr. Thorndike swears he is offering.” She hurried on to continue explaining. “He tells me I stand on eastern ceremony and that out here in California, things are much more relaxed.”
“Well, that much is true,” Anna admitted. “But a married woman is still a married woman.”
“That’s what I told him, but he insisted that even a married woman is entitled to friendship with other men, and that this was all he was asking of me.”
Anna frowned. “I really don’t know much about the man. Ted says he’s contributed heavily to the Central Pacific, but that his main interest is in importing oriental treasures and oddities.”
Victoria wished she could tell Anna everything, but she couldn’t come to terms with her own feelings, much less try to explain them to Anna. She enjoyed Thorndike’s attention. She tried not to, but the truth was the truth. Thorndike recognized her neediness and took advantage of it. And Victoria was not so very naïve that she didn’t realize there would one day be a full reckoning for all of his attentions and gifts.
“I wish I knew what to do,” Victoria murmured. “But short of joining Kiernan at Dutch Flat, I don’t know how to avoid the man. And frankly . . .” She paused, considering what she was about to say.
“Yes?”
Victoria swallowed her guilt and replied, “Frankly, I’m not always sure I want to avoid his attention.” There! She had said it.
Anna smiled. “Attention is something we seem to thrive on as a matter of human nature. Kiernan’s not around to give it, and I’ve been preoccupied with other things. You naturally longed for a friend, and Thorndike presented himself as one. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Victoria knew that if her feelings stopped at accepting friendship from Thorndike, then there would be nothing wrong. But she was dreadfully fearful that if she looked deep inside, she might well be thinking of Thorndike in some way other than that of a friend.
“I’m a Christian woman,” she told Anna miserably. “I shouldn’t have to struggle with this. I must be doing something wrong.”
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