Miranda glanced at the gauze, and saw that the bloodstain was bigger. “I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere, Mr. Harkner. I suggest you get back in that bed before you pass out on the floor, in which case I would never be able to get you back in the bedroom. Then how would I hide you if someone came to visit?”
Jake frowned, watching her eyes. They were pretty eyes, kind of gray and kind of blue. If not for her frazzled appearance… Yet he remembered now how pretty he had thought she was when he’d seen her yesterday. Had a whole day really gone by already? “Hide me? Why would you…do that?”
She lowered the rifle. “I don’t know myself yet. I’m as confused as you are right now, but I do believe by the look on your face that you didn’t come here deliberately. If that’s the case, I have to think maybe the Lord sent you here for some special reason, seeing as how I’m the one who almost ended your life. Maybe he meant for me to make amends for that by helping you, and it does seem a shame to go to all the trouble of keeping you alive only to turn you over for a hanging. But that doesn’t mean I won’t still do it. Now get back in that bed.”
Jake wanted to argue the matter, but he knew she was right. He could feel himself growing more light-headed by the minute. If only she’d give him his damn guns. He didn’t intend to use them on her, he just wanted them. The law could come by and check on her any time, and he didn’t believe she’d hide him like she said she would. He started to turn, then realized she would see his bare behind when he did. Fact was, she had apparently seen everything there was to see. It made him feel doubly vulnerable. Taking a man’s clothes was as bad as putting chains on him. Where was he going to go if he couldn’t get dressed? It was funny and infuriating both at the same time. “I have to take a leak,” he told her, wanting to embarrass her. After all, he was embarrassed himself. He gladly watched her face redden.
“There’s a covered pot in the corner of the bedroom. It’s clean. Use it.” Miranda wished she could keep from blushing, knew he was trying to upset her, perhaps intimidate her. Was everything she had heard about this man true? Thank goodness he was too weak to try anything, but what about when he was stronger? If she had any sense, she would tie him up once she got him back into bed, and she would go for help.
“Your generosity…is appreciated,” he answered sarcastically. He turned, and Miranda forced back a gasp at the sight of deep red scars on the man’s back, which looked as though he had been whipped. She raised the rifle again and aimed it at that back, part of her telling herself to be very, very careful; another part of her strangely touched by the things he had muttered, the scars she had seen; and yet another part of her attracted to his very masculine build, the broad shoulders and solid hips.
Jake stumbled back into the bedroom, cursing his condition, even angrier that it was because of the woman who held a rifle on him now and who still had the upper hand. How in hell had he gotten into this ridiculous situation? “Do you need any help?” he heard her asking.
“Hell, no!” he growled, only hoping he was right. It took every ounce of strength and determination he had left to tend to himself. He heard her walking about in the main room, and he hated this feeling of dependency. He was entirely at the woman’s mercy, when if he had his normal strength he could break her in half—her, the same woman who had shot him in the first place! God, his gut burned, and his head ached so fiercely that he kept seeing bright flashes. Was she really serious about hiding him if someone came? Why in hell would she want to do that? He was worth five thousand dollars! What was that line she fed him about a man’s life being worth more than a reward? Certainly not his life. The woman was either stalling him or a little bit crazy. He just couldn’t figure out which.
He managed to put the lid back on the pot and stand up long enough to wrap the towel completely around his waist.
“If you’re able to stand a little longer, I would like to put some clean blankets on the bed, Mr. Harkner.”
Jake turned to see her standing at the doorway. He twisted the towel so it would stay in place, then braced himself against the chest of drawers. “Go ahead.” He watched her come into the room. She avoided his eyes as she quickly jerked some blankets off the feather mattress. “What about my horse?” he asked. “He needs his saddle—”
“I tended to him last night. Once you’re settled back in this bed, I’ll let him and my own draft horses out to graze. There is some low ground not far from here where there is always water. They’ll find it.”
He swallowed against a sudden feeling of nausea, hoping she got the bed ready before he passed out. “What if somebody sees him?”
“He won’t be saddled,” she answered, turning to the trunk with the faded flowers on top and raising the lid. She took out clean blankets. “If anyone notices, I’ll tell them I don’t know where he belongs—that he strayed here from somewhere. It happens all the time—other farmers’ horses get loose. You left town so fast yesterday, I don’t think anyone even knew what kind of horse you were riding. I didn’t know myself until I found him in the shed.” There was a moment of silence as she kept working.
“Where’s that rifle of yours?” he asked then.
Miranda glanced up at him. The man was all power and experience. “Hidden in the other room.” She returned to tucking blankets. “I figured you were in no condition to manage to ransack a room to find it or your own guns, and I don’t imagine you would even be very effective in trying to hurt me. I simply decided to take a chance on your present weakness.” She quickly remade the bed, amazed at how she was able to carry on a conversation with a killer, still wondering why she was bothering to help him. She finished and stepped back. “There. You can lie back down.”
She moved to the doorway, and Jake watched her a moment, seeing the fear then. She had let her guard down for a moment. A big, strong, naked man was standing in her bedroom, a man with a reputation as a killer and rapist. She must feel awfully vulnerable herself, he thought. He had never been in such an odd situation with a proper woman before. Why did he feel this sudden compassion for her? “Look, lady, you can believe me…or not. I didn’t do…what that bounty hunter said. I have killed men…but mostly out of…self-defense…men wanting to challenge me when I’d rather be left alone. I’ve done a lot of wrong things…and I expect I deserve prison for it…but I’ve never laid a hand wrongly on a woman, never beat one, never raped one, proper…or not. Fact is…part of the trouble I’m in is…because I tried to help a woman…more than once. You don’t have to be afraid of me. That’s…the God’s truth. All I want is to get well…and get out of here.”
Their eyes held, and in spite of the honesty in his own, Miranda told herself she was crazy to believe him. “God, Mr. Harkner? Do you really believe in a God?”
He winced with pain as he unsteadily walked to the bed. “Oh, I believe in him. I just…don’t happen to believe he…gives a damn about me. I expect…he long ago gave directions to make sure…I go straight to hell once I die.” He grunted as he managed to lie back down, his feet again sticking out the end of the bed. “Not that most of my life…right here on earth hasn’t been hell already.”
Miranda spread another blanket over him. “You said some things last night when you were in pain that make me wonder about you, Mr. Harkner. I guess curiosity is part of the reason I’m not ready to turn you over to the law.”
She opened a second blanket and spread that over the first. “Curiosity?” Jake put a hand to his aching head. “About what?”
She folded her arms and stepped back. “Who is Santana?” Miranda almost regretted the question when she saw the pain that came into his eyes. “You said her name last night, more than once.”
Jake closed his eyes. “She’s just someone I knew once.”
“I think maybe you loved her.”
“And I think maybe it’s none of your business.”
“While you are here under my care, and considering yo
ur reputation and the fact that I have not turned you over to Sheriff McCleave, everything about you is my business.”
“Then go ahead and get the sheriff,” he grumbled, rubbing at his eyes. “My private life is my private life.”
“Is she one of the women you tried to help once?”
“What the hell do you care!” Jake gave her the fiercest look he could muster. He hated personal questions.
Miranda stepped a little closer. “Because of the way you spoke her name. I didn’t think you were a man capable of deep feelings, Mr. Harkner, but last night I saw a side of you I’m sure few people see. I guess that’s the main reason I’m not sure I want to turn you in.” Did this man really kill his father? “You also spoke the word Pa, but I couldn’t determine if it was with hatred or affection.”
Miranda watched his eyes. Again she saw the look of a little boy. “There are some people you can love and hate at the same time.”
“Is it true you killed your own father?”
Jake just stared at her, looking surprised at first, then taking on a look of almost pitiful remorse. “Jesus, you’ve even heard that already?” He closed his eyes. “It’s a long story,” he said quietly, “and none of your damn business. If others say I killed him, then I killed him. Who the hell is going to believe my side of anything? And who the hell cares about what might have made me do it? Folks don’t want to hear reasons. They’re quick to judge without knowing the facts.”
Miranda bent over and picked up the soiled blankets. “Maybe you just hang around with the wrong people, Mr. Harkner. I’ve never thought any man should be judged by other people’s gossip. And I saw a side to you last night that tells me there are things buried inside of you that need digging up, but this isn’t the time. You’re hurting. Tell me what hurts the most, and I’ll see if I can find something among my father’s medicine to help.”
Jake scowled at her. “You’re a strange woman, Mrs. Hayes. I do remember your name right, don’t I?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s your husband?”
“Killed in the war.” Miranda knew she should feel uneasy when his eyes moved over her then, but instead she felt self-conscious, only then realizing how wrinkled her clothes must be and how disheveled she must look. She absently put a hand to her hair, realizing it must be in terrible disarray.
“There’s nobody else?” he asked.
“A brother. He’s in Virginia City, Nevada. As soon as I figure out what to do with you, I’m leaving here to go and find him. He’s all I have left since my father was killed. My mother died six years ago.”
“Pretty dangerous for a woman out here all alone, what with all the raiding.” Jake watched the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.
“Yes, isn’t it?” she answered sarcastically.
Jake couldn’t help a slight grin of his own. “Even more dangerous to set out all alone for Nevada.”
“I’ll find someone reputable to take me there. I’m no fainting daisy, Mr. Harkner.”
He let out a little laugh, then winced with the pain it brought. “I’ll agree with that,” he told her, his voice gruff with pain. “You say…you’ve got medicine? My head feels like it’s coming right off my shoulders.”
“My father was a doctor. I learned a lot from him. That’s how I was able to take that bullet out of you last night. I’ll see what I can find to help the pain.”
Jake watched her slender body, heard her skirts rustle as she moved out of the room. She returned carrying a brown bottle. She handed it to Jake. “Just a couple of swallows. Too much isn’t good. A man can get as dependent on this stuff as whiskey.”
Jake reached out and took the bottle. Their fingers touched, and a strange warmth moved through him. He could tell by her eyes and the slight blush in her cheeks that she had felt it too. He uncorked the bottle and took a couple swallows of the bitter liquid, grimacing at the taste. Then he handed the bottle back to her.
“You should probably try to eat something,” she told him. “I’ll clean up and then fix you some vegetable soup and some tea. You just rest while I get things together. I have to go let out the horses first. Maybe later this afternoon I can shave you.” You also need a bath, she wanted to add, but how could she bathe him now when he was fully conscious? That would just have to wait until he could do it himself. She turned to leave.
“Mrs. Hayes,” Jake called. Miranda stopped and turned, embarrassed for feeling a sudden flash of womanly longings when his fingers had touched her own. She looked at the bed but did not meet his eyes. “Thank you,” he said.
Miranda could not help looking at him then. “I’m the one who shot you, Mr. Harkner.”
“You didn’t really want to do that. I could tell…the minute you pulled the trigger. I saw the look of surprise in your eyes. And now…you’ve helped me when you could easily have…let me die. Not one person would have blamed you for it. They would just figure…society was rid of another rat.”
“I have yet to decide whether I did the right thing, Mr. Harkner. And as far as my helping you last night, for all we know I botched the whole thing. I’ve never taken a bullet out of anyone before. You aren’t out of danger of infection yet, so don’t go thanking me too quickly.”
Jake watched her leave, and he closed his eyes again, sinking back into the feather pillow. For the moment, he was at this woman’s mercy, and there was no way around it. Fact was, he felt a kind of comfort here. This was the woman who had shot him, yet now, lying here under her care, watching her gentle eyes…crazy as it seemed, the woman gave him a feeling of security, something he had not felt since he was very small, in his mother’s arms. He had never stopped missing his mother, never thought he would find anyone who brought out those sweet, childish feelings that he thought he had lost years ago. Mrs. Hayes was the kind of woman a man longed to know better, yet he didn’t even know her first name.
***
For the next week, Jake learned the hard way that the strange Mrs. Hayes’s last words had been too true. He got worse instead of better after getting out of bed that first morning, and the next several days were spent in fits of delirium from fever and infection. He vaguely remembered gentle hands, soft words, sometimes thinking it was his mother nursing him, as she had done once when he had been attacked by yellow jackets; and again when he’d fallen and broken his arm…and those many times she’d tended to him after his father had beaten him.
Someone bathed him almost constantly, trying to keep him cool, and when he came around enough to think clearly again, he realized someone had shaved him. He glanced at the bedroom doorway. The curtains were drawn back, and he could see Miranda Hayes moving around in the outer room. Something smelled wonderful, and she was placing fresh-baked bread on the table.
Miranda. He remembered she had told him her name later that first day, before he got sicker than he remembered being in his entire life. After that it seemed he saw everything in a fog, or through black pain. Either his head was reeling with misery, or his gut was screaming, or he was vomiting. It occurred to him that Mrs. Hayes had put up with an awful lot of ugly things to take care of him. Why on earth had she done it?
He breathed deeply. He felt better than since he’d been shot, clearheaded, almost free of pain, and he knew he owed his life to the woman in the outer room, unless she might still choose to turn him in. She had had time while he was ill to go to town and get someone, yet she had not done so. He raised the blankets to see he still lay naked, with towels over him, but he felt clean. He sniffed his arm and smelled soap.
“When you feel up to it, I’ll wash and cut your hair,” came the woman’s voice. Jake looked up to see her coming into the bedroom. “How are you feeling today, Mr. Harkner? Have you returned to the real world?”
He just stared at her a moment. She was actually smiling and looked relieved that he might be better. And today…today she was the pre
ttiest he had ever seen her. She wore a deep blue calico dress that fit her small but nicely curved frame. Her long, honey-blond hair was hanging well past her shoulders, drawn up at the sides with combs. There was no more fear in her eyes as she came closer and touched his face with the back of her hand, and what a slender, gentle hand it was.
“The fever is finally gone. I’d say you’re going to live, Mr. Harkner. And I must say, under all that trail dust and that neglected beard, you turned out to be quite a handsome man once I found your real face.”
Jake’s eyes moved over her, and Miranda immediately regretted the remark, wondering what had made her say it. She moved to the foot of the bed, draping a light blanket over his bare feet, then moved to the window and opened the curtains. “It’s a beautiful day.”
Jake tried to sit up, but dizziness overcame him. He groaned, and quickly Miranda was at his side, grasping his shoulders and pressing him back into the feather mattress. “Not yet. Don’t be so anxious, Jake.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Nearly a week now. I imagine it will be another few days before you can think about walking around, let alone riding a horse.”
Again Jake tried to sit up. “I don’t have another few days. I’ve been here too long already. Where are my guns? My clothes?”
“Jake, if you do too much too soon, everything I’ve done, all the hours I’ve sat with you through the night, will be for nothing. You’ll kill yourself. Let your body heal.” She straightened and folded her arms. “I’m not giving you any guns just yet. As far as your clothes, they’ve been boiled and pressed and are clean whenever you’re ready to wear them again, but at the moment you are far from that.”
Again he settled back into the bed, hating to admit she was right. She had called him Jake twice, using the name as easily as if he were her best friend. And was that true concern he saw in her eyes? She left the room, and he heard the sound of dishes clinking, water being poured. She returned a few minutes later with a tray. “A cup of good, strong tea is just what you need. Good for a stomach that hasn’t seen food for a long time.” She set the tray on the table beside the bed. “And if you’re so determined to sit up, then let’s do it right. Then you can get the tea down better. If it stays down, I’ll cut you a piece of bread and we’ll see if that stays down.”
Outlaw Hearts Page 5