Charlene Sands (4 page)

Bethann looked at Lily. With a nod she said, “You go on. I promise to come get you when your papa gets back. Maybe you can take Letty Sue down to the creek. But don’t get too close to the water.”

Letty Sue’s eyes focused on her mother. “Momma?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Joellen replied, bringing herself up from the parlor chair. “I could use some fresh air, too, darling.”

Lily waved as she watched them trek behind the house.

Wes came in minutes later. “Where’s Bethann?”

Lily didn’t like the anxious look on Wes’s face. “She’s out taking a walk with Joellen and Letty Sue.”

He let out an audible sigh and shook his head. “That’s good, I reckon. Tyler’s been shot real bad. Don’t want the child seeing her pa that way.”

“Shot!” Lily took a quick, sharp breath. “What happened?”

“Don’t rightly know. He come home slumped acrossed his horse. Good thing that ole cattle pony a his knew where his oats come from. I sent Randy on out for the doc.”

“I think I’d better take a look. Doc Ramsey may not get here in time.”

Wes eyed her warily. “You know about doctorin’?”

“Some. Now, we’re wasting time. Take me to Mr. Kincaide.”

The bunkhouse was dimly lit, but as soon as Lily walked in, her eyes riveted to the crimson streak of blood oozing from Tyler’s shoulder. His shirt was saturated and the vital juices were beginning to seep onto the narrow cot. Lily rushed to his side.

He was unconscious and so very still. She bent her head down to listen and heard his faint breathing. “First, we’ve got to stop the bleeding. Then we’ll clean him up and get him into the house. Wes, please get me some fresh linens and a pitcher of water.”

Lily chewed on her lower lip, evoking a memory of the wounded rebel soldiers her father had patched up during the war. She’d been very young, but she’d never forgotten them.

“Butternuts” her father said they were called. The Confederate gray uniforms in short supply, these men wore dyed cinnamon-hued wool made from butternut extract. The dye might have faded from wear, but the name endured—soldiers who’d given their last breath for the Confederacy.

She’d helped her father tend them; bringing in water, cleaning the wounds, changing their bandages, until the only cloths left in the house were the few clothes they’d salvaged and the ones on their backs. She’d brought spoonfuls of cush, a weakened stew, to their trembling mouths while her mother had hummed the tune to “Dixie,” lulling them into peaceful oblivion. Lily remembered the men whose lives they’d saved, but more so, she was haunted by the stark faces of the frightened boys who’d died. Lily shook the memory clear. Tyler couldn’t die. He couldn’t. Bethann needed him.

But there was so much blood.

Gingerly, she unbuttoned his shirt. She heard him groan when she lifted him slightly to peel away the garment.

Wes hurriedly placed the items on the table next to the bed. Lily tore several small strips and dipped them into the water. She washed away as much blood as possible, then took a thin band of material and wound it tightly around Tyler’s shoulder. Blood continued to ooze out. She knew he’d never survive if she didn’t stop the bleeding.

“Wes, bring me your flat-iron griddle.” When Wes didn’t respond, she looked up. He hesitated, giving her a sour look. “You’ll see. Please, just get it. And hurry!”

Lily took five layers of linen, ripped them into squares and set them on Tyler’s shoulder. When Wes
handed her the griddle, she placed it over the cloth. “I hope this does it. The pressure should help stop the bleeding.”

“That boy gonna be able to breathe?” The old man eyed the heavy griddle.

“It’s not directly over his heart, and if we don’t do something quick, he’d not be breathing soon, anyway.”

Wes flinched. Moisture touched the corners of his eyes. “He’ll be a breathin’.”

Lily took a second to give Wes a reassuring smile. “I think he’ll make it, too. The blood isn’t soaking up the cloth as much anymore. All the same we’ll leave the griddle on until Doc Ramsey gets here.”

“Sure is a good thing you was here, Miss Lillian.”

Lily looked down at her patient. His face was pale, an ashen gray, and his broad chest was moving up and down in small shallow bursts. Lily took a clean cloth and wiped down his sweat-stained face. “Maybe it
was
a good thing I came to the ranch today, Wes.”

“You’ll be a stayin’?”

Wes asked with such a hopeful expression, Lily hadn’t the heart to deny him. Besides, she couldn’t leave the ranch until she was sure Tyler would be all right and Bethann was cared for.

Maybe it was Tyler’s halfhearted proposal just days ago, or maybe it was her own unyielding sense of responsibility, but Lily felt obligated to take hold of the situation. Tyler needed her help.

She shrugged off the repercussions. Her reputation would probably be ruined. Tongues in Sweet Springs could wag all they liked. In a short time, she’d be heading east to make a fresh start with her only remaining family member. With a sigh, she answered, “I’ll be staying.”

L
etty Sue fainted dead away.

Doc Ramsey had urged everyone to stay clear of his patient while he removed the bullet. Lily had been at the doctor’s side assisting when Letty Sue burst through the door, insisting on seeing Tyler.

She took a long look at the unconscious man, then at his bloodstained shirt heaped in a pile by the narrow cot. Once-pristine white cloth dripping with Tyler’s life juices draped a stool in the corner. It was all Letty Sue saw before she dropped rather unceremoniously onto the floor.

Doc Ramsey stole a glance her way and rolled his eyes. He asked Wes to fetch her ma. Lily reminded Wes to keep Bethann and Rhonda Mae in the house until Lily could look after them.

Minutes later Joellen rushed in and brought her daughter to, then guided her outside away from another scene that might threaten her sensibilities.

Doc Ramsey shook his head. “I’m not sure how much blood he’s lost, but he’s a strong man. And you did him a good turn by stopping the drainage like you did. It might’ve saved his life.”

Lily wavered. “Then…he’ll live?”

“God willin’. He’ll need constant care for several days. And most likely, he’ll develop a fever. Tyler won’t be splittin’ logs for a spell.” The doctor grinned. “I’ve known this boy a long time. He’ll be madder’n a hornet when he comes to.”

“I’ll put up with his anger, Doc, as long as he wakes up.”

Doc Ramsey peered down at her through his spectacles. “Miss Lillian, are you going to tend him?”

Did she have a choice? Joellen had taken Letty Sue home. Wes was hopeless. His wrinkled skin had become almost as pale as Tyler’s from watching the doctor administer to the man. For a moment there Lily thought Wes was about to meet with the bunkhouse floor himself. Pride and a healthy dose of masculine ego were probably all that kept the dear man upright.

“I’ll tend him.”

The doctor gave her a fatherly look, one filled with admiration and gratitude. “Best thing for him. We better move him into the house. I’ll fetch a ranch hand or two.”

Lily left the men to their task. She had other concerns. Bethann being first and foremost. When she entered the house, Bethann was sitting on the sofa, sobbing. Rhonda Mae was holding her hand, trying to console her.

“How’s…my…papa?” she asked between sobs. “Uncle Wes says I—I can’t see him right now.”

Lily seated herself next to Bethann, wrapping an arm about her shoulders. “Your papa’s been hurt, but Doc Ramsey thinks he’s going to be just fine. He’s going to need us to take care of him. Could you do
that, Bethann? Could you help me care for your papa?”

The little girl’s head bobbed up and down. Lily put gentle pressure on her shoulder. “That’s what I thought. You’ll make your papa proud, being so brave. Now, you girls must be hungry. Let’s rustle up something to eat, then we’ll have a piece of chocolate cake. Wes will be hitching up the wagon soon to take Rhonda Mae home.”

Bethann folded her arms across her chest and pouted. “I’m not hungry. ’Sides, I don’t want my party till Papa gets better.”

Lily stood up and reached for her hand. “Bethann, you need to eat. Remember, your papa needs you strong so you can help tend him. We won’t have your party until your papa’s better, I promise.”

The little girl nodded. She jumped off the sofa and took Lily’s hand. Lily led the girls into the kitchen.

Lily’d had a full day. After feeding both girls, seeing Rhonda Mae off, tucking Bethann into bed and having Wes give her a quick tour of the house, she was near exhaustion. The night was just beginning. Doc Ramsey said he expected the low-grade fever Tyler developed to spike during the night.

Tyler had briefly come to several times, mumbling incoherently, then drifted off again.

Lily took a cloth to wipe her brow. She was perspiring, as much from the sight of Tyler Kincaide sprawled out near-naked on the bed as from the accumulated heat of the day. Wes had the good sense to throw a sheet over Tyler’s lower body, but his manly form was still visible through the thin material.

Lily’s eyes roamed over Tyler’s face, being able to
leisurely look her fill. She felt guilty—as if she were trespassing over his tempting features and knowing well and good Tyler would never know.

He was calm and relaxed as he slumbered, showing the early signs of a stubble beard. Dark shaggy hair was pushed off his face in an effort to keep him cool. His jawline was well defined and Lily knew from experience how well it’d set in a stubborn stance.

Even in his weakened state, his broad well-muscled chest exuded a certain undeniable strength. The crisp dark hairs tapered down his torso in a vee past his navel and tucked under the sheets. Lily allowed her gaze to wander beyond those sheets, momentarily, imagining the hidden secrets that lay there. She swallowed hard, wondering if there’d ever be another man on this earth who’d create such stirrings in her. In all her twenty-five years, Tyler Kincaide was the sole proprietor of her errant and lusty thoughts.

She shook her head, attempting to shake off her rampant musings and looked over his bedroom. The man was large, but his oak-carved bed was massive. A matching armoire sat against the far wall. Two chairs, one wing-backed, one spindled, were the only other furniture. There were two windows, one facing east and one west.

Sunrises and sunsets.

Lily pulled the softly worn, blue velvet wing chair close to the bed and sat down. Dipping a clean cloth into a porcelain bowl, she carefully wrung it out before gently swabbing Tyler’s chest. Her fingers grazed over his warmed skin and Lily’s heart thumped so loudly, she feared the man would awaken from the hubbub. One look at his peaceful expression told her she was being a foolish ninny again.

Gingerly she wiped down his face, keeping the cool cloth pressed onto his cheeks. She gave in to the urge to run her fingers through the soft silkiness of his hair, knowing if she’d lived a thousand lifetimes, she’d probably not get another chance. At least not with this man.

She sighed and rested back in the chair. Fighting a losing battle, her eyelids slid closed.

Lily woke to the sound of Tyler’s moaning. She blinked her eyes open, confused to find herself slumped cozily in an oversize chair. Another moan brought her to attention and she remembered where she was.

A hand to Tyler’s forehead revealed a burning fever. Sweat poured from his body as his agitated movements shuffled him to and fro. He murmured incoherently. Lily pressed her hands on his chest and lowered him down, soothing him with soft words. She dampened her rags and set about cooling his heated flesh. She dabbed at his neck, shoulders and chest.

The sheet covering him had been kicked aside. He was bared to her. There was no help for it. Lily tried not to gape at him, but the realization that she was alone with a naked man in his bedroom had not escaped her. The fact that he was unconscious mattered not at all.

She gritted her teeth and quickly placed a cloth over his privates. Swallowing hard, she admonished herself. He was her patient. She couldn’t think of him any other way. Not if she hoped to see him through this ordeal. She’d deal with her own sensibilities another time. Right now, Tyler needed her help. She administered to him until the wee hours of the morning.

Yellow rays of sunlight warmed Lily’s face. A yawn
stole from her mouth as she threw her arms over her head and stretched out lazily in the bed.

The bed?

She bolted upright and glanced at the slumbering man beside her. Her thoughts raced wildly, remembering last night. Tyler’d called out Lizabeth’s name. He’d taken hold of Lily’s hand in his delirium and brought her down next to him on the bed. Only at her acquiescence did he finally calm.

She looked down at the naked man. Steady breaths escaped his lips and his chest rose and fell in a normal rhythm. She replaced the sheet, covering him to his waist and laid a hand on his forehead. He was cool.

Thank heaven.

Lily glanced at the clothes tossed against the winged chair. Her clothes. She must have shed them in her exhaustion. She’d slept with Tyler last night in her petticoats and chemise! She rose and dashed to the chair. Grappling with her skirt, she quickly donned it.

A low raspy voice startled her. “What’d you do to me last night, sugar? I feel like hell.”

Lily whirled around. Tyler’s eyes, constricted and confused, were following her movements. When he tried to raise up on his elbows, pain contorted his face and his eyes slammed shut.

“Hush now.” Lily moved to his side and bent to ease him down. She adjusted his pillow and re-covered his body with the flimsy sheet.

Tyler lifted heavy lids and let out a groan. His body was one solid ache. Trying to focus, a woman came into view. He didn’t recognize her as being a regular at the Golden Garter, but his brain, at the moment, was addled. She bent over him. His gaze met with the sheer material of a thin cotton chemise. A small but
perfectly rounded bosom appeared before him. He found that even through the pain, his body tightened. The “lady” must have been a real hellcat, he thought, if he’s reacting to her again already.

“Get me my pants and we’ll settle up. I’ve got to go.”

Again he tried to rise, but searing pain brought his head back down against the pillow. He gritted his teeth. “Damn it all!”

“Do not swear, please,” the soft voice said.

Tyler blinked, and for the first time swept his gaze across the room.

His room.

He took a good look at the half-dressed woman whose voice he’d just recognized, not believing his eyes. “Lily?”

“Ah, hell, Lily! I don’t want none of Wes’s soup. Stuff’s worse than horse manure. Everybody knows Wes can’t cook.”

Lily scooted the chair closer to the bed and sat facing him, balancing a tray on her lap. “Tyler Kincaide, I’ve asked you time and again not to swear in my presence. And Wes is a fine cook. He got up extra early to prepare this soup. You must have some.”

Tight-lipped, Tyler turned his head away.

Lily let out a long audible breath. “For Bethann, if not yourself.”

He shot her a look. “You don’t play fair.”

Lily lifted the spoon to his mouth. Like a small child accepting an awful elixir, Tyler swallowed the liquid. “That’s better. You need to keep your strength up. Sheriff Singleton is riding out. He has some questions for you.”

“Well, hell.” He scowled. “I don’t have answers.”

“You don’t remember anything?”

Tyler shook his head, then cast her a lecherous grin. “I do remember you tending me…half naked.”

Lily’s cheeks heated. The man was as impossible as Doc Ramsey said he’d be. “I explained about that. I meant about the shooting.”

“Oh, that.” Tyler closed his eyes. “I was riding out the east pasture, inspecting the fences.” He opened his eyes. “Don’t remember a thing after that.”

“Who’d want to shoot you?”

“Damned if I know.” He slid her a menacing look.

Lily remembered reading the new barbed-wire for fencing was being called by some “The Devil’s Hat-band.” There were rumblings in town when her father had displayed a sample of Glidden’s twisted oval on the shelves at Brody’s. “Are some of the other ranchers opposed to putting up fences?”

Tyler, deep in thought, shook his head. “Don’t think so. We held a meeting about a year ago. Most of us open rangers agreed to putting up fences to keep rustling down. Makes roundup easier. I put in my order for barbed-wire six months ago. Most of the others did the same. Far as I know, we’re all in agreement.”

Lily nodded. She had racked her brain trying to think of who’d want Tyler Kincaide dead. She’d heard of range wars in other territories over this very issue. But now it didn’t sound as if Tyler’s progressive ranching ideas were the cause of his shooting.

This was all so unsettling. Tyler’d lapsed in and out of exhausted sleep all day and night yesterday. No one had been able to ask any questions, much less get any answers. Now, it seemed, there may be no answers. Tyler hadn’t a clue as to who’d shot him.

“Did Wes order the hands to stand guard around the ranch, like I asked?”

“Yes. Randy is keeping an eye on the house, the barn and the corrals. Others are taking turns searching your land.”

“Bethann?”

“She’s fine. She came in yesterday while you were asleep. She helped me…tend you.”

Lily had sat with him, tended his bandages, and cared for Bethann. When Tyler was in a peaceful sleep, Lily had brought the little girl in to see her papa. Bethann, courageous to a fault, held back her tears and kissed her father’s cheek. Lily allowed her to take a cloth and gently dab at her papa’s chest. The gesture brought a prideful smile to Bethann’s face and a swift tugging at Lily’s heart.

“Was she scared?”

“Your daughter is a brave little girl. She was, at first, but Wes and I have kept her busy.”

“I don’t want her left alone for a minute.”

Lily nodded. “I won’t leave her.”

Tyler, as if just realizing Lily’d spent several days on the ranch, stared at her. “Appreciate that, Miss Lily.”

Lily made a move to get up. Tyler grabbed her wrist. His work-roughened hands were sure but gentle. And he turned serious eyes toward her. “What about you, Lily? What’ll you do now?”

“I promised Doc Ramsey I’d stay until you recovered.” She hoisted her chin. “That’s what I intend to do.”

He let go of her wrist. “I see. Then you’re on the next stage back east?”

Lily shrugged. “Finish your soup, Mr. Kincaide.”