Wild At Heart (5 page)

She secured his arm with both of her hands. While the doctor made quick work of bandaging the wound, she studied the injured man’s face. Long, black lashes fanned his tanned cheek. His nose was straight, and his mouth pleasant to look at.

When the doctor moved away, she stared at the red dot on the man’s head dressing. Black hair matted with blood hung over the fabric. Would he need sutures? Would he have a scar that marred his fine features?

His face was clean shaven, and she couldn’t help remembering his vivid blue eyes. Did he have a wife or other family waiting on him to return home? Children, perhaps?

“All right, that’s as good as I can get it for now. It’s best we just leave him on the floor, ma’am.” The doctor looked at Mariah again. “He’s lost a lot of blood, but I think he’ll recover. You need to take him off at the next stop and get him to the local doctor. I’ve only got limited supplies in my bag, but I think we’ve slowed the bleeding down. If you wouldn’t be opposed to sitting in the aisle, your husband might be more comfortable with his head in your lap.”

My husband?
Mariah knew she ought to correct the kind doctor, but she desperately wanted to help her champion, and there seemed only one thing she could do at the moment. She nodded and moved into the aisle.

“I reckon you’ll get more blood on that pretty outfit.”

She looked down at her wrinkled travel garments. She owed this man her virtue and possibly her life. Who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t helped? Hers was a small sacrifice compared to his, and she sat down in the dirty, bloodstained aisle, knowing such an action would have shocked her grandmother. If she knew Mariah had nearly been kidnapped by an outlaw, she’d have her granddaughter on the next train home.

The doctor and another passenger lifted the wounded man and laid his head into her lap. She didn’t know where to put her hands. Finally, she looped one arm around his head and wrapped her other arm around his chest, holding his shirt closed. The man’s steady breath warmed her face. Her cheeks burned. Never had she been in such an intimate position with a man. But she owed him so much.

Before long, her shoulder burned from the strain of holding his head steady. Who would have thought that a head could be so heavy?

The doctor checked his patient’s pulse and nodded. “Nice and steady. He’s a young fellow and in good shape, so I’m sure he’ll come around soon. Try not to worry overly much.”

“Is it normal for him to be unconscious for so long?” she asked.

The doc shrugged one shoulder. “Could be from the shooting, but it’s just as likely he may have a concussion from that blow to his head when he fell.”

“Here’s your money and the gentleman’s belongings.” A thin man handed the robber’s loot bag to the doctor, and he passed it to her. At least the man would get his watch and money back. She clung tightly to the bag, glad to be able to have some good news for him when he awakened.

Mariah glanced around the railcar. It looked odd and unnatural from this viewpoint. The thief squirmed on the floor, where someone had tied him to the iron legs of a bench seat.

He glared at her. “I’m gonna get you,” she thought he mouthed. Her heart jolted. Surely she was mistaken. Gratitude swelled when a man moved into the aisle, shielding her.

People had finally stopped staring at them and had gone back to reading or sleeping or whatever else they were doing before the robbery. She tried leaning her head against the edge of the nearest bench, but the rough ride jarred it too badly.

Silas intruded into her mind. Though they’d courted for nearly a year, she didn’t miss him in the least. He would never have been brave enough to come to her aid as this stranger had. She brushed some strands of his hair away from the bandage on his forehead. His ebony hair felt softer than she’d expected. She didn’t even know her hero’s name, but there was so much more to him than Silas. Why hadn’t she realized sooner how low a caliber of a man her former fiancé was? Was she just taken with him because he had an enviable position at the newspaper?

A low moan drew her gaze back to her patient. His head lumbered to the left. She wanted to do whatever possible to make him comfortable. If Mr. McFarland was at the depot waiting on her, he would just have to continue waiting or return another day for her. She’d get her champion to a doctor and find a room in Medora until he no longer needed her assistance.

Adam struggled to open his eyes. He rubbed a hand across them, trying to figure out why the floor was shaking. His ears rang and a campfire burned in his right arm. Where was he? What happened?

Someone forced his arm down. Suddenly he remembered the gun pointed in his face and the sneering robber. His heart pounded as he blinked his surroundings into focus. An intense ache radiated from his forehead down through the top half of his body. Something shifted under his head, and he looked up. Fancy Feathers stared down at him, abnormally close. The sweet fragrance of her perfume drifted around him. Concern dimmed her brown eyes. What in the world?

He tried to sit up, but something held him fast. Her arms?

“Lie still. You’ve been shot.” Shot!

Now everything came back into focus, and he remembered Fancy Feathers stabbing the robber. The man jumped when she jabbed him, and his gun had gone off.

Had she saved his life by causing the robber to shoot him in the arm instead of the chest or head? Or perhaps he wouldn’t have been injured at all, if not for her crazy action. Thank the good Lord that the shot wasn’t fatal. At least he hoped it wouldn’t be.

Adam shoved his pain aside and sniffed the woman’s feminine scent. He didn’t like being so close that she could impale him with one of her long pokers, but he felt weaker than a newborn colt. Besides, cushioned with all her skirts, her lap was so soft. He didn’t think he could get up without help and didn’t want to make a spectacle, so he allowed himself to relax. His strength would be needed soon enough.

“Next stop, Medora,” the purser shouted as he stepped through the door. When his gaze landed on Adam, his eyes widened. “What happened in here?”

A woman in calico near the front of the car explained the situation. The purser shook his head and continued his spiel as if a robbery were an everyday occasion. “Medora ain’t much of a town, folks, but you can get something to eat at the café and get a look at the Marquis de Mores’s big house on the hill. Course, he don’t live there no more, but it makes for an interesting story. We’ll be making a long stop to talk with the sheriff and get these men off-loaded.”

Adam realized he was one of the men the purser was talking about. At least he was in Medora and not in some other town along the rail line.

But how would he get home? The buckboard was at the livery, but he wasn’t sure if he could drive it one-handed, the way he felt right now. If he could just get his buckboard and the supplies loaded at the depot, surely his horses could find their way home.

“That should take care of it, for now.” The doctor, who’d recently arrived in Medora, also served as barber in the small town. He swiped his hands on a towel. “Change the dressing daily until it scabs over. Looks like the bullet went straight through. It missed the bone, but there could be some muscle damage, so don’t use that arm for several weeks or so. And bed rest would be best for the next few days.”

Wonderful.
There went his deadline—and his hopes of leaving the ranch.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Two bits’ll be good.”

Bracing his wounded arm against his chest, Adam slid off the table. His knees threatened to buckle as his feet hit the ground. He checked his jacket pocket and remembered the robber had stolen his money. Had his watch and money been recovered since the thief was captured?

Fancy Feathers darted around the curtain that separated the barbershop from the doctoring room. Had she been there the whole time, watching and listening?

Adam glanced down at his bare chest. The shirt that had been new when he left Bismarck this morning was now bloodied and dirty with a hole in the right sleeve. The shirt covered his shoulder but gaped open since his injured arm wasn’t in the sleeve. He attempted to pull it together. What was she doing here, anyway?

“I’ll pay for your services.” She rummaged around in that little bag of hers and pulled out some coins and handed them to the doc.

Adam preferred to pay his own debts, but since his money was gone, he kept his mouth shut, swallowing back his embarrassment. He could square up with her later.

He leaned against the table, hoping the floor would stop swirling. Somehow he had to get to the livery, pick up his wagon, then get over to the depot and collect the supplies he’d bought in Bismarck.

He hoped news of the train robbery and his getting shot didn’t make it all the way back to Bismarck. His mother would be concerned if she figured out his train had gotten held up. He wouldn’t mind being back at his grandmother’s nice home now, though, and letting them coddle him a bit with good cooking and loving attention.

He breathed in a deep breath, pushed away from the table, wobbled, then leaned back.

“You’ll be weak for a while. You lost a barrelful of blood.” The doctor pulled back the curtain that separated his operating room from the barbershop. “And that laudanum I gave you will make you sleepy. It’d be best if you stayed in town tonight rather than trying to travel on.”

“I’ll make sure he does what he’s supposed to.” Fancy Feathers hurried to his side and hooked his good arm around her thin shoulders before he could object. “Let me help.”

He hissed at the biting pain the movement caused.

“I’m so sorry. Oh, this is all my fault.”

Adam clenched his jaw as sweat trickled down his neck. If she had just given the outlaw her cameo, perhaps the man would have left her alone. Perhaps Adam’s arm wouldn’t have two holes in it.

But in all fairness, she was as green as they came. She had no way of knowing how dangerous the West could be. The person he should be angry at was the one who let her travel alone.

She glanced up at him and smiled as if they were going on a Sunday picnic. “Ready?”

“Looks like you’ll have plenty of good nursin’.” The doc smiled and waggled his brow. He pulled a clean bandanna from a drawer, tied it around Adam’s neck, and then carefully placed his forearm in the sling. “That should help to keep your arm injury from being jostled so much.”

Adam nodded his thanks and realized he didn’t even know the man’s name. Lots of folks had left Medora after the bad winters of 1886 and ‘87. A few new folks like the doctor had come to town, but since he was rarely in Medora, he didn’t know all that many people.

Fancy Feathers took a step forward, but he pulled away. “I can walk just fine, lady.” She scowled and looked to be holding back a comment. Her gentle touch had stirred something in him that he didn’t want to consider with everything else he had to worry about right now. He made it a whole three feet to the doorjamb and sagged against it.

C’mon, McFarland. Buck up.
Quinn’s occasional taunting rattled in his brain.

“Sir, my name is Miss Mariah Lansing, and it’s obvious you need help. Please, allow me to assist you. It’s the least I can do after you came to my rescue like you did.”

The pungent scents of antiseptic, hair oil, and shaving cream made his empty stomach revolt. He needed to get outside before he embarrassed himself any further.

At the fervent pleading in Miss Lansing’s lovely eyes, something inside Adam yielded. Maybe she would feel less responsible for his getting shot if he let her help him a little. “All right.”

Her sweet smile made him long to stand up straight and put his arm around her shoulders—because he wanted to, not because he needed help.

Whoa!

Where had that thought come from? This was the lady with the spikes in her hat, remember?

He made it out the front door. The glare from the bright afternoon sun stabbed his eyes; his headache doubled in intensity. Adam squinted and leaned against Fancy Feathers for support more than he wanted to.

“I think maybe you should sit down for a minute.” She led him to one of the chairs lined up in front of the barbershop, and he dropped down without arguing.

“I intend to help you, but I need to know where you want to g.”

The blow on his head must be the source of his wooziness—or maybe the laudanum was. Adam hated feeling out of control and dependent on a stranger—a woman, no less. If he could just get to the wagon… maybe he could get home and let Quinn send one of their hands back in town for the supplies.

He needed to check at the depot and see if his money and his watch had been turned in. And what happened to his new hat?