Tall, Dark, and Texan (35 page)

He never looked. His mind must have been on his work and not her.

Jessie thought she would be too busy to notice Teagen was gone. After all, they’d only shared a bed a few times. But the first night he was off the ranch, when all were asleep, she found herself missing him. The men were somewhere south of here, searching. She didn’t have to ask, she knew they were in danger, but Teagen already had Travis with him and by tomorrow night he’d also have Roak.

Tugging on her robe, she walked out onto the porch. She stood in the shadows, hugging herself and staring at the remains of the bridge, wishing Teagen could cross the distance between them and come to her. A thousand words needed to be spoken between them. They seemed to have left so many things unsaid.

He’d touched her with such tenderness, but she still wished for the words. She’d felt them in his caress. She knew he cared about her. He must. He could have never held her so without loving her. Could he?

Frustrated, Jessie went inside. In the first study drawer she found paper and pen. If she couldn’t talk to Teagen, she’d write to him. Somehow, even if she had nowhere to mail the letter to, just writing would make her feel closer to him.

The memory of Teagen leaning against the bunkhouse wall last night came to her mind. From the kitchen window, she’d looked out just after blowing out the last downstairs lamp and noticed him. He seemed so alone. The tiny flash from his cigar lit his strong jaw for a moment. He was staring at the main house, frowning.

Just as she took a step toward the back door, he slammed his hand against the wall and turned away. For a second, she stood frozen, feeling as if he’d turned away from her.

Jessie decided he couldn’t have. He was angry at something else, maybe even at leaving. He couldn’t have seen her standing in the kitchen.

She decided they’d laugh about it in a few days when he got back.

After writing her thoughts in a letter, Jessie crossed the hallway to relieve Martha, who had taken the first shift of caring for Sims.

When she reached the bedroom door, she was surprised to find Martha crying. The old Ranger lay on his bed, mumbling out of his head. With his gray hair and skin, he appeared to be fading away.

Jessie hugged the housekeeper close. “What’s wrong?” Sims had done so well the first time he’d been shot, but not this time.

Martha shoved her tears aside with her palms and straightened as if ashamed that someone had seen her cry. “He’s dying. We’ve done all we could, but I don’t think he’s going to make it. I think he’s reliving every gunfight he ever fought in. It’s like he’s counting up all he’s done before he meets the Lord.”

Jessie brushed his forehead with her hand. Tattor Sims was burning up. “Do you want me to get Sage?”

Martha shook her head. “She told me an hour ago that there was nothing she could do for the man. The fever has to run its course. Sage said the best we can do is keep him comfortable.”

Jessie swore she could smell death on the man. “Maybe he could use a bath. That might make him comfortable.”

Martha shook her head. “It ain’t healthy to bathe the sick. It’ll only bring on more trouble.”

Jessie offered to get Martha a cup of the tea she liked so much. While she was in the kitchen, she put on an extra kettle. What if they did invite more trouble? He could only die once, and being clean seemed a better way to go than with the smell of rotten flesh surrounding him.

After handing Martha her tea, Jessie said, “I’ve read about this health movement started by a minister named Sylvester Graham. The followers are called Grahamites.”

Martha showed no interest in her story. She just stared at Sims as if her will could make him open his eyes.

Jessie tried again. “I think Mr. Graham started preaching health about twenty years ago. They don’t eat meat or anything from an animal, and take no medicine. Graham believes that to stay healthy a man should bathe at least three times a week in winter and summer.”

Martha snorted. “That can’t be healthy.”

“Maybe not, but the followers claim they’ve never felt better. The Reverend also doesn’t believe in spices, so he developed a cracker made from whole wheat and honey so his followers would have something tasty now and then.”

Martha frowned. “What are you saying? We need to send for some kind of cracker to help Sims? It’ll never get here in time.”

“No.” Jessie leaned against the windowsill. “I’m saying we try giving Sims a bath.”

“Cold water would kill him for sure, and hot water would only make him hotter.”

“Water that’s not hot or cold might work,” Sage said from the doorway behind them. Teagen’s sister walked into the room, excited at the idea of doing anything more than just watching.

“It might,” Jessie agreed, even as Martha shook her head.

Sage leaned over Sims. “I’ve heard of using water to cool a fever. If a cold rag on his head can help, why not a bath?”

Martha stood. “No. It’ll kill him.”

Sage put her arm around the older woman. “He’ll be dead by morning if we don’t do something. His body can’t stay this hot without hurting his mind. I have a feeling he’d want us to fight, not watch.”

Martha nodded once. She had no faith in the cure, but she knew they had to do something. “Maybe it’ll help wash out the wounds.”

The women moved the tub beside the bed. Jessie helped Sage haul water, mixing hot with cold until it felt room temperature.

Sims wasn’t a big man, but he was solid as lead. It took all three women to lower him into the water. Martha made sure a towel remained over his private parts. “It ain’t proper for no woman to see a man naked. My mother had eight kids, and she never once saw my dad in the total.”

Jessie looked at Sage, and they both smiled.

Sims groaned when they moved him, but once in the water, his body seemed to relax. He tried to come around a few times, but his efforts were unsuccessful.

Sage put a wet towel over his head. His shoulders and arms were out of the tub on one side, and his stocking feet on the other. Jessie added warm water so that he didn’t shiver, and Martha carefully cleaned the dried blood away from his wounds, then she washed them with lye soap.

After fifteen minutes, Sage whispered, “I think he’s cooler.”

“Maybe we’d better get him out before he catches a cold.” Jessie realized it had taken all their strength to lower him into the tub. She wasn’t sure they could get him out without reopening all his wounds.

“I’ll get Drummond,” Sage said as if she read Jessie’s mind. “If I go to the bunkhouse, I’ll wake everyone up, but the boy is alone in the barn.”

Without a word she left. A few minutes later, a sleepy Roak appeared at the bedroom door. “Holy cow, what do you ladies think you are doing to this dying man?”

Sage glared at him. “Doctoring, of course. Now, help us get him out.”

Without another word, Roak lifted Sims’s shoulders slowly out of the water. Jessie and Sage each took a leg, while Martha kept the towel in place.

Once he was in bed, Sage bandaged the wounds, which looked better now that they were well cleaned. When they finally tucked him in, Sage whispered, “His skin seems cooler, and he’s not talking out of his head.”

Jessie tugged off Sims’s wet socks. “We may have to do it again.”

“I hope not. My back can’t take it.” Martha straightened.

They all sat around waiting for an hour, but the fever remained low. Finally, Roak helped Sage carry the tub out. As they dumped the water, she said, “Thanks for helping.”

“You needed me tonight.”

She couldn’t deny the truth. “I did.”

He glanced up at the stars. “In a few hours I’ll be leaving, and I don’t know when I’ll be back. If Travis has his way, we’ll chase the varmints all the way to the border.”

Sage stretched, feeling exhausted. “Say what you’re thinking, Drummond. I’m too tired to guess.”

He propped the tub against the wall. “I’m saying, or rather asking, if I could hug you before I leave. I don’t want to leave with you hating me. Since you’re going back East soon, and I plan to go on with Travis to Austin when all this is over, I don’t know when . . .”

“All right,” she said knowing he’d never stop talking if she didn’t give him a hug.

He didn’t move.

“I said all right,” she snapped. She’d been up almost all night and was in no mood to be polite, but she did owe him something for all his help.

She’d expected him to give her a quick bear hug and be gone, but he didn’t. He stepped up to within an inch of her and gently brushed her shoulders with his strong, lean fingers. She closed her eyes, thinking his touch felt good caressing her tired muscles.

He moved his hands along her arms all the way to her fingers. Then he raised her hands to his shoulders. Circling her waist, he tugged her toward him. He was almost a head taller than her, and the softness of his cotton shirt felt good against her cheek. She leaned into him.

Neither moved. He wasn’t trapping her in an embrace, or even hugging her. She could have stepped away. They were simply two people standing very close. The warmth of him relaxed her, and for once she didn’t feel the need to shove away.

Finally, he brushed his cheek against her hair and whispered, “Sage, don’t get mad this time, but I got to say it before I go. Someday you’ll need me, and I swear I’ll be there.”

She was far too tired to argue. “Good night, Drum.”

“Good night,” he said as he let her step away.

She thought she heard him call her darling as she stepped back into the house, but she couldn’t be sure.

JESSIE FILLED THE NEXT FEW DAYS WITH WORK. TATTOR Sims slowly began to improve. Everyone was thankful when Mrs. Dickerson offered to read to him in the afternoons, but Martha still insisted on sitting with him at night until she was sure he’d fallen asleep. Sage commented that Sims was the first man Martha had ever found tolerable.

Mrs. Dickerson loved telling bedtime stories to the girls and would continue her story until all three were asleep. Though she talked of her home and complained that her garden must be dying, she seemed to enjoy the constant chatter around her.

With Teagen and Travis gone, Tobin took the rest of the men north beyond the pastures each morning to cut enough trees to rebuild the bridge. Jessie noticed, as the days passed, he had less and less to say. Sage wasn’t worried, but Jessie saw a sadness about him that made her feel sorry for him. He avoided everyone, saying he didn’t have time for supper, and ate breakfast even before Martha was up.

Jessie thought she knew how he felt. He missed his wife just as she missed Teagen. Only she had the girls, and all Tobin had was work.

The second week she was alone, Jessie feared Travis might have won the argument, and they were chasing the outlaw out of Texas. Martha reminded her that the ranch was the most important thing in the world to the McMurrays; it had been since their father died. Each one of them would ride to hell and back to protect the land.

Jessie tried to understand but couldn’t. She’d fight to the death for her children, but not for land. She could love this ranch, but not the way she loved Teagen. She came to the conclusion that he didn’t feel the same about her. He’d never said he loved her, but he’d been willing to die for a piece of dirt. She lost sleep wondering if she could be happy settling again without love . . . even in Teagen’s arms.

Finally, she decided she could. Being with Teagen was a world apart from being Eli’s wife. Most of all, she loved Teagen. She loved the strong, bossy, bull of a man who fought for what he thought was right, and she loved the tender man who let Rose push him around and played the bear in the girls’ games and touched her so gently when they were alone. Even if he never loved her in return, they could build a good life together. Her love would have to be enough.

The next morning, after Sage left to cross through the pass to pick up supplies, Mrs. Dickerson took over entertaining the girls. Jessie sat on the porch with her mending. She somehow felt closer to Teagen when she was watching the bridge being built. In a few days it would be open again, and they would be connected with the world.

Strange how it didn’t really matter all that much to her. This place had become her world. Maybe Teagen’s philosophy was rubbing off on her.

Fall was in the air, and she drifted to sleep in the peace of the morning. As always in her dreams, Teagen was with her. He was silently telling her that he loved her with every touch.

Sage woke her with a yell. “Jessie! Look what I found in town.”

Jessie stood as a tall woman in a chocolate-brown riding suit rode into the yard. She was followed by a boy no bigger than Rose, handling his own horse and two pack mules.

Sage jumped down from her horse. “Jessie, I’d like you to meet Liberty, Tobin’s wife, and my nephew Duck. They rode into Elmo’s place yesterday with a company of soldiers heading north.” Sage giggled. “Liberty said she was about to ride out to the other side of the bridge and throw rocks until Tobin swam over to get her.”

Liberty dismounted slowly from her horse. Tobin had said she was pregnant, but no sign of it yet showed. She walked up to Jessie and hugged her as if they were old friends. Suddenly all three women were talking at once.

To Jessie’s surprise, the fine lady had a pack on her back made of leather and bent wood. She tugged it off and lifted a cloth to reveal a baby sound asleep. “I know I should have waited and ridden in the wagon with Rainey, but I couldn’t. She’ll be here tomorrow or the next day, but I can’t wait any longer to see Tobin, and Duck was driving everyone crazy wanting to ride. When the soldiers passed us on the road, I talked them into letting me ride with them. I knew the baby would be fine in the carrier Tobin’s mother carried all three of the boys in. And sure enough, he hardly made a sound.”

She tugged her firstborn from the cocoon and handed him to Sage. The chubby infant wiggled and laughed. He was less then a year old but already bigger then Bethie.