Swept Away (4 page)

Reining in his horse, he swung down with his arms full of sleeping woman.

Her eyes flickered open. They were so blue, so pretty that they seemed to glow out of her dirty face.

“You’re strong.” She spoke so softly he leaned close to catch every word. Those blue eyes blinked and fluttered and he had to think for a while before he figured out what she’d said.

“You’re not a big parcel to carry around.” The way she watched him, her words, woke something up inside him. He felt himself turn into her protector, a man who would fight wars to keep her safe. He looked at her pretty pink lips. They were all tidy despite what a mess she was everywhere else. He realized he was thinking of kissing those lips and it was like a cannon exploding.

Straightening, he laid her on the ground so fast it might’ve counted as dropping her. Stepping away to give her a bit of time to gather her wits—and maybe gather his own—he hitched his horse to a scrub mesquite and pulled beef jerky and hard tack out of his saddle. He kept real busy refilling his canteen with cool water, then settled in to rest his back against one of the countless flat slabs of stone that dotted these broken red rock canyons.

He managed all of that in the time it took her to push herself to a sitting position. She groaned with every move.

“Are you hurtin’, miss?” He couldn’t do much but sympathize, but he could offer her that.

“Hmmm.” It wasn’t exactly an answer, but he got that she was agreeing.

Then she lifted her hands to eye level and gasped. “I am filthy.”

“Well, floodwater’ll do that to a woman.”

“So true.” She flinched and rubbed high on her right arm. “I ache all over, but this shoulder—”

“Your arm was stuck in a knothole all the way to your shoulder. Being pinned to the boards you were floating on probably saved your life. It kept your head above water while you were unconscious.”

Moving cautiously, she lifted the skirt on her calico dress, a badly faded brown, which was probably the mud. Luke had no idea what color it was supposed to be.

She put her hands in her hair and visibly shuddered. She was close enough to the spring, a spate of water gushing from a crack in the rock, that she just crawled over, stuck her hands in, and washed almost frantically. When she was satisfied, she filled her hands with water and drank deeply.

“Be careful, miss. Drink slow and don’t overfill your belly right at first or you’ll get the collywobbles.” Luke wasn’t sure a real thirsty person could keep from drinking to excess, but he saw her fight for control and win. She was a tough little thing. “What’s your name?”

She threw him a nervous look over her shoulder. “I can’t stand what my hair feels like. It’s caked with mud.” She stuck her head in the gushing water and let it drench her. The water ran brown as it rinsed her hair. He suspected the move had more to do with not answering his question than with a real need to wash her hair.

Speaking from under the water, she asked, “You don’t by chance have a bar of soap with you?”

He did and he handed it over. “I intend to reach Broken Wheel around nightfall and make contact with my friends Dare and Vince. They’ll be expecting me, and we’ve got a lot to do.”

“I’ll be quick.” She rubbed the soap into her hair, which to Luke’s way of thinking wasn’t a quick choice.

“Could you please leave me a moment of privacy? I need to wash . . . um . . . more thoroughly.”

It was no more than the absolute truth. “All right, but don’t be all day about it.” Luke moved into the woods and stayed facing away from her. “Call me when you’re done.”

But Luke remembered enough about his ma and little sister to be resigned. So he got comfortable and settled in for a nap.

C
HAPTER 3

S
EPTEMBER
1868—O
NE
M
ONTH
E
ARLIER

The men standing high on the only trail to Luke Stone’s ranch, now in the possession of Flint Greer, sent a chill up Dare Riker’s spine.

The lookouts, one on each side of the red rock towers in this huge canyon Dare had heard called Palo Duro, had their rifles in hand and aimed straight at him. Each of them gave Dare a salute. It looked friendly enough, but Dare knew they were sending a message. They were watching every move he made.

The townsfolk said Greer had started staying close to home because of his wife, but Dare wondered if it had to do with word getting out that Luke Stone was coming home. He’d also heard the guards were new. Greer had only begun posting them in the last three months or so.

Dare was glad of this chance to ride out to the Greer place. He’d have a better picture of what Luke was up against.

Since he’d come to town a couple of months ago and set up shop as the town’s only doctor, he’d never seen Flint Greer. He’d heard stories about Greer turning hermit
since he’d gotten married and maybe that was it. But Dare figured it had to do with Luke.

Dare’d ridden out most of the way on a decent road. It had narrowed to a wide canyon with a stream cutting along the base of high bluffs on the west side. Then that canyon kept getting tighter, the strangely layered red bluffs higher and closer to the road.

At some point the stream went underground and the canyon got so slim the wind blew through and made a quiet, mournful song. There were big rocks scattered all around, and the road twisted in a well-worn trail as if those rocks had been there for a generation. Dare looked up and saw more rocks clinging to the side of the bluffs—boulders and red granite slabs that looked like they only needed the slightest excuse to fall. Even without the gunmen training their muzzles on him, it wasn’t a ride to make a man relax.

Luke had told plenty of stories of home when they’d been locked up in Andersonville, so Dare recognized this road into the place. Luke’s pa had picked this spot because there was Indian unrest when he’d settled, and he’d been able to defend his ranch by putting sentinels on the bluffs along the trail.

Just like Greer had now.

Getting into this place was going to be a problem for Luke. Being called out to Greer’s for doctoring was giving Dare a good chance at seeing the lay of the land with his own eyes. Almost as soon as the canyon widened, the ranch house appeared.

He rode up to the front door and swung down, tying his horse to the hitching post. Dare counted the men he saw around the place. A couple of them looked like loafers, but they had sharp eyes and wore their guns tied down. Dare
wondered if they were really more guards than cowpokes. The story was that Greer had hired on some dangerous hands just lately. He was acting like a man getting ready to fight a war.

Dare reached the front door just as a blond boy stepped out. “Go on back to town. We don’t welcome visitors.”

“I’m Dr. Riker. I was sent out by someone who said your ma’d been hurt.”

“My ma took a . . . a fall. But she’s fine now. Whoever sent for you shouldn’t’ve done it.”

The boy was skinny, gangly. Boys could grow at real different ages, but Dare thought the kid might be fifteen. He was aiming toward tall, not there yet, but big feet and huge hands said he’d make it. His hair was golden and his bright blue eyes snapped with anger.

“Long as I’m here, I’ll speak to your ma before I ride all the way back to Broken Wheel.”

Annoyed at being called out for an unneeded errand, Dare figured he wouldn’t let it bother him. In fact, it was good luck, a chance to see that well-guarded canyon and the layout of the ranch. The boy didn’t move from the door as Dare walked up to it. Rather than talk more to a kid who wasn’t old enough to make this decision anyway, Dare gently but firmly pushed past him into the house.

Two rooms opened off either side of the entry. Straight ahead was a stairway to the second floor. To his left, a woman sat in a worn-looking upholstered chair, frowning at him as if disgruntled that he’d come in. It had to be Mrs. Greer.

She was golden. Dare had never seen anyone quite so pretty. Her hair was a tawny gold color. Her skin was almost the same shade, except Dare’s doctoring drew his
attention to a grayish undertone that told him she was sick or in pain, or both. She blinked her eyes at him and they were like none he’d ever seen. They seemed to glow with a yellowy-gold light. It reminded him of a mountain lion he’d seen once, a beautiful critter.

“I’m a doctor, ma’am.”

“I heard. And I heard my son tell you I’m fine.” Glynna Greer’s lioness eyes flashed with anger.

A snarling, beautiful critter.

“Go away and don’t come back.”

A snarling, beautiful critter who looked eager to bite his head off. This woman was more like that lion every minute.

A young girl of maybe eight years stood beside the chair, nudged up against her ma as if she were trying to hide from sight.

“The hired hand took it upon himself to send for you. I’d have stopped him if I’d known he was doing it. I insist you leave, now.”

Dare walked toward her as she talked, figuring the closer he got, the more he could see. And what he saw was pain. There were furrows in her forehead that made her seem older than Dare had thought at first glance. The gold in her eyes was dimmed, and he saw tracks down her face that could have only been left by tears. He reached her side and crouched.

“I’m Dr. Riker. Dare Riker. As long as I’m here, tell me where you hurt.”

The woman looked at him, then tilted her nose up. “It’s a twisted ankle. I’ll be fine. Be on your way.”

“Let me see.” Dare controlled his annoyance at the high-handed dismissal. He reached for her leg, and she raised her hands as if to ward him off, then gasped in pain and subsided in her chair.

And she hadn’t moved her ankle one speck. So she had pain elsewhere.

Lifting her bare foot, Dare noticed one lace-up boot and a white stocking on the floor beside her chair. Moving the swollen ankle gently, he felt her stifle another gasp.

“No sin in admitting you hurt, Mrs. Greer.”

“I’m fine. You’re wasting both our time.”

The venom in her voice drew his attention. She looked at him as if his hands were unwashed, as if his touch disgusted her.

“Can you move your foot?” He was watching her face to catch any glimpse of pain because she was being so closemouthed. As he knelt there at her feet, being treated like a lowly servant, he thought he saw a shadow on her cheek on the right side. Like an old bruise. But then she turned her head aside to look at her daughter and Dare wasn’t sure.

“I can move it.” She demonstrated so, which gave Dare the confidence her ankle wasn’t broken. “It needs to be bound tight and you need crutches. Do you have any? I can bring some out from town.”

“I’ll get by fine. Don’t bother with crutches. And I can wrap it myself.”

Why in the world didn’t the woman want a doctor’s help? “I’m here. It won’t take long. I’ll do it.”

Dare looked at the boy. “Are there any crutches in the house? If someone has trouble once, they often keep them around.”

“I’ve never seen any,” the boy said in a sullen tone. “I think there’s a walking stick in the back room.”

It wasn’t good enough but it was something. Dare fought the urge to bark with his army major voice at the young’un. “Get it.”

The boy ran off.

“I will pay you nothing for treating me.” Mrs. Greer clenched her hands together on her lap. “My husband is one of the richest men in the area and I know only too well how men like you try and cheat him.”

“Men like me?” Dare felt his brows lift nearly to his hairline. Rather than fight with the arrogant little snip, he gave her doctor’s orders. “You must not put any weight on your ankle.”

Thundering footsteps announced the boy’s sprinting return as if he was terrified to leave his mother alone with Dare. He carried a cane, its top curved. It would help.

“We can get by with this, Dr. Riker.” The boy leaned the cane against his ma’s chair. “You need to leave.”

“As soon as I’ve seen to your ma’s ankle, I’ll go.” And he’d go with great pleasure. “After it’s wrapped, I’ll carry you to your bed. If you must get out of bed, ask your husband to carry you or use the walking stick or crawl if you have to, but keep the weight off your ankle or it won’t heal properly.”

“If you insist on wrapping the ankle, then do it. But you won’t be carrying me anywhere. I don’t want your hands on me.”

Dare lifted her ankle and arched a brow. His hands were most definitely on her.

Mrs. Greer blushed. “Well, I’ve made it clear I don’t like you tending my ankle, haven’t I? That’s the only . . . familiarity I’ll allow. And be done with it quickly. I need to get on with making my husband’s dinner.”

“I just told you to stay off your feet. Your husband can make his own meals for a few days.”

“No, he can’t.” She said it as if she were reciting from the Good Book.

“It won’t bear any weight.” Dare decided he was indeed wasting his time. “I guess you’ll figure that out when you try and walk. What happened anyway?”