Chapter Eleven
“You got company, miss.” She followed George’s gaze to an unfamiliar carriage parked at the side of the house. She frowned as she noted lights shining from the windows. No one was supposed to be home. Could it be her papa was back?
“Thank you for the ride, George,” she said distractedly as she climbed down unassisted. She didn’t wait for his answer as she made a beeline for the front door. A pungent smell assailed her nostrils as she stepped inside. Glancing around the front hall, she saw the large hurricane lamp was lit and the wall clock read ten past three. The lamps in the parlor were also burning, but no one was there either.
“Papa?” she called softly, then “Will,” though it couldn’t possibly be him. By now, he should be fast asleep in his bed at Silverbend. If not papa or Will, who had lit the lamps and where was the owner of the carriage?
“About time you came home, Jennifer.”
Her name, said in a harsh nasally tone had her whirling toward the kitchen. It belonged to an older man, a stranger she thought at first, but something about him was vaguely familiar. He was standing in the doorway, smoking a cigar. That explained the smell. She wrinkled her nose in distaste.
“Who are you?” she demanded. “What are you doing in my house?”
“I am your uncle Eugene. Your brother is in bed sleeping.”
Jenny’s eyes flew to the staircase. Why was Will here?
“At three o’clock in the morning,” he continued in a scolding tone, “that is where you should be too, young lady. Since that’s not the case, I’ll ask that you join me at the table and I will explain the reason for my visit.”
Jenny didn’t move. “You can’t be my uncle. Mama only had two sisters who died as infants, and papa was an only child.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not true. I am your father’s older brother.”
Jenny scanned his features and build. He appeared around fifty, of medium height, balding with a bushy mustache and a potbelly. Her father was tall and quite handsome, which meant there was no likeness at all.
Reading her thoughts, he corrected himself. “I should say, half-brother. My mother passed when I was young. Eustace’s mother was my father’s second wife.”
“Why have I never heard of you?”
“We were estranged. Eustace and I didn’t see eye to eye on many things. But when he visited me—”
“You saw papa? When? How is he?”
“Do not interrupt when I am speaking, girl.” His voice turned harsh and angry as he barked at her. “Look at you—nothing but an ill-mannered trollop—coming home in the middle of the night reeking of spirits. Eustace and Caroline have let you run amok, quite obviously. It’s no wonder he came to me and asked that I take you in hand.”
“He wouldn’t do such a thing.” Her angry denial was so vehement her voice cracked, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she realized how wrong the statement was. She didn’t know what he was capable of any longer. Never had she thought he would abandon his two children, but he had.
“Calm down, girl,” the stranger demanded.
“I won’t. I don’t believe this. Why doesn’t he come home and take care of us?”
She cried out as the back of his hand struck her harshly across her cheekbone. The force of the blow sent her reeling sideways into the hall table. As her body slammed into the sharp edge, her mother’s favorite vase toppled over, crashing to the floor in pieces. Jenny’s hand flew to her cheek where it exploded in pain. Cradling it gently, she gaped at the man claiming to be her uncle. His face was ruddy with color; his eyes narrowed with rage.
“Stupid chit, you’ll learn not to interrupt while I’m speaking.” He tugged down the bottom of his vest and took a deep breath. His chest expanded to the point where she thought his seams would burst, but implausibly they held firm. His self-soothing measures effectively reduced his rage somewhat. Jenny watched all of this through watery, fear-filled eyes.
“Now then, where was I? Ah, yes. Your father came to me over a week ago, in dire straits. Evidently, he couldn’t pay his saloon tab and the owner didn’t take kindly to it. A knife fight ensued.”
In horror, Jenny gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
“When he arrived at my door, he was sick from a nasty wound on his shoulder. Regrettably for him, it had already turned putrid and he died with fever this Sunday past. On his death bed, he asked me to take you and your brother in.”
Reeling with shock, Jenny slid to the floor, paying no heed to the shards of glass pressing into her skin. Her father was dead. How could it be? Her supposed uncle’s story sounded plausible considering his erratic behavior of late, but she could barely grasp the truth. Her mind was spinning. To lose her papa this way, on top of her mother and everything else, was too much to absorb.
Feeling his gaze upon her, she glanced up. The unmistakable light in his eyes made her skin crawl as he scanned her body in a very un-uncle like manner. Glancing down, she saw why. Her wrap had gaped open. Before she realized his intent, he stepped forward and yanked it wide. Uselessly, her hands fought to retain it, but he was too strong. With a jerk, she lost what little grasp she had on the hem, feeling a sharp pain as one of her fingernails tore.
He stared at her. Despite the lace tucked into the plunging neckline, it was in no way a dress that a genteel, well-bred lady would ever wear. The leer pasted across his pudgy, disgusting face told her exactly what he was thinking, that he thought she was anything but gently bred.
“William told me your job was playing the piano. It seems you censored the truth quite a bit. Didn’t want to tell him his sister is a cheap whore, I suppose.”
“I’m not a whore.” Shame made her shake uncontrollably and her denial came out weak.
“My eyes do not lie, girl. That is a harlot’s dress.” He turned and walked down the hall a few paces, his shoes clicking on the wood. At the end, he paused for a moment, then spun and started back toward her. “Well, this simply won’t do. I can’t bring a nymph du prairie home to my wife. Tsk tsk tsk, too bad for you.” He withdrew his pocket watch and checked the time. “Will and I are leaving first thing in the morning. You have until Saturday next when the new owners arrive to find other arrangements.” His eyes tracked down her body again, lingering on her chest. “That shouldn’t be too difficult for you, dear. I’m sure the brothel in town has rooms.”
“You can’t take Will away from me. I’m all he has left.”
“Not true. He has me. The wife and I were never blessed with children. In Will, I will have an heir. He is of my bloodline, albeit diluted, so it is the next best thing.”
“No. He won’t want to live with a stranger. I forbid it.”
In a flash, his face ignited, burning red with rage. She shrank back against the wall, her bravado evaporating in the face of his renewed anger. Although she hated her cowardice, the throbbing in her cheek reminded her of his strength and brutality.
“You can forbid nothing, slut!” He pulled a tri-folded packet of papers from his coat. “This is your father’s will appointing me as guardian to your brother and executor of his estate, which includes this dilapidated, worthless old farmhouse.” He looked down his nose at her family home, his upper lip curling in distaste. “Thankfully, there was acreage that brought a good price. The sale was easy. The bank was very pleased to get their money.”
“Sale!” She gasped in disbelief as another piece of her world crumbled and fell. “You sold my farm?” Repeating the fact made it no easier to comprehend.
“Indeed. I signed the papers this very afternoon.”
Tears flooded her eyes and distorted her vision. What had she done? What sin had she committed to deserve such misery? Her mother dead, abandoned by her father, also now dead, and this horrible man had sold off the only home she’d ever known and was threatening to take Will. It was unbearable.
“Please,” she cried as the tears rolled unchecked down her face and off her chin. One splashed on her chest and her uncle’s eyes followed to where it landed. “Don’t do this.”
“Too late, the ink is well dry on the contracts.”
Jenny felt numb. The direness of her circumstance was overwhelming. Where would she go from here?
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him approach. Standing over her with arms folded, his hand slowly began to stroke his mustache. “I could be charitable and take you home with me. However, your duties would have to be changed in light of your current, um—vocation.”
She was horrified by the idea of living with him, but she would do it to be with Will. “What would I do? Be a housemaid? I can cook. I could work in the kitchen.”
“No, I had something else in mind.” He squatted in front of her and grabbed her chin, his pudgy fingers digging into her skin as he turned her face from side to side. His fingers speared into her hair, roughly pulling until her head fell back. She struggled as his face drew near. Afraid he would try to kiss her, she twisted her head, but his hand yanked hard. Pain seared her scalp as tears stung her eyes. He then dipped his free hand into her bodice and ripped out the lace. Fighting frantically, she cried out in pain as he grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed it cruelly. “Your duties would be private in nature and exclusive to me. You’d make a lovely bed warmer with these big tits bared and your thighs spread as you wait for me in bed every night.”
Jenny fought his touch, her hands coming up to bat at his wrists. This made him clamp down harder, giving her breast a painful twist. Desperate to get free, she raked her nails across his hand, biting brutally into his flesh in a desperate attempt to get free.
“Bitch!” His roar set up a ringing in her ears, but he released her.
Another slap sent her reeling, her head snapping back as she was knocked flat onto the hardwood. Pain burned her lip as it split. Her tear-filled gaze fell to his hands and the ring he wore, the red stone jarring her memory. He was the man from the barn that day and then later, leaving the house after he’d argued with papa.
“As my personal whore, there would be none of this fighting and resisting. I have no use for a termagant in my bed.” He stood and withdrew a handkerchief from an inside pocket of his coat and wiped his hands. It came away tinged red. Gingerly, Jenny brought her hand to her mouth; it was wet with her blood.
“I am your niece.” Her accusation was whispered as she grimaced with revulsion.
“Half-niece, actually, but it matters not to me, slut. A warm and available cunt is all I’m interested in.” He chuckled mirthlessly as she flinched at his vulgar and demoralizing language. “Those are your choices, Jennifer. What’s it going to be? Come with me willingly, prepared to do anything I require, or stay here and fend for yourself?”
“I’d rather die than submit to your whims. You disgust me.” A hint above a whisper, she managed to instill how revolting an idea it was. Other words came to mind—contemptible bastard and vile pig—but she daren’t say them and risk another blow.
“So be it,” he said with a shrug. “It’s not difficult to find a woman down on her luck who will spread her thighs for a roof over her head and a full belly. If you change your mind, we’ll be leaving at first light. Otherwise, good riddance to bad rubbish as your grandmother used to say.” After that final set down, he turned on his heel and strode down the hall. He mounted the stairs without invitation, as if he owned the place, leaving a distraught Jenny lying on the floor in tears.
How long she lay there, she didn’t know. Her head was in a jumble from the unexpected new twist her life had taken. This cruel stranger had sold their home and her brother’s birthright right out from under their feet. How was this legal? Her parents had always said Will would own the farm and Jenny would have a tract of land to build on with her husband one day. It was all outlined in papa’s will.
The will! Pushing to her feet, she stumbled to the parlor. The secretary in the corner held all the legal papers. Ten minutes of searching produced what she sought. Thank God! To her untrained eye, the will appeared to be signed and witnessed appropriately. Her uncle’s must be a fake; it had to be. Now she needed help, someone who knew the laws and could help make this right. Aaron Jackson’s image came to mind. Yes. As marshal, he would know what could done to stop this.
At the bottom of the stairs, she paused, vacillating between taking Will with her and leaving him here. The latter was a risk. What if she didn’t get back before daylight? She took the first step and cringed as the floorboard creaked loudly. Frozen in place, she willed her racing heart to slow as she listened. Hearing nothing, she eyed the flight of twelve wooden stairs. It was an old house; all the boards creaked noisily. Even if she could make it to the end of the second floor hallway to Will’s room without being heard, for both of them to leave unnoticed by the same route seemed impossible. The decision made for her; she left as quietly as she could by the front door.
In the barn, she faced another impossible choice; ride Bonnie, their old mare, so ancient that no one wanted her, who hadn’t been ridden in months, or risk taking one of Eugene’s carriage horses. She cursed her bad luck. Instead of borrowing a horse from the Jacksons, she’d snuck onto the back of an empty supply wagon that one of the hands was taking into town. She thought it was the perfect way around becoming a horse thief as Will had suggested. Now, stolen, borrowed or shanghaied, she’d give her eyeteeth for a decent horse.
Her uncle’s carriage horses appeared fine and well fed; they nickered nervously as she approached. Not usually broken to the saddle, and admittedly not being the best horsewoman around, she ruled out that option quickly. She considered hooking up the carriage, but was afraid it would take too long or that the horses would make too much noise and disturb Eugene.
Decision made, she hefted her old saddle onto Bonnie’s back. Shaking badly, she lost her balance and sidestepped, bumping the stiff leather against the stall, which jarred her bruised face. She hissed as her entire right side, from temple to jaw, throbbed with pain. Although she could fill buckets with her tears over her circumstance, time was of the essence and she didn’t have the luxury of indulging in a crying jag or the time to feel sorry for herself. She had to find help and get back quickly.
A thump behind her had her whirling. Seeing nothing, she exited the stall carefully, praying it wasn’t her uncle. Another thump moved her forward. At the end of the row, in the last stall on the left stood a beautiful chestnut-colored horse. One she’d never seen before. She blinked in amazement. How…? She thought of Will and their conversation earlier about ‘borrowing’ a horse. The only explanation was he had done as she had originally planned and followed her. How else would he have gotten home and a strange chestnut quarter horse, the kind bred at Silverbend, gotten into their stable? Not questioning providence or the resourcefulness of an eight-year-old boy, she rushed back to Bonnie and her old saddle.
In minutes, she had the very cooperative horse saddled and fitted with a bridle. Saying prayers of thanks for this inopportune stroke of good luck, she led him out to the mounting block. As she contemplated hefting herself onto the back of the tall horse, much taller than she was used to, a tickling sensation on her chin stalled her efforts. She brushed at it tentatively with the back of her hand. It came away wet. With the only light that of the moon shining through the open barn door, she blinked, trying to focus. It was dark and sticky like blood.
Leaving the horse for a moment, she rushed to the tack room. In the back was another much smaller room with a cot where one of the hands stayed if a mare was in foal. She’d seen towels on a shelf there before and a shaving kit, which was bound to have a mirror.
Fumbling in the dark, she didn’t find a single towel, but the leather pack was right where she’d seen. She grabbed it and brought it out to the main stable area. Afraid to light a lamp and risk her uncle seeing, she stood in a beam of moonlight and angled the mirror as best she could. Beneath one puffy eye was a darkening ring of bruises. She gently probed along her cheekbone where his knuckles had left a ridge of swollen, tender skin. Tilting the mirror down, she saw the large gash left by his ring. It was oozing and her lip had nearly doubled in size.
She was a fright. There was no help for it though. Grabbing a saddle blanket from a nearby shelf, she eyed it speculatively, being of questionable cleanliness. It was all she had, however, so she found a dirt-free corner and after tearing it free, pressed it to her lip.
Hurrying back, she spoke soothingly to the horse as she mounted up. She kicked it into a fast trot and was off, at double, no triple the pace that poor Bonnie could have managed. Each step sent a jarring pain through her face, but she didn’t dare slow. Lifting her hand to cup her cheek, her fingers tangled in coarse hair. The wig! She’d almost forgotten. Ripping it from her head, she tossed it aside. She’d keep her cloak closed tight and hope for the best. If seen, she’d worry about her reputation later. Getting help in keeping Will and the farm was her top priority.
A half an hour later, she reined in at the marshal’s home. It was dark, as expected at four in the morning, but the clouds rolling in covered the moon making it more difficult to see. After she dismounted and tied off the mare, she picked her way carefully to the steps, leading to the front door. Taking them quickly, she banged on the glass loudly without stopping.
“Janelle! Marshal Jackson!” In between calling their names, she prayed for them to hurry, the whole while desperately banging on the door. Daybreak was in less than two hours.
Heavy steps sounded from within and a glimmer of light grew brighter as they approached the front door. When a shadow appeared in the window and the curtains parted, she stopped and took a step back. The door opened and she found herself staring into familiar brown eyes, but not the ones she’d been expecting. Heath, not Aaron, lifted the lamp that cast a glow over her face.
“Jenny! Good God!” His horrified shout proved the damage was worse than she thought. “Aaron!” He roared. “Get down here now and have Janelle fetch her emergency kit!” His free hand reached for her.
“How—? I didn’t expect… What are you doing here?” She stuttered in confusion.
“I’ve got business in town early. The better question is what are you? But that can wait until we get you inside and cleaned up.” Looking behind her, his eyes widened. “Cimarron!”
Jenny turned, following his eyes to the horse.
“Did you ride here from the ranch by yourself? Is your brother with you?”
She couldn’t suppress a sob another minute. As the tears came, her knees gave way. As she crumpled, Jenny expected to land in a heap on the porch, but his strong arm caught her, encircling her waist. More footsteps pounded on the stairs.
“Darlin’.” Heath’s voice was tender with concern as he knelt by her side. His gentle hands immediately scooped her up.
Janelle’s gasp of alarm as he carried her inside made her cry harder.
“Put her on the couch in the parlor. I’ll get water and my kit.”
She felt the cushions at her back as his arms began to slip away. “No, don’t go!” She hurt so badly and since she had no pride left, begging seemed nothing compared to the other humiliations she’d endured. The only comfort she’d had in weeks had come from him and his arms around her, and his kiss. She clamped onto his sleeve, clinging to him. “Please, Heath, don’t leave me.”
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. I’m right here.” His big hand stroked her hair. “Who did this to you, Jenny?”
Her eyes flew wide and her story rushed out in a flurry. “My uncle… or at least he says he’s my uncle. I don’t believe him. Papa said he was an only child and this man looks nothing like him. He’s vile and mean. And Heath—” She paused, sitting up straight, her fingers gripping the material of his shirt, tugging on it until he moved closer, making sure she had his attention. “He said that he sold the farm and plans to take Will away with him at daybreak. Please, you have to help me.”
“He took his fists to you, Jenny?”
She froze at the sound of his voice. The warmth had vanished, replaced by pure rage. His face, no longer soft with concern, was darkly severe. He was livid and in the face of his anger, after the night she’d had, she shrank back against the pillows.
He must have sensed her fear because his hand cupped her uninjured cheek and his voice softened. “No, darlin’, I’m not angry with you, never that, but I’d like to strangle whoever did this to you.” She relaxed slightly. “Where was your pa when his brother was beating you?”
She lowered her eyes. Hiding his absence for so long now, her lies and avoidances had become second nature, but she’d have to own up to it now.
“Eustace is gone.” Her gaze jerked to Aaron, who was standing behind Heath, quietly observing. “Isn’t that right, Jenny?”
“Jenny,” Heath urged. “You have to be truthful now, so we can help.” Her eyes shifted back. Although his words were soft, she saw the frown on his face. He had said he couldn’t abide liars.
When Janelle walked in right then with a basin and supplies, nudging Heath out of the way, Jenny could have kissed her.
“Move, Heath. I need to see what we’re dealing with. Light more lamps, will you, please, Aaron?” Her husband quickly responded and soon more light bathed the room. In the meantime, she wet a cloth in cool water and held it to Jenny’s swollen face. She flinched and hissed even with her gentle touch.
“Aw, honey,” Janelle exclaimed as the full extent of the damage was revealed in better light. “What did the bastard hit you with?”
“He was wearing a rather large ring when he backhanded me twice. I’m surprised my cheek isn’t cut too.”
“Son of a bitch! I’ll kill him.” Her eyes shifted to Heath. He stood tense, rage rolling off him as his hands fisted and shook. Aaron, seeing it too, clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“This cut on your lip is going to need a few stitches,” Janelle said, focused on her injuries.
“No! There’s no time.” Pushing her hands away, she sat up and dug in her cloak for the papers. It was twisted underneath her and she yanked it off in frustration. Finally locating them, she held them out to Aaron. He was gaping at her, eyes wide with shock. Her gaze switched to Janelle, who wore an identical expression. Finally, and with great reluctance, she looked at Heath.
“It was you at the Red Eye,” Heath breathed in disbelief. His voice turned hard and angry. “I can’t believe this. You were working at a goddamned saloon!”
“Heath, I can explain—”
“I don’t see how. I left you safe at the ranch tonight, but here you are in town, in the dead of night on Aaron’s doorstep bloody and beaten, wearing a Sixth Street doxy’s dress while your brother’s clear across town with an abusive stranger ready to cart him off to God knows where. What the hell, Jenny?”
“Please, Heath,” she implored. “There’s no time. Uncle Eugene says he’s taking Will at daybreak. You have to stop him. I have papa’s will.”
“Why do you have his will, Jenny?” Janelle asked softly, her face full of dread.
“Because papa is dead too.” Somehow, she held back her tears and shoved the papers at Aaron, who took it at last. Unfolding the document, he glanced over it, looked up at her and over at Heath with a frown.
“It doesn’t mention Eugene at all and names your pa as executor,” Jenny summed up quickly. “Something is wrong here and it must be sorted out, but we don’t have time for it now. He’ll take him away from me.” She switched back to Heath, tears rolling from her eyes, making his image blurry. “Please, Heath. I can’t lose Will too. I’ll die. He’s all I have left in this world.”
Heath stared at her, his face a mix of concern and dismay. His eyes lowered and raked the length of her, pausing on the low décolletage and tight bodice that had her breasts pushed high and threatening to overflow. The lace Eugene had torn free still lay at home on the hallway floor. Feeling exposed and entirely ashamed, she pulled on her cloak, closing it around her. Wanting to explain, to scream she wasn’t a harlot, she reserved those explanations for later, when there was time.
Aaron spoke while pocketing the papers. “We’ll put a stop to this and sort the rest out in the morning. I’ll saddle the horses.”
“Thank you, marshal.” Her tremulous whisper was barely audible.
Unable to look at Heath, her eyes focused on Aaron as his long strides carried him to the door. Before leaving, he called over his shoulder, “Someone wake Luke. We might need him.”
“Luke’s here, too?” Jenny asked, surprised.
“Ranch business in the morning, they said. They stay here sometimes when they have an early appointment.” Janelle explained this softly as she continued to work on Jenny’s face. Heath was already at the base of the stairs bellowing for his brother.
“The man sleeps like the dead, Heath. You’ll have to go up,” Janelle called. Boots, heavy with irritation, clomped up the stairs accompanied by a roar of “Lucas Jackson, get your ass out of bed.”
Janelle ignored his bluster as she stayed bent to her task. In minutes, a grumbling Luke strode into the parlor, coming to a halt when he got a good look at Jenny’s face. His usual happy, carefree disposition turned dark as rage consumed him. He came to stand beside Heath and they both stared down at her with arms crossed, wearing identical masks of anger.
Jenny fidgeted under their scrutiny, which prompted Janelle to pause and glance over her shoulder. “Stop glowering at her. I’m sure she didn’t give this bastard an invitation to use her face as a punching bag.” To Jenny, she advised, “Ignore them, honey.”
Luke was immediately remorseful. “Sorry, Jenny. It’s normal for a man to get his back up when seeing a little thing like you abused in such a way. My anger isn’t directed at you.” He paused a moment, then asked Heath, “Do we know whose ass we’re going to beat for this?” His gaze never left her face and his voice had turned hard again, incongruent with the gentle tone he’d used with her a moment ago.
“Yes, Aaron’s saddling the horses now,” Heath answered, his eyes fixed on Jenny.
“I’ll go help him.”
Aaron walked back in at the same time Janelle was readying her needle and some kind of medicinal thread.
“I’m using the smallest gauge needle I have and fine thread; well, it’s not really thread but catgut—Um, maybe it’s best if you don’t know about that. Anyway, I’ll be as careful as can be, but this will hurt and it still may scar. I’m sorry, but it’s the best I have to work with in this day and age, so we’ll have to make do.”
“Stitches will have to wait, Janelle. Jenny needs to come with us.”
“No!” Janelle and Heath replied in unison.
Janelle turned to face her husband. “There’s only a small window that I have to stitch it before the wound gets contaminated. If I close after that, it’s sure to fester and potentially abscess.”
“I agree with whatever she said,” Heath cut in. “I trust Janelle to know what’s best. What’s more, Jenny doesn’t need to be near the bastard who did this to her.”
“We need her to identify him, Heath. She has to come.”
“No,” Heath stated firmly. “She can describe him and confirm his identity later, when he’s in your jail.”
“I’ll go,” Jenny affirmed, directing her comments to Aaron. “I need to be there for Will when he wakes up.”
“Jenny.” Her name growled from Heath’s lips was a marked indicator that he was not in favor of this plan.
She overrode him, however, and struggled to a seated position on the settee. She would have surged to her feet, but a small wave of dizziness rocked her. She masked it quickly. “I’m sorry, Heath, but the decision is mine. You’re not my brother, husband, or guardian.”
“That appears to be my father. In his stead, as the oldest son, you will do as I say.”
Janelle wisely stood up and stepped away.
“I’m going, Heath.”
“You are staying,” he stated in a voice like tempered steel. Leaning down with his hands on his knees, he stared directly into her eyes. “Don’t make me deal with your defiance like I did the last time.”
Her eyes slid to the others, all three of them were watching with avid interest. She flushed as embarrassment kindled fast and fierce.
“Heath.” She leaned in closer, speaking for his ears only, but with the others close by, she knew it was a useless attempt. “I promise I’ll do whatever you say. I need to be there for my brother. He’s been through so much already.” Laying her hand on his chest, she whispered, “Please.”
He stared intently into her eyes as she returned his gaze, unwaveringly. This went on awkwardly for minutes until Janelle interjected. “Well, since that’s resolved, at least let me put on a bandage to keep out the dirt before you go.”
Heath’s eyes slid to Janelle, his brow furrowed, the corners of his mouth dipping down. “You aren’t helping.”
“Sorry, brother dear, but in the stare-down competition, the score is pretty green-eyed gal one, badass cowboy nothing.”
“Janelle.” Aaron’s tone held a warning and her friend said nothing more, but as Jenny glanced at him, she saw a gleam of amusement in his brown eyes as he gazed at his wife. Although she wasn’t sure, she thought his lips twitched upward the tiniest bit.
Heath was glaring at Janelle. When his head swiveled back to her, he stared at her thoughtfully before nodding. His reluctance was visible in the stiffness of his shoulders as he rose to his full height.
“You’ll stay by my side and do exactly as I say. Understood?”
“Yes, Heath, thank you.”
As Heath pulled Aaron aside for a few words, Jenny gawked at Janelle in wide-eyed wonder. Her friend shrugged, but leaned in, saying in the barest of whispers, “It’s a knack. You’ll catch on.”
Glad to have Janelle on her side, Jenny urged under her breath, “Hurry, before he changes his mind.”
Taking out a few thin strips of cloth, Janelle applied some kind of paste. As she laid them across Jenny’s lip, she mumbled under her breath. “I’d prefer butterfly Band-Aids or Steri-strips—stupid archaic time.”
Jenny was too on edge to consider Janelle’s weird jumble of words, but she did notice the cautionary look Aaron shot her way.
“I’m sorry, Aaron, but you can’t imagine how trying it is to work under these conditions.”
“Do what you can, Janelle, but do it quickly.” Aaron turned to Heath and Luke. “She’ll have to ride with one of us. The mare she rode in on was skittish and easily riled. I didn’t think it a good idea with her already hurt to take on an agitated mare.”
Heath’s eyes shot to Luke. “She rode Cimarron.”
“Damn,” Luke swore, running his hands through his hair. “She’s half wild. I’m surprised she made it in one piece.”
Jenny paled further, imagining what could have happened to Will in a ride all the way from the ranch. The mare seemed so gentle and tame. Another blessing, no doubt. If only this rare bit of good fortune stayed with her until she got back to Will.
“She rides with me,” Heath stated firmly, brooking no argument.
Janelle had barely finished when Heath grasped Jenny’s arm firmly and drew her to her feet. With her tawdry dress once again twisted around her legs, she lurched forward into his chest. A muscle twitched in his cheek as he steadied her then quickly set her cloak to rights. “When this is done, little missy, we’re going to have a long heart to heart about all of this.”
“When this is over, if I don’t have Will safe with me, I won’t care.”