Chapter Four
Jack Roper glared at Granny Langtry. “You about finished poking on me?”
Jack started to move off the table, but Granny pushed him back down. “Don’t be giving me your evil eye, Sheriff. It doesn’t scare me.”
“Well, what else is there to poke at?”
Granny ignored him. She placed her hand on Jack’s head and closed her eyes.
Webb couldn’t figure out what she was doing. It was a few minutes before she opened her eyes, and Webb asked, “Is that a new way of taking a temperature?”
Granny frowned at him. “No, that is an old way of asking the Good Lord to help me figure out what is wrong with him.”
“Oh.”
When Granny turned her attention back on the sheriff, Webb rolled his eyes.
“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young man. Make yourself useful and tell me if you kept the slug you dug out of the sheriff’s shoulder.”
Webb was still trying to figure out how she knew what he was doing behind her back. “Now why would I want to keep a used slug?”
“I can’t find anything wrong with the sheriff, but look at these red streaks going down his arm. I’d say his shoulder is infected. I think part of that slug is still in there. That could be the reason for his fever.”
Looking over her shoulder, Webb saw the red lines she was talking about. “What does that mean?”
Granny gave him a sorrowful look. “That means we have to go in there and dig out the piece that is still in there.”
Jack didn’t like the sound of that. “We’ll give it a few days and see what happens. It’ll work itself out.” He made a feeble attempt to move from the examining table again, but Granny placed her small hand on his chest, halting his progress with surprising strength.
She didn’t soft-pedal her words. “I don’t have to tell you, in a few days we’ll be removing your arm. That is, if you are still alive. You’re burning up as it is.” She could feel the heat emanating from him before she touched him.
Jack wasn’t going to argue with her. Granny had seen her fair share of wounds, and she was a smart old woman. He dropped back to the table on a loud groan. “Dig the dang thing out.”
Granny opened her bag and pulled out some chloroform she’d been given by the town doctor before he died. “I’ll give you a dose of this.”
“No you won’t. Just get to it.”
Granny started to open the bottle. “You don’t have to put on a brave face, this is going to hurt like the devil.”
Jack gave her a hard look. “Put that stuff away, grab your instruments of torture, and let’s get this over with.”
Granny knew that look. “Okay, you stubborn mule.” She motioned for the deputy to come closer. “You stand there in case I need you to hold him down.”
“Webb, go on about your business,” Jack said.
Granny straightened and put her hands on her hips. “Now listen to me, Jack Roper, the deputy stays where he is. I might need his help.”
Webb didn’t want to go against the sheriff’s wishes, but this time he thought Granny was right. “You two are like two bulls squaring off. I’ll stay right here.”
Jack started to object, but he didn’t feel up to arguing. “Do your worst, old woman.”
Picking up her probe, Granny immediately stuck it in the sheriff’s wound. “I might remind you it isn’t polite to call a lady an old woman.”
Jack grimaced as she poked around searching for the offending fragment. Instrument of torture didn’t aptly describe the tool she was using, in his estimation. “You plan on staying in there all day?”
Granny glanced at him, but she wasn’t listening to him. She was concentrating on her undertaking, hoping to feel something that wasn’t quite right. Finally, she grazed something that she didn’t think was bone. “There it is.”
After Granny removed the small metal sliver, she bandaged Jack’s shoulder. She waited for Jack to fall asleep before she talked to the deputy. “Webb, would you pull a chair over here by the sheriff? It’ll be dawn soon, and I’ll sit right here while you go get some breakfast. I’m sure you could use some coffee.” While she was doing her surgery on the sheriff ’s shoulder, she thought she might have two patients to look after. Deputy Webb was as green as the apples on her kitchen table.
Webb glanced down at Jack. As much as he wanted a good strong cup of black coffee, he wasn’t sure he could even eat breakfast. Watching Granny poke around in the sheriff’s shoulder had made him nauseous. He was amazed how the sheriff stoically withstood the pain. It was more than he could handle. “You sure he’ll stay out for a while?”
Granny nodded. “He’s worn-out. I’m amazed he didn’t pass out when I was digging out that slug.”
“I know.” He headed to the door. “I’ll bring you both some breakfast.”
When Webb left, Granny sat in the chair, placed her hand on Jack’s chest, and started praying.
* * *
Before dawn broke over the horizon, Morgan gathered some wood to stoke the fire. It had been a cool night and they had kept the fire going all night. He didn’t want Rose to catch a cold, which could easily turn into pneumonia with her lack of movement. Morgan hadn’t slept all night; he wanted to be alert if there was trouble, and he was worried about Rose. She was deathly pale, and she hadn’t eaten a bite of the food. He couldn’t ignore the possibility that she had more serious internal injuries. He’d tried to make her as comfortable as possible by using the seats from the coach to make a bed for her. The men found two blankets from the coach to cover her with, but he was still concerned over her welfare.
Dan joined him at the fire. “You think we can spare the water for some coffee?”
“I think so.” Morgan glanced at George and saw he’d opened his eyes. “How’s the leg?”
“It feels a lot better this morning. Could you help me up?”
“Sure thing.” Morgan helped George to his feet. He kept an eye on him as he made his way to the brush, to make sure he didn’t topple over.
Morgan handed Dan the canteen. “I think we should make a couple of traps to catch something for dinner. I don’t want to leave camp with our only rifle. I expect we will be out here one more night and we are going to need some food.” He hoped Rose would eat something if they were lucky enough to snare a rabbit.
“I’m pretty good with traps,” Ken said.
“I’ll help,” Clay offered.
“Thanks,” Morgan responded.
While the coffee boiled, Morgan glanced at Rose to make sure she was still sleeping before he said, “I half expected Faithful would have made his way back by now if Deke let him go.”
Dan filled the pot with beans and water. “You think Deke will really let him go?”
“Yeah, I had a feeling he was trying to give me a signal when he took him.” If Deke didn’t release Faithful, Morgan planned to go after him once he saw Rose to the way station.
“Deke’s not a bad sort. I think he wanted excitement more than anything. I think he’s afraid to leave Frank,” Dan said.
“It wouldn’t surprise me. Frank likes to bully people,” Morgan replied.
“I listened to what Deke and Dutch had to say when Frank was riding in the coach. They think Frank is getting in over his head. They said he was getting meaner by the day,” Dan said.
If Deke did let his horse go, Morgan planned to put in a good word to the judge on his behalf. Deke seemed to care more about the welfare of Frank’s sister than Frank. “Too bad he didn’t think about parting company with Frank a long time ago.”
Dan agreed. “I’m sure Dutch isn’t afraid of Frank, but I don’t know what he’s doing with Frank in the first place. He doesn’t strike me as a man to take orders.”
“I’ll give some credit to Deke, maybe even Dutch and Corbin, but no quarter will be given to Frank. Though I’m not certain they would have stopped him if he’d been ready to pull the trigger on . . .” Morgan didn’t finish his thought. He glanced at Rose, and even though her eyes were closed he didn’t want to take the chance she might not be asleep. He saw no reason to tell her how little her brother thought of her.
Dan saw the direction of his eyes and nodded. “I know.”
Even though the men were speaking quietly, Rose heard what they said. They thought she was sleeping, but she was in too much pain to sleep. Her pain wasn’t the only reason she’d remained awake most of the night. She was trying to figure out what made Frankie leave when he was going to have the chance to prove his innocence. It was difficult for her to come up with an explanation, particularly knowing she was injured when he made his decision to leave. Perhaps he felt leaving was his only option. But if he wasn’t guilty of Morgan’s charges, why didn’t he want to go back to face a judge? She refused to accept the notion that he was guilty. Frankie simply wasn’t capable of being an outlaw. Yet it broke her heart that he’d ridden off while she was unconscious, not even knowing the extent of her injuries.
It was upsetting to hear Morgan and his men talk about her brother as though he was an evil person. But on the other hand, Frankie had never had a kind word to say about Morgan. Morgan’s kindness had certainly surprised her. He was nothing like the dark ogre she’d anticipated. Actually, she liked him, and she could tell his men liked and respected him. That said more about the man than anything Frank had led her to believe.
When she was young she’d heard Frankie tell Granny that he hated Morgan LeMasters, and he was going to make him pay. She’d asked Frankie what he meant by that statement, but Frankie wouldn’t give her an answer. All he said was, “Never you mind, he’s gonna pay.” She’d never forgotten that day. Frankie’s expression had frightened her. It was the first time she’d seen his face so filled with hate.
Her thoughts returned to Morgan LeMasters. Every Sunday, Morgan would sit in the pew directly behind her family. She didn’t need to turn around to know he was there because she recognized his footsteps on the plank floor as he walked down the aisle. When she heard the bench creak as he sat down behind her, she always turned around to stare at him. Frankie would never turn around, but she knew by the scowl on his face that he was aware Morgan was behind them.
After church, Rose and her siblings would often have to wait for Granny, who was sidetracked by people discussing their maladies. Rose spent the time people-watching, and inevitably she’d see the single women in town surround Morgan as he made his way to his horse. There were two young widows in particular who vied for his attention every Sunday. Morgan would politely pause to talk to the ladies, and in a gentlemanly manner, remove his Stetson as he gave them his undivided attention. But Rose could tell he was in a hurry, and was just being polite. When he was ready to take his leave, he would put on his hat and tip the brim to the ladies. She’d hear him say, Nice to see you, ladies, in his deep baritone voice, and hurry to his horse.
As a young girl she didn’t understand why women wanted his attention. In her child’s mind, she assumed everyone was afraid of him. She’d even asked her sisters why all the women wanted to talk to him. They’d laughed and said Morgan LeMasters was the most handsome man in town, and he always smelled good. They were right on that score; he did smell good.
She recalled the last Sunday morning she’d seen Morgan in the churchyard after the service. She’d just celebrated her fourteenth birthday, and it was her last Sunday in Whispering Pines before she moved East. She wouldn’t have admitted it at the time, but she’d turned around in the pew, waiting for Mr. LeMasters to walk down the aisle. Before he crossed the threshold of the church, he removed his hat and walked straight ahead. He was wearing a blue shirt, and for a brief moment she thought he looked directly at her. She quickly turned around before he made it to his pew. When the service ended that day, she stood by the buckboard waiting for Granny. As usual, she watched the women surround Morgan, smiling and overtly flirting with him. But this particular morning, Morgan smiled at a comment from one woman. Rose was mesmerized. His smile transformed his uncompromising, granitelike features. She’d thought of that moment many times over the past five years. While she was back East there had been a few young men who had asked her to dinner. It came as quite a shock when she realized she always found herself comparing them to Morgan LeMasters. Her sisters teased her that she was going to end up an old maid if she didn’t start accepting more invitations, but none of her suitors had interested her.
Rose’s thoughts were disrupted when the men started talking again.
“How’s the head?” Dan asked Morgan.
Morgan had a good-sized lump on the back of his skull, but at least his head had quit throbbing. “It’s fine.”
“He cracked you pretty good. Are you sure you don’t need some stitches?”
“No, it’s stopped bleeding.”
Rose didn’t know Mr. LeMasters had been injured. She wanted to ask him about it, but then he would know she’d overheard their conversation. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes and found dark blue eyes staring directly at her.
“Good morning,” Morgan said. He poured a cup of coffee for her. “How are you feeling?” Aside from the bruising on her face, she still looked very pale to him.
“I’m feeling much better, thank you.” She accepted the coffee he handed her. She worried it would be too painful when she was forced to stand and see to her needs, but the aroma of the hot liquid won the battle.
Morgan noticed she hadn’t moved all night. “Do you think you can get up and move around?”
“I’ll try after I finish the coffee.”
Morgan put two and two together and didn’t comment further. “I expect we might be here one more night, so the men are setting some traps, hoping to catch something. I thought you might be hungry since you didn’t have a bite of food last night.”
“I may be able to eat today,” she replied. She saw her damaged trunk nearby, along with her belongings stacked on top. “Thank you for collecting my things.”
“I’m afraid the lid to your trunk is beyond repair, but we gathered as much as we could find.”
“Thank you. Did you happen to see my Bible?”
“Yes, ma’am.” When he’d uncovered the Bible in the rubble, he recalled how she’d held it to her when she stepped off the stagecoach. He’d opened the cover and read the inscription: To our beautiful daughter, Rose. This book will be your source of strength and comfort in your time of need. We love you dearly, Mother and Father.
Morgan had placed the Bible on top of his saddle behind her. When he handed it to her, he could see the relief on her face that it was not lost.
Rose clutched it to her chest. “Thank you. My mother and father gave this to me when I was five years old. It’s my most treasured gift.” She looked down as she ran her hands over the cover. “They both died not long after.”
When she abruptly closed her eyes, Morgan thought she might want to be alone. He started to move away, but he heard her softly say, “Amen.”
Rose opened her eyes and saw him staring at her. “I was thanking God for you. I don’t know what I would have done without you, Mr. LeMasters.”
Morgan was caught off guard by her comment, particularly since he was the man who had been about to hang her brother before the stagecoach stopped. “You don’t have to worry about me going anywhere.”
They looked at each other for a moment, each trying to read what the other was thinking. Rose felt herself starting to blush, so she reached up and touched the bandage on her head. “Do you think I could remove the bandage?”
“I’ll take it off for you.”
Once he’d removed the cloth, Rose felt the knot on her head.
“You have a nice lump.”
She felt the caked blood on her scalp as she attempted to run her fingers through her hair. “I fear I am a mess. Did you happen to find my brush?” She wanted to ask for water to clean herself, but she knew they had little to spare.
“Yes, ma’am.” He walked to the trunk again and retrieved a comb, brush, and mirror, which had fortunately escaped damage.
When he handed them to her she said, “It’s hard to believe the mirror didn’t break.” She lifted her arm to run the brush through her air, but it was so painful that she decided not to try.
Morgan recalled his limited movement when he’d cracked his ribs. He reached for the brush. “I’ll give it a try.” He’d never in his life brushed a woman’s hair. “If I hurt you, let me know.” Morgan went about the task as if he were brushing his horse’s tail, holding it firm at the base so it wouldn’t hurt her as he pulled the brush through the length.
Rose didn’t know what to think of this big brute of a man kneeling down beside her to brush her hair. He was so close she could feel the heat emanating from him. She almost felt he was doing something too intimate to be seen by others. She glanced around to see if the men were watching him. “What will your men think?”
His hand halted and he cast a glance at her. “I hadn’t given it a thought.” He resumed brushing as he considered her question. When he picked up a lock of hair, his hand brushed the back of her neck and he felt her shiver. “But now that I think about it, they’d probably say I am the luckiest man alive.” The way he saw it, his men would probably volunteer for the job. As a matter of fact, he questioned why he’d never brushed a woman’s hair before. He liked the feel of her silken strands against his rough skin. “When the men get here with the buckboard, we’ll have some water so you can wash your face.”
His comment made her raise the mirror to see what he was seeing. She could hardly believe her own reflection. Her face was covered with bruises and dried blood. The large lump on her head had an ugly lesion that was scabbing over. And her hair was a total disaster. “Oh my, I look worse than I thought.”
“After the tumble you took, I think you look fine. That lump will go down in a day or two and your bruises will fade. That cut won’t even leave a scar.” Morgan figured most women as pretty as she was would worry about having a scar, but in his estimation she would still be beautiful even if she had a few scars. “Those ribs are going to take the longest to heal. You will probably be in more pain today than yesterday.”
There was nothing about her that looked fine, but she was thankful that her injuries weren’t more severe. “I think you may be right.” She’d already noticed that her entire body hurt worse than it did before she fell asleep last night.
Morgan finished brushing her hair just as Ken and Clay walked back to camp with two rabbits on a spit, ready to place over the fire. “Looks like we’ll have a feast for breakfast.”
Rose thought it was the perfect time to see to her needs. “I think I will go . . .” She didn’t know how to tell him she needed some privacy.
Morgan understood what she needed to do. He extended his hand to help her to her feet. “Can you breathe okay?” He wanted to make sure she didn’t have a punctured lung.
She nodded. Every breath she took was excruciatingly painful, but it was a comfort to know Morgan knew what to do. It was even more painful to walk, but she had to see to her needs. “Thank you, I’ll be back in a moment.”
Morgan watched her slowly walk through the brush. He was hesitant to leave in case she needed assistance getting back to the fire, but he wanted to give her some privacy. He thought he should have another look at her ribs again to see if they were swollen. He’d cared for injured men and animals, but he’d never tended a woman, and he was hesitant to tell her she needed to disrobe again. He glanced up and saw the pastor walking toward him, so he met him halfway.
“How is she doing?” Clay asked.
“I think she’s in more pain than she is saying. I hope the men get here by morning so we can get her to a doctor.”
Clay read the concern on Morgan’s face. “You’re worried.”
Morgan nodded. “Yeah. She hasn’t eaten a bite of food, and she’s barely had any water. She’s as white as an apparition. I’d like to get a good look at those ribs, but I’m afraid she’d have a fit. I didn’t think she was going to let me wrap them in the first place.”
“She might let me take a look,” Clay said.
Morgan didn’t like the thought of the pastor seeing her in her camisole. He arched a brow at him and said, “I’d say she’d let me before she would another man.”
Clay grinned at him. “I am a pastor.”
“You’re a man.” Morgan had already decided he liked the pastor, but there was no way he was going to allow him to see Rose half-undressed.
Clay was just ribbing Morgan to get a rise out of him. Morgan had been more protective of Rose than a mama bear, and in Clay’s estimation, that said a lot about the man’s character. Judging by what Ken told him when they were setting the traps, Morgan had every right to dislike anyone named Langtry. Being in the coach with Frank Langtry just a short amount of time, it didn’t take long to figure out what kind of man he was. Morgan was to be commended for treating Rose with such kindness and compassion.
“You go to church in Whispering Pines?” Clay asked.
“Every Sunday before Preacher died. There will be a lot of folks happy to see you.”
“I wasn’t always a preacher. I went back East . . .” He didn’t finish the conversation because Rose walked from the brush toward them.
Morgan thought she looked ready to pass out, so he scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to the fire. “When you catch your breath, I want to have a look at those ribs.”
“I’m fine. I just need to rest.” Truthfully, she wanted out of her dress and that bandage wrapped around her ribs, but she didn’t dare say that to him.
Morgan thought she looked like she was struggling to breathe. He was concerned he’d tied the bandage too tight. “Do you want me to loosen the bandage?”
She frowned. “I thought you said it had to be tight.”
“That is the general idea, but since you are not moving around much, maybe you could leave it off for a while if you think it would feel better.” He hoped he was offering sound advice. When he’d broken some ribs, he’d had to continue working on the ranch, so he’d kept his bandaged.
He knew she was considering the idea. When he saw her gaze over at the men, he half expected her to suggest the pastor again. He pointed to some boulders and said, “We can go right behind those rocks and no one could see.”
She wasn’t sure she could make it to the rocks. When he’d removed her dress the first time, it was dusk and it was difficult to see. Now the sun was shining brightly and he would be able to see every freckle on her skin. But her need to breathe freely was outweighing her modesty.
“Why don’t we do this before the meat is cooked. You might be able to eat something if you are more comfortable,” Morgan suggested.
“Do you really think I might be able to breathe easier?”
“All we can do is try.”
“I think I can get my dress off myself.”
“Okay.” He helped her to the rocks and stood with his back against the rock. “Tell me if you need help.”
Once she made sure she was totally out of sight, she started unbuttoning her dress. It took forever, but she finally made her way to the last button. Problem was, she couldn’t get the dress over her shoulders. She had no choice but to ask for Morgan’s help. “Mr. LeMasters, I’m afraid I can’t take my dress off my shoulders.”
Morgan walked around the rock to see her holding her dress together with one hand. “Here, let me lend a hand.” He gently pushed her dress from her shoulders, but once he gripped her chemise to raise it under her breasts, she covered his hand with hers. He immediately released the cloth to her. He untied the bandage and quickly removed the cloth. Her entire ribcage was swollen, and her skin was green in large blotches. He looked at her back and was surprised at the amount of bruising everywhere.
“I’m going to feel your ribs.” He glanced up at her to see if she was going to object. When she didn’t, he gently felt her ribs, front and back. He wasn’t sure, but he thought she might have fractured all of her ribs. Knowing it could take weeks for them to heal, he was concerned that if she didn’t breathe properly she might develop serious complications. To make matters worse, to get to the way station she would be riding in a buckboard, bouncing around all over the place, then in a stagecoach to get back to Whispering Pines.
She looked down at the top of his head as he was bent over examining her, his large fingers gently pressing on her body. Just like before, she shivered under his touch. “Do you think I can leave it off?”
“Do you breathe easier?” He straightened and watched to see if she was taking deep breaths.
“It feels better to have everything off,” she admitted.
Morgan grinned at her comment. “I don’t think that would be the thing to do.”
She realized what she’d said, and blushed.
Morgan thought her breathing was still shallow. She needed complete rest and something for the pain, but both of those things were not possible given the circumstances. He questioned if he’d done the right thing by insisting she be bandaged in the first place. When he’d collected her clothing he’d seen a white nightgown that was every bit as modest as her dress but wouldn’t be as confining. “Wait just a minute.”
Rose felt very vulnerable standing there when he walked away, with nothing covering her top half but her chemise. Thankfully, he returned quickly and held the nightgown out to her.
“I think this will be more comfortable to wear.”
Rose looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. “I can’t wear my nightgown in the daylight.”
Morgan frowned at her. “Why not? You can button it up to your chin.”
“For one thing, it’s thinner than my dress, and it wouldn’t be proper to wear in front of gentlemen.”
Morgan had to admit if she wore nothing beneath the nightgown it would present a problem. “Keep your underclothes on and it will be fine.”
Rose had to agree it would be more comfortable not to have anything binding her. “Are you sure it will be appropriate?”
“It’s more important that you breathe right now than concern yourself with what’s proper.” Morgan grabbed the nightgown and tossed it over her head. “Raise your arms as high as you can and let’s get them shoved through the sleeves.” Once that task was accomplished, and the gown was covering her, he tugged on the bottom of her dress and it dropped over her slim hips to the ground. “Just step out of this.”
Being dressed by him made Rose uncomfortable, but she had no alternative. “Thank you for your help. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Morgan watched as she tried to close the buttons on her gown. He moved her hands out of the way and buttoned her up to the chin. “You can repay me by taking it easy, and trying to breathe as deeply as you can. And eating a little bit.”
She gave him a tentative smile. “I’ll try.”