Denver (28 page)

“We’re just here because of Michael O’Malley,” Dan answered evenly. And while he talked, he remembered Sorghum. The man had ridden with a gang in New Mexico Territory. They had robbed a train and had come into town to spend their money. It was a little Spanish town without a lawman. Dan had ridden with his own gang at the time, and they had stayed in the town because it was a safe hideaway from lawmen. He hoped Sorghum didn’t remember any of that.

They turned away, and Dan watched them walk back toward the fire. Jethro came out of the cabin.

“I see you’ve met Sorghum and Donner.”

“Yes. They warned me to stay away from the mine.”

“Take their advice, mister. Those two are better off alone.” He rubbed his neck. “Actually, Michael and I were about ready to pull up stakes and move on. We’d been discussing it. And keep your eye on the lady. I’d get her back to Denver as soon as you can.”

“Thanks, I intend to.” Dan wondered if they were hiding anything more than a mine. “Who’s been caring for Michael?”

“I have,” Jethro answered. “No one touched him since I left.”

As Jethro walked away, Dan entered the cabin. The
man who lay on the bed bore little resemblance to Paddy, Brian, or Mary. He looked pale as snow, with a thick shock of black curls showing above a bandage. Even with bandages wrapped around his chest and arms and hands, some cuts were still visible. He was a big man, with broad shoulders and thick muscles, something Dan suspected would help him through the next few days. Mary lightly touched Michael O’Malley’s hand.

Dan pulled a straight wooden chair beside the bed. “Sit down here, Mary.” He moved away with Dr. Felton.

“I’m going back to Denver,” Felton said. “You said you were coming along.”

Dan shook his head and stepped outside with the doctor, closing the door behind them. “I’ll pay the bill for this. I don’t think I should leave her alone, though,” he said, remembering fleetingly that in two days he had an appointment with Edward Ringwood. “What are Michael’s chances?”

Doc Felton shrugged his broad, bony shoulders. “Can’t say. I’ve seen men that weren’t hurt that bad who couldn’t survive. I’ve seen others who were hurt worse than that, and they were strong enough to pull through.”

“I don’t know him, but I know the family,” Dan said, “and I’d wager Michael O’Malley is as tough a man as you’ll ever meet.”

Doc set his hat squarely on his head. “If that’s the case, he’ll make it.”

“Thanks for what you’ve done.”

Doc Felton’s brown eyes swept the camp. “They didn’t give you a big welcome, did they?”

“No. They warned me to stay away from their mining. If he does pull through, I want to get Mary back to Denver as quickly as possible.”

“She ought to come now, and let someone else tend him.”

“The moon would fall out of the sky before she would do that.”

“Be careful. No one has been tending him. When I went in, he had his six-shooter in hand.”

“Damn, he can’t trust his cronies!”

The physician offered his hand. “Good luck.”

“Thanks for everything, Doc.” Dan stood with his thumbs hooked in his belt while Doc Felton mounted. Dan waved, his gaze shifting to the miners. The men were out of sight except for one standing over the sluices, and Dan could hear picks striking rock in the distance. He surveyed the area, glad their cabin was isolated and at the opposite end of the camp. The area reminded him of home, and he inhaled deeply, realizing his love for the mountains would always be part of him. They were in a beautiful valley surrounded by spruce-covered mountains, and a sparkling stream ran only feet away from the cabin’s back door. He walked around the cabin, trying to get familiar with the cabin and the land, because he had a hunch trouble was brewing. He remembered tales about Sorghum; he was wanted for robbery and murder, and was known for gunning down people in holdups.

There was a privy in back, along with a pump, a well, and a small shed, where he put the horses. There were two doors to the cabin, one in front and one in back and he decided it had been built to serve as a home long before the other cabins were put up. Kindling was piled against the back wall. As a precaution, Dan filled buckets of water and a copper tub, so they would have a good supply inside in case they had to board up in the cabin. Mary didn’t look around to see what he was doing, remaining as still as Michael, her hand over his while his chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths.

Dan went inside to build up the fire, glad they had brought plenty of provisions. He didn’t think he could ride out to hunt for meat and leave Mary alone for so much as an hour. While he waited for coffee to brew, he glanced around, wondering if Michael had stayed in this cabin alone. It was larger than all the others, and inside there were four beds made of rough-hewn logs and hides. One was along the east wall, and Dan
strung a rope and hung blankets around it to give Mary a corner to herself and some privacy. “Mary, you sleep here,” he said, and she nodded, turning her attention right back to Michael.

There was a wooden table in the center of the cabin, half a dozen stump chairs, two straight-backed wooden chairs, a plank floor, three windows, and two doors. Dan studied the high windows that had shutters. “Mary,” he asked softly, “do you know how to shoot?”

“No. I’ve never held a pistol.”

Dan was surprised because they were a scrappy family, and he gave her a crooked smile before she turned back to Michael. A gunbelt with a pistol hung on one bedpost near Michael’s head, and a rifle was propped against the wall beside the bed. Dan checked them both, saw that they were loaded. He moved the rifle.

“That’s Michael’s six-shooter.”

“Come here a few minutes and let me show you how to use it.”

Mary crossed the room to him and listened carefully, trying to concentrate, wondering why he would want her to learn to use a weapon. “Are you leaving?”

“No.”

“You should go back to your work, Dan. I’ll be all right.”

“Forget it. Look here. You load the pistol now.”

She did as he had shown her, and he nodded, looking satisfied. “Now, aim at the coffeepot,” he instructed. He moved behind her, steadying her hands. He wrapped his arms around her, holding his body close against hers, and she became intensely aware of him and his touch, his nearness. When he talked, his voice was soft and deep, his breath blowing lightly on her neck as he explained how to sight down the barrel. His voice changed and his words slowed.

“Hold as steady as you can and squeeze the trigger when you fire.” He was intensely conscious of her as he looked at the back of her slender neck. He wanted to lean the few inches between them and brush her
nape with a kiss. The notion shocked him, and he stepped away abruptly. “We can’t practice, because I don’t want them to hear it. If there’s trouble, go for the pistol or rifle,” he said, taking the six-shooter from Mary. “Let me show you how to fire and load the Henry.”

He held the weapon in his hand, sighting down the barrel, studying the rifle. “Michael must like these. He’s taken good care of them.”

“I’ve seen him shoot blossoms off their stems. I don’t like fighting.”

“There are grown men who would dispute that statement,” he said dryly, glancing at her. She wore a worried frown and her gaze had returned to Michael. Instantly Dan’s sympathy was stirred.

“Mary, it’s going to take time for him to heal.”

“He’s like my child.”

“I know,” he said gently, thinking the man in bed looked older than she. “How old is Michael?”

“He’s nineteen, just a year younger than I am, but I raised him. And he wasn’t bigger until just a few years ago. It always surprises me how much he grew.”

He showed her how to use the rifle, once again becoming acutely conscious of her. She was slender, and the top of her head came to just below his shoulder. She smelled sweet, and he felt protective toward her, praying Michael survived. The rifle was heavy, but she handled it easily enough. He squeezed her arm, feeling the small knot of muscle.

“How such a little someone like you can manage rifles and clubs and skillets, I don’t know.”

“Look at Michael and Brian. I grew up scrapping with them,” she said, turning to look at him over her shoulder. He stood directly behind her, his arms around her to steady the rifle. Her face was only inches away, and looking down into her eyes made him yearn to wrap her in his arms and hold her, a notion that entered his mind quite often. She drew a deep breath, and both of them moved quickly, colliding.

He steadied her, and they gazed at each other solemnly. Mary was drawn to him, and the attraction was
constantly growing stronger. His kindness and consideration made him irresistible.

“I sent a wire to Ta-ne-haddle,” Dan said in a husky voice, stepping away from her and setting down the rifle. “Maybe he’ll come.”

“Who’s Ta-ne-haddle?”

“A Kiowa friend who nursed my brother through something like this. He lives on a ranch outside San Antonio.”

“San Antonio? It would take a long time to get here. And he couldn’t find us anyway, unless you return to Denver to show him the way.”

“He can get here in a shorter time than you might think. And once in Denver, he’ll find the doctor and ask where we are. He’ll track us here.”

“Track? He can’t. It would be impossible.”

“You’re not accustomed to riding across country.”

“Then I hope he does get here, and quickly,” she said, moving back to her chair beside the bed.

“So do I,” Dan said under his breath, watching her. He brewed coffee and took Mary a cup.

For the next hour she sat quietly while he looked at their cabin and supplies, stacking kindling inside. If trouble came, he wanted as much as possible in their favor.

He cooked potatoes Dulcie had packed, and dried meat. “Come eat, Mary.”

“He hasn’t stirred,” she said. “I’m going outside to wash.”

“Carry the pistol.”

“You’re right here. I don’t need a pistol with you here.”

“There may be snakes,” he said, not wanting to worry her with his suspicions about the miners.

She picked up a gnarled stick from the kindling. “This will do.”

He would have preferred her to carry a pistol, but he nodded. As soon as she was back, he dropped the bolt in place on the back door. “Has he stirred?”

“No. Stop worrying so much. Doc Felton tended his cuts and told you what to do. He said don’t worry
about feeding him today. Now, come eat so you have strength to care for Michael.”

She nodded and sat down at the table across from Dan. After a few bites, she shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“Honey,” he said gently, leaning forward to touch her arm lightly, “you need to stay strong, and you won’t if you don’t eat.”

The term “honey” made her instantly aware of him. It was the first time he had ever said it to her. She knew his feelings had been stirred out of pity for her because of Michael, but it made her tingle. Dan’s eyes were wide and full of concern as she gazed at him. And then she saw a flicker in their depths and a faint change in his expression. She felt caught in a spell, unable to look away, aware of a tension growing between them. She had felt the same thing sometimes with Silas, but not as strongly as now. She made an effort to shift her gaze, trying to think of Silas, but found it difficult to conjure up his image.

Michael groaned, and instantly she rushed to his side. “Michael! I’m here now, Michael.” She leaned over him while Dan approached the bed. “I’m here, Michael.”

His lashes fluttered and he gazed at her. “Mary?” he whispered.

“You have to get well, Michael.” Thick lashes came down over blue eyes.

“Maybe you can get a little broth down him,” Dan said, going back to the steaming pot on the hot embers in the hearth. He ladled out a small bowl and returned to hand it to Mary. “I’ll hold his head.”

Dan moved him carefully while Mary talked to him. “Michael, you must eat a little. Michael, it’s Mary. I’m here to take care of you.” His eyelashes fluttered and finally opened, and she began to spoon broth down him.

In a few minutes he turned his head. “No more,” he whispered.

“Michael…”

“Mary, he’s gone to sleep,” Dan said, lowering Michael
to the pillows. “He ate a little broth, and it probably exhausted him. Let him sleep.”

She nodded and sat in the straight chair, taking up her vigil once more. Dan moved around the cabin, putting away dinner things, closing the shutters, and lighting lamps. He dropped the bars that secured each door in place.

“I’ll sleep over there,” Dan said, pointing to a rough-hewn bed of logs and hides. “Mary, if anyone comes to the door, wake me. I’ll sleep awhile, and then I’ll sit with Michael.”

“I’m fine, Dan. Sleep all night if you want.”

“Sure, Mary.” He stretched out fully clothed, his gunbelt hanging at his head where he could reach it in an instant. His rifle was propped along the wall beside Michael’s. He was asleep in minutes after stretching out on the bed.

During the night he stirred and sat up. Mary sat with her back to him in the chair.

“Mary,” he whispered, and she turned around.

“Go get some sleep now. I’ll sit with him.”

“I don’t need to.”

He placed logs on the fire and then crossed the cabin to her to take her hand and pull her up. “I know you’re exhausted,” he said gently, wanting to hold her, to try to comfort her so the worry would be gone. Instead he stepped back as if he needed to put more space between them. “Go on and sleep.”

“You’ll call me—”

“If there’s the slightest change or if he wakes. I promise.”

She nodded and moved away while Dan sat in the chair. He gazed at Michael and prayed he would survive. His breathing was regular and he lay still. In seconds Dan became aware of the sounds of Mary moving around. He glanced around and could see her bare feet and dainty ankles below the blankets he had hung on the rope, and he was mesmerized, as if he had never seen a woman’s feet before. He watched her moving around, saw the calico dress she had worn billow and settle around her feet. She stepped out of
the dress, and his imagination ran rampant. A white cotton chemise fell, and he could picture Mary standing there bare-skinned, slender,
desirable
.