Compromised Hearts (33 page)

Cloud looked at Emily, enraged to see her tied as she was. Despite the logic that warned him not to act too rashly, Cloud had to fight the temptation to shoot Chilton on the spot.

“Has he hurt you, Em?”

“No, Cloud. Not yet.”

“Untie her, Skye.” He waited until Skye moved to do as he commanded, then looked at Chilton. “And now for you.”

Chilton made an attempt to elude the fist Cloud swung at him but Catrina, cowering behind him, impeded him. He screeched with pain and dismay when Cloud’s fist connected brutally with his nose. The impact sent him, and Catrina with him, sprawling on the floor. Even as Catrina struggled to get up, Chilton clutched at his fiercely bleeding nose and alternated between bewailing the loss of his
good looks and issuing empty threats. Cloud’s spasmodically clenching fists revealed how much he wanted to continue hitting Chilton, but he shook his head and moved to where a now-freed Emily stood with Skye and Giorsal.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked her quietly, stroking a small bruise on her neck with his fingertips.

She nodded, still fighting tears and annoyed with her weakness. “I hadn’t dared hope you would come looking for me so soon.”

“I didnae like it when ye left with that witch and I kept disliking it, so I went after your mon.”

“Thank you, Giorsal.”

Giorsal frowned even as she tried to put some order into Emily’s tattered gown. “I’ve still got a bad feeling about all of this.”

“So do I,” muttered Skye.

“I should’ve paid more heed to those bad feelings from the beginning.” Em managed a faint smile for the two women.

“Yes, you should have.”

Turning to say something in response to Cloud’s sharp remark, Emily frowned. Chilton was on his feet and Catrina was trying to stop the bleeding of his nose with a uselessly frilly handkerchief. He was paying the woman little mind. His gaze was fixed upon something behind her and Emily felt the hairs on the back of her neck stiffen with warning.

“Dorothy,” Emily whispered and turned to look behind her, oblivious to the vicious curse Cloud spat out.

Standing in the second doorway of the bedroom was a faintly disheveled Dorothy. That was unusual for Dorothy, but it was not what held everyone’s attention. There was an intense look on the woman’s face and a strange, chilling glitter in her eyes that hinted at derangement. What made everyone tense, however, was the gun she held in her hand.

“
W
ell, I’m glad to see that you came to your senses, Dorothy, and mean to lend your friends a hand.”

Dorothy stared at Chilton. “You’re a mess, Thomas.”

“That animal broke my nose. God, it probably won’t heal right.”

“Afraid it will spoil your looks? Don’t be. Emily was right. You do look like a weasel.”

“You never had any complaint.”

“No, but I always thought your looks could use some altering. Say farewell to the face you love so much, Thomas.”

The look of horrified realization had barely touched Chilton’s face when Dorothy fired the gun. Emily barely had time to see

Thomas Chilton flung backwards by the impact of the bullet that struck him full in the face before Cloud shoved her aside in an attempt to shield her behind the bedside table. Even as she huddled there with Giorsal and Skye, Emily could hear someone screaming. She had just recognized the voice as Catrina’s when another snot rang out and the screaming stopped.

The men were hesitant to shoot a woman, but nothing they said eased the look of madness on the woman’s face. When the pistol swung towards Cloud, Emily acted without thought. She flung herself in front of Cloud even as Dorothy fired. She gasped as something slammed into her back with enough force to send her and Cloud staggering backwards. There was such a look of horror on Cloud’s face, that Emily was glad she was unable to see what Dorothy’s bullet had done. As blackness started to overwhelm her, she realized the shooting had stopped.

Giorsal moved stiffly to pull her knife from Dorothy’s chest. Looking up, she saw that Harper was now crouched
by
his wife’s body. Although she felt bad for him, as bad as she felt about being forced to kill, she made no apology.

“Someone had to stop her.”

“I know, Little Red. l know. I’m sorry you had to do it.”

“You men couldnae seem to see past her being female. You were too slow to act. Get
her out of here. I can hear folk coming to see what’s happened.” She hurried to where a stunned Cloud held Emily.

“I can’t stop the bleeding,” he rasped as he pressed strips torn from Skye’s petticoat to Emily’s wound.

“Get a doctor, Wolfe.”

Wolfe moved to obey Giorsal’s command only to be blocked from leaving by the sheriff and his deputy. Several other men, making no attempt to hide their curiosity, were behind them. There was a moment of confusion, the tension growing so high it was nearly tangible, before Wolfe was allowed through to race for the doctor.

“What the hell’s happened here?”

“I fear my wife went mad and started shooting people, Sheriff,” Harper replied flatly, then smiled faintly at an astonished Giorsal. “To hide her guilt might save her name, but it would point the finger at someone else.”

Cloud paid little attention to the talk around him. His sole interest was in Emily. With Giorsal’s and Skye’s help he struggled to stop the bleeding from Emily’s wound. His fear for Emily was so great he felt sick with it.

When Wolfe returned with the doctor, Cloud blindly followed the man’s directions. He carried Emily into the master bedroom and gently laid her on the bed. When he was told to leave, however, he came out of his stupor long enough to vehemently protest.

He made it clear that nothing short of violence would move him.

Emily never fully regained consciousness as the doctor worked, for which Cloud was grateful. He felt everything the doctor did to her as if it were his own wound being treated. Even though he knew she could not hear him, he tried to soothe her with words when she moaned or tried to twist away from the pain being inflicted upon her. When the doctor was done, Cloud pinned him with a gaze that caused the man to instinctively step back

“Well? How is it?”

“The bullet’s out, the wound’s closed. Nothing vital was hit and the bleeding’s stopped. The wound has been taken care of.”

“And Emily?”

“It’s in God’s hands.”

“You better give me a better answer than that—and fast.”

“I don’t have a better answer. She’s lost a lot of blood, and she’s small. There’s also the chance of infection or fever. However, she’s healthy, and I’ve done all I can now. I’ll do whatever else I can if she suffers any complications.” The doctor quickly left.

Cloud sat by the bed clinging to Emily’s hand. She looked so small and wan that none of his purposefully encouraging remarks did much to ease the gnawing fear inside him. All he knew for certain was that something in him would die if she slipped away from him. He was so engrossed in trying to make
her wake up that he never heard Thunder approach, and he gave a convulsive start when the man laid a hand on his shoulder.

“The sheriff wants to talk to you.”

“I’m not leaving Emily.”

“You have to for just a short while. I’ll stay with her. You either go down and talk to him or he’ll be tramping up here.”

“Can’t you or Wolfe or Harper tell him what he wants to know?”

“We have and so have Skye and Giorsal, but he wants to talk to you. You were there as well. It was also your wife that was smack in the middle of it all.” Thunder shrugged. “Maybe he’s just making sure all of our stories match.”

Reluctantly, Cloud left Emily and went down to the parlour to speak to the sheriff. With clear impatience he answered the man’s questions. It was not until the sheriff declared himself satisfied that Cloud recalled that he had a few questions of his own.

“What about Chilton?”

“Man’s dead. Mrs. Brockinger blew a hole clean through his head. The woman might live, though.”

“The woman? Dorothy?”

“Nope. Mrs. Brockinger’s stone cold dead. Harper’s gone to take her to the undertaker. I was meaning Miss Catrina. She was bad shot. Looks like Mrs. Brockinger was trying to shoot her in the face too. Took Miss Catrina’s ear off and messed up her face bad.

Miss Catrina might not be too happy to find herself alive when she finally wakes up.”

“Are you intending to press charges against Giorsal MacGregor?” At the moment Cloud felt no sympathy for Catrina, could only feel that the woman had gotten what she deserved.

“Nope. Seems a clear case of self-defense. Fair fight, leastwise. Seems to me the guilty ones in all of this have all been taken care of. ‘Less you’re of a mind to charge Miss Catrina with something.”

“I don’t think so. It’d serve no purpose except revenge, and although I damn well feel like taking some, I won’t.”

“Fine, then. I hope your missus gets better,” the sheriff said quietly, then left when Cloud only nodded.

Rushing back to Emily’s side, Cloud asked Thunder, “Where is everyone?”

Moving to let Cloud retake his seat by the bed, Thunder began, “Harper went—”

“That’s the only one I do know about. The sheriff told me. Has everyone else left, then?”

“Wolfe took Skye and Giorsal back to the ranch. Skye said she’d stay with the children. Giorsal’s gone to get a few things, then will come back here to help. Wolfe will be busy for a while trying to find a wet nurse for the twins.”

“Oh, Christ, the children.” Cloud put his face in his hands. “The twins are too young to be affected.”

“Ye be acting like one.” She sighed. “Look, ye cannae go on not eating and not sleeping. That leads to illness as surely as I’ve got red hair. What good will ye be to her then? She’ll be needing you strong to help her get back her strength and to make sure she doesnae try to do too much too soon. And if she doesnae"—her voice broke slightly but she pressed on despite her own reluctance to voice the possibility—"if she doesnae live, ye’ll need to be strong for the bairns.”

“She will get better.”

“Ye cannae wish that any more than I do. ‘Course with no food or sleep, she’d open her eyes to a sorry sight of a mon.” She nodded and gently sat on the edge of the bed as he started to eat. “It probably tastes like ashes, but t’will do its work.” She frowned slightly as he struggled a little to eat because he would not release Emily’s hand. “Best ye let go of her for a while.”

Keeping his gaze fixed on the meal he ate but did not taste, Cloud shook his head. “I don’t like to let go. I’m afraid—afraid if I do she’ll slip away from me.”

The quiet admission brought tears to Giorsal’s eyes, but she blinked them away. “I’ll hold her while ye eat.” She calmly met his brief gaze, then took Emily’s hand in hers when he reluctantly released it. “I cannae feel she’ll die.”

“Have you seen something?”

“Nary a glimpse. For once in my life I want to see, want to ken what will be and it
doesnae come. A curse on it. Still, I just cannae feel she’ll die. Not our Em. Not when she’s got all she’s ever wanted for the first time in her life.”

“She didn’t want much then, did she.”

“Arenae we feeling sorry for ourselves. She’s got a real family and folk what care for her, e’en ye, though why she’d be wanting that, I dinnae ken, seeing as you’re such a muir deil.”

“A what?”

“A dark devil. What with ye hanging o’er her and hanging onto her and Thornton keeping guard for angels, she’ll have no chance to slip away. Add to that her not wanting to go and I’d say the odds are in favor of recovery.”

“Why’d she do such a damn fool thing?” he grumbled as he set the now empty tray aside.

“For the same reason ye would’ve put yourself t’ween her and a bullet. For the same reason both of ye would hand yourselves o’er to the Grim Reaper in place of the bairns. Which ought to tell you clear that it isnae just your bonnie face and tricky ways what’s put her by your side. It wouldnae hurt to think on that some and on why it matters so to ye.” She stopped him from repossessing Emily’s hand. “I will set here. Ye will go and rest.”

Reluctantly, and after informing Giorsal of how obnoxiously domineering she could be, he did go to rest. Stripping off his clothes,
he washed up and then crawled into bed. Although he had planned to do some soul-searching, he was asleep within minutes.

When he woke up, he knew he had slept far longer than he had intended to. Succumbing to a brief panic, he yanked on his trousers and raced back to Emily’s side. He was both disappointed and relieved to find no change. A weary Harper glanced at him as he moved to stand by the bed.

“You shouldn’t have let me sleep for so long.”

“Giorsal threatened us if we even thought of disturbing you. Very bloodthirsty and colorful threats they were too.”

“They usually are. No change?”

“None. Christ, I’ve been nothing but misery for the poor kid since she got here.”

There was too much truth in that for Cloud to even try to deny it. No matter how charitable he tried to be, he still found Harper at the bottom of all the trouble with Chilton. Cloud knew, however, that Harper had never been wholeheartedly behind the plan to wed Emily to Chilton. The man was also clearly tormented by the tragic consequences that association had led to.

“Emily would never blame you.”

“No, Emily never would, but that doesn’t clear me of blame. Perhaps if I hadn’t walked out on Dorothy—”

“Then you would’ve been a bigger fool than you were when you married her to begin with.”

“You don’t mince words, do you.”

“Never felt a need. The woman went mad. Simple as that. It ain’t something anyone can predict or stop. Your—” Cloud abruptly stopped talking, all thought of Harper’s concerns fleeing his mind as he looked closely at Emily.

“My what? Cloud? What’s wrong?” Harper looked at Emily in growing alarm. “She hasn’t—”

“No. Get that damned red-headed termagant. Now.”

As Harper raced off calling for Giorsal, Cloud reached out to touch Emily, noting idly that his hands were shaking. When he felt how soaked in sweat she was, he dared not believe it. The moment Giorsal reached his side, he grabbed her by the wrist and placed her hand on Emily’s sweat-dampened cheek.