Upstairs? She nodded her agreement. Teddy’s old feather tick would be much more comfortable than the pile of newspapers in the cold storage room. And she supposed if he cried out in the night, needing something, she would be nearby in her bedroom across the hallway. Still, it seemed a bit too familiar...
A few moments later, an anguished yell reverberated through the building. What in heaven’s name were they doing to him? She poured warm water from the kettle into the basin, grabbed the towels and ran up the stairs. Russ lay on the bed, his face pasty white, and all of him as still as death. Was he even breathing?
The doctor leaned over him, a bloody tool in his hand. “The bullet is out.”
The air rushed out of her. A gunshot wound! Perhaps when he killed the man, it was in self-defense and not murder at all! There were any number of possibilities. “Then he will recover?”
Doctor Graham wet a towel and cleaned Russ’s side. “The next twenty-four hours will tell.”
This was more than she had bargained for! She had never taken care of someone so horribly sick. What if she did something wrong? What if she made him worse?
The doctor bandaged the wound and then cleaned off his tool.
“What do I need to do? What about his fever?”
“I’ll leave this with you.” He handed her a small bottle of powder. “If his fever spikes, give him half a teaspoonful of this mixed in a glass of water. Otherwise, sponge him down every hour with tepid water until his fever breaks. If he chills, blanket him up good and warm.”
The magnitude of her responsibility suddenly hit her. “I’ve never cared for someone this sick. Teddy and I have had a cold on occasion, but neither of us are prepared...”
“I’m afraid no one asks for situations like this. I’ll send my wife to help if you would like.”
“No!” she said quickly. The less people who knew of Russ’s presence, the better. “I mean... I’ll figure it out.”
Doc Graham’s eyes narrowed. “Your friend has a lot to answer for when he starts feeling better.”
“But you will keep this to yourself? We have reason to believe he may be in danger.”
“Which puts you in danger as well, not to mention the rest of us who live here.”
She hadn’t considered that. Up until now, she’d only thought it was the sheriff who would bring trouble.
Dr. Graham frowned. “Should the sheriff ask me directly, I’ll be honest about all this. I owe that to the good folks of the town.”
“I understand,” she said. “Thank you.”
He turned and headed down the stairs.
Teddy turned to her. “I’ll see the doctor out and then get started on the paper. You better stay up here with Russ. If he wakes, you will need to quiet him.”
“Very well. I just wish Russ were well enough to tell us what is going on. The not knowing is worse than anything.”
Chapter Four
Russ woke to a brightness behind his eyelids and the harsh pain of trying to swallow. His throat felt like he’d downed a spoonful of hot gravel. Then he realized his side hurt as though an iron bar pinioned him. Beside him, Abby rose from her chair and walked to the window, where the rays from the sun slashed through the glass and across his pillow and face. She unhooked the sash, letting the heavy dark green curtains on each side of the window straighten, pitching the room into gray twilight.
He’d sensed her presence throughout the day. Little Abigail, all grown up. As he slipped in and out of sleep, he’d heard enough of her conversation with Ted to know that she wasn’t happy he’d shown up. She had reason to feel that way, considering some of the things he’d done in her past.
Yet, even with her reservations toward him, she’d been surprisingly gentle when she slipped her cool hand under his neck, supporting his head gently as she offered him sips of water every hour. And once she’d added honey and thinned the bowl of creamed wheat with milk, he’d managed to get half of it down.
She sat back down and stared at a notebook in her hand.
“What’s that you have, Abby?”
She startled slightly, but then stuffed the notebook into her apron pocket. “You’re awake. Are you feeling better?”
“Some water?”
“Oh. Of course!” Quickly she poured half a glass and held it to his lips. Her hands were shaking slightly, and some water spilled down his cheek. She dabbed it away with a cloth, and when her gaze rose to meet his, her motion slowed and then stopped.
He’d forgotten how her brown eyes captured the light. Intelligence simmered there...and lots of questions.
He swallowed. It was easier after the cool water soothed his throat. “Thanks.”
“Teddy and I are anxious to know what happened. I’ll...I’ll just get him.”
Before he could stop her, she disappeared from the room. He didn’t feel like talking. Not yet. His brain felt sluggish, his tongue thick and slow. But he owed them. He wouldn’t be alive without their help.
A few minutes later, Teddy appeared at the door. “Good to see you among the living. What’s going on, Russ? How did you get that wound you have there?”
He coughed, and white-hot pain ripped through his side. It felt like he’d been shot all over again.
Abby rushed out and then returned with a small, embroidered cushion, which she tucked against his side. “Hold this when you cough. It will help allay the pain.”
How did she know? Anyway, he wished she would slow down. The room was starting to spin with her constant movement.
“Take your time,” Abby said quickly. “Was it self-defense?”
Ted scowled at her. “Let him talk.”
Same old Abby. She never could keep quiet when she wanted answers. At one time, her constant questions had annoyed him. Then he realized what she’d just said. What was she talking about? “Self-defense?”
“You’re wanted in Colorado for murder. Is it true?”
Murder? What? “I didn’t kill anyone.” At least...he didn’t remember killing anyone.
Bits and pieces of that evening started to come together. Johnson...shooting McCabe, then turning the gun on him. The room wouldn’t stop spinning. Had he hit his head somewhere along the way to Oak Grove?
Downstairs, a door opened. “Mr. White? The paper rolls came in.”
Abby glanced at her brother—fear lighting her eyes. “It’s Jamie...”
Russ didn’t want them in trouble because of him. He gripped his side and tried to sit up. “I should go...”
“Lie back, Russ.” Ted pressed his shoulder, pushing him back down to the bed. “Jamie works for me. You are safe for now. No one knows you are here.”
The room spun. He gave up struggling and collapsed back on the hard bed. Criminy, he was weak! “I...I didn’t kill anyone.”
Then the blanket was tucked around him again and suddenly the room went dark. A shiver coursed through him.
* * *
Abigail slipped the pencil from above her ear and tried to concentrate on an article for the coming edition while keeping one ear attuned to Russ’s breathing. Without her help, Teddy would never get the paper out by Saturday. She jotted down a teaser for the extra Christmas edition.
A low moan issued from Russ’s parted lips.
She leaned over the bed and checked his forehead. Still warm, but not as hot as earlier. She checked the temperature of the water and then wrung out the washcloth. As she leaned forward to wipe his face, she heard the door open downstairs. She stopped, the cloth hovering an inch from Russ’s nose. What if Russ cried out? What if someone heard?
A few seconds later, the front door of the shop opened and then closed again. Teddy called up the stairwell. “I’ve sent Jamie on home. Everything all right up there?”
She walked to the top of the stairs so that she could see Teddy. “He’s resting easier,” she said soft
ly.
Her brother nodded and then turned back to his work.
She walked back into the spare bedroom. Russ hadn’t stirred, but on the chance he was listening she said softly, “I’m going to sponge you down again.”
She pulled the covers to his waist. His shirt remained unfastened and his suspenders looped on each side of his torso. She had steeled herself against the sight of him before, but now the dying rays of the setting sun sent long shadows across his face and his bare chest, revealing muscles and planes previously hidden. He truly was a handsome man. The sight started a flutter in her abdomen. Heat rushed up her face. Oh, my, but she had to quell that sensation or she’d never get done what needed to be done.
Gingerly, she dabbed the cloth on his forehead. When he didn’t move or cry out, she pressed it to his cheek, holding it there for a moment. Dipping the cloth once more into the water, she wrung the excess out, and then pressed it to the other side of his face.
He had always been handsome. She’d forgotten how long his lashes were—dark brown and thick, they lay still against his flushed, angular cheeks. In the intervening years since she’d last seen him, he’d lost the softness she remembered. His jawline appeared stronger and squarer behind the stubby growth of dark beard.
Russ, what have you been up to for the past four years?
She finished bathing his face and neck. He seemed calmer, more relaxed. Still, his skin was hot. There was nothing for her to do but continue. She wrung out the cloth again and began on his chest where the scattering of springy dark hair cushioned her administrations. The butterflies in her stomach started up again in a frenzy.
She avoided the bandaged area on his right flank and finished the bathing to his waist. Then she set the washcloth and pan of water aside, buttoned up his shirt and covered him.
He’d always wanted to make something of himself. When he made up his mind to head West to find his fortune, he’d almost persuaded Teddy to go with him. But thankfully Teddy had learned what life would be like for a girl in a rough mining camp and he’d backed out. That’s when Russ had focused his efforts on Tim. Tim had been Teddy’s replacement.
“How is he doing?” her brother said from the doorway.
She hadn’t heard him climb the stairs.
“Has he woken at all?”
“No. But he seems to be breathing easier. The medicine Doc Graham gave him helped.”
“Good.” Teddy let out a sigh.
“We’re not running the article about Russ, are we?”
“No.”
“What will we tell the sheriff?”
“We’ll figure out something.”
She realized then, that he wore his overcoat. Alarm rippled through her. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
“I have to get home.”
“I know that. But...it isn’t appropriate having Russ here with me overnight.”
“Do you see an alternative? I think we should keep to our schedules to avoid suspicion.”
She followed him as he headed back down the stairs. “I don’t like this, Teddy.” And ironically, it wasn’t because they harbored a possible murderer. Truth be told, Russ stirred something in her. Seeing him again brought back feelings she’d determined to leave behind when she left Missouri. Feelings that made her...uncomfortable.
“It is only for a few days, until he’s feeling better. I’m sure he will leave then.”
Abigail pursed her lips. No help there. Her stomach had been in a perpetual knot since he’d arrived, yet if he left, would he be on the run forever?
She locked the door behind Teddy, then walked through to the front of the printing office and pulled the shades. She didn’t want to care about his problems. It had hurt too much before when he ignored her and taunted her. Why, oh, why, of all places, had he chosen to come here?
Just what had she gotten herself into?
Chapter Five
She slept fitfully, worried that Russ might need attention during the night. She kept her bedroom door open, waking three times to listen to his breathing. Each time, she rose, checked his forehead for fever and, finding it warm, sponged him down.
Dreams chased her of the four of them—Teddy, Russ, Timothy and herself—when they’d lived in Missouri. Russ was good-looking at seventeen when she’d first met him. He had a winning smile that he used often and to its best advantage. Girls aplenty hung on his every word. Girls who looked past the fact that he made a pittance working at the grocery store owned by his family.
He had never given her more than a cursory glance. At twelve years of age, she was gawky and skinny, practically invisible. He’d considered her a nuisance more than anything. She’d had to harden herself against the myriad of tiny insults he unwittingly tossed her way whenever he came around to see Teddy. For the five years she’d known him in Kansas City his opinion hadn’t changed.
Toward morning her dreams turned darker as the nightmare of the sheriff discovering Russ played out in them over and over in a myriad of ways.
When early morning light filtered into her room, she rose for the fourth time, dressed quickly in her serviceable dark green dress and, after peeking in on him, hurried downstairs to start a fire in the stove and warm more water. She unlocked the back door for Teddy and Jamie and then carried the basin of water and a new cloth and towels upstairs.
* * *
The first thing he noticed was that the intense pain that had dogged him with the simple act of breathing had diminished to a dull ache rather than a scorching fire. The second thing he noticed was that he lay on something soft—not the hard, unforgiving ground. And somewhere he heard humming...and felt safe.
How could that be?
Pale light pressed against his eyelids. He opened his eyes, squinting against the daylight that seeped around the edges of long dark curtains. A room. A bed. An empty chair. Then he heard a pot scraping on the iron plate of a stovetop and the sound of water being poured...
Which reminded him that he needed to relieve himself. The moment he curled to his left to get out of bed, pain shot up his abdomen and side. He fell to his knees on hard plank flooring and put a fist to the bandage—the pain sharp at first, and then dulling as he held pressure there. Slowly he peeled his fingers away, expecting to see them soaked with blood. They were clean! He dragged in a shaky breath and used the chamber pot from under the bed. Then he crawled back under the covers.
Light footsteps sounded. Someone climbing stairs.
“Russ? Russ? Is that you?”
The events of the past days came flooding back to him. Abby...
She stopped in the doorway. Her plain green dress showed off subtle curves and brought out the rich color of her eyes. She hadn’t had any curves before. He remembered teasing her about it.
“Good. You’re awake. I brought some tea with honey.” She set the tray down and helped him lift his head. She paused, one brow arched. “I can see that tea doesn’t thrill you. Teddy used to have brandy hidden away. I’ll look for it later.”
Gone was the high-pitched voice he remembered. It had deepened to a rich tone that reminded him of smooth, honeyed whiskey. Her voice hadn’t suited her before. It certainly did now.
He cleared his throat. “Where is Ted?”
“Married. Going on a year.” She slid onto a chair beside the bed and helped him take another sip.
She seemed comfortable with him. As if to touch him was a normal occurrence. With that thought, memories of someone wiping a cool cloth over his face and chest came to him. Her? Wasn’t she too young to be taking care of a grown man?
But wait... Years had passed since he’d last seen her, since he’d left Missouri. How many?
He glanced at her hands. No ring.
She’d always been so proper. Stiff and uncompromising—that was the Abby he knew. As if to make a misstep on the narrow road she’d set for hersel
f would ruin everything. He was sure her extensive rule book didn’t allow an unmarried woman to see a man with his shirt off. Yet...here she was. Little Abby...
He drained the cup on his next sip. It wasn’t very big—a woman’s dainty, painted teacup. He was glad that she held it. In his hand, it might shatter. Well...maybe not so much now considering how weak he felt. He lay back against the pillow as a wave of gratitude washed over him that she’d been here...that Teddy had been here. “So...I made it to Oak Grove.”
“You wouldn’t have made it an inch farther. What in the world happened, Russ?”
He was still trying to sort that part out. “A lot. I...uh...appreciate you taking me in.” She hadn’t wanted to. He remembered hearing that much during a lucid moment.
Startled, she met his gaze. “Russ... Of course, you are welcome. We’ve had our differences, but I would never want you...”
“Dead?” He gave a half laugh to cover his frustration. His life had suddenly come undone. To hell with the teacup, his life was what was shattered, and he’d played a part in letting it happen. “We didn’t get on all that well, you and me. Guess you’re entitled to your own opinion.”
They were harsh words, but honest.
She avoided his gaze. Where was her patent keen retort? Her silence now could only mean one of two things. Either he’d been so near expiring that he really had frightened her or, which was more likely, her opinion of him was still mired in the mud. Unspoken, but heavy in the room, was their last parting.
She set the teacup aside. “How is Tim?”
So it was still Tim. He blew out a breath, a sense of unease weighting his gut. “He’s married now. Loves ranching. He and his wife are expecting their first baby.”
She pulled back, her composure stiff. “Then he’s content living in Colorado.”
“Abby. He wasn’t for you.”
She pressed her lips together. “That really isn’t any of your business. Then or now.”
A Western Christmas Homecoming: Christmas Day Wedding Bells ; Snowbound in Big Springs ; Christmas with the Outlaw Page 20