“Unless you need me, son, I’ll check on her tomorrow afternoon. She’s doing just fine. Keep her quiet and still,” he reminded.
Off and on for hours, she briefly came to wakefulness, then quickly sank back into her plaguing darkness without speaking. As she battled unseen foes, she mumbled incoherently. It was nearing the dinner hour when Calinda regained full consciousness. Lynx jumped up from his chair near the bed the moment she sighed in misery and wiggled slightly. She forced her drowsy senses to clear and her heavy lids to open. As Lynx sat down beside her and smiled, her baffled gaze shifted to him. “What…happened, Lynx? Merciful Heavens, I hurt.”
“You tell me, love,” he coaxed gently, moving damp curls from her face. “I’ve been crazy with worry and fear since yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” Cal echoed as she fought to recall the memory.
Lynx explained how he had arrived home and found her missing, how her horse had returned with blood on him and the saddle, how they had searched for her, and how he had found her wounded near his mother’s grave. Lynx observed her closely for all reactions.
“Laura’s grave?” Cal repeated, simultaneously trying to recall and to forget the pernicious episode.
“What were you doing out there alone, Cal? Who shot you?”
“Shot me?” she continued her repetitious confusion. “I…You…found me? I…remember a shot. I saw blood…on my fingers. I couldn’t…mount. There was a horse…galloping off. I passed out. It hurts,” she said, grimacing and reaching to soothe the pain.
“Don’t touch it, Cal. The doctor said you were to stay quiet and still. We don’t want that wound opening or those stitches breaking. You didn’t see anyone? Think hard, Callie.”
“The doctor was here?” she asked, blinking her eyes to stay alert and awake. “It’s throbbing, Lynx.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“I know, love, but you can’t touch it. You didn’t see who fired the shot?” he pressed cautiously, tenderly dabbing the moisture.
“No. It happened too quickly. I didn’t die?” she murmured suddenly, as if astonished she was alive. Was she suppose to survive?
Lynx smiled. “No way would I lose you, woman. You sorely tried to desert me, but I wouldn’t allow it. I stayed with you all night and today. I even helped Doc stitch you up. You were determined to fight us; I had to sit on you and hold you down,” he stated merrily, joy and relief coursing through his body and mind.
“How long was I out?” she asked, her lids drooping.
“Since yesterday when it happened. It’s nearly dinner time. Think you can drink or eat something if I help you?” he coaxed.
She yawned, groaning as the reflex enticed needling torment. “I’m so sleepy and weak,” she whispered faintly. She closed her eyes, surrendering to sleep before answering. But she didn’t rest long before she began tossing and crying.
Lynx came to her side, entreating, “Relax, love.”
Cal looked up at him. Slowly her mind cleared. “How about a stiff brandy to dull this agony, Lynx?”
She gritted her teeth.
Lynx chuckled at her attempt at humor. “Afraid not, love. But you can have soup and some medicine,” he counter-offered.
“I’m not hungry. I’ll take some water and the medicine.”
“You need some food in that tummy, Cal. It’s been over twenty-four hours since you were…injured. You lost a lot of blood, and you’re very weak. Please take just a little soup,” he beseeched her.
“I’m not hungry, Lynx, just in pain,” she argued sullenly.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you, Cal. I promise it won’t happen again. Please, let me take care of you and get you well. Do you know how I felt when I found you lying on the ground, bleeding to death? If my heart didn’t stop, it skipped many beats. It tore out my guts to watch you suffer yesterday while we were working to save you. For a time, Cal, we didn’t think we could, I’ve been sitting her all night, afraid to leave you, praying for your survival. For the first time in my life, Cal, I was petrified. I felt useless. You cried and screamed and begged me to help you, but I couldn’t do anything. When I find out who did this, I’ll kill him!” he declared forcefully, a glimmer of fierce rage and ominous resolve in his stormy expression.
Calinda gazed at him, witnessing the tenderness and anguish in his expression. But were they real? How could she doubt him? How could she think clearly and calmly. Her thoughts were controlled by pain, drugs, and weakness. “When you search for him, be careful; he’s a crack-shot, as you call it. If I hadn’t been startled by the gunfire, the bullet would have been accurate, right in the heart.”
“Thank Heavens he didn’t check on his accuracy. Why did you go riding alone, Cal; you promised you wouldn’t,” he softly scolded her. “If your horse hadn’t raced home with blood on him, you might have died out there.”
“Is that how you knew I was hurt?” she asked, shifting gingerly.
Lynx related the few untold events of yesterday, unaware of how they settled in her warring mind. Another timely arrival and rescue? The bloody horse had alerted others, besides him, to her peril? If the animal hadn’t returned to the stable, how long would Lynx have waited before seeking her, long enough for her to die? “You didn’t see anyone?” Cal inquired; he shook his head ruefully. “I guess I was lucky,” she murmured, looking down at her bandaged body.
“Damn lucky, woman,” Lynx corrected her, wondering at her piercing and unreadable gaze. What was she thinking? “Can I play doctor, Mrs. Cardone?” he asked, trying to lift some curious burden.
She focused on him, then remarked, “You look terrible. You need a shave and some sleep. I’ll be fine.” She forced all thoughts from her mind, except getting well and easing the pain.
“I’ve had something, rather someone, more important on my mind.” He bent forward and kissed the tip of her nose. “Soup?”
She stifled a yawn and winced, tears coming to her eyes as she trembled. “I’ll try, after the medicine,” she reasoned desperately.
“Fine,” Lynx promptly agreed. “Don’t move until I return.”
After he left the room, she clenched her teeth as she tried to check the extent of her injuries. Cal fought to keep from crying and screaming as she shifted on the bed. There was a bandage on her back and front, and she could detect the stitches beneath the front binding. She noticed the crimson traces on the front bandage; it was still bleeding a little. Her nerves were tight and tense; the stitches nerve-racking. Her weakness was most noticeable, and hindering.
Cal glanced at her surroundings; the room was messy. Clearly her husband had been at her side since the shooting, but why? To see if she survived? Or died? Playing the concerned husband? For whom? Salina and Rankin couldn’t care less about her! Who had tried to murder her? Why? They had possession of the ranch; they didn’t need her dead. If they wished her gone, all they had to do was force her off the ranch. It was senseless!
Cal told herself she was foolishly mistaken. Lynx would never do such a vile thing. He might be capable of vengefully taking the ranch or wanting to hurt her emotionally, but never murder her. She had to figure out who was fatally pursuing her…
How she wished she could change her recent past. She wouldn’t look at Laura’s portrait or hear Salina’s words. She wouldn’t go to Lampasas. She wouldn’t send word to Kyle Yancey or converse with him. There was so much she wished she didn’t know; but she did, so many haunting coincidences and complexities.
When Lynx returned, she was sobbing. “Please don’t cry, love,” he entreated, coming over to her. “You might injure yourself.” How he wanted to pull her into his arms, but he dared not risk her movements.
“It hurts so much, Lynx,” she wailed, meaning the combination of physical and emotional pains. Yet, she needed his solace.
He took the bottle of medicine and poured out one spoonful. He said, “Take this, love. It’ll ease the pain.”
Without thinking or hesitating, she swallowed the nasty-ta
sting liquid. As she choked and coughed, she shrieked in pain and twitched. “Be still, Cal,” he advised sternly. “You’ll rip open that wound.”
“That’s easy for you to say! You’re not the one in agony!” she shouted, ordering herself to lie motionless after paying for her outburst.
Lynx captured her face between his hands and shouted, “Like hell, I’m not! Damn you, Cal, if you break those stitches, I’ll hold you down and replace them myself,” he threatened harshly to calm her.
“I’m sure you love torturing me, you beast! Do something!” she hoarsely pleaded, shuddering with torment, clenching her teeth.
“What?” he asked in frustration, wringing his hands.
“Kiss me!” she replied angrily, knowing the power of his lips to blind her to reality. “Just hold me and kiss me.”
“But you’re hurt!” he debated. “You’ve got a fever!” he fretted.
“Use that potent magic on me; give me something else to think about until that medicine works,” she frantically reasoned.
His lips covered hers as he concentrated on keeping his hands off her body. For what seemed hours, but was only minutes, the feverish kissing and throbbing pain continued. Gradually, both softened. Lynx felt her still body begin to relax. He leaned back and looked down at her. “Well? Did I help any?” he murmured huskily.
The drug alleviating her distress, she smiled. “You’re the best treatment I know, Cardone. Thanks.”
“For what, love?” he asked, watching her mood mellow.
“For saving my life again, and for easing the pain.”
“That’s the medication,” he refuted happily.
“Perhaps,” she stated skeptically. “If you want any of that soup in me, you best hurry. I’m getting awfully sleepy.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and carefully spooned the soup into her mouth. “If it wouldn’t hurt so much, I would laugh at this ridiculous scene,” she murmured, forgetting all but him.
“I think it’s fun,” he remarked mischievously.
“Then perhaps I’ll shoot you and become your amused nurse.”
Minutes later, Cal’s lids were very heavy. Each time he went for her mouth with the spoon, he had to tap her lower lip and say, “Open up, lovely mouth.”
Finally her eyes closed and she didn’t respond. She was sleeping peacefully for a change. He set the bowl and spoon on the dresser and headed for bed, relatively calm for the first time in two days. Suddenly he realized he might roll over on her and inflict more damage or pain. He fetched his sleeping roll and reclined on the floor, his senses alive and alert to her every sound even in slumber.
Chapter Twenty-two
When Calinda awoke around six the next morning, she lay very still as she summoned the courage to assess her strength. Her entire shoulder area ached and complained, but she felt stronger and more alert this morning. The tight stitches nagged at the sensitive wound, especially with movement. She felt her cheeks for any warmth, relieved to find no exceptional heat residing there. She stalled her impending action as her mind swept away all lingering cobwebs.
Using her right arm, Cal tried to shove herself to a sitting position. The strain on her disabled left side harassed her immediately. She panted, “Ouch!”, then gently eased back to the mattress. She attempted to hold her breath until the throbbing lessened.
Lynx bounded up from the floor and approached her. “What’s wrong?” he asked in alarm.
Her startled gaze flew to his worried frown, unshaven face, and mussed hair. He stood there barefoot and bare-chested, attired in snug-fitting jeans. He reeked of masculinity. “Where did you come from?” Cal asked in amazement. Her gaze was a loving brush and his virile frame a receptive canvas, as her eyes moved over him.
“I was sleeping on the floor,” Lynx answered quickly, inflamed by her appreciative study of him.
“On the floor? Why?” she quizzed, meeting his warm gaze.
“I was afraid I might hurt you during the night. I do have a habit of snuggling up to you,” he merrily ventured.
“Why didn’t you sleep in the other room?” she reasoned curiously.
“And leave a willful and impulsive vixen alone all night?” he jested. “Doc says you can’t leave that bed, so I stayed here to make certain you followed his orders. I do have a stake in you, love.”
“Surely you didn’t think I would hop up and dance around?” she played along with his insouciant mood.
“From what I’ve seen, Mrs. Cardone, you have a defiant streak which I don’t trust. Am I wrong, or were you trying to get up?” he challenged, making his point. “Looking for me, afraid I’d deserted you in your hour of need?” he roguishly hinted.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, husband dear, it’s knowing you’ll always show up in the nick of time. How do you manage such cunning?” she asked saucily, veiling her seriousness with a smile.
“Fate,” he nonchalantly replied. “Somebody’s keeping an eye on us, giving us guidance and protection.”
Cal motioned to her condition and speculated, “You call this protection? Our guardian angel was snoozing this time,” she charged.
“Not for long. You were found quickly, and you’re better this morning. Right?” Lynx gingerly sat down on the bed near her waist.
“I’ll decide later. Any clues on my would-be assassin?”
“None yet, but don’t worry,” he advised, smiling broadly.
“Why should I? I have my fearless and powerful husband here with me,” she murmured, her gaze fathomless. “To answer your earlier question, I wasn’t trying to get up, just determine my damage.”
Lynx seized a trace of a curious resentment in her tone. “Do you blame me for this, Cal?”
She tensed, then forcefully relaxed. A flush sped over her face; her gaze lowered briefly. “Why should I blame you, except for being absent when I obviously needed your protection?” she asked in a tone which was perplexing and alarming. “You didn’t shoot me, did you?” she tried to jest lightly, but failed to deceive him.
“If you have even the slightest reservation about me, Cal, then we’re in deep trouble, love. I wouldn’t do anything to harm you.”
“Wouldn’t you?” she debated gravely. “You keep secrets from me; that hurts me. You stay away from home for ages; that hurts me. You can’t protect me from danger because you’re too busy defending your unknown friends; that hurts me. I can’t make you happy or content; and that hurts most. You can halt one stab of pain by ceasing this distressing conversation. May I have my medicine now?”
“You need to eat first, Cal. That drug makes you pass out,” Lynx entreated, following her request for a truce for the time being.
“I’d rather be out, Cardone; that way no pains attack me.”
“You’ve got me worried, Callie. Do you honestly think I had something to do with the shooting?” he pressed earnestly.
“No, Lynx, I don’t believe you shot me,” she replied.
“From the look on that lovely face, you think I’m capable of doing it, don’t you?” he demanded, piqued.
“Please don’t do this, Lynx. I’m just tired, and confused, and miserable. It was a joke. If I recall, you made the same jest when you and Rankin were attacked. Don’t pay any attention to my irritable mood and stupid rantings. I just want everyone to leave me alone.”
“Including me?” he speculated in dread.
“Right now, my nerves are tight, I’m in terrible pain, and I need to rest and think. My heavens, Lynx, someone tried to murder me! It’s hard to accept the fact someone hates me that much. After that last mysterious note appeared, I told you I sensed danger or evil lurking nearby, but you assumed I was trying to trick you into staying home. You listen to your own instincts, but deny feminine intuition.”
“Since we don’t know who did it, we also don’t know the motive. Some outlaws think nothing of gunning down anybody in their path. It could have been one of those rustler scouts who thought you saw him or the same person w
ho ambushed father and me. Or it could have been our mystery man trying to deliver another letter. Maybe whoever did it didn’t realize you were a woman,” Lynx speculated.
“I don’t pass for a man, Lynx. If it was that sneaky villain, why kill the person he’s trying to contact?” she rebutted.
“If those letters were meant to lure you away into danger, he didn’t need to deliver it after he caught you alone and helpless! I told you to stay home or ride with someone, not alone!” he snarled.
“Stop being so bossy! In spite of that marriage certificate, you don’t own me! I’m weary of your terse orders and defensive attitude!” she snapped at him. “I’m also damn tired of your secretive conduct!”
“I’m just trying to protect you, wife,” he growled sullenly.
“From another town?” she scoffed sarcastically.
“That’s really what’s chewing your tail, isn’t it? My private trips and long absences?” he challenged to unmask her resentful anger.
“Where did you go, if that’s not too nosey?” she asked frostily.
Perceptive, Lynx noticed the alerting hint in her voice. “Why? I told you before I left where I was heading; I sent messages home.”
“I didn’t ask where those messages came from or where you were suppose to go. I asked where you went after you left the ranch.”
“If you already know, why the question?” Lynx fenced warily.
“Would you hand me that box of writing paper?” Cal asked, more than ready to begin a journey toward the truth.
“You can’t work like that. You’ve got to take care of yourself.”
“Hand it to me, or I’ll fetch it myself,” she said stubbornly.
Cal opened the box which he placed in her lap. “This might explain my irrational and unreasonable annoyance, my devoted husband.”
First Love Wild Love Page 43