Lone Star Lover (5 page)

Or maybe Jake was sicker than Doc Davis thought. That’s why he wasn’t waking up. That’s why he was so confused about where he was. Heaven help him, the poor man didn’t even know what year this was. She sank onto the chair beside him, right where she’d kept vigil most of the night, in between dozing and reading. Wrapping her hands around the cup for warmth, she took a small sip.

Her gaze caught on the tin cup she kept on the table. She could’ve sworn she’d filled it. This was the second time the water seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Might be she was the one going mad. With her free hand, she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. It didn’t seem to matter how dutifully she’d tended the fire, the room hadn’t warmed up. She hoped Jake was comfortable enough with the wool blanket she’d thrown over him.

She looked toward the foot of the cot where she’d carefully tucked in the edges to keep his feet warm. The blanket had come loose. Her heart beat faster. Had he moved without her seeing? Oh, how she wanted him to move, to open his eyes again, how she wanted to hear his low manly voice.

Rebecca liked Doc Davis. He was a smart, kind man who was helping keep her out of the saloon, but she didn’t care what he said, she wouldn’t give Jake the medicine any more. It wasn’t doing him any good. For four years she’d been taught something about medicine, too. Not the kind Doc Davis approved of, but she’d learned enough to know that Jake was better when he didn’t drink it.

After setting down her coffee, she got up to fix the blanket. She’d tucked it under Jake’s feet when she thought she saw his leg move. Her gaze flew to his face. His eyes were still closed.

“Jake?”

He didn’t move.

Sniffing, she returned to sit in the chair and then pressed one of his large hands between hers. “Jake, please wake up. You have to eat something and drink more water.”

She brought his hand up, laid her cheek against his palm and sighed at the feel of his slightly callused skin. Closing her eyes, she silently recited one of the childhood prayers she remembered.

He flexed his hand.

Rebecca stiffened, and then sharply drew back. She realized she was still holding his hand and dropped it. Her gaze went to his face. His eyes were open, but only to slits.

“Jake?”

“Is anyone else here?” he whispered.

She shook her head.

“Are you expecting the doctor or Kitty?”

“Not for a while.”

“Good.” He pushed his shoulders up off the cot.

She leaned forward to help, but realized he’d lifted himself with little effort. He sat up, pushed back the blanket and then swung his feet to the floor. He grimaced some, and groaned once, but he looked surprisingly strong.

“Where’s my shirt?” he asked, lightly touching the last blister that was healing near the corner of his mouth.

“It’s ruined. I tried to scrub it but the blood wouldn’t come out.” She watched with alarm as he reached for his boots, grabbing one but missing the other. “You aren’t leaving.”

“Damn right I am.”

Panic gripped her. “Please, you should have some water. You should—”

Anger changed the blue of his eyes to a stormy gray. “You’re not giving me any more of that crap.”

“No,” she agreed quietly, knowing he meant the pain medicine. “No more.”

He eyed her with suspicion. “Didn’t the doctor tell you to give me more?”

“Yes.” She swallowed, and clasped her hands tightly together. “But I disobeyed him.”

He studied her with an intensity that frightened her. “Why?”

“Because it made you wrong in the head.”

Jake seemed to relax, then his chest rose and fell with a deep shuddering breath. “That’s a very powerful drug, do you understand?”

She blinked, aware suddenly that she’d been gawking at his fine bare chest. Heat crawled up her neck, and she stared down at her hands.

“Rebecca? Do you understand that it’s not bad medicine if someone really needs it? But I don’t.”

“I understand,” she said. “I didn’t like the way you acted, but I also know you still have pain.”

“I do, but I’m healing, and I’ll be better soon. Some of my symptoms were from the morphine, not the accident.” He felt the side of his head, and then touched his finger to his lower lip. “My mouth is better. Did you put something on it?”

“Yes, I—” She couldn’t admit to him that she’d used the sap from a cactus. It was good medicine, she knew from experience, but Doc Davis would be angry if he found out. “It was a salve,” she said, only half lying. “I don’t know the name. You said you had an accident. You remember what happened?”

“I think so.” He paused, his gaze fixed on her face. “I was driving back to Houston, and my truck rolled.”

“Oh.” Disappointment washed over her. She’d truly hoped he was better, but even Doc Davis didn’t know about this “truck.”

“You honestly don’t know what a truck is.”

She shook her head.

Jake’s expression turned grim. “I have one more question.” He looked angry, confused and maybe even a bit afraid as he glanced about the room. Before he could ask his question, the pounding of horse hooves stopped just outside the door. Someone shouted Doc Davis’s name. And then there was a gunshot.

Rebecca scurried to the side, holding onto the door, and Jake quickly pulled back the curtain to see who Kitty was talking to.

Three men hovered around an old wooden wagon hitched to a pair of bay mares. All of them wore dusty jeans, boots, hats and coats. Doc Davis was with them, his weathered face a mask of bleak concern, his black bag sitting on the street while he gestured with his hands.

Shaking his head, trying to clear his vision, Jake squeezed his eyes shut, almost afraid to open them again. When he did, the bizarre scene hadn’t changed. The saloon across the street was still there, so was the rickety two-story hotel beside it, the water troughs and hitching rails in front, the wagon and horses, and the gun-toting cowboys of varying ages who were now carefully lifting someone out of the back of the wagon. The place looked like a stage.

“Make sure the way is clear,” the doctor hollered at Kitty, who’d already entered the room. “And get the water boiling.”

Rebecca didn’t wait for further instructions. She grabbed the kettle off the fire and threw in a couple of logs. Kitty moved the chair that had been sitting beside the cot, dragging it to the far side of the room. Next she got rid of the basin and bedside table. No one said a word. Like a well-oiled machine, the two women worked quickly, preparing the cot, putting water on to heat and producing stacks of clean rags.

Jake simply stayed out of their way. When the cowboys finally carried in the injured man, Jake moved further back to allow them a clear shot to the cot.

Davis followed close behind, his face grimy and his coat muddy. He slanted a look at Jake. “Glad to see you up and about, son,” he said, and hurried past to tend to the new patient.

After the man was laid down, and the doctor was at his side, Kitty took charge of dispersing the cowboys. They all seemed reluctant to leave, but none of them challenged her when she ordered them to wait outside or in the saloon. After being assured that they’d be given a full report, they grudgingly filed out the door.

Rebecca had retreated to the corner and stayed there while the men were in the room. On his way out, one of the younger cowboys tipped his hat to her, to which she gave a small nod, but other than that, she mostly kept her gaze aimed at the floor. Her hands stayed clasped in front of her. The guy called Corbin had implied she was a whore. As soon as Jake was back to normal, he had a score to settle with the stupid bastard.

Thinking about Corbin reminded Jake of the badge he thought he’d seen pinned to the guy’s vest. That was another question he had for Rebecca as soon as he had her to himself again.

“This doesn’t look good.” The doctor yanked open the unconscious man’s shirt and took a wet cloth Kitty handed him.

“Is he breathing?” Kitty asked.

“Barely. Open my bag and get out my stethoscope, would you?”

Jake had never been the queasy type, but when he saw what the rope had done to the man’s thick neck his stomach revolted. Raw flesh gaped almost to the bone, the skin looking more like something that came from a butchered heifer.

Jake must have looked as if he was going to lose it, because Rebecca was instantly by his side, slipping an arm around his waist, helping to support his weight.

“You’re very pale,” she whispered.

“I haven’t eaten in days,” he said gruffly, his ego bruised, and now, on top of everything, he was light-headed.

She held him tighter when he sagged against her. “I’ll heat some broth as soon as I won’t be in the way.”

“I’m okay.” He shifted closer to the wall in case he needed it to keep himself steady. “Go help the doctor. That guy on the cot is in a lot worse shape than I am.”

“Kitty’s there.” She stared up at him, with her beautiful blue-green eyes full of concern. Not a speck of makeup marred her flawless skin. She looked so damn young and innocent. “Do you need to sit down?”

“Am I crushing you?”

A small smile tugged at her pink lips. “I’m very strong.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Her nose wrinkled and any trace of a smile vanished. “Like an ox, I’ve been told.”

Jake chuckled. “Not even close.”

She tilted her head to the side slightly, and gazed at him with a cute bewildered expression.

“Rebecca, I need some of that heated water.” Kitty threw a look over her shoulder, and frowned at Jake. “Need to sit?”

“I’m fine.”

Rebecca seemed reluctant to leave him, so he gave her a gentle nudge.

“Go,” he told her, touched that she was so protective of him. He was the one who looked out for people, not the other way around. “I promise not to keel over.”

She pursed her lips in a disapproving pout, then hurried to the stove.

“We’ll get some food into your belly shortly,” Kitty said, from a kneeling position on the floor, while dividing her attention between him and the other man. “That’ll help steady you. In the meantime, plant yourself in that chair.”

Jake knew she was right. At this point, most of his weakness probably had more to do with lack of food, and if he wanted to get out of here he needed to regain his strength. Aware that Rebecca kept a watchful eye on his progress, he slowly moved toward the chair, trying not to wince when his head started to throb.

She carried the bowl of water to Kitty. “It’s only warm.”

“Good enough.” Kitty dropped a white cloth into the bowl, and then set it on the floor beside her. “I need to bathe the wounds without them getting infected.”

Doc Davis’s heartfelt sigh echoed off the walls of the small room. “After that, there’s nothing more to do but wait and pray he wakes up.”

“Pray.” Kitty scoffed. “You still believe there’s a God after what we’ve seen lately. Even if poor Otis does wake up, you think he’s gonna be right in the head?”

“No telling at this point,” the doctor said dismally. “Those vigilantes have gone too far this time. Otis Sanford never harmed a hair on anyone’s head. He’s no more a rustler than I am.”

“Neither were Tom Lancaster or Homer Cook, if you ask me,” Kitty added. “And you know I wasn’t none too fond of Homer, so that’s saying something.”

“Rustling?” That had gotten Jake’s attention.

“Been a problem for the past two months.” The doctor removed his wire-rimmed glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Six ranches have lost most of their herds.”

“And those lousy good-for-nothing Rangers haven’t done a damn thing to stop it,” Kitty said as she gathered her skirt in one hand and struggled to her feet.

The doctor lent her a hand, his voice lowering as he cautioned, “Watch your mouth, Kitty. Even you don’t want Wade to hear you saying that. He hasn’t been in very good spirits, and you know as well as anyone he can be mean even when he is.”

Kitty’s red-painted lips pulled into a thin line, a trace of resentment flickering in her eyes. But she said nothing more.

“These Rangers,” Jake said. “Do they come to town often?”

All three of them stared at him in surprise, but it was Kitty who, with undisguised contempt, said, “Honey, those boys run this town.”

The doctor looked resigned. Rebecca’s expression mirrored Kitty’s.

“Texas Rangers don’t ‘run’ towns,” Jake said, tamping down the defensiveness tightening his chest. Now wasn’t the time to get into a debate no matter how clearheaded he felt. Better to just listen and sort out what was happening later. “Don’t you have a sheriff?”

Kitty snorted, while the doctor’s mouth curved in a patronizing smile. Rebecca’s gaze was on the other two as if she were waiting for an answer, as well.

“We did once,” Kitty said, “but what happened to him is still a mystery. The next day after he disappeared, the Rangers showed up. That was near three years ago. Not too hard to figure that one out.”

The doctor stared at her, his face creased in a perplexed frown. “I don’t understand you talking about Wade like that.”

“Wade came later. I’m talking about Corbin.”

“Nevertheless, enough of that kind of talk, you hear? We don’t need trouble.” He stooped down to pick up his bag. “If you two ladies will be kind enough to take turns keeping an eye on Otis, I believe I’ll get some rest.”

“Land’s sakes, it’s a wonder you’re still standing.” Kitty made a shooing motion. “You’ve been up for over twenty-four hours. Now go.”

“Bossy woman,” the doctor muttered. “It’s a wonder you ever have any customers.”

“I could always use one more.” Kitty winked at him, and laughed when he gave her a long-suffering shake of his head.

Selfishly, Jake wanted the doctor to stick around and answer a few questions because he’d likely be more helpful than either of the two women. Hell, he had a lot more than a few questions, but until he figured out what was going on, he needed to stay low key.

Doc Davis stopped and gave Jake a once-over. “You’re looking better, son. Still, sorry to have to kick you out of your bed. I have only two other rooms, one is my office where I see patients, and the other is my living quarters. Kitty, you know if there’s room at the boardinghouse?”

“Honey, don’t you worry about handsome here. There’s room over the saloon. Me and the girls will take care of him.”

“
I’ll
take care of Jake,” Rebecca said in a prickly tone that drew all eyes to her. She blushed. “I only meant that there’s no need to bother the other girls.”

“True enough,” the doctor said with an amused glint in his eyes. He sobered just as quickly. “I forgot that I’m turning you out, too.”

“Don’t you fret none, Doc. I have a place where neither of them will be bothered.” Kitty gave him a gentle shove. “You get some rest.”

“I suppose we could put Otis in my room,” the doctor murmured absently.

“Hush, you old fool. You’re not gonna do nobody any good if you start ailing because you’re bone tired,” Kitty said with gruff affection, and escorted him through the narrow door past the stove.

As soon as they were gone, Rebecca went straight to the stove, removed a kettle and set a pot over the fire. Then she busily began picking up rags, tidying up the ointment and bandages the doctor had left, and then mopping up where water had sloshed over the rim of the basin.

Jake watched her work, his thoughts splintering in several directions. He felt good, mentally at least. No more brain fog or blurred vision. He was still dehydrated but not as badly as yesterday. A few times when Rebecca had dozed off in the middle of the night, he’d slipped out of bed and helped himself to the water she kept in the white pitcher. And then he’d bided his time, waiting for the morphine to completely leave his system before he let her know he was awake. He didn’t blame her for giving him the drug. She’d only been following the doctor’s orders.

Even his memory had improved considerably, to the point that he recalled being ordered out of his truck by one of Wellesly’s thugs, shot at, and then rolling his truck into the desert. The only murky part in his recollection was the couple of minutes before he’d blacked out, the sense of drowning he’d experienced, as though he were being sucked down by a powerful ocean undercurrent. Right. In the middle of the desert.

But even that weirdness didn’t account for his inability to reconcile what he’d witnessed in the past twenty-four hours. Or these people’s claim that they were living in 1877. Was this some sort of cult where they’d been brainwashed? He was actually beginning to believe that
they
believed they lived in the past. Hell, someone had actually tried to hang that poor bastard.

The one thing he had trouble with was the location. Texas was a big state, but not so big that these people could be isolated from the truth. Hell, they’d have to have seen a plane fly overhead at some point, or wander far enough away from town to run across a normal human being or a highway or an ATV or a dirt bike. Nowadays the rich kids were always looking for new places to ride their toys.

There was another possibility. He’d hit his head hard enough that he’d gone friggin’ crazy. This whole thing could be one big hallucination. While the accident was now vivid, the past twenty-four hours not so much.

“I hope it’s hot enough.” Rebecca broke into his thoughts, holding out a steaming bowl cradled in a white cloth. “It’s chicken broth.”

She had beautiful eyes, the greenish-blue a color he’d only seen in the Caribbean ocean where he’d learned to dive three years ago. And her lips, perfectly bow-shaped, plump and pink…Man, he so didn’t want Rebecca to be a hallucination.

Her brows drew together in a delicate frown. “If you hold this, I’ll bring the stool to set the bowl on.”

“What? Oh, sorry.” He took the bowl from her, the aroma from the broth drifting up to his nose, and making his stomach growl loudly.

Rebecca turned away, but not before he saw her smile. “Kitty brought me biscuits for breakfast. If you think your belly will take it, you can dunk them in the broth.” She set the stool in front of him, and then brought him a small cloth-wrapped bundle.

Her gaze lowered to his chest, and she quickly looked away. He’d forgotten he wasn’t wearing a shirt, though there wasn’t much he could do about it.