Quicksilver Passion (33 page)

While the two men got themselves a bowl of stew, Cherokee carried a kettle of hot water over to the cot and reached for his knife. With the oversized, blood-soaked jacket, there was no way of telling whether it was a shoulder wound or close to the heart. In that case . . .

His hands trembled at the thought. His pards were right—whatever help she got until a doctor could get here, Cherokee would have to give her. Gently as he could, he cut the blood-soaked fabric at the shoulder, baring the wound while being careful not to expose her breast. It was a shoulder wound, but with all the blood, he couldn’t be sure how bad it was.

Willie brought his bowl over and stood looking down at her.
Will she be all right, Cherokee?”

How should I know? I’ll do what I can, but it looks like it’s bleeding pretty bad.” A sense of dread and impending doom closed over him. Oh, God, if she died right here in his arms . . .

How many times had he wished he had her at his mercy in this cabin?
Be careful what you wish for, you might get it.
No, this wasn’t what he had dreamed of at all.

He tore a piece from one of his own clean shirts and tried to wash the blood away, but the wound kept bleeding. At least it looked as if the slug might have gone through. He wouldn’t have to deal with the complication of digging a bullet out. Not that he could bring himself to hurt her, even to save her life.

Gently, Cherokee folded the piece of soft cloth and applied light pressure to the wound.
If I can get the bleeding stopped, she’ll have a better chance.”

Bill stared down at his stew.
Honest, pard, I didn’t mean to shoot her. I thought she was some dry-gulcher nosin’ around to rob us. Reckon what she’s doin’ out here?”

That’s the least of my worries right now,” Cherokee sighed.
I just wish we’d caught that horse so we could get her into the doctor.”

We got the burro,” Willie offered.

Cherokee shook his head.
Not big enough to carry even someone as small as she is. And besides, in the shape she’s in, she might die while we were trying to get her to town. By damn! Why don’t we even have a wagon?”

He held the cloth against the wound, absently stroking her hair and staring down into the pale face. She moaned softly, deep in her throat, and shrank back against the bed. He remembered then that she didn’t like to be touched.

Willie cleared his throat.
I got some whiskey, Cherokee. Maybe that will help.”

Right now, I’m open to suggestions,” Cherokee said.
Get it!”

Bill sat with his head in his hands.
I reckon the snow will wipe out the tracks so Al and the others can’t bring help.”