Leather and Lace (5 page)

She swung around, expecting the click of a trigger and a bullet etched with her name on it. In the next instant, she fought the urge to blow a hole through the door. “Are you going to open up or not?”

“Oh, I guess I’ll see what I can do. Bring him in.”

Casey looked back at the sad remains of Morgan. “I need you to give me a hand. I’ve got him tied to a travois.”

She heard Doc utter a long string of complaints—“How is a man supposed to get any sleep,” and “I’m not about to get myself killed over any outlaw dispute.” The latch lifted. He towered in the doorway and lifted high a kerosene lantern.

Barefoot and bare chested with suspenders holding up loose-fitting trousers, Doc presented a less than welcoming figure. His shoulder span reminded her of a grizzly. For certain, his size alone caused most men to think twice about crossing him.

Doc cut Morgan from the wooden frame and lifted him into his arms. “Best hide those horses in the shed behind my stable,” he said over his shoulder. “It’s empty right now, but there’s extra feed and water. I wouldn’t want any of Jenkins’s men finding your horses.” He handed her the lantern. “Get on out of here. I’ve got plenty of work to do. This man is more dead than alive.” His voice thundered, but that was Doc’s way.

“One of Jenkins’s men may be here to fetch you.” She hoped the warning didn’t change his decision to treat Morgan. “Jenkins’s leg’s broke, and he’s been shot.”

Doc nodded and disappeared into the small house. She stared after him a good bit before turning her attention to the horses. The animals needed to be fed and rubbed down. Besides, what could she do for Morgan?

Her heart plummeted with the realization of just how quickly Jenkins could find them. In one fleeting breath, she considered running, but her commitment to the injured man robbed her normal way of thinking. She couldn’t leave him with Doc, not just yet. For now, she must stay in Vernal until Morgan took a turn for the best, or she learned he was one of them, or he died. The not knowing clawed at her heart.

Morgan had mentioned Vernal when talking about his family, said he had a few friends there but didn’t say what kind. The decent folk stayed off by themselves. They avoided the wanted men and didn’t deal with them unless forced to. Past emotions, past deeds, and a yearning for a clear conscience stopped her from contemplating that the injured man might walk among the corrupt. She wanted to believe he had the same values as she yearned to find. Then again, she’d never learn the truth if he died.

Casey stole into the bedroom where Doc labored over Morgan. A yellow glow from a lantern lit up the blood-soaked cloths on both sides of Morgan’s chest, and a pan on the floor held another blood-soaked cloth. The harsh, acidic smell of carbolic spray met her nostrils and burned her eyes. The odor was characteristic of Doc. A few years back, she’d heard him say it kept his instruments clean and free from dirt that could cause infection. She’d seen a few other doctors who worked in filth. They said cleaning everything was a waste of time, but they lost a lot more of their patients than Doc ever did.

“Did you wash up?” A sable and silver beard covered Doc’s face, and the same color of coarse hair sprouted from every exposed portion of his body. He did look and sound like a grizzly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Hold this lantern over him,” Doc said. “He’s lost too much blood, girl, and I still need to yank out that bullet.”

She snatched up the light. Morgan looked bad, really bad. She thought he must be dead, but Doc wouldn’t be working so hard if he was.

Doc’s huge fingers wrapped around a two-pronged instrument. “I want that lantern right over the hole.” He adjusted the light to suit him, then dug through the raw flesh. A few moments later, he released a heavy sigh and pulled out a bloody piece of lead. It landed with a ping in a pan. He proceeded to stitch up Morgan’s chest and then bandaged him. The process intrigued her, but doctoring always had. Doc didn’t speak or lift his gaze until he finished.

“What do you know about this man?” He picked up the blood-soaked instruments and tossed them into the pan with the bullet. “You can set that lantern on my dresser.”

“Not much.” She obliged him, then studied Doc’s face. “He was after Jenkins, but he ended up saving my life. You know him, don’t you?”

“I might.” He wiped his hands on a clean cloth. “In my profession, it’s best not to offer much information. Could prove dangerous.”

Casey stared into Morgan’s pale face. “It’s hard to trust anyone, Doc, and when you do, well, someone gets hurt.” She hesitated. “Is he going to make it?”

Doc picked up the pan and walked into the next room, where he lifted a hot kettle of water from the stove and poured it over the instruments. “Hard to say, Casey. He’s strong and a fighter, but it’ll take several hours before we know. Right now, both of you need to get some sleep. There’s nothing more you or I can do for him but wait.”

“Jenkins might be here anytime about his bad leg.”

Lines creased Doc’s brow. “You aren’t going to do anyone any good in your condition. Tomorrow morning we’ll work out this mess.” He took another clean cloth and dipped it into a bucket of water. Wiping her cheek, he shook his head. “I’m not looking at this blood a moment longer. At first I thought it might be yours.” He swiped at the other cheek. “I’d like to offer you better sleeping quarters than the floor, but he has my extra bed. If Jenkins does need my attention, I’ll have the other room free.”

She rinsed and dried her hands. The calluses stained from dirt and blood stared back at her. Some things never came clean. “The floor is just fine, Doc. Believe me, I’m just grateful for what you’ve done. Helping me with him and knowing Jenkins is after us puts you in a real nasty position.”

“I’ve been there before.” For the first time, he smiled. “Jenkins isn’t going to bother me. If he does, who’s left to piece together the rotten bunch around here?”

She liked Doc. The first time she’d met him, nearly three years ago, one of Jenkins’s men had gotten shot. The fellow died while Doc tried to remove a bullet. She remembered the sweat dripping from his forehead as he worked to save the man’s life. The droplets hadn’t been from fear of the outlaw leader but from the intense effort to keep the man alive. Doc had impressed her as a man of honor and respect, something she craved even then.

“I’ve heard rumors.” He filled the kettle with fresh water from a bucket. “And I wish you luck. You’ve a good head on your shoulders and an obvious sense of right and wrong. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be trying to get away.” He studied her face in the shadows. “You aren’t having a baby, are you?”

The thought revolted her. “No, Doc.”

“Just needed to make sure.”

She understood. If she carried the outlaw’s baby, Jenkins wouldn’t kill her. If a baby wasn’t his, he’d peel the flesh from her body.

Casey watched Doc open the cookstove, stir the embers, and add firewood. With his massive shoulders and arms, his efforts looked like child’s play.

“I’ll make it through this.” She leaned against the doorway. “I don’t have much choice. Jenkins will kill me, given the first opportunity.”

“I thought he only wanted you back.”

“Maybe at first. I imagine the thought of me getting away has him powerful mad.”

He slammed the top of the stove, and the sound startled her, reminding her of gunfire.

“Too bad Morgan didn’t finish him off for you,” Doc said as he headed into Morgan’s room.

Her gaze flew to his back. “I didn’t tell you his name. In fact, I wondered if he’d given me his real one. Guess you know more about him than I do.”

He turned and eyed her curiously. “Maybe so. I haven’t seen him in quite a spell. Knew his folks well. That man lying in there is a whole sight better than the likes of Jenkins and his bunch. He comes from a good family—educated, churchgoin’ folk.” He shook his head. “Right now, I wish I could do more for him. I tell you this. He’s one of the finest men I’ve ever known.”

Exhaustion tore through her, but she craved to hear more. “What else can you tell me?”

He scratched his bearded cheek. “Ah, I’ll let him tell you when he’s feeling better.” His words rang with finality. “Right now, you come with me.” He headed into the room where Morgan lay, and she followed like a child who knew better than to disobey. He pulled out two neatly folded quilts from a leather-strapped trunk.

Most likely somebody’s payment for his doctoring. Unfortunately, she didn’t have any money and nothing to give in trade. Both thoughts worried her.

Doc fashioned a pallet on the floor beside the bed. She couldn’t remember feeling so tired, but she ought to be sitting by Morgan’s side and tending him. She glanced up at Doc as he examined the bandages, clean and unstained with blood.

“If you don’t lie down and get some rest, I’m going to have two patients.” Doc’s tone would have caused the worst of men to take notice. “The circles under your eyes could bury a man.”

She merely nodded, too weary to respond. Suddenly the room began to spin, and the horrible pounding in her head nearly blinded her. In one stride, Doc caught her before she tumbled to the floor.

Through the haziness clouding her mind, she sensed Doc tugging at her boots. She wanted to focus on his previous words about Morgan. What did he say? Morgan is one of the finest men he’s ever known?

*****

Casey woke with stinging, sleep-robbed eyes. Groggy and disoriented, she stretched sore muscles and pieced together the events of her last waking hours. Light filtered in through the closed window blinds. Panic raced through her. What time was it?

She rose slowly from the floor, dizzy with the telltale signs of extreme hunger and the weakness accompanying it. She grabbed the iron bedpost and battled a surge of blackness. Morgan, what had happened to him? She had to make sure he was still alive.

She blinked away her mind’s confusion and focused on the man’s face. He seemed to be asleep, and his coloring looked better. His forehead felt cool. Morgan had survived the night.

She searched the room for her boots. Usually she slept fully clothed, a habit formed years ago to protect herself from Jenkins and the other outlaws who craved women like babies craved milk. Casey spied her boots at the foot of the bed. Doc.

The tantalizing smell of food tugged at her stomach. She listened at the door, and when silence greeted her, she slowly opened it. The aroma of eggs, biscuits, potatoes, fried ham, and real coffee nearly made her crazy. Her attention focused on a plate on the cookstove, heaped high with the food. Beside it sat a coffeepot and a full mug of steaming coffee, certainly not the dirt-tasting brew she often made by the fire.

Doc paused from reading a newspaper at the table. In the daylight, he didn’t look nearly as menacing, but his huge frame spilled over the chair. “I heard you get up. The food and coffee are hot and ready. Are you rested?”

“Yes, sir, and I’m starved.” She smiled. “Thanks. I feel so much better.”

“There’s water in the basin, and any other business can be taken care of out back.” He frowned. “You’re skinnier than a fence post.”

“I know, Doc. I’ll take care of myself real soon. What about Morgan? How’s he doing?”

“He’s holding his own, and that’s a good sign. The crucial hours have passed.” He folded his newspaper and stood from the chair. “I’ve given him something to make him sleep for a couple more hours.”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done. I couldn’t begin to list it all.”

Doc shook his head. “Don’t you go bawlin’ on me. It’s my job to heal, and I’m glad I could help. Now go take care of things so you can eat. You’re as white as Morgan. And there’s plenty more food if that doesn’t fill you up.”

She snatched up her hat from a hook near the front door and twisted her hair up underneath it. She tucked in each strand, then lowered the brim over her eyes. As she strode past the cookstove, she grabbed a biscuit and bit into it hungrily. Never had anything tasted so fine.

*****

Casey positioned her jeans and shirt over the cookstove and patted them impatiently. They needed to dry faster. One small bloodstain refused to fade from her shirt. A grim reminder of the preceding day. She yanked on the piece of rope holding up Doc’s pants around her waist, thinking she’d drown in his clothes. The amount she’d rolled up at the ankles could have made her a dress—not that she owned any.

My, she felt good with hot food in her stomach and a clean body from a hot bath—it felt like the sun beating down warm after a cold spell. Morgan still slept, but Doc said he was holding on well.

She glanced about the room for signs of Morgan’s or her belongings. Earlier she’d removed her hat from the hook near the front door and placed it in the bedroom where Morgan slept. Only the drying clothes remained in view.

Soon she must make plans to leave Vernal. When Morgan woke and she saw his recovery, she’d be gone. Without any money, she wondered how she’d pay for the doctoring and medicine. Her only choice was to send it once she found work.

Casey slipped into a huge rocker near the stove and drew her knees to her chest. It must have been constructed especially for Doc, because the size of it swallowed her up. Closing her eyes, she ran her fingers through damp hair to speed up its drying.

“You’re quiet.” Doc rubbed his stubbly chin.

“Oh, I’m just thinking.” A smile for Doc came easily. If only Tim had half this man’s qualities, then maybe he’d leave Jenkins, too.

“About what, may I ask?”

“Um, nothing in particular, mostly thinking about life. Right this minute I want to believe I’m safe. Morgan’s still alive. Jenkins isn’t at your door. I’m fed and clean. Looks to me like everything is just fine.” She nodded her head.

“Doesn’t take much to please you,” he said. “If it didn’t mean facing outlaws, I’d ask you to stay. Marry you up. Maybe I could put some meat on your bones. Have a dozen kids.”

“Make me fat and sassy?” Casey closed her eyes and leaned back against the rocker. “I think you just want someone to cook and clean for you.”

“And keep me company and probably do a little nursing when all the chores are done.” Doc chuckled.

She waved her arms in mock ridicule of his suggestion. “Chores? I don’t do chores. Besides, I haven’t made a bed in years.”

“Then what do you do?” He leaned forward on his chair, obviously enjoying their bantering.

“I’m always on the run or waiting to be on the run.” But your offer is tempting, too tempting.

“Guess I could be a traveling doctor. We’d make quite a pair, Miss Casey.”

“Yes, indeed we would.” She captured the warm glow of his soft brown eyes. She could stay here, but it wouldn’t be fair to Doc. A woman needed to love a man before she married him. “Doc, you saved Morgan’s life. He’d be dead by now if it wasn’t for you.” She poked her finger through a cinder hole in the knee of the trousers. “But I’m not sure exactly how I can pay the bill. I can’t stick around and work for you with Jenkins after me.”

“Did I ask for money? As I recall, I asked you to hold the lantern.” He folded his arms across his barrel chest. “Besides, there aren’t any charges.”

“You can’t make a living treating folks for free. And I don’t believe in charity.”

“Doctoring is my job, my life. If I’d gone into this to make money, I’d be in a different part of the country, not Vernal.”

Casey laughed as she looked into his round face. “I promise I’ll send you money as soon as I get work, but I’ve got to get out of here real soon.”

“You’re not rested enough.” He wagged his thick finger at her, as though the little girl in her would cower at his demands. “You’ll be sick and have no one to take care of you.”

“I’ll be fine.” She massaged the back of her neck. “When Morgan wakes up and I know he’s out of danger, I’m leaving.”

Doc stood and paced the floor. “I don’t suppose there’s any use in arguing with you. I declare, you are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. Makes me want to tie you up.” He towered over her, and she grinned. “If you’re bent on leaving, there’s got to be a way I can help.”

Casey shook her head. “Thanks, but I’ll be just fine.” A thought struck her. “Yes, there is something.”

He raised a brow.

“A Bible, Doc. Do you have a Bible?”

He eyed her strangely. “Well, as a matter of fact, I do. What do you want with it?”

“To read. I want to read it.” Her own words startled her. With her limited knowledge of the Good Book, she knew God had answered her prayers about Morgan. Maybe there were a few other things she needed to know. Like how to live right.

A wry smile spread over his ample cheeks. “Let me fetch it for you.” He disappeared into the bedroom where Morgan lay and returned with a worn, black leather book. With his huge hand, he wiped the dust from the cover as though the contents were pure gold. “This belonged to my father. I reckon I don’t get it out enough.”