Whirlwind Wedding (3 page)

“You listen to me, Lieutenant.” The doctor's brown eyes turned stern. “You lost a lot of blood. By all rights, you shouldn't be drawing breath right now. If you get out of that bed before Catherine or I tell you, you could rip open your stitches and bleed like a stuck hog. I can't put any blood back in you. Understand?”

“Yes.” Jericho didn't like the doctor's words, but he ap
preciated straight talk. He did need to get on his way, but just the little time he'd been awake this afternoon had left him weak and shaky. He probably couldn't even saddle his horse.

“I want you to give me your word you won't try to leave.” Dr. Butler unbuttoned the cuff of his white shirt and rolled it back. “And that you'll follow my orders.”

Jericho wasn't used to following anyone's orders, but he did owe Butler and Miz Donnelly something for saving his life. Besides, he wouldn't be worth spit if he saddled up and rode out of here, then passed out. “You have my word.”

“Good.” The doctor glanced at the woman who stood quietly on the other side of the bed. “Catherine, let's change the dressing on his leg.”

“I'll get the bandages.”

As soon as she stepped out of the room, Jericho said in a low voice, “Hey, Doc, just what all was shot off down there?”

The other man grinned. “You still have your private parts.”

“Will they work?”

“I believe you'll be fine, but there is some tissue damage. I'm also concerned about damage to your nerves. That shouldn't affect your manhood, but it might be a while before everything is back to working order.”

Just as Jericho exhaled a relieved breath, the Donnelly woman returned with a handful of white strips torn from a sheet. Her face betrayed no emotion, but her eyes had darkened to near purple and her hands trembled. Since his manhood was still intact, Jericho didn't care to tempt fate by letting this woman near him with a pair of scissors.

“Uh, Doc, since I'm awake now, I'd just as soon the lady not see me in the altogether.”

“She's a nurse, Lieutenant. She's been trained to ignore embarrassments.”

“Well, she ain't never seen my embarrassments and I don't aim for her to start. No offense, ma'am.”

“None taken. I'll wait outside.” She left, and he thought she looked relieved.

Just what kind of woman had taken him in? Her voice smiled, but she didn't. She obviously had nursing skills, but not the drawl of Texas. Where was she from? Jericho wondered if there was a Mr. Donnelly. Children? Was her brother the boy Jericho had seen with the McDougals at the ambush? And if so, was his pretty nurse involved with the gang, too?

As he nodded in response to the doctor's instruction to stay in bed tomorrow, it wasn't the boy who had ahold of Jericho's mind. It was the blue-eyed woman who made him feel as if he mattered.

 

Catherine didn't want to think about Jericho Blue's manhood. She
shouldn't
be thinking about it. But even the next day, as she drove the wagon back from Fort Greer, the memory of his blunt question brought heat to her face. She had been the one to insist she could quell his concerns. But she had nearly dropped the soup bowl in his lap.

Thinking about his—
him
—in that way opened up other thoughts, sharpened her unsettling awareness of the Ranger. Why couldn't she simply think of him as another patient? Saints knew, she'd tended plenty of those.

Dr. Butler had told her it would take some time for Jericho to regain his strength. As much as Catherine wished for the man in her bed to get better and move on, she had no desire to see him at full strength. Just the taut, ropy muscles in his arms and legs hinted at the power he must possess when in good health. He was a big man. The idea of him regaining his strength reminded her too much of men who used brute force to intimidate.

She liked Jericho Blue much better when he was asleep.
He wasn't handsome, but she found his stern, chiseled face compelling. A sense of purpose and command surrounded him, as if he was a man who knew what he wanted and would stop at nothing to get it. She shuddered to think how he would be if he wanted a woman. No man had ever made her heart race from anticipation one second, intimidation the next. She didn't understand it.

Around him, she felt skittish and on guard. When he'd woken, those silver eyes had been soft, then gone as sharp as a honed blade when he talked about the gang who had murdered his friend. Catherine didn't want to be on the receiving end of that dangerous gaze.

She'd finally seen a smile, albeit at her expense. His blunt question and her catching the bowl that had nearly dropped in his lap had somehow amused him. If he ever turned a charming smile on a woman, Catherine suspected that woman might surrender her virtue and thank him for taking it.

Her own four years of nursing experience had brought her into contact with men in various stages of undress, some completely naked. Yet not one of them had ever put flutters in her stomach or made her dread the return of his strength. It had only been in the last year and a half that she had become so wary around men.

She didn't like thinking about Jericho, but couldn't seem to help herself. What she needed was to focus her thoughts toward helping him get better and out of her bed.

Softly clucking to Moe, she drove the wagon back from the fort. Catherine had talked to Dr. Butler about one of her patients in New York City who had injured his foot and ankle. The doctor had agreed to her plan of working with the Ranger's hand, massaging the tissue and muscles in an effort to see if he could improve and eventually bend his wrist again. She hoped the Ranger would be able to fully recover.

The spring day was warm enough to cause a light sheen of
moisture across her neck beneath the heavy mass of her hair. Still, she welcomed being outdoors.

She had left her patient in the very capable care of his cousins, Davis Lee and Riley Holt, along with Riley's wife, Susannah. Riley's petite wife had told Catherine they had an infant daughter whom they'd left with a friend named Cora. Catherine had thought Jericho and his family might appreciate the privacy to visit freely, and she could use a respite from his probing silver gaze. Just what did he contemplate so hard when his eyes narrowed on her?

Her gelding, Moe, plodded up the gentle swell of ground, his sorrel haunches glistening in the sunshine. They topped a rise that looked out over town. Fort Greer, where she worked with Dr. Butler, was about two miles northwest of Whirlwind and much farther than the distance Catherine had traveled in New York to reach the hospital, but she didn't mind. The fort was self-contained, and because of that, its residents rarely came into Whirlwind. The town had been a natural outgrowth of people who weren't with the Army, but wanted to settle on the prairie.

Catherine liked the distance between her house and the fort. She also liked the small, charming town where her parents, emigrating from Ireland, had come to join Catherine's widowed uncle. He and Catherine's father had pooled their money to buy the house, though her uncle had died in his sleep shortly afterward. Father had never gotten all the farmland he'd wanted so desperately, but at least his family had had a nice roof over their heads. Catherine's mother had still wanted her to stay in New York with the nuns who'd taken her in at the age of six, so she would know Catherine was being fed and clothed.

In the letters she'd written to Catherine over the years, Evelyn had hinted that Robbie Donnelly's drinking had be
come frequent and worse. Her father losing job after job had convinced Mother that Catherine needed to stay where she had a secure home and food. With money so tight, Evelyn could barely afford to feed and clothe Andrew. And so the family had remained separated. Catherine sometimes wondered if the hollowness at missing so much time with her family would ever be filled. She knew she would always regret that Mother had waited so long to send for her. They'd had neither hello nor goodbye after waiting fourteen years to reunite.

Whirlwind's general store and telegraph office might be simple by New York standards, but she felt more significant in this town than she had back East despite all her hospital work.

She liked the vast open spaces. In New York, the sidewalks were always crowded and the streets always loud. Out here, a soul-soothing quiet settled across the prairie at night, broken by the occasional howl of a coyote or the chirping of crickets, the coarse call of a raven or whistle of a whip-poor-will. The town was laid out in the shape of a T, with the church on the east end toward Abilene. Catherine had attended three of the four Sundays she'd been here, and Andrew had grudgingly shuffled along with her.

Thoughts of her brother made her sigh. He had no interest in reuniting with a sister he'd never known. He appeared only at suppertime, and as she had learned a few nights ago, he habitually slipped out of the house after she sent him to bed. Thank the saints, the May nights on this West Texas prairie weren't bitterly cold.

What was she going to do about Andrew? His sneaking out at night disturbed her, especially with the recent shootings by the McDougal gang. But since the night the Ranger had arrived, Andrew had been around more. She checked on him several times during the night, pleased and grateful to see him asleep in bed. He asked a lot of questions about Lieutenant
Blue, wondering if the man were improving, and what he'd been doing at their house in the first place.

She thought he probably admired the Ranger, which was fine if Jericho Blue was a good man. Except for the unsettled sensation he put in her stomach, Catherine couldn't point to any specific bad thing about him.

Her mother's pale yellow house sat at the northeast end of town, on the outskirts. The nearest neighbors were in Whirlwind. Beside the small house was a fenced herb and vegetable garden, a root cellar and a spring house. The barn stood about fifty yards behind.

Whirlwind was visible from her bedroom window and an easy walk. Catherine felt secure and independent at the same time. The sheriff's office was one of the closest buildings if she found it necessary to go for help. So far it hadn't been, but since the Ranger's arrival, she had found Sheriff Holt's nearness comforting.

She would do well to keep her thoughts on Whirlwind's handsome sheriff rather than the ragged stranger in her bed, but too many questions about Jericho Blue chased through her mind. The pain and regret in his silver eyes when she'd told him about burying his partner conveyed that Jericho had been close to the man. Who else did he care about? Was there a woman somewhere wondering what had happened to him?

The possibility caused a strange twinge that Catherine defined as nerves. The man unsettled her, though logic told her he was too weak to be a real threat. Yet.

Still, something inside her tensed up when he was awake. Even when he wasn't looking at her, she felt his attention as if he were waiting for something. Something from her.

She was being fanciful. She'd been cooped up too long without fresh air. As she approached the frame house her fa
ther had built for her mother, Catherine noted the buckboard and black mare out in front. The Holts were still here.

Good. Catherine didn't relish the idea of being alone with the Ranger. The quick introduction she'd had to the sheriff's brother and sister-in-law told her she would like Riley and Susannah Holt. The powerfully built rancher and his petite wife were newly married. Susannah had told Catherine that she had taught Andrew in one of her charm school classes. Catherine had been thrilled to hear that her brother didn't run away from everyone the way he did from her.

She unhitched Moe from the wagon, then unharnessed and quickly brushed him down, leaving him with some fresh hay before going to the back stoop of the house.

The sound of laughter met her at the door, bringing a smile to her face. She walked up the narrow hallway to the front room. As she stepped around the corner, Susannah Holt peeked around the doorframe of Catherine's bedroom. Her blue eyes were kind and warm. “Hello! Was your trip all right?”

“Yes, fine. Thank you.”

The woman's silvery-blond hair was piled on top of her head, stray curls teasing her neck. She wore a smart red-and-white gingham dress, making Catherine self-consciously aware of her plain chambray dress and apron, sprinkled with rusty Texas dust.

“How's the patient doing?” She walked into the room behind the other woman and stopped in front of her dressing table.

Jericho sat up in bed just as she had left him, wearing the clean white shirt she'd found in his saddlebag. A dark beard covered his chiseled jaw, testifying to the fact that he was still too weak to shave. So far, he'd waved off Catherine's offers to do the chore for him.

Secretly she was relieved. Just being in the same room with
him put that strange heat in her belly. She didn't want to be within inches of him. His dark, ragged hair was brushed back, drawing her eye to the scar on his left cheekbone. Though he still looked gaunt, there was a bit of color in his face.

Davis Lee Holt, the sheriff, smiled broadly at Catherine. His blue eyes sparkled. “I think Jericho's on the mend, Nurse.”

“I'm glad to hear it.” She glanced at her patient, but couldn't hold his gaze, which had turned hot and measuring.

“We sure appreciate you taking him in.” Riley Holt, a handsome, broad-shouldered man, flashed her a dimpled smile that made her wonder how his cousin would look if he smiled that way. “We're gonna owe you a lot for this. We know he can be difficult.”

“Humph,” Jericho grumbled.

“If you have any problems at all, you send for me.” Davis Lee's eyes twinkled.

“And you'll lock him up?” she teased.

“If I need to.”

“Is this the kind of nursing you were taught?” Jericho's tone was light, but Catherine felt his intense regard like a touch.

She smiled as the others chuckled.