Depending on the Doctor (Nevada Bounty Book 2) (18 page)

Then I remembered Father and his relentless preaching about the sins of the flesh, and how giving in to them was a certain sign of moral weakness. Thoughts of Father went a long way to curing the problems with my nethers, and reminding me that good girls did not enjoy marital relations. The only purpose for it was reproduction, and it should be done only for that reason. And good girls never, ever did it outside of marriage. Only whores and harlots and women of low moral character did that sort of thing.

The difference between people and animals was that people could control their urges. I recognized my body had urges with regard to Emmett, but as a good girl, I would control them, even if I had to sleep naked with the object of my body’s urges. I would get a grip on my morals and rein in my body and its reactions to Emmett, but I would never give in to them.

The next thing I knew I thought I’d drown in my own sweat, and maybe even burst into flame if I didn’t get out of the blankets that insulated us.

I tore the blanket from my face and flung it away, sucking in a long breath of cool air.

A bright beam of sunlight made me squint, but I flopped over onto my back and grinned because sun meant the storm had blown out.

The cool air danced on my skin, crisp and refreshing after the suffocating cocoon, but I really needed to get dressed and wake Emmett. We all needed food, and Emmett needed medical treatment, so we had to be on our way.

A shadow blocked the sunlight just as I got up to start dressing. I popped my eyes open and when I saw an Indian had caused the shadow, I screamed and yanked the blanket over me.

In addition to his height, prominent cheekbones and a proud nose lent authority to his face. He wore buckskins and fur, and feathers and beads adorned his long straight black hair. He looked warm.

He snorted what seemed like a laugh of some sort, then two more similar-looking men in nearly-identical outfits climbed up behind him in the mouth of the cave.

My heart beat so hard I thought it would explode from my chest. I reached over and gave Emmett a shove. “Wake up,” I hissed, but his skin burned with fever when I touched his shoulder. I chanced a glance at him, and noticed his face was red and sheened with sweat. At least that explained what had woken me.

I was left to deal with Indians all by myself.

I didn’t understand a word they said. They spoke amongst themselves and from the way they surveyed the cave, they took an inventory of us and our meager supplies, then discussed their findings.

They unhobbled the horses, and the man who seemed to be the leader said something to me, which of course I didn’t comprehend, but through gestures I understood him to mean I should get dressed.

I was more than happy to do so, and waited for him to turn around, but he and the others just stood there watching. I had no choice if I wanted to get dressed than to do it in front of them. Once clothed, though, I felt better equipped to deal with the situation, but only a bit. I was very far out of my element.

I bent to get Emmett’s clothes and try to dress him, but the leader barked something at me, making me jump. I looked up at him and he waved for me to join them.

“What about Emmett?” I asked, pointing to Emmett.

The leader waved a dismissive hand and pointed at me, gesturing for me to join him.

He meant to leave Emmett.

I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head so he’d have no doubt what I meant. “No. If I go, Emmett goes. If he stays, I stay.”

I knew he didn’t understand my words, but he clearly understood my determined stance. He said something else to me, his voice loud and commanding, but I stood my ground. We glared at each other and I finally pointed at Emmett, pointed at my own chest, then pointed at him, meaning both of us would go with him.

He finally harrumphed and said something to the other two men, then turned on his heel and left the cave. The other two men approached me and through gesture and awkwardly rolling poor Emmett’s naked body back and forth, we managed to get him dressed and wrapped in a couple of blankets. One of the men heaved Emmett onto his shoulder and carried him to the horses, slinging him belly-first into the saddle. He took the reins and led the horse out of the cave. He gestured for me to climb up onto the other horse and follow him.

I had no choice but to do as he asked. I only hoped we weren’t going from the proverbial frying pan into the fire.

I dreamed of Lydia. Her soft, gentle fingers danced over my skin easing my fear and pain, healing my heart and soul.

I lay on a blanket in the green grass, and Lydia sat beside me. The bright sun warmed my skin, and a cool breeze ruffled Lydia’s loose curls tumbling down her back, exactly as beautiful and tempting as I knew they would be. She held my hand and brushed the hair out of my eyes. I enjoyed spending time with her that didn’t require us to run from someone, get shot at, or freeze.

Lydia traced the lines on my palm and smiled. I lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. She blushed the way I liked so much, and ducked her head, glancing over her glasses at me. I was about to tell her how happy she made me when a fat black raven soared out of nowhere and landed on the branch of a huge oak tree nearby.

I hadn’t noticed the tree before, but now that I saw it, it seemed impossible I’d missed it. The raven sat on one of the gnarled branches as bold as the huge bright sun behind him.

The raven winked at me and jerked his head toward the sun. He took wing and circled over my head, then wheeled around and flew for the light. He hovered over it, waiting for me.

I let go of Lydia’s hand, suddenly fascinated by the raven and the light. The sun was far too close. It shouldn’t be close enough to reach out and touch.

I had to explore it. Standing, I felt Lydia grasp at my leg. When I looked down at her, she clutched at me, trying to make me stay. I smiled at her, patted her head to reassure her I’d be right back. I had to investigate the light.

The closer I got to it, the warmer it seemed. It couldn’t be good to get so close to the sun, I thought, but it didn’t make sense that it could hover so close. When I was just a few steps away from where the raven circled overhead, a wave of dizziness hit me. I leaned my hands on my knees, breathing deep but swaying off balance.

Maybe I should go back to Lydia. It was more comfortable there, but when I turned, the raven cawed and the sound drew me back.

Of course. I’d meant to investigate the bright sun.

I took a couple more steps and reached out to touch the bright, swirling whiteness of the sun. It hummed like a choir of a thousand voices. I wanted to watch it roil and churn, listen to the sweet harmony, but more than anything I wanted to immerse myself in the warmth.

One more step was all I needed. I lifted my foot, but before I could step forward, I heard Lydia’s voice behind me.

“Emmett, please don’t leave me alone here. I need you.”

I turned to find her on her knees, pleading, tears rolling down her cheeks. Had I caused her that pain? Why would she be so sad over me? We hardly knew each other.

But then I remembered her smile, her blush, those curls I wanted to wrap around my finger first thing in the morning after waking up in the same bed with her. I took another step for her.

The raven cawed again, swooping in front of me, blocking my way, driving me back for the sun.

Lydia cried out for me. The alarm in her eyes startled me. I had to go to her, to reassure her.

The raven refused to leave me alone. It battered me with its wings, trying to block my view of Lydia.

I swatted at it, shoving it away, but it came back again and again.

Finally I stopped and looked up at it. “What do you want from me?”

It jerked its beak toward the brightness of the sun. I looked back at it with a sudden longing, but when I looked at Lydia again, I experienced a different kind of longing.

“No,” I told the raven. “Lydia needs me. There’s time enough for that later.”

The raven squawked in my face, making his annoyance obvious, then darted for his branch in the tree.

I closed the distance to Lydia. The relief on her face warmed my heart. I didn’t understand why a woman like Lydia would care about me, would worry about me and insist I stay with her. There were things I needed to tell her, things I wasn’t proud of, but maybe she’d understand. I had to try.

I laid back on the blanket, resting my head in her lap. She took my hand in hers and this time she lifted it to her lips and dropped a kiss in my palm, then cradled her face in my hand. I’d never felt so right in all my life.

Lydia smiled her sweetest smile. “Wake up, Emmett,” she said.

And I did.

When I opened my eyes, I looked up into Lydia’s. Tears ran down her face, but she smiled anyway.

“I was so afraid I’d lose you,” she said, brushing my forehead with her fingers.

“No such luck,” I said. My voice came out scratchy and raw. “Where are we?”

Through my blurry vision I couldn’t be sure, but the walls seemed to be animal hide, and a smoky fire made the air feel thick and hot.

“A group of Indians found us in the cave. You were running a high fever, and unconscious. They packed us up and brought us to their camp. I don’t speak their language, and I was in no position to fight them off, so I didn’t have any choice.”

I couldn’t figure out why she was so anxious. “It’s fine, Lydia. We’re alive, aren’t we?”

“I was worried you’d be upset with me for letting them take us.”

“I’d have been forced to make the same decision.” I reached for her hand, and when she gave it to me, I patted it, hoping to reassure her. “How long have we been here?”

My vision cleared some, and the grogginess fell away. Along with consciousness came awareness of my body and all the pains and discomfort it contained, most of which fought for immediate attention.

“Three days,” she said, her eyes glassy with tears. I could only imagine what three days in an Indian camp for a white woman who couldn’t communicate had been like, especially a woman who had no experience with Indians.

She didn’t look too worse for wear, though. In my limited experience with natives, the majority of them valued strength. Lydia had that, she just didn’t have much confidence in her strength.

I tried to sit, but a pain in my side made me change my mind. “I feel like shit,” I said, flopping onto my back.

The hint of a smile shadowed her lips. “I’m not surprised. The Indian healer removed the bullet—it was lodged close enough to the surface on your back that she just had to make a small incision and squeeze it out. Then she packed your wounds with some kind of poultice, and we’ve been waiting since then.”

I reached my hand down to my abdomen to touch the wound site. It was covered with a bandage. I shifted and slid my fingers around to my back to find a similar bandage. Aside from the bandages, I was naked, which was disconcerting, but not unexpected. I just didn’t like being on the patient end of the medical relationship.

“You stayed with me while she worked on me?”

She looked startled that I’d suggest otherwise. “Of course. You couldn’t speak for yourself, so you were my responsibility. I couldn’t abandon you.”

At that moment the door flap of the Indian lodge opened, and a wizened little old woman scampered in, followed by a tall man. Both wore buckskins under fur winter wear. The woman was short with long gray braids, a wrinkled face, and toothless smile. The man was much younger—late twenties, I guessed—tall and imposing, with long black braids decorated with feathers. He wore a guarded expression.

My experience with natives had been limited to some interaction on my sales routes. A few tribes bought my tonics, but mostly I tried to trade with them for ingredients and build a rapport so they’d leave me alone.

From our general location, and their dress, I guessed these folks to be Cheyenne.

The woman came right over to me, gave Lydia a gentle, dismissive shove, and threw off the fur covering my body.

I managed to grab it before she exposed me completely, and drag it back over my hips. Lydia looked away and turned a pretty pink. The man smirked and chuckled. The old woman
tutted
as if modesty was completely unimportant, and just an inconvenience for her.

Without clothes, and even with the fire, the cool air caused my skin to pebble with gooseflesh. The old woman said something to the man. I spoke only a few words of their language, but didn’t understand what she said. He came closer as the woman peeled the bandage off the wound on my belly. I sucked in a hissing breath as the bandage pulled away from my skin.

Once off, I took a deep cleansing breath, then leaned up to get a look. The damage didn’t look too bad. The edges of the wound were ragged and covered with a poultice of greenish-black goo, but once she wiped it away, I saw no suppuration or redness. It looked like she’d opened the wound a bit to clean it out, but overall, it seemed like it had begun to fill in and was healing well.

She pointed to the wound, talked to the man, and basically my impression was that she concluded the same thing I had. The man nodded and grunted, but from the way he glanced in Lydia’s direction, he was more interested in her than in me and my injury.