Whirlwind Wedding (14 page)

“What are you two ladies whispering about?” Riley walked up behind them, slipping his arms around his wife's waist.

“Never you mind.” Susannah nestled into his chest, smiling at Catherine. “Nosy, isn't he?”

“Watch out, woman,” he growled against her neck.

She looked up at him adoringly and he dropped a kiss on her nose. “We'd better go, sweetheart. Lorelai's ready for bed and so am I,” he murmured.

Susannah blushed, but Catherine saw a silent message pass between the two of them. She felt a sharp stab of longing at how comfortable they were with each other, how easily they expressed their feelings with a touch or a kiss.

Susannah laid down the cloth she'd used to dry dishes, and squeezed Catherine's hand. “Thank you for dinner. It was lovely.”

“I'm glad you enjoyed it. I hope you'll come again.”

“Only if you promise to come out to the ranch,” Riley said with a warm smile.

“I'd like that.” She walked them to the door.

Jericho had moved his chair back against the wall. Davis Lee leaned against the porch column at the top of the steps. The two men stopped talking when Catherine and the others walked out, but they looked so serious she decided they must have been talking about the McDougals. All this time?

Riley took a sleeping Lorelai from Andrew. Then Susannah and he said their goodbyes, as Catherine walked to the wagon with them. Once Susannah was seated, Riley handed
the baby up to her. After saying they'd see everyone at church on Sunday, the Holts drove away.

“Nice evening,” Davis Lee said from the porch.

“Yes, very nice.” Enjoying the cooler night air, Catherine admired the half-moon in a dark blue sky. She turned to find Andrew and Davis Lee standing in the doorway, examining something.

“Catherine, look!” Andrew waved her over. “Sheriff Holt can whittle. He made this birdcall and he's giving it to me.”

The excitement in her brother's voice caused her to smile as she moved up the steps.

Andrew turned, showing the whistle to Jericho. “What do you think of that, Lieutenant?”

“It's a fine piece. You do beat all, cousin.” Jericho shook his head. “I never did have your patience.”

“Well, that's true.” Davis Lee grinned.

Standing between him and Jericho, Catherine exclaimed over the sleek wooden whistle. Her skin prickled with the weight of Jericho's slow, steady gaze, but she refused to look at him.

“You outdid yourself on the meal, Catherine.” His quiet voice sent a shiver down her spine.

She glanced over, wishing her stomach wouldn't jump every time he spoke to her. “Thank you. And Davis Lee, thank you for Andrew's gift.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” The whistle trilled with a low bleat as Andrew experimented.

She put a hand on his shoulder, pleased when he didn't shrug it off. “Time to get ready for bed.”

“'Night, Sheriff. Lieutenant.” Blowing short chirps on the bird call, he went inside.

“I'd better scoot, too.” Davis Lee reached inside the door and plucked his hat from the hook, then walked down the
steps. With a foot on the last one, he turned. “I wonder if you might like to go to church with me on Sunday, Catherine?”

She blinked. A sudden tension lashed the air and she felt a pointed gaze boring into her back—Jericho's.

“You and Andrew, I mean.” The sheriff's eyes, clear blue in the flickering lamplight, were kind. “If it's not too hot, we can have a picnic afterward. What do you say?”

“Thank you for asking.” Habit had her ready to refuse, but a tiny whisper stopped her. Davis Lee wouldn't hurt her. For the first time in almost two years, she wanted to say yes to an invitation. She wasn't unaware that Davis Lee liked her, but until now she had never given a thought to finding out if she liked him. “Yes, I'd enjoy that very much.”

Behind her, heavy silence pressed like a weight against her shoulders.

Davis Lee grinned, slapping his hat against his thigh. “I look forward to it. I'll be by about a quarter till nine to pick y'all up.”

“All right.” She didn't know if she was nervous or excited to have taken a step out of the shadow that had dogged her for almost two years. Since the attack, her trust of anyone was hard-won, but having gotten to know the sheriff, she believed she would be safe with him.

“Bye, Jericho.” Davis Lee settled his hat on his head and walked to where his horse nibbled grass a few feet away. He swung into the saddle. “You're gonna make my whole day, Catherine.”

She laughed softly and waved goodbye, staring into the darkness until she couldn't see him any longer.

Turning, she found Jericho watching her, his gaze pinning her to the spot. She could read no emotion in his face, but his eyes burned with silver light. She felt almost guilty. Annoyed because there was no reason for her to feel she had slighted him, she walked past him and stepped inside. “Good night.”

“I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Catherine.” The words sounded forced, but genuine. “What I said in the barn—it was for the best.”

It was his kiss, not his words that flashed through her mind. She paused in the doorway, wanting to plead for something. A truce? “It's all right. Let's forget it.”

“I was harsh. The words could've been said better.”

She had wished he might say he regretted them altogether. “It's forgotten.”

“I felt like I was taking advantage of your hospitality.”

“I didn't feel that way at all.” She half turned toward him, wrapping her arms around her waist.

In the shadows, his shoulders seemed even more broad, and his eyes glittered. Though the mouth that had done such wondrous things to hers was tight now, and his crutch lay across his lap, he was every bit the man who had kissed the sense out of her in the barn. She swallowed. “Maybe you
should
move to your cousin's.”

“No. Not until we know where those outlaws are. You saved my life. I'm not leaving as long as the McDougals might be a threat to you.”

His steel-threaded tone said there was no use trying to change his mind. He would stay on her porch with or without her permission. “Very well.”

She stepped inside and paused with her hand on the door. “Won't you at least reconsider sleeping inside? I can make up a pallet in the front room, like I did for myself.”

“It's better if I stay out here. We need to be careful—I do mean to consider your reputation.”

“All right.” She closed the door, opened it. “Do you have a blanket?”

“Don't think I'll need it. It's plenty warm out here.”

“A pillow?”

“I have one.” There was a smile in his voice.

“Good night, then.”

“Good night.” His voice tickled a place low in her belly.

After a long moment, she shut the door and waited, trying to settle her nerves. Her palms were damp and she gripped the folds of her skirt. Oh, bother! Plucking her nightdress from behind the door, she turned down the lamp and went to her bedroom.

The thought of sleeping in her bed again was appealing, but she couldn't help worrying about the man outside who needed it more than she did.

Without his compelling presence, the room seemed larger. She thought she could smell the soap he used each morning, and maybe the dark masculine scent she had breathed in so often.

Taking off her clothes, she slipped her nightgown over her head before easing down on the edge of the bed. Only then did she notice he'd changed the linens. When had he done that?

With a smile, she blew out the lamp and began to braid her hair. Moonlight dappled the floor. The lace curtain hung motionless in the still air. Her hands worked as she stared out the window, trying to keep her mind off Jericho. The house felt empty. She missed him being inside, missed knowing he was only a few steps away, though he was really no farther now.

Suddenly he stepped into view. He'd come off the porch without his crutch and now he limped past her room to Andrew's, then started back. Through the open window, she could hear his dragging gait. A faint cloud of dust circled his feet.

He was pushing himself, no doubt anxious to get back on the trail of the McDougal gang. And away from her?

She dismissed the stinging thought, telling herself she cared only that he didn't try too much too soon. She bit back the words of caution she wanted to call out. As long as he
didn't break open his wounds, he probably needed to move as much as possible.

Something about his silhouette in the moonlit shadows tugged at her heart. He looked lonesome, but maybe she thought so because that was how she felt.

She lay down on her side, staring blankly at the weave of light and dark coming through the window. She tried to think about her invitation from Davis Lee, but the memory of Jericho's searing kiss crowded out every other thought. He had said he would stay away from her, and she knew he believed that was best. One minute she thought he was right. And the next minute she only wanted him to kiss her again. To touch her.

It was a long time before she fell asleep.

 

Jericho didn't like the idea of Catherine going to church with Davis Lee. Or anywhere else, for that matter. But he had no claim on her. He was
not
going to stake one, so he had no right to say anything. It still nagged him like a sore tooth the next morning as he sat naked on the right side of her bed, awaiting the doctor. A sheet covered his flanks, but dipped too far down his backside for his liking.

Butler wanted to check his thigh even though Jericho had told him it was fine.

What needed to be checked were the thoughts of that kiss. And his words afterward. He should've taken more care for her feelings, but even now he felt tension score his belly. Her innocent yet fervent response played havoc with his resolve to keep away from her, but keep away he would.

She stood quietly at the end of the bed, observing the doctor as he moved aside the sheet just enough to bare Jericho's injured thigh and examine the wound. The doctor's hands were capable and impersonal. Jericho wanted
her
hands on him.

“You did a fine job restitching the wound, Catherine.” Dr.
Butler glanced at Jericho. “You'll scar, but not nearly as badly as if I'd sewn you up. My stitches are nowhere near as tidy as Catherine's.”

He nodded, wishing he could put his pants back on.

The man turned his attention to Jericho's hand, studying it first, then carefully trying to bend his wrist. “I think Catherine's treatment is working. The fingers and the hand aren't nearly as stiff as they were last week.”

“I still can't make a fist,” Jericho pointed out.

“All in good time, son.” The doctor clapped him on the shoulder and moved to the end of the bed, where his bag sat. “Any questions?”

“No. I'm glad for the good report.”

“I have a question.” Catherine folded her hands in front of her, lacing and unlacing her fingers. “He's taken to sleeping outside. I've tried to tell him it's too soon, that he's risking infection or illness, but he won't listen. Won't you tell him, Doctor?”

Butler's brown eyes turned speculative. “I think his wound has closed enough that he's safe from infection. Unless he injures it again, he should be fine.”

Jericho's gaze went to her.
See?

“But he was so weak.” She didn't acknowledge him at all. “Can his health already be restored enough to fight off an illness if necessary?”

“He appears stronger each time I come.”

“I am,” Jericho said shortly. “The weakness doesn't overtake me as quickly. And I'm trying to walk and work my leg every day.”

“That's good.” The doctor fingered his chin. “Where are you sleeping? On the ground? In the barn?”

“On the porch. I have my bedroll.”

“I've told him I don't mind giving up my bed a few more
nights.” Catherine looked at the doctor hopefully. “Just to be safe.”

“And I've told her I should move out so as not to compromise her reputation.”

“He's right about that, Catherine.” She didn't look pleased as the doctor continued, “I think sleeping on the porch is all right, Lieutenant, but if you do start to feel like you're coming down with something, you should take her advice and move back inside.”

Jericho nodded, relieved the doctor had sided with him. “One more thing, Doc?”

“Yes?”

“I hope I'm not insulting you, but I wonder if you could give me a shave?” Jericho rubbed at his beard. “My face is getting lost under all these whiskers and I figure you can wield a blade pretty well.”

“If you're worried about it, Catherine has ample—”

“No.” Jericho didn't try to temper his harsh tone. He absolutely could not have her that close. “Maybe you could send the barber out? I could walk to town, but it'd take me some time.”

“No need for that.” The doctor cast a sideways glance at Catherine. “I'm happy to do it.”

“Thank you.” Jericho grabbed his drawers and pants. “I'll just put on my clothes, then get my straight-edge razor and my shaving soap.”

“I'll get it.” Before he could say anything, Catherine left the room.

Jericho took the opportunity to pull on his trousers, ignoring the doctor's look of speculation. He didn't like the flash of hurt in her eyes, but having her so near whittled away his self-control. Made him think dangerous, stupid thoughts about kissing her again.

She returned with Jericho's things and placed them on the
bedside table as the doctor moved the chair between the bed and the wall.

“I'll get some water,” she said quietly.

“Thank you.” As she left the room, Butler rolled up his sleeves. “Can you sit over here so I can reach you better?”

“Yeah.” Jericho eased down into the chair.