“Don’t blame yourself, George. Accidents happen.” After Morgan finished cleaning Rose’s face, he placed the bandana on Rose’s wound again. “Keep an eye on her, George. I’ll look around for your rifle, and find a branch we can use for a splint.”
“Sure thing,” George replied.
Morgan pinpointed the location where George had jumped from the wagon, and it didn’t take him long before he located the Winchester in the brush.
“Well, at least we won’t be unarmed,” George said when Morgan came back carrying his rifle along with a sturdy limb for a splint. “You think they are really headed to Mexico?”
“They’d better find a good hiding place in Mexico. I won’t bother with a hanging next time. I’ll shoot them on sight.” Morgan checked the rifle to make sure it was loaded.
Murph returned leading two horses, and the other men joined them, carrying all the luggage they could find.
Clay Hunt handed Morgan his pistol. “I don’t normally carry a weapon.”
Morgan thought it was an odd comment, but he didn’t question him. “We have one pistol and one rifle if we need to defend ourselves.”
George pointed to one of the valises. “That one is mine.” Morgan handed George the bag so he could retrieve his whiskey.
“Murph, George said the next home station is twenty miles away. I want you and Grady to go. Send a telegraph to the sheriff’s office telling them of our whereabouts, and that Frank and his gang are on the loose. Bring back a buckboard so we can get George and Miss Langtry out of here.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out some money. “Take this with you to pay the stationmaster for the horses and the use of a buckboard.”
“His name is Ward Barnett. He’ll help you any way he can,” George said before he took a long draw from the whiskey bottle.
“George, before you start feeling the whiskey, tell the men if there are any areas where they could be ambushed, just in case Frank was lying about Mexico,” Morgan said.
After George detailed the route, Morgan walked the men to their horses. “Murph, ride as fast as you dare.” He handed Murph the pistol. “Take this in case Frank and his men didn’t head to Mexico.”
“We’ll be back as soon as possible,” Murph said. “I’m sorry I took that man’s word that he wasn’t carrying.”
“Don’t worry about it, Murph. He paid for his lie with his life.”
* * *
Morgan asked his men to bury the deceased passenger with rocks while he tended George. It was near dusk when they finished their tasks, and they were preparing a fire when Morgan saw Rose move.
He bent down on one knee beside her and waited for her to open her eyes. “Hello.”
Rose blinked several times in an effort to focus on the dark eyes boring into hers. Her head hurt so badly that her vision was blurred. She started to sit, but she clutched her ribs in pain. “What happened?”
“The stagecoach broke an axle and went tumbling over the hill. I’m afraid you have a nasty gash on your head.” Morgan pointed to her head. “That’s the reason I bandaged your head.”
She reached up and felt the cloth, but even that small motion made her grimace in pain.
Morgan was watching her intently. “And judging by the way you’re holding your ribs, I’d say a couple of them might be busted.”
Rose looked into his eyes, trying to comprehend everything he was saying. “Frankie?”
“He’s alive.”
“What about everyone else?”
“George has a broken leg, but he’ll be fine. We lost one passenger.”
“Pastor Hunt?”
Morgan saw she was getting teary eyed. “Pastor . . .” Clay Hunt hadn’t mentioned he was a pastor. He didn’t look much like a pastor. “He’s alive.”
“Thank goodness, he is such a fine man,” she said.
“You need to drink some water.” Morgan held her head and placed the canteen to her lips.
She took a small sip, then asked, “Where are we?”
“We’re about twenty miles from the next station. I’ve sent my men to get a buckboard.”
Rose glanced around, but she didn’t see Frankie. “Where’s Frankie?”
“I’m afraid your brother got the drop on us, and he took off with his boys.” He didn’t mention that her big brother had been planning on killing her along with the rest of them.
She tried to sit up, but Morgan stopped her when he saw her wince and clutch her ribs again. “There’s nothing to be done about it now. You don’t need to be moving about if you have busted ribs.”
“But why did he leave? He was going to have a chance to prove he did nothing wrong.”
Morgan remained silent, allowing her to think through her question on her own. She hadn’t been inclined to take his word about her lying brother earlier, so he didn’t think anything he said would make a difference.
“Where do you think they would go?”
“He said to Mexico.”
“I guess he thought he wouldn’t be able to prove his innocence.”
Morgan ground his teeth together to keep from saying what he thought. He couldn’t discuss Frank with a woman who refused to face the truth. “We need to get those ribs bandaged.”
Her eyes widened. “You can’t bandage my ribs.”
“Of course I can. I’ve done it many times.” He’d had a few broken ribs and he knew how painful they were.
Rose frowned at him. “I mean, it wouldn’t be proper.”
“Proper or not, I’m going to wrap those ribs.” He didn’t dare mention that he’d already checked her legs to see if she had any broken bones.
“Absolutely not. I can’t allow you to do that.”
“We can either find a way to get you out of that getup, or I’ll cut it off with my knife. Your choice, but I’m going to wrap your ribs. When the buckboard gets here you can’t be jostling around without them wrapped, or you could make matters worse. Not to mention, you probably couldn’t stand the pain.”
She knew he was right; just taking a breath was painful. She looked around and saw the men sitting by the fire not far away. “But they will see.”
One side of Morgan’s mouth tilted in a half grin. “I assure you they’ve seen women before.”
“Not undressed.”
Morgan arched a dark brow at her.
Rose felt her face getting warm. She tried to think of an alternative to Morgan LeMasters helping her out of her dress to wrap her ribs. “Perhaps you could wrap the bandage over my dress.”
“No, that won’t work. It needs to be tight.”
She reasoned that Pastor Hunt, even though he was about the same age as Mr. LeMasters, and quite attractive, was a devout man who wouldn’t be inclined to have carnal thoughts seeing a woman in a state of undress. Accepting the fact that she agreed with Morgan that it was necessary for her ribs to be wrapped, she said, “Perhaps Pastor Hunt could do it then.”
That rankled Morgan. She didn’t really know Hunt, so why was she so willing to let him see her undressed? “I’m not sure he’s wrapped ribs before, and it’s easy to get the bandage too tight. If you do, then you have to do it all over again. You wouldn’t want that.”
Rose gave him an indignant glare. “I should say not. I just thought that since he’s a pastor . . . well, he wouldn’t . . .” She had no idea how to explain her thinking, so the words hung in the air between them.
Morgan waited. He knew what she was thinking, and he didn’t hesitate to let her know how misguided she was. “He’s a man, isn’t he?” When she didn’t respond, he turned to walk away. “I’ll be right back.”
He reached the fire and saw George was sound asleep. The whiskey did its job. Maybe he should give some of that whiskey to Rose to calm her down. He asked the men to take a walk for a few minutes while he tended Rose. “And don’t mention her brother wanted to shoot her.” Considering everything she’d been through today, he didn’t want to make matters worse. She probably wouldn’t believe them anywa
y.
The men nodded.
“Do you need help?” Clay asked.
“I think I can handle it,” Morgan replied, as he picked up a petticoat from the stack of clothing the men collected earlier.
He walked back to Rose and held up her petticoat. “I’m afraid I had to use one of these when I set George’s leg. It was all I could find to wrap the splint.”
“I don’t mind.”
Once he finished tearing the strips of cloth, he said, “Okay, let’s get you out of your dress.”
Rose still wasn’t inclined to undress in front of him. “I am wearing a corset and it is tied quite snug.”
Morgan hadn’t thought about that. Still, he wasn’t sure it would take the place of a bandage. “That might work, but I’ll have to make sure it’s tight enough.”
Rose allowed him to lift her to her feet, and he gingerly removed her jacket. Her dress had tiny little buttons down the front, from the neck to the waist, but she quickly realized it was too painful for her to unbutton them when she tried to lift her arms.
Morgan saw the problem and he said, “Let me.” His big hands made it difficult for him to unfasten such small buttons, and he was tempted to use his knife and slice the things off, but he kept at the task, determined to get it done. By the tenth button, he was getting a little faster. He’d placed one finger behind the buttons to keep them from moving, but that also meant he was touching her chemise beneath her dress.
Rose kept her head down, watching his every move. No man had ever touched her, or removed her clothing. It was very disconcerting to feel his large fingers beneath the cloth, touching her skin.
Morgan was just about to reach the buttons at her bust and his fingers stilled. He glanced at her face to see her staring up at him. He wondered what she was thinking. He hesitated. Go about this like you would if you were tending one of the men, he told himself. He searched her green eyes another second, waiting for an objection. None came. Refocusing on the long row of buttons, he continued on.
Finally, he unhooked the last button, and he slid her dress from her shoulders, allowing it to drop to her waist. He could see her corset beneath the flimsy material of her chemise.
“Wouldn’t my corset work for a bandage?”
Morgan pointed to her chemise and said, “Do you think you could hold this up so I can see how tight it is?”
Rose knew her face was blood red by now. When she saw his eyes on her chemise, she couldn’t read his expression. She was so embarrassed she couldn’t form a response, so she nodded. Clutching a handful of the soft cloth, she held it snuggly beneath her breasts.
He couldn’t really see the top of the corset, but he did notice that it was made in such a way that it cupped her breasts. It was impossible for him to slide his finger inside the top of the corset without touching her breast. Instead, he moved around to her back, and stuck his hand between her skin and the corset. “I don’t think it’s tight enough.” The corset was already tied as tightly as possible, but it was too loose on her. “I don’t think this is going to work.” Without waiting for a response, he started untying the laces on her corset. He was tempted to ask how she’d tied it behind her back. Once it was untied, he removed the corset and tossed it on the luggage. Again, his eyes were on her chemise. He couldn’t ask her to remove the only thing covering her. It was so soft and thin that it was barely covering her at that.
“Okay, if you’ll keep that”—he pointed to her chemise—“up under . . . I’ll wrap the bandage around you.” He saw she had a death grip on the chemise, preventing it from moving an inch.
His fingers touched her skin as he started wrapping the cloth, causing her to jump. Morgan stopped and looked at her. “Did that hurt?”
“No,” she whispered.
He made quick work of wrapping the long strip around her, all the while trying not to pay too much attention to her bare skin, or how soft it was. It was proving difficult to pretend she was one of the men. She was so small that he wrapped the cloth around her several times. He tried to think of something to say to put her at ease. “This will keep you from hurting every time you take a breath.” He tied the ends of the cloth. “Now tell me if I have it too tight.”
Rose took a tentative breath. He had tied it much tighter than her corset. “No, I don’t think so.”
Satisfied with her response, he helped her slide her arms back into her sleeves and buttoned her up again. “Are you hungry? We have a small amount of food and some coffee.”
“Coffee sounds wonderful, if there is enough.”
After he helped her to the small fire they’d built to warm the coffee, he placed a bedroll on the ground to make it more comfortable for her. Once she eased down on the bedroll, he placed a valise behind her so she could lean back. From his experience, he knew it was the most comfortable position.
“Thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She watched him walk away. She’d recognized him earlier that morning by his walk. He moved like a supremely confident man. It was difficult to believe that she’d just allowed the man who had scared her to death for so many years to not only undress her, but tend to her. He didn’t seem to be as terrible as Frankie led her to believe. As a matter of fact, he’d gone out of his way to help her when he could have easily been angry with her over the turn of events today. Oddly enough, he’d been so gentle that she wondered why she’d ever feared him.
As he’d concentrated on his task of wrapping the bandage around her ribs, she’d had the opportunity to get a good look at his face. Once her sisters were old enough to notice the opposite sex, they would always talk about how attractive Morgan was. It wasn’t until she was thirteen years of age that she started to agree with her sisters.
She thought he was even more handsome now than he was before she’d left Whispering Pines. His skin was tanned to a dark golden bronze, his square jawline was even more defined, he now had a few wrinkles at the outer corners of his dark blue eyes, and the cleft in his chin seemed to have deepened with age. She remembered asking Granny about the dimple in his chin when she was a girl. Granny told her that was where God had touched Morgan. Just as He’d given her green eyes as His special mark, He gave Morgan his special dimple.
Chapter Four
Jack Roper glared at Granny Langtry. “You about finished poking on me?”
Jack started to move off the table, but Granny pushed him back down. “Don’t be giving me your evil eye, Sheriff. It doesn’t scare me.”
“Well, what else is there to poke at?”
Granny ignored him. She placed her hand on Jack’s head and closed her eyes.
Webb couldn’t figure out what she was doing. It was a few minutes before she opened her eyes, and Webb asked, “Is that a new way of taking a temperature?”
Granny frowned at him. “No, that is an old way of asking the Good Lord to help me figure out what is wrong with him.”
“Oh.”
When Granny turned her attention back on the sheriff, Webb rolled his eyes.
“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young man. Make yourself useful and tell me if you kept the slug you dug out of the sheriff’s shoulder.”
Webb was still trying to figure out how she knew what he was doing behind her back. “Now why would I want to keep a used slug?”
“I can’t find anything wrong with the sheriff, but look at these red streaks going down his arm. I’d say his shoulder is infected. I think part of that slug is still in there. That could be the reason for his fever.”
Looking over her shoulder, Webb saw the red lines she was talking about. “What does that mean?”
Granny gave him a sorrowful look. “That means we have to go in there and dig out the piece that is still in there.”
Jack didn’t like the sound of that. “We’ll give it a few days and see what happens. It’ll work itself out.” He made a feeble attempt to move from the examining table again, but Granny placed her small hand on his chest, halting his progress
with surprising strength.
She didn’t soft-pedal her words. “I don’t have to tell you, in a few days we’ll be removing your arm. That is, if you are still alive. You’re burning up as it is.” She could feel the heat emanating from him before she touched him.
Jack wasn’t going to argue with her. Granny had seen her fair share of wounds, and she was a smart old woman. He dropped back to the table on a loud groan. “Dig the dang thing out.”
Granny opened her bag and pulled out some chloroform she’d been given by the town doctor before he died. “I’ll give you a dose of this.”
“No you won’t. Just get to it.”
Granny started to open the bottle. “You don’t have to put on a brave face, this is going to hurt like the devil.”
Jack gave her a hard look. “Put that stuff away, grab your instruments of torture, and let’s get this over with.”
Granny knew that look. “Okay, you stubborn mule.” She motioned for the deputy to come closer. “You stand there in case I need you to hold him down.”
“Webb, go on about your business,” Jack said.
Granny straightened and put her hands on her hips. “Now listen to me, Jack Roper, the deputy stays where he is. I might need his help.”
Webb didn’t want to go against the sheriff’s wishes, but this time he thought Granny was right. “You two are like two bulls squaring off. I’ll stay right here.”
Jack started to object, but he didn’t feel up to arguing. “Do your worst, old woman.”
Picking up her probe, Granny immediately stuck it in the sheriff’s wound. “I might remind you it isn’t polite to call a lady an old woman.”
Jack grimaced as she poked around searching for the offending fragment. Instrument of torture didn’t aptly describe the tool she was using, in his estimation. “You plan on staying in there all day?”
Granny glanced at him, but she wasn’t listening to him. She was concentrating on her undertaking, hoping to feel something that wasn’t quite right. Finally, she grazed something that she didn’t think was bone. “There it is.”
After Granny removed the small metal sliver, she bandaged Jack’s shoulder. She waited for Jack to fall asleep before she talked to the deputy. “Webb, would you pull a chair over here by the sheriff? It’ll be dawn soon, and I’ll sit right here while you go get some breakfast. I’m sure you could use some coffee.” While she was doing her surgery on the sheriff ’s shoulder, she thought she might have two patients to look after. Deputy Webb was as green as the apples on her kitchen table.
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