The low fire illuminated the small cabin, but Ida lit a few more candles and lamps so she could see his injured body clearly. She’d worked as a nurse during the tail end of the war, and though that was six years and a thousand miles away, Ida had never forgotten her training. Her hands still remembered how to remove the bloody, dirty clothes, how to pull the needle through the skin, how to clean and bandage. She could do it with her eyes closed and knew how to distance herself from the man she was caring for.
Ida looked at his naked, bruised, stained body without passion. She noted with surprise that his wound was bandaged, and as she slowly cut the rags from him she realized that wherever he had been before, he had been well cared for. Whoever had doctored him had done so with a fine eye and a careful hand; however, the exposure to the elements and the hard journey back to her cabin had reopened the wound and he was bleeding thickly through the stitches. It looked like he had been pierced by shrapnel, not hit with a bullet.
With infinite gentleness, she began to bathe him, cleaning away the filth. She winced when she discovered broken ribs as she rubbed his chest and sides. Fortunately, the bones hadn’t punctured his lungs. Bruises marred his chest, arms, and legs. Some were fresher than others. His lips were dried and cracked, his eye swollen shut.
She worked diligently, cleaning him and then pouring the whisky over his wound. It was a bottle she had bought in anticipation of Liam’s arrival last spring and had stored in a cupboard behind the flour. Untouched. She wrapped his chest tightly, and then stitched the bleeding hole in his shoulder. She winced in sympathetic pain and was grateful that he remained unconscious, for his sake.
Once the grim work of cleaning, binding, and patching was done, Ida sat back on her heels and took a deep breath. She finally allowed herself a moment to study his parts in whole. He was small in stature. Short, thin, but even in his sleep, his muscles were flexed and hard. He had a handsome face, strong features and high cheekbones. His hair was a curly mess, stiff with sweat and dirt. Ida couldn’t allow herself to admit that he was attractive—she quickly changed the direction of her train of thought.
Ida knew he would be most comfortable on the bed, but she was too exhausted to carry him there. Instead, she decided to make him as comfortable as possible on the floor. She put a large pillow under his head and covered him with two of her spare quilts. Ranger watched with curiosity, staying out of her way until she had the strange man carefully tucked under the blankets, then he curled up against his side.
“Ranger, get away from him…he doesn’t need you smashing his ribs.”
Ranger didn’t move and the man didn’t stir. The mutt stared up at her with big brown eyes, panting, and it almost looked like he was smiling. Ida didn’t have the heart to make him move. Besides, the extra body heat from the dog wouldn’t hurt, as long as he didn’t try to lie on top of him.
Ida blew out the candles and turned down the lamps. In the darkness, she could easily hear the injured man’s breathing. It was comforting, in its own way. Steady. In and out. Ranger whined a bit in his sleep and settled down. Ida stood in the middle of the cabin for long, cold minutes and just listened to him. The evidence of another human life in her home. The temporary reassurance that she wasn’t alone, even if he was an unconscious stranger.
Ida broke from her stupor and changed into her entirely proper, uncomfortable, scratchy, wool nightgown. She kept her eyes open long enough to brush out her dirty and snarled hair. Even though it hardly made a difference, she kept up the small rituals and customs that her mother had taught her. A hundred strokes with the brush every night before she went to bed, even if her hair was filthy and hung in lifeless strands around her face. She scrubbed her face and her hands while her eyes slowly fell shut.
She climbed into bed and made plans for the next day. She would cook a stew. Stew was good. She needed to finish the potatoes, and it was time to check the smokehouse. She needed to go into the city, too, and buy some cloth, but she wouldn’t want to leave her patient alone. That errand would have to wait.
She hoped the man would heal before winter set in because she just didn’t think she’d have enough food to feed more than one mouth. Especially if the other mouth was a grown, sick man who would need the sustenance…
Ida didn’t have the energy left to worry and fret. Her eyes fell heavily, her breathing deepened, and sweet sleep overtook her.
Chapter Two
Ida woke up before the sun peaked over the mountains. The sky was gray and the cabin was dim and cool. She sat up, blinking the sleep from her eyes and the fog out of her brain. The night before had a blurry, dream-like quality, and a part of her couldn’t believe that she had found an injured man in the grove. It was almost like he had been dropped from heaven…alone, with no tracks around him and no sign of a horse. She sighed, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.
The fire burned low, just red embers, and Ranger was still curled against the sleeping man. He didn’t look unconscious anymore. The blanket she had pulled up to his chin was pushed down around his waist, and his pale, bruised skin was covered in goose bumps. Ida shivered as she crawled out of bed and her bare feet hit the cold, packed dirt. She immediately bustled to his side and checked his pulse. It was stronger.
Ida checked his bandage, pleased to see that the bleeding had stopped. A bit of color had returned to his cheeks and already a few of the older bruises had faded until they were almost gone. She wasn’t surprised to see how much a good night’s sleep in a warm and safe place helped him recover. She repositioned the blanket high around his neck, and her knuckles brushed against the smooth skin on his face. She paused and let her fingers linger on his warm face for a few seconds before she straightened and carefully put more wood on the fire.
Ida had no choice but to continue as though it was business as usual. Ranger yelped for food, and she absently put a plate of scraps in front of him, admonishing him to be quiet. She considered putting on a dress, but she just didn’t feel like dealing with a long, heavy skirt. Instead she pulled on an old pair of Liam’s pants that she had hemmed and patched months ago for this very purpose.
She pulled several potatoes and an onion out of the bin and began washing, peeling, and cutting. Once she had breakfast sizzling on the stove, she decided to go out to where she had found him and pick up his saddlebags. He may have something valuable, or at least something that would give her a clue of who he was and what had happened to him
“Okay dog, I’m going to go out and gather the eggs and get his saddlebags. I’ll be right back.”
Ranger thumped his tail in response and Ida ignored the loneliness that rolled over her. Ranger didn’t care that she had chores to do before breakfast. God, it had been so long since she had had a real conversation that she was treating the dog like a close, personal friend. It was too depressing to think about.
The potatoes sizzled in the oil and her stomach grumbled. Before stepping out the door, she tossed a little bit of bacon into the pan. Almost immediately, the cabin filled with the intoxicating smell of smoky bacon fat. Her mouth watered and she hurried out of the house to complete her chores as quickly as possible.
Ida made a quick stop at the hen house and gathered all the eggs after throwing them a handful or two of corn. The fresh, crisp air woke her up completely, and she didn’t pause to admire the beautiful dawn. The sky was a mellow red blanket above the mountains.
Despite the short hem, the cuffs of her pants were wet with dew by the time she returned to the cabin, holding the bowl of eggs close to her, with the bags swung over her shoulders. Her stomach growled again when the salty, greasy smell of her breakfast hit her nose, and she decided she’d fry the eggs as well.
“Can I have a few of those eggs?”
Ida jumped so hard that several of said eggs bounced out of the bowl and shattered on the floor. She growled with frustration and bent to gather the broken shells, but Ranger rushed over to offer his service as the Official Floor Cleaner. Angry, she looked ov
er at the man; he was sitting up, his face still drawn. A pair of the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen was looking back, studying her just as closely as she had examined him.
Ida took a deep breath and tried to chase the surprised anger out of her voice. “How long have you been awake?”
“A few minutes.” He looked around the cabin and yawned widely. “Where am I?”
“Salt Lake,” she answered shortly.
His tongue darted out and licked his lips. “Oh. Who are you?”
Ida raised her eyebrow and responded with a question of her own. “Who are you?”
“Kelly.”
“Interesting name.”
Her heart pounded loudly in her ears. She felt oddly nervous now that he was awake, and it dawned on her for the first time that a strange man was sleeping in her house and nobody knew. Not a soul in the valley knew this person even existed, and if anything happened to her, nobody would think to come and check on her. She eyed the gun above the fireplace, and the second one besides the door and it brought her a modicum of comfort.
Kelly had followed the movement of her eyes, and now he smiled stiffly. “Don’t worry about that. I can barely move. Who are you?”
“Ida.”
“I like it,” he announced, as though she was waiting for his approval.
Ida wiped her hands on her pants, still vaguely nervous, and shifted the conversation away from her. “Are you hungry?”
“A bit.”
Ida looked down at the now clean floor and Ranger’s satisfied face. He looked at her with bright brown eyes as if to say, “can I have some more”?
“All I have are some fried potatoes…”
“I’m not in the position to be picky,” he said dryly as he gingerly rubbed the bandage on his shoulder. The blanket slipped a bit and exposed his chest again.
Ida averted her eyes and moved to the stove to stir the food and save it from burning. Now that he was awake and asking for food in an even voice, she couldn’t really think of him as a patient and she didn’t feel comfortable staring at his half-naked body. He didn’t speak, but she could feel his eyes on her back. She could imagine the picture she made, in Liam’s old work clothes with her hair haphazardly pinned back. Not that it mattered what he thought of her.
“Where’s your man?” He finally asked.
Annoyed at his direct question, she snapped, “California.” She didn’t elaborate because it wasn’t any of his business. He didn’t take the hint though.
“He left you here all by yourself?”
Ida piled a plate high with the fried bits of potatoes and bacon and quickly scrambled the remaining eggs in the hot pan. “He’ll be back.”
Kelly didn’t answer. Ida didn’t know what else to say. He sounded fine. In fact, he didn’t sound like he had two broken ribs and an awful shoulder wound. It was probably just bravado. She’d let him eat in peace so he could drop the façade and perhaps get some more rest. Ida walked over and handed him the plate without a word. He accepted it with a nod of his head.
“Aren’t you eating?” He asked, around a mouthful of burning hot potatoes.
“I’m fine.”
At another place, another time, she suspected Kelly might have been a gentleman and insist that he didn’t want to eat her food, that he was fine, that she should have something. But it wasn’t another place or time, and he was probably famished. Ida eyed him critically. It looked like he hadn’t eaten in days, maybe weeks. And he really packed it in, too. Ida watched with some interest and a bit of horror as he wolfed down the food. Okay, he is not going to be staying the winter. We’d be out of food after a week. Hope he doesn’t ask for more…
“How is your shoulder?” She asked when he lifted his head from the plate with a sigh of satisfaction.
“Hurts.”
“Ribs?”
“Same.”
This was followed by a tense silence between them. Ida shrugged. It wasn’t her job to be sociable and chatty. She’d saved his life and fed him breakfast, which should be more than enough.
“I have to go work now,” she announced, “I’ll be back in a few hours. You should get some sleep.”
“You work this place by yourself?” He sounded politely curious.
“Yes. I have to, or I’d starve.”
“Fair enough. How big is it?”
“Twenty acres. There’s a bucket of water, and wood in case the fire goes down,” she informed him as she headed to the door.
It wasn’t until after she was outside and half way to the field that she realized she had left him on the floor. The hard, cold floor. He’d probably get cramps if she left him there all day. Sighing, she turned around and headed back to the house. It would only take a few minutes to help him to the bed anyway, not a big deal.
She opened the door quietly and Kelly didn’t hear her. He was lying down again, affectionately petting Ranger’s head, and in return, the dog was frantically licking Kelly’s hand and face. He didn’t seem to mind. She heard him muttering, his tone soft with traces of pain. Ida couldn’t catch everything he said, just bits and pieces.
“You’re a good dog…yes you are…what’s she doing out here by herself, huh? This is no place for…God my ribs hurt…should have been out of here by now…or dead. Probably dead. Maybe I really did make a deal with the devil…”
Ida stepped in then and he caught her movement out of the corner of his eye.
“Back so soon?”
“I left you on the floor,” Ida explained.
“So?”
She rolled her eyes. Each second he spent arguing with her was one less second she had to work. “Do you want to stay on the floor?”
“I don’t mind,” he answered mildly.
“Sit up.” She walked over to him and gently grabbed his arm. “Can you stand up?”
“Ida, really, I’m fine,” Kelly insisted, without any real force.
“Just give me your hand.”
Kelly didn’t protest again, just curled his fingers around her hand. They were slightly calloused and rough. On the count of three, she pulled him to his feet. He leaned against her heavily, swaying on his feet. She braced herself and kept him upright, patiently waiting for him to steady himself. When he was ready, she took small steps towards the bed, and he dragged his feet along. She was surprised again by how light he was, and she wondered if he was surprised by how strong she was. She got him into the bed without any trouble and pulled the blanket over him.
“Where are you going to sleep?” Kelly asked.
“I’ll make do.” She looked around the room. “There are some books, if you grow bored. And if you know how to…” She cut her words off at his look.
“I know how to read,” he snapped.
She held up her hands, not interested in fighting or placating him. “Great. I’ll be back later.” She sauntered out the door and into the cool morning air.
* * * *
Kelly frowned as he watched her go. She could have been beautiful, but it was too hard to tell through the grime and tired lines on her face. Plus it didn’t help that she was wearing a man’s clothes. He couldn’t quite figure her. She offered her skills, her food, and her bed to him, and yet she seemed to be rather cold and indifferent. Kelly was definitely intrigued by her.
Besides being intrigued, he was in a lot of pain. He ached all over, his muscles throbbed, and his shoulder had started to bleed again. There was a nearly empty bottle of whiskey on the table, across the room, and his mouth was dry with craving. His tongue was parched and swollen, his lips chapped, his throat burning. He drank the tepid water she left him, but it wasn’t nearly enough to sate his thirst.
The long morning dragged by in a haze of agony and discomfort. He couldn’t remember anything of the day before or even the day before that. The last thing he remembered was hearing the news that the sheriff’s posse was coming for him and he had to get out of town as soon as possible. He barely had time to pack and flee before the new sheriff rod
e up to Annie’s house and pounded on the door.
He remembered telling her that he would stay and fight. He didn’t want to run again, but she had children in the house and he didn’t want to put them in danger. His horse was tired and thin…what happened to his horse? Kelly hoped the old nag had simply run off and found a nice place to graze and grow old and fat. He suspected the reality wasn’t quite as idyllic. The poor old mare had probably staggered forward until she had laid down in exhaustion, leaving him to fend for himself. He really couldn’t remember.
Kelly also didn’t know how he had made it to Salt Lake City. When he left Colorado, he was traveling west and south, hoping to make it to Mexico. But the Salt Lake Valley was west and north.
His disorientation, his faulty memory, his lack of transportation, and his serious wounds all added up to one thing. He was damned lucky Ida found him. Even if she was an odd girl and a little closed off.
Ida came in around one and started dinner, pausing long enough to give him some meat and check his bandage. She was silent the entire time she worked, and Kelly couldn’t help but wonder if she was naturally this distant or if it was just him. He wanted to talk to her, but she made it clear that she was only interested in getting back out to the fields. The only thing she said to him the entire time she was in the house was, “I can finish the potatoes today.”
Kelly wasn’t even entirely sure what that meant. But she looked happy about it, so he smiled back. Her face was pinched and tired, and Kelly hoped that he could at least get an answering grin out of her. But she only ignored his smile and went about her business.
He would have read to pass the afternoon hours, but it hurt too much to concentrate on the words. Everything was just too hard. He tried to sleep, but the constant waves of pain through his shoulder and back kept him wide awake. He welcomed the rolling agony, though. Each throbbing minute that passed reminded him he was alive. He tried to play with the dog, but Ranger lost interest in him and went outside to explore and chase squirrels and play in the weakening sun.
New Frontier Page 2