She wasn't dead after all.
So much killing.
So much pain.
The pain began radiating from his shoulder to his chest to his ribs.
Soon his whole body seemed to be a mass of pain.
But the pain only served to reinforce one fact.
Only a dead man would feel no pain.
Jessie wasn't dead.
And, by God, neither was he.
Chapter Five
Pain.
Cole touched a hand to his shoulder, hoping to ease the pain that engulfed him.
That slight movement only brought more pain.
He couldn't tell where the aching began or where it ended.
His chest was on fire.
His shoulder felt as if hot knives were being thrust into it.
His head throbbed.
His back ached.
His whole body was a mass of searing pain.
The slightest movement made it worse.
Yet it seemed impossible to lie still and absorb any more pain.
Light.
As Cole opened his eyes, sunlight stabbed, causing him to blink them shut.
Overhead the sun was a harsh brilliance reflecting off rocks and sand.
Hot needles of light pierced his eyes even after his lids were closed.
Cold.
So cold.
Despite the heat of the day, several layers of blankets had been wrapped around him.
A fire crackled nearby.
He shivered.
How he could be chilled when he was surrounded by warmth?
Why was his body failing him?
"Good. You're finally awake. How are you feeling?"
Jessie knelt beside him and touched a hand to his forehead.
"Do you really want to know?"
' 'Of course.
"I feel like hell. If this is what it feels like to live, I'd rather be dead."
She grinned.
"I can see you're feeling much better."
"Better? How the hell can you tell?"
Her smile grew.
"Because you're swearing. The last time you woke up, you were still too weak to swear."
"Sorry. I'm not used to being around a lady. Or a pack of kids."
"I can tell. Want something to drink?"
He nodded, and she filled a dipper with water, lifted his head and held the dipper to his lips.
He drank and felt the liquid soothe his parched throat.
"Mom?"
He nodded.
When he had drunk his fill, she gently laid his head back down on the blankets.
Dipping a clean rag into the cool water, she began sponging off his face and neck.
In an instant the pain was forgotten.
He closed his eyes, and she pressed the cloth to his hot lids.
"That feels good."
His voice was deep and raspy.
He lay absolutely still, feeling the soft caressing movement of her hands.
She smelled clean like rainwater, and he knew that she had visited the creek for a morning bath.
As she bent close, her clothes gave off the fragrance of evergreen, and he guessed that she had washed them and spread them out on tree branches to dry.
A soft sigh escaped his lips.
While his eyes were closed, Jessie studied him.
Life beneath the western sky had turned his skin to bronze.
His brows were thick and dark, his forehead wide and slightly furrowed from squinting against the sun.
Fine little lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes.
His nose was perfectly formed, his lips wide and sensual.
Her gaze lingered on his lips a moment, and she found herself wondering what it would feel like to have them pressed against hers.
The thought stunned her.
Where in the world had such a thought come from?
Yet, even while she berated herself for allowing such thoughts to creep into her mind, she felt a strange curling sensation in the pit of her stomach.
As she brought the cloth across his cheeks, his lids flickered open.
She found herself staring into those hypnotic gray eyes.
"You have a nice easy touch, Jessie," he muttered.
She felt the beginnings of a blush sweep across her throat and along her cheeks.
Striving to keep the conversation light, she said, "I'll bet the trail bum who attacked you last night isn't saying that."
"Why?"
He hoped she would go on touching him forever.
"I shot him."
"You? You shot him?"
He caught her hand, stilling her movements.
Cole's eyes narrowed fractionally.
"Is he...?"
"Dead? No."
The touch of his hand on hers left her feeling disoriented.
Such a gentle touch for such a strong man.
She dipped the cloth into the bucket, wrung it out and touched it to his forehead.
"But he left a clear trail of blood."
Cole closed his eyes, willing himself to relax.
"I thought I heard an explosion after I was hit."
She thought a moment.
"That was probably Danny. He fired Pa's buffalo rifle, causing the thief to drop his rope. If he hadn't, we'd probably still be chasing after our horses."
Cole felt a wave of relief.
"He didn't get the horses?"
She shook her head, and he watched the way her hair danced with the movement.
"All he got for his troubles was a gunshot in the back or shoulder.
In all the confusion, I couldn't tell where my bullet hit him."
"He ought to be easy enough to spot then. I'll keep an eye out for a wounded man along the trail."
"From the looks of your wounds, you won't be hitting the trail for quite a while."
"I'll be fine by tomorrow," Cole said matter-offactly.
"By the way, your attacker wasn't just a trail bum," Jessie said as calmly as she could manage.
"He was Knife, the man who escaped on the night we first met."
"Knife."
Cole tested the name, immediately hating it.
"I remember him.
Long dark hair and yellow teeth.
She nodded and found she couldn't even speak of him.
Jessie drew the blankets around Cole's shoulders and watched as his eyelids drooped.
Standing, she wiped the sand from the knees of her britches and picked up the bucket of water.
Even before she made it to the creek, Cole was fast asleep.
When Cole awoke again, the sky was ablaze with millions of stars.
Darkness enfolded the land like thick black velvet.
The only sounds were the hiss and snap of the fire, the whir and chirp of the night insects and the far-off song of a coyote.
Shifting slightly in his bedroll, he caught his breath at the wave of pain that took him by surprise.
Instantly Jessie was at his side.
"Feeling worse?"
"Worse than what? Being kicked in the head by a mustang?"' Jessie swallowed back the laughter that threatened." Here," she said, holding up the bottle of whiskey she'd taken earlier from his saddlebags."
Danny said you might need this when you woke up.
Especially since we don't have any laudanum.
"He did, huh?"
Cole eyed the bottle and nodded.
When Jessie tipped it to his mouth, he felt the warmth snake through his veins before settling low in his stomach.
He lay very still, willing the pain to subside.
"How about another?"
He watched in dismay as Jessie corked the bottle and set it just out of his reach.
"Not until you have some food in you."
As she ladled steaming broth into a tin cup, Cole watched the way the firelight turned the ends of her hair to flame.
Returning to his side, she supported his head with her arm while holding the cup to h
is lips.
He sipped, swallowed, then sipped again.
"That's good. What is it?"
"The broth from rabbit stew."
"How'd you catch the rabbit?"
"The same way anybody would. I shot it."
He arched an eyebrow and regarded her more closely as she laid his head gently against the blanket.
"Your pa teach you to handle a gun?"
She nodded.
"After Ma died, I was alone a lot at the ranch, looking after my little brothers."
So, he realized, another piece of the puzzle had just slipped into place.
With no mother, she would be even more desperate to find a father hundreds of miles away in Abilene.
"Pa was often away, seeing to the herd," Jessie continued.
"He knew I had to learn how to protect myself."
She slid her arm beneath his head once more.
"Drink before it gets cold."
As she cradled his head, Cole suppressed a grin.
Damned if he wasn't starting to like being pampered.
Was there anything in the world to compare with a woman's touch?
She leaned over him, concentrating on feeding him without spilling a drop.
Up close she smelled good, like the earth after a summer storm.
He knew that if he turned his head just a fraction, he'd find her breast.
The thought left him weak.
When he drank his fill, she set the cup on the ground and folded her sheepskin jacket to pillow his head.
"Are your brothers sleeping?"
She nodded.
"Danny's been tending you most of the day."
She saw him run a hand over the clean dressing on his chest and shoulder.
"He told me to let him know when you were awake, but I figure he needs his sleep more than you need him right now."
"I'm fine. Let the kid sleep."
He lay quietly a moment, his eyes closed, his ears alert to the night sounds.
Watching him, Jessie thought he was dozing.
But suddenly his lids lifted, and she saw the pain he couldn't mask.
I'll have some more of that whiskey now.
She uncorked the bottle and eased his head up before lifting the whiskey to his lips.
He took a long pull before signaling that he'd had enough.
"Do you know where my tobacco is?"
She rummaged through his saddlebags and produced the little pouch and thin papers.
With one hand he skillfully filled the paper, sealed it with his tongue and placed it between his lips.
Jessie touched a stick to the fire and held it to the tip of his cigarette.
He inhaled, filling his lungs, then lay back and studied the stars.
"We'll hit the trail in the morning," he said casually.
"Danny said you'll need another couple of days before you' re strong enough to ride."
His voice was low with anger.
"No fool kid is going to tell me what to do."
The flickering times cast Cole's face into light and shadow.
Jessie studied him a moment, seeing the barely controlled fury in his eyes.
Where was it he had to be in such a hurry?
"Danny knows what he's talking about."
"Maybe. But I don't have time to lie around and be coddled."
He took a long drag on his cigarette and exhaled a stream of smoke.
"And I don't have time to stand here and argue with a fool drifter, either."
The wave of anger caught her by surprise.
For endless hours she'd been worried sick about this man.
Now his arrogance lit the short fuse of her carefully banked temper.
Jessie sprang to her feet and glared down at him.
"Every day I stay here with you is another day I could be closer to my pa."
Needing something to do, she walked to the shadows, then returned to the fire, staggering under the weight of a tree limb.
While Cole watched helplessly, she managed to drop the log on the fire.
Within minutes the bark smoldered and flamed.
Despite the warmth of the fire, he felt chilled as he berated himself for taking out his anger on her.
How could he have forgotten?
He'd intended to abandon her and her brothers on the night he'd been shot.
He'd planned to creep away before the first light of dawn, leaving them to fend for themselves.
And now they were suspending their own plans in order to care for him.
How could he repay them?
Cole smoked the cigarette until he could no longer hold it in his fingers.
Flicking it aside, he frowned.
He refused to be coerced by guilt into taking a female and two dumb kids along on the trail.
He would escort them to the nearest town and leave them.
And he'd slip a few dollars into Jessie's saddlebag when she wasn't looking.
That was payment enough.
Especially if it forced them to do the sensible thing and go home.
He glanced toward the fire and watched while she struggled with a second log.
Damned obstinate woman.
She knew just how to take all the pleasure out of being coddled.
It made him furious to see her working like that while he was lying here as helpless as a newborn.
He rolled to his side to blot out her figure and swore at the pain such movement caused.
She was trouble, he told himself as he began to doze.
Jessie and those little brothers.
Nothing but trouble.
And the smartest thing he could do would be to ride out of here as soon as he was able.
And never look back.
Cole awoke to sunlight streaming across his face.
His eyes, when he opened them, felt gritty.
A fire raged through his body, leaving his skin clammy, his blankets soaked.
Some distance away, he heard the whinny of a horse.
Turning his head, he saw Thad leading a string of horses away.
Cole' tried to speak, but his voice was a weak croak.
He watched helplessly as the horses faded from his line of vision.
Into his blurred sight came two figures moving toward him.
He tried to remember where his gun was, but his mind was too muddled.
As they drew nearer, he recognized Jessie and Danny hauling buckets of water on poles that they carried across their shoulders Indian style.
When they reached the fire, Jessie sank to her knees and deposited the heavy buckets.
Seeing Cole watching her, she hurried to his side and touched a hand to his forehead.
"His fever's worse," she called to her brother.
Immediately Danny was beside her.
"We'll have to take turns sponging him."
Cole drifted in and out of delirium.
Someone was attacking him.
Someone armed with a soft whispery voice and gentle hands that would choke the life from him unless he fought back.
He struck out blindly.
At Jessie's frightened look, Danny said, "That's the fever. It makes a body half-crazy. Come on. We have to cool him down."
Stripping away the blankets, Danny and Jessie dipped cloths into a bucket of water and began sponging Cole's fevered body.
"He's on fire," Danny muttered.
"We can't let the fever get any higher, or..."
Jessie's heart skipped a beat.
Wringing out a cloth, she pressed it to Cole's throat and felt the feeble heartbeat.
"He seemed to be mending just fine."
"Fever's a funny thing," Danny said, sponging water across Cole's chest.
"I cleaned his wounds as much as I could. But sometimes even the cleanest wounds can become infected. Then the body will reject that infection any way it can."
Jessie thought about all those nights that her brother had sat beside the fire, his nose buried in
medical books.
How she had berated him for giving up his sleep in order to read.
How grateful she was now that he had defied her.
Brother and sister worked together for nearly an hour while Cole struggled, slapping away their hands and cursing them.
Whenever he struggled too fiercely, the pain would stop him and he would lie back, gathering strength for a fresh attack.
Finally glancing at the sky, Danny muttered, "I'd better get down to the creek and help Thad bring back the horses before dark. If Cole gets too violent, back off. Or tie him up."
Jessie nodded.
Danny got to his feet.
Giving a last worried glance at his patient, he turned away.
The fever broke during the night.
Cole lay very still as fragments of memory washed over him.
Someone had attacked him.
Someone had forced him to lie still when he had wanted to get away.
Someone who matched him harsh word for harsh word while pinning his arms down.
Someone who offered cool water when he had thought his burning body was a funeral pyre.
With a jolt, Cole awoke to find Jessie lying beside him.
She lay facing him, her head cushioned on her arm.
Shifting slightly, he studied her in the firelight.
Pale golden hair drifted like a veil across half her face.
Her lips were parted, her breath warm and sweet as it feathered across his cheek.
Fascinated, he studied the soft rise and fall of her breasts as she slept.
How gentle she seemed in repose.
Not at all like the little she-cat that had kicked and fought her attackers that first night they'd met.
Not at all like a woman capable of firing a gun and driving off an armed thief.
His gaze came to rest on the damp rag in her hand.
He felt a wave of remorse.
Jessie had been his attacker.
An imaginary attacker.
She had been trying to soothe him, and he had fought her every step of the way.
Ashamed, he noted the tiny purple bruises about her wrists.
And he recalled squeezing them until she had cried out in pain.
His body was covered with a damp sheen, his blanket soaked with sweat.
A cool breeze raffled Jessie's hair, and he lifted a hand to touch it.
A shiver of pleasure passed through him.
Soft.
So soft.
Lifting the corner of his blanket, he drew her close and covered her.
She didn't stir.
Content, he closed his eyes and slept.
Cole awoke to the wonderful aroma of coffee boiling over a fire.