Tall, Dark, and Texan (25 page)

“Why?” Teagen asked, still holding her tight.

“He rode in a few minutes after you left. He’d been shot in the leg.” She bit back a cry of pain, and they heard Sage whisper an apology for what she had to do.

Teagen forced himself to keep questioning Jessie, even though all he wanted to do was ask Sage to hurry up. “Did he know who shot him?”

Jessie gripped his hand tightly and let out a little cry. It took her a few minutes to recover enough to answer, but she seemed to be fighting to continue. Teagen felt like they were both playing a game to keep from dealing with the reality of what was happening.

“Sims said someone shot from the brush along the river edge. He didn’t see who.”

Teagen swore, then forced himself to calm. “We’ll deal with them later. If Sims was talking, he’s probably not dying, and if I know the old Ranger, he’ll be wanting to find the answers as soon as he can ride.”

Jessie pulled his hand against her cheek. “Stay with me, Teagen. Promise me, no matter what happens, you won’t leave me out here alone.”

“I promise.” He kissed the top of her hair. “Roak has gone after the other wagon. As soon as Sage checks you out, I’ll take you home. Don’t worry; you’ll be in your bed in no time.”

“Good.” Jessie closed her eyes and seemed to relax a little.

He glanced down at Sage. His sister’s hands were covered in blood now. She’d cut a piece of Jessie’s petticoat away and was wrapping something.

“Jess,” he whispered, but his wife didn’t open her eyes. He moved his cheek along her face and felt the slow exhale of her breath. He didn’t know if she was asleep or passed out. He didn’t care, as long as she was alive.

They heard the sound of a wagon as Roak drew near. He’d wrapped the horses’ hooves in wet burlap bags and blindfolded them so they wouldn’t see the fire burning only ten feet away. He walked beside them, guiding them as close as he could.

Teagen rose to his knees without letting go of Jessie. “Can we move her now?” he asked Sage.

“Very carefully,” Sage whispered as she stood cradling the tiny bundle in her arms. “She lost the baby.”

Teagen had no time to worry about how he’d tell Jessie. Right now all he could think of was getting her out of the mud and blood. He lifted her gently and held her against his chest as he walked through grass still smoldering to the wagon. Without a word, he sat on the tailgate.

Sage climbed in beside Roak, and they headed back toward the house.

“Don’t die on me, Jess,” Teagen whispered against her ear. “Promise you won’t die on me.”

She was so still it frightened him. Halfway back to the house he felt warm rain on his skin, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was in his arms.

Roak must have told Martha what had happened, because she was standing on the porch with a quilt ready to wrap around Jessie.

Teagen paused without loosening his hold on Jessie as Martha tucked the blanket around her.

“The girls are playing in the dining room, so you should have no problem getting up the stairs with her.”

“How’s Sims?” Teagen remembered why Martha hadn’t been the one driving the wagon.

“He’ll live. I dug the bullet out and gave him half a bottle of whiskey to drink while the wound drained. I figured Sage would want to sew him up.” Martha touched Jessie’s forehead. “She’s cold.”

Sage walked up behind Teagen. “She’s lost a lot of blood.” She turned to Roak. “Wash up, then get Martha two buckets of water to boil, and I’ll need another two upstairs, still cold from the well.”

Teagen moved through the house. “I’m not taking her upstairs. She’ll be downstairs, in my room.”

No one argued. They all moved to follow orders. Drummond ran to wash and haul water. Martha hurried ahead to make out the bed. Sage went after her medicine box.

Teagen crossed into the room that served as his bedroom. One foot into the room he saw the mirror Jessie had been standing in front of only hours ago. She’d looked so beautiful he’d had to touch her. She’d smelled of vanilla and tasted of heaven.

He gently placed her on the bed and stepped back. She looked so pale in her black dress. All the warmth he’d seen in her cheeks was gone.

“Go clean up, Teagen,” Sage said softly. “Martha and I have work to do here.” When he hesitated, she added, “It’s all right, and the way you look, you’ll probably frighten her when she wakes. Go.”

He didn’t want to leave, but Sage was right. His skin was covered in black smoke, and he smelled of the fire. “I’ll be right back,” he promised. “If she wakes—”

“We’ll tell her,” Martha said in her no-nonsense way. The housekeeper was already unbuttoning Jessie’s blouse. “Don’t come back until you’re called.” She glared at him. “I mean it, Teagen.”

“All right,” he said, feeling useless. He thought of how he’d watched Jessie do the same thing hours before. He didn’t want to see her flesh now. Not now, with her hurt.

He almost ran to the mud room.

Roak stood by the washstand, his shirt off, his body already scrubbed clean. Teagen almost told him to get dressed, then realized the shirt he had been wearing was now a rag.

He nodded. “Grab one of the shirts along the first row.”

Roak looked around at the three rows of clothes behind him. “You giving me one of your brothers’ shirts?”

“No. I’m giving you one of mine.” Teagen pulled off his own shirt and began to soap up. “It eats at me that I have to keep thanking you.”

Roak grinned. “I know. That alone makes even the sacrifice of my best shirt worth it.” He tugged on the shirt two sizes too big for him.

Teagen dumped a half bucket of water over his head, and by the time he looked up, the kid was gone. He continued to wash, knowing that Sage and Martha would need time. They’d have to undress Jessie, clean up all the blood, and then pull a nightgown over her. He wasn’t sure what else they’d do or if he wanted to know. Sage had asked for hot water and cold. The hot must be for a bath. The cold to slow the bleeding.

He didn’t like to think of his Jessie hurting.

He dried his hair and changed into clean clothes. When he stepped out on the porch to watch a storm move in, he realized he had no idea what time of day it must be. The sky was twilight dark. The smoke and fires were out, but the land that had burned lay dark as if a cloud blocked even the moonlight from the earth.

Teagen watched Roak walk through the light rain with two more buckets of water. When he passed Teagen, he said, “Martha told me to leave these outside the door. She said I wasn’t even to bother them with a knock.”

Teagen could stay still no longer. “I’ll be checking on Sims if they need me,” he said as he bolted off the porch and ran toward the bunkhouse.

Sims smiled when he entered. “About time someone came to check on me,” he said as Teagen shook the rain off.

“We’ve been busy, but that don’t mean you were forgotten.”

Sims shrugged. “I’m too far past sober to complain. Martha took good care of me, and she’s right, letting this wound drain a little will get all the black powder out of it.” He lifted his glass. “I would like a cigar if you got one though.”

Teagen pulled out the cigar he’d shoved in his pocket before he stepped onto the porch. “I brought you one,” he lied as he lit a lamp to brighten the dingy room.

While Sims smoked, Teagen took a look at where the bullet had punctured the old Ranger’s leg. It was a clean wound. Martha was right; it would heal fast.

Sims lifted his glass. “All these years, I’ve never been shot. To tell the truth, I’m tired of listening to everyone else tell stories of what it’s like.” He laughed. “Now I finally got a wound to show, but I got to work on a more interesting story than being shot from the weeds.”

“Did you see or hear anything?”

Sims shook his head. “I’ve been thinking, and I’ve figured out that someone crossed the river and set the fire. He must have just finished and ran back for the river when I came along. If I was betting, I’d say it was a kid or a drunk because from that range, a man who was any kind of shot couldn’t have missed my heart.”

Teagen thought about what he said. “Maybe the trespasser didn’t want to kill you?”

Sims gulped down the last of his drink. “No, I think he did. He was close enough to the water that I’d never been able to get to him before he was in the water. Maybe I surprised him. Maybe he was nervous, but if he took the time to keep gunpowder dry while crossing the water, he meant to shoot.”

Teagen nodded. “You’re lucky.”

Sims shook his head. “If I’d been lucky, he would have missed.”

The other men came into the bunkhouse. If possible, they were even blacker than Teagen had been. The hired hands said they wanted to clean up before going back out, but Hatch just checked on Sims and walked outside.

Teagen followed him. “You want to wash up?”

The Ranger shook his head. “Rain’ll wash me. I’ll ride guard in this storm.”

Teagen thanked him and moved back to the house. When he reached the porch, three little girls stood blocking the door.

“Is this a storm?” Rose asked.

Teagen smiled. “I’d say we’re in for a good one.” He glanced up at the lightning show above.

Emily took his hand and led him to the bench.

Teagen raised an eyebrow but sat down where she patted. Emily sat on one side, Rose on the other. Bethie raised her hands for him to lift her onto his lap.

Emily jumped up and darted inside.

Rose said, “Martha told us Momma is sleeping, so we decided to come out here with you.”

Emily appeared with her blue blanket he’d bought her that first day. She spread it over them all and returned to her seat beside him.

“What are we doing?” Teagen asked. He knew the girls well enough by now to guess they were up to something.

“We’re watching the storm roll in with our papa,” Rose said simply.

Teagen leaned his head back against the house and smiled. For a man who always thought he had no heart, discovering that he was wrong shook him to the core.

Bethie leaned against his chest and fell asleep, while Rose asked questions, and Emily pressed her face into his shoulder every time it thundered.

Hours later when Sage said he could see his wife, Teagen sat beside her bed and told her all that had happened. She never woke, but he had a feeling she heard him.

JESSIE WOKE SLOWLY, PUSHING THE PAIN AWAY AN inch at a time. She felt weak and hollow inside. She opened her eyes to a shadowy room lit by one lamp burning low. It took her a moment to realize she was in Teagen’s downstairs bedroom. Sage’s full-length mirror stood in one corner; her hope chest rested beneath the window.

Jessie remembered the last time she’d been here. Teagen had touched her as she stood in front of that mirror. He’d acted as though she were priceless, and for a moment, she thought she was.

She twisted slightly, ignoring the soreness from her waist down. Teagen sat in his favorite leather chair beside her bed, his chin resting on his chest. He must have moved the chair and set it beside her bed without waking her.

Pieces of memory drifted into her thoughts. The fire. Fighting with the horses, trying to get them to stop before they were too close. The fall. The pain. Teagen holding her.

She moved her hand across her abdomen and knew the baby was gone without anyone telling her. She felt the loss in her heart.

Teagen had been there with her through it all.

Jessie studied him. He must have picked her up and carried her back here.

The door sounded. Sage tiptoed into the room and grinned when she saw Jessie. “You’re awake.”

She started to move around the bed, but Jessie shook her head. “Don’t wake him.”

“He’ll want to know,” Sage answered, still smiling. “He’s been worried about you.”

“How late is it?”

Sage glanced at the window. “It’s almost dawn. I just started the fire for breakfast.”

Jessie looked at Teagen. “He’s slept in that chair beside my bed all night.”

Sage nodded. “Every night for almost a week. He works all day and comes in worried about you. Martha told him she thought you’d be fine, but he insisted on being here by your side every night.”

Jessie studied him. He looked a bit thinner, and she could see the worry lines and dark circles beneath his eyes even in the shadows. She glanced back at Sage. “Could you give us a little time alone?”

“Sure.” Sage took a step backward. “But I should tell you—”

“I know,” Jessie whispered. “I lost the baby.” She fought not to cry. Almost every woman she’d ever known had lost at least one child. She had to think of the three alive now. “What was it, a boy or a girl?”

“A girl.” Sage silently cried tears Jessie couldn’t let fall. “Not yet two pounds, I’d guess. She was so beautiful, and when we wrapped her in a tiny blanket, she looked like she was sleeping.”

“Where is she now?” Jessie asked, needing to know.

“Dolan Hatch made her a pine box with a rocking horse carved on the lid. We buried her next to my mother up on the hill. I hope you don’t mind.”

Jessie smiled. “When I’m better, I’ll visit her there.” She wanted to say that someday she’d be buried there also beside her daughter, who would have been named Anna if she’d lived. For as long as she’d remembered, Jessie had thought that Whispering Mountain would be as near to heaven as she’d ever get. She even thought of asking Eli if he’d cremate her and have her ashes sent here. But Eli would have thought her a fool.

“Thank you for taking care of her.” Jessie’s arms ached to have held the baby one time, but she knew it was not to be.

Sage patted her hand. “I did all I could. We were so worried about you, Jessie. Martha thought Teagen might lose his mind with worry. He’d sit in here for hours and talk to you, even when we knew you had far too high a fever to hear a word he said.”