Rapture's Tempest (40 page)

“We thought it was going to be a wake.” Marshall couldn’t stop the grin that threatened. “But from the sound of you, I don’t think you’re dying…”

Jim moaned as he tried to shift positions. “You may not think so, but…”

“Lie still, darling,” Delight entreated, and he rested quietly.

George returned and handed her another blanket. “Let’s
get the rest of those wet clothes off of him,” he said as he pulled off Jim’s boots, and with Marshall’s help they cut away his pants.

Jim lay motionless throughout the ordeal, the only sign of his distress the tightening of his jaw as they lifted his hips to pull the remains of his pants from him. After covering him with the other blanket, Marshall hurried to heat the water.

Delight never left Jim’s side as George carefully folded back the cover from his leg and removed the makeshift bandage.

“Marshall?” he called softly to his older son.

Marshall looked up from where he’d been heating water on the fire. “What?”

“In my saddlebags there’s an extra shirt. Tear it up, we’re going to need it for bandages…”

He looked down at Jim’s thigh. The flesh was torn and raw, and a quick examination revealed, to George’s disgust, that the bullet had not passed through his leg. As gently as possible, he probed the wound, drawing a guttural growl from Jim.

“The bullet’s still in there, Jimmy.” George was serious.

Jim met his father’s concerned gaze. “Do what you have to do.”

“Do you want a drink first?”

He nodded, and George went quickly to get the whiskey from his saddlebag. Handing it to Delight, he waited patiently while she held the flask to Jim’s lips. He drank deeply of the potent liquor, and its burning warmth brought some of the color back to his face. When he finished, he glanced up at his father.

“All right. I’m ready.” He brought Delight’s hand to his lips, kissing it softly as he prepared himself for the trauma to come. Though the pain in his leg was bad now, Jim knew what had to be done to probe for a bullet. Girding himself, he glanced up at Delight. “Don’t look so worried. It’ll all be over soon.”

She smiled tremulously at him and leaned forward to kiss him.

George moved to the fire and held the blade of his knife
directly in the flames while Marshall carried the hot water to the bedside, and in minutes they were set.

“Jimmy. Marsh’s going to hold your leg for me.”

“Do you need my help?” Mark offered, knowing that although he was injured and weak he could still help hold Jim immobile.

“It’s all right, Mark.” Jim nodded, “I’ll hold still for them.” His eyes met Delight’s, and she recognized for the first time the power of his inner strength. As she held tightly to his hand, they began.

As quickly and efficiently as he could, George delved into the damaged flesh, trying to locate and remove the bullet. Jim’s grip on Delight’s hand was bruising, and the muscles in his neck stood out as he strained in silent agony. Turning away, his jaw clenched, he refused to give in to the scream that threatened as the hot blade cut into his leg.

Delight could almost feel his torment and her tears fell freely as Jim lay motionless, controlling himself even as the wracking pain tore at his body.

George exchanged a worried look with Marshall. The bullet was in deeper that he’d thought. In one final, desperate attempt, he probed again, and this time Jim could not stop the groan of anguish that escaped him as he lapsed into unconsciousness. Working quickly, George at last located the elusive piece of metal and pried it loose from his son’s leg.

“Oh, thank God,” Delight cried, when he extracted the bullet. Watching Jim suffer had been almost more than she could bear, and she felt faint from the horror of it.

The wound was bleeding freely again, and, concerned about a further blood loss, George quickly prepared to cauterize it. Delight remained steadfastly by Jim’s side as George finished doctoring Jim’s leg, even though the smell of the burned flesh was nauseating. She was glad that Jim had been unconscious during the last part, for the pain surely would have been more than he could have borne. When George was satisfied that the bleeding was stopped and that he’d done
everything he could for Jim, he bound his leg with the clean, soft cloths.

“Will he be all right now?” Delight asked, her face pale from the strain she’d been under.

“He should be, as long as no infection sets in,” Marshall started to explain, and then, realizing that she wasn’t looking well, he handed her the whiskey. “Take a drink. You look like you could use one.”

“Thanks.” Without any hesitation, she took it from him, and, remembering Ollie’s drinking lesson, she took a deep swallow. At George’s amazed expression, she grinned. “Ollie taught me.”

“Ollie—” George paused. “I hope he’s all right…he didn’t look too good when they took him on board Henry’s boat.”

“If Rose has anything to do with it, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Delight reassured him.

George smiled at her answer and then realized that he hadn’t taken care of Mark’s wound yet. “Mark…let me take a look at your head…”

Marshall handed him the liquor as George gently examined his head.

“How’s it look?” Mark asked, cringing as he touched a particularly sensitive spot.

“Not bad,” George told him as he cleaned the scalp wound. “It’s just a graze, but I’m sure you’ll have a headache for the next few days.”

“I already do.” Mark tried to grin, but the throbbing in his head stifled his good humor.

As Jim stirred, all attention turned back to him. Groaning softly, he opened his eyes to see Delight hovering over him, her face reflecting her love and concern for him.

“Hello.” His tone was gruff.

“Hello.” Her voice was a caress, and she reached out to touch his cheek with gentle fingers.

“Did he get it out?” Jim asked.

“Yes. You’ll be fine.”

Trusting her completely, he relaxed, the tension flowing from him. “How long was I out?”

“Just a few minutes.”

He nodded and closed his eyes. His entire body ached, but the center of the pain was the throbbing in his thigh. “Got any more of that whiskey left?”

“Sure do.” Mark handed her the now half-empty bottle. Slipping her arm under his shoulders, she helped Jim up a little so he could drink more easily.

“Thanks.” He lay back, exhausted.

“How do you feel?” Marshall asked.

“You don’t want to know,” Jim answered flatly, resting his forearm across his brow.

“That bad?”

“That bad,” he confirmed.

“Try to rest, then. Sleep is probably the best thing for you.”

Jim nodded wearily and turned to look at Delight. “Stay with me?”

“As long as you want me to,” she answered softly, taking his hand.

He squeezed hers gently and closed his eyes.

Mark, relieved that Jim was doing better, stood up and moved around the room, testing himself. The dizziness had passed, and, physically, he was feeling much improved.

“I’ll head out again in the morning. Now that you’re here to take care of Jim…” Mark began, and Marshall and George gave him a disbelieving look.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Absolutely.” His expression was grave. “It’s my duty.”

George snorted in disbelief. “It’s not your duty to get killed!”

“What choice do I have? I have to go after them!”

“By yourself? Injured? That’s suicide, Mark.” Marshall told him angrily.

“But the gold…”

“Is it worth your life?” The unexpected question from Jim
stopped the entire conversation. “Better we should go back and find out who’s behind it all.” His breathing was ragged as he closed his eyes again.

Mark fell silent as he realized that Jim was right. He had been so obsessed with getting the gold back that he hadn’t realized the danger that the spies still represented. “You’re right.”

“I’m glad to hear you talk sense,” George told him gruffly as he put a comforting arm about his shoulders.

Mark’s expression was grim, and the look in his eyes cold and hard. “I’ll find them, and when I do…they’re going to pay for what they did.”

It was much later that night when the rain finally stopped. The cabin was dark, save for the glow of the small fire they’d managed to keep going all afternoon. Sitting before its warmth, they relaxed in silent companionship. The worst was over.

Jim had been sleeping off and on all the afternoon. The rest and the liberal doses of the whiskey seemed to have taken the edge off his pain. And he lay now, awake, comfortable and content.

“You two have never really told us what happened,” George said, wanting to know the whole story.

“Did Delight tell you about the attack?” Mark asked.

“Not in detail, no.”

“They ambushed us at the wooding station. They must have planted explosives on board, because just as we were pulling out there was an explosion. Jim was blown overboard by the blast, and I was buried under some timbers. Jim managed to rescue me and the others, but there were sharpshooters up on the hillside, and as my men tried to escape they cut them down.” Mark’s tone was bitter, and George offered him the whiskey bottle. After taking a deep swallow, he went on. “There was nothing more we could do there. The Rebs had gotten on the ship and stolen the gold. So when I was able to find the horses, we went after them.”

“But there were only two of you,” Marshall argued. “Didn’t you realize that you were hopelessly outnumbered?”

“Yes, but it didn’t seem to matter at the time. My men were all dead. And I thought if we could catch the guerrillas by surprise, we might have a chance to get the gold back.”

“If it hadn’t been raining, it would have worked,” Jim added. “But it was too hard to track them in the mud. We were right on top of them and didn’t even know it…not until it was too late.”

“You’re just lucky you’re still alive,” George told them. “Those Rebel sharpshooters don’t usually miss.”

“I know. Our horses shied…that’s the only thing that saved us,” Mark explained.

They were silent for long minutes.

“Tomorrow, Mark and I will go for help,” George began. “I want to arrange for a wagon to come back for you. You shouldn’t use that leg at all until we can get you to a doctor.”

Jim nodded his agreement. “You won’t get any argument out of me on that.”

“Good,” George smiled. “It shouldn’t be too far to New Madrid. We can book passage home from there.”

“The sooner we get back, the better. Mother, Dorrie, and Renee are probably going crazy by now,” Marshall added.

“I’ll send word upriver when we get to town tomorrow.” When no one had anything else to offer, George said, “Well, let’s get what sleep we can. I want to head out at first light.”

Delight sat quietly on the floor at Jim’s side as the men settled in and one by one fell asleep. She had thought Jim was asleep too, but when she shifted stiffly, trying to find a comfortable position, he took her arm in an easy grip and pulled her up next to him.

“I didn’t know you were awake,” she whispered in surprise.

“Shh…” Jim said, sensing her discomfort. “Lie with me. Let me feel you against me.”

“But your leg…” she protested quietly.

“If you lie still, it’ll be all right,” he encouraged her.

Delight was tempted, for she wanted nothing more than to
spend the night in his arms, but she was very conscious of the other men in the room.

“Your father,” she whispered, embarrassed.

“I assure you, he’s asleep, and even if he wasn’t he wouldn’t mind.” He grinned roguishly at her, and her resistance faded. “You are my wife, you know.”

Smiling, she carefully stretched out beside him. “I know.”

When she lay, not touching him for fear of hurting him, Jim drew her closer, pressing her head down on his shoulder. “That’s better.”

She sighed, at peace for the first time that day. “I love you, Jim. I don’t think I could live without you.”

His hand lifted to caress her cheek, and he paused when he felt the dampness of her tears. “You’re crying? Don’t.” His voice was soft and hoarse with emotion.

“I’m sorry.” Delight raised her head to really look at him. “I’m just so relieved that you’re all right…” She studied the male beauty of him, his firm features, his dark eyes warm now with his love for her, the overnight growth of beard that added to his total masculinity.

Feeling the depth of her love, he pulled her toward him and kissed her, but as he tried to nestle closer to her soft, womanly curves he forgot about his leg and the pain exploded in a white-hot flash. “Damn!” He hissed under his breath as he released her abruptly.

“What’s wrong?” Her eyes widened with worry.

He chuckled softly, lying back in agony and ecstasy. “You’re so totally captivating that I forgot all about my damn leg.”

“Did you hurt it again? Should I check the bandage?” She started to panic.

“No, it wasn’t that bad. But why don’t you bring me the whiskey?”

Delight hurried to get the bottle, and when she gave it to him, he took several big gulps.

“I thought you didn’t like whiskey,” Delight remarked, keeping her voice low as he swallowed the burning liquid eagerly.

“I don’t like it, but believe me, it takes the edge off my leg.” He grimaced, handing the liquor back to her. When she’d put it away, she wasn’t certain whether she should lie down by him again. “Come on,” he coaxed, patting the blanket next to him.

“Are you sure?” Delight sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’ll try to control myself, but for some reason when I get this close to you there’s only one thing on my mind.”

She smiled as she lay beside him. “Think of me as only your cabin boy.”

Jim stifled a laugh. “I’ll try.”

“That was a wonderful night…” she sighed.

“Tease. It’s not fair to tempt me with memories like those when I’m not in a position to do anything about it.”

Delight grinned. “As long as you don’t forget.”

“Ah, my love. If only we were alone…” Knowing that he would not enjoy the pleasures of her body this night, he held her as close as he could. “Now go to sleep.”

“Yes, Captain,” she murmured, safe in the haven of his arms. “Good night.”