Oklahoma kiss (12 page)

      
"If’ n you ask me, it ought to be dinner as late as it is, but Ah thought ham, eggs, toasted bread, and flapjacks would be quicker to cook. Put some more butter on the table, would you. Missy? And Ah'm still a-waiting to hear."

      
"I'm afraid I made a mistake, Tillie. That man is who he claimed to be, and to make matters worse, he and Warren are good friends. And even though Warren mumbled something about two little boys in Fort Smith, I really have no idea what that little charade was about." Blair paused in front of the glass-fronted hutch and, frowning at her reflection, fussed with her hair and smoothed her dress over her slender hips.

      
Tillie raised one brow and pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Seems to me you don't find that notion 'bout them being friends too difficult to accept."

      
Blair whirled about. "What makes you think something like that? It so happens I find his presence very . . . uncomfortable," she spoke as though trying to convince herself. "The way he looks at me, and the color of his eyes ... I don't know, it just makes me feel strange inside."

      
"Like he's going to hurt you?"

      
"Oh, no, it is nothing like that," Blair rushed to say. "Although, I'm sure what I did was terribly embarrassing for him; men are like that when it comes to their foolish pride. He'd probably like to throttle me for it, too, but I seriously doubt if he'll hold a grudge. I hope not anyway." She grinned at Tillie and wiggled her brows in a teasing manner. "I might as well tell you, you'll drag it out of me anyway. I think he is very attractive-in a rugged, masculine way."

      
Tillie bustled about the table, her ample figure moving with ease. "After seeing you primp in that glass, that's what Ah suspected. You think ol' Tillie ain't got eyes in her head, but she does. She knows a good-lookin' man when she sees one and that young fellow out there is definitely handsome. You'd be right smart if’n you grabbed him up, cause there ain't nothing looks like him 'round these parts . . unless you think somebody like that Baker boy is fittin'. And if you think something like that, child, then you've done lost your mind!" Tillie wiped her hands on a tea-towel as a dreamy expression slipped over her face. "And Lordy, Lordy, wouldn't the two of you make some mighty pretty babies!"

      
Blair was so startled by what Tillie said, she dropped a cup on the floor. Kneeling to pick up the pieces, she grumbled, "My goodness, Tillie, I don't even know the man, and here you have me married to him already!" Although her tone was scolding, it did not quite carry conviction. Blair could not help but think about what Tillie had said, though.

      
Standing, she braced her hands against the back of a chair and chewed on her bottom lip, momentarily lost in her reveries. Her life was so chaotic right now, she certainly did not need a man like Adam Cahill to add further confusion. Even though she had tried desperately not to dwell on it, there was still the matter of the government opening Indian land to homesteaders. There was nothing she could do to prevent it from happening, but their lives would certainly be in turmoil for the next several months, or maybe even years. And if she expected to have peace in the family, she would have to meet with Warren within the next day or two and tell him the entire truth. Then, too, she needed time to forget about Albert, she needed time for her broken heart to mend.

      
The heavy lashes that shadowed her cheeks flew up and a startled gasp escaped her lips. Why, she could not recall Albert's features. His countenance was just an indistinguishable blur in her memory. Was this just her way of easing the pain? Or, could Adam Cahill be responsible for this sudden mending of her broken heart?

      
Pulling her mind away from such thoughts, she muttered under her breath, "Good grief, what on earth has come over me? I don't even know the man,and here I am behaving like a moon-struck schoolgirl."

      
"What did you say, child?"

      
"Nothing, Tillie, nothing at all." She turned and busied herself, then glanced up when Warren charged into the kitchen with his usual hurried gait. He held the door open for Adam, who took longer getting up the steps.

      
Warren knew if Adam's feet did not receive proper care, it might cause blood poisoning. While he had learned quite a bit about medicines over the years, his knowledge was more limited to livestock, whereas Blair had a natural flair when it came to doctoring folks. Even as a young girl, under her meticulous care, cuts healed without leaving scars, aches and pains quickly disappeared after people drank her concoctions, and once, she had even set a broken arm and the man recovered the full use of his limb.

      
"Blair, I’d like for you to look at Adam's feet before we eat. They're so blistered and sore, I don't know how he's able to walk on them."

      
She glanced at him sharply, started to protest, then thought better of it. Right now, she wanted to keep Warren in a good mood. Although, this ruined her plans. It would be next to impossible to behave with elegant dignity while kneeling at Adam's feet.

      
"Of course," she replied in what she hoped to be a congenial tone.

      
Caught unaware by his friend's suggestion, Adam began shaking his head. If this was what Warren had in mind when he asked him to back him up, he wanted no part of it. His feet hurt too badly to allow that girl to get her hands on them. "No, that's all right. I'll take care of them later."

      
"I insist," Warren said adamantly. "It shouldn't take long."

      
Blair knew when Warren's mind was made up, there was no force on earth that could change it. "You'll have to sit down, Mr. Cahill," she said, pulling a chair from the table. Kneeling, she wanted to laugh but dared not to upon noticing that his pants legs were so long, he was actually standing on them. And men claimed women were vain! Their boots had such high heels, they had to purchase trousers several inches too long in order to accommodate the extra height.

      
With the girl kneeling at his feet and Warren staring at him expectantly, Adam had no choice but to sit down. However, he did so after sighing heavily to show his reluctance.

      
Tugging upwards on the pants legs, Blair stared in horror when she saw the pitiful condition his feet were in. She could only imagine the extent of his pain. Finally, she stammered, "I have never seen blisters like these! What ... in the world caused them?"

      
"I guess I walked too much yesterday," he said gruffly, receiving a great amount of satisfaction when he saw her flinch at his words. Then, the girl slowly raised her head, her brows were drawn in an agonized expression and her eyes had an unnatural shine, as though she had blinked back a sudden rush of tears. Suddenly, Adam felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach. The walk to the ranch had not caused his blisters and for some strange reason, he could not let her think she was solely responsible.

      
Her voice had an infinitely regrettable tone. "Yes, I suppose you did."

      
Adam cleared his throat and continued as though he had never meant to imply the girl had been to blame. "It's my own fault, though. Whenever I have to spend a lot of time in the saddle, I wear specially made boots . . . Warren, you probably know what kind I’m talking about."

      
"Yeah, I wear them myself quite a bit, but I always change into another pair whenever I have much walking to do. The damn heels are too high for that."

      
Adam smiled. "Usually, that's what I do, but I didn't have a spare pair with me. When my horse first went lame, I suppose I should have put on my moccasins, but I was too reluctant to wear them-always have been whenever I am in rugged country and the snakes have just come out." Wiggling his toes, he shook his head. "I must have walked ten miles or better over the roughest country in the Nation."

      
Blair was relieved that she was not the cause of his wounds, but regretted the additional walking she had forced him to do.

      
Tillie had been listening as she walked around them, setting the food on the table. "And you were wearing them boots like Mr. Warren wears?"

      
"Yes, ma'am, unfortunately," he said with a wry grin.

      
"Lordy, ain't no wonder they're in a mess!"

      
After one final inspection for red streaks, Blair stood and began issuing orders. "Warren, please get the foot-tub. I noticed it hanging by the back door. Tillie, I'll need that kettle of water that's heating on the stove," She hurried over to a cabinet and searched diligently through jars and tins of various medicines, herbs, and root powders. Distress was evident on her face as she placed each item aside. "It's a good thing no one has been sick while I've been gone. All of this medicine is too old now, it's lost its potency." She tapped her forefinger against her cheek and mused aloud, "It's a little early in the season for any . . . no-wait. Tillie, do we have any Epsom salts?"

      
"Yes, Ah think so. It'll be in the bathing room."

      
"Please get it for me." Placing her hands on her hips, and ignoring the terrific pounding of her heart, she turned to face Adam. "I want to set the record straight right now. I realize we did not get off on the right foot yesterday—no pun intended—but I hope you understand the position I was in."

      
Smirking, Adam leaned back in the chair. "I thought you were worried about my feet. I didn't know I was about to get an apology."

      
"I am, and you're not," she stated, answering each of his challenges curtly. "What I am getting at is that I don't want you to think I am being deliberately cruel when I start treating your feet, and they badly need treatment. I counted eight red streaks on the soles, and there are more forming on the arches and on the insteps. The tops are so raw, they look like they've been pulverized." Not sure he understood how serious it was, she added, "Since you seem an intelligent man, you know as well as I, that a raw sore can quickly turn gangrenous."

      
"Go on," he said, the muscles in his cheeks tensing. She now had his complete attention. When he was a young boy, one of their neighbors cut his leg almost all off with a scythe and had been unable to go for help. Gangrene set in and when they found him, he was more dead than alive and half out of his mind from agony. Adam's father had immediately sent the young Adam out of the room. The neighbor died only a few minutes later. Adam always wondered if his father had anything to do with ending the man's misery, but the events of that day were something they never discussed.

      
"I don't want to alarm you needlessly because I am positive we caught it in time. Since your feet are so raw, the treatments will be extremely painful, and you will have to follow my instructions to the letter. That means they will have to soak every few hours until all signs of any redness disappear. Then ointment and bandages will have to be diligently applied. You also will have to stay off of them for at least a week."

      
"A week!" He shook his head stubbornly "No, that's too long. I can't afford to waste that much time."

      
"Then I suggest you get yourself fitted for crutches or a coffin because you will soon need one or the other," she muttered grimly.

      
Adam drummed his fingers on the table. "I realize I might offend you by asking this, but . . . well, is there a doctor in these parts anywhere?"

      
Warren grunted his disapproval. "Yeah, but Adam, the old man is at least sixty-five years old, and I haven't seen him sober in the past three years. I wouldn't trust a sway-backed nag to his care."

      
"He is still a medical doctor and Adam . . . Mr. Cahill may prefer him." Blair was so worried he would chose old Doc Brady, she could hardly lift her voice above a whisper.

      
For a long, agonizing moment, Adam measured her with a cool, appraising look, then he asked Warren, "Before I decide, I'd like to know which one of your sisters will take care of me: the dirty-faced little squirt I met yesterday, the prissy snob who was out in the yard a while ago, or this pretty little lady with the soft voice and sweet manner?" His brows lifted significantly when he saw her blush and the beginnings of a smile tip the corners of her mouth. Again, the question gnawed at him. How could someone as feminine as she, behave like the obnoxious brat he met yesterday?

      
Warren guffawed, then said, "It'll be this one, but if I understood her correctly, you might think it's my other sister . . . the one you haven't met. She's half-wildcat, and the other half is pure de old devil!"

      
Adam shrugged his shoulders in mock resignation. "Since I've always had a fondness for devils and wildcats, I guess I had better accept your offer." He slowly stroked his chin. "If you don't mind, though, do you think we could eat before the torture begins? I'm about to starve to death."

      
Keeping her face as straight as possible, Blair said in her most serious tone, "I'm sure a few more minutes won't make any difference. After all, every condemned man should receive a last meal." She could not help but chuckle at the startled expression that suddenly swept across Adam's face.

      
Chapter 8

      
The table had been cleared and the food put away when Blair entered the dining room carrying a kettle of hot water and a foot tub. Setting the tub down in front of Adam, she then filled it with water. As if they wanted no part of the ordeal ahead, Tillie busied herself in the kitchen and Warren went to put away the wagon and check on Adam's horse,