Love Finds You in Sundance, Wyoming (11 page)

Smokey and Travis took turns walking Bella, insisting Angel rest— but sleep wasn’t an option until her mare had passed the crisis point. The men stayed till well after midnight when Bella’s distress had lessened and she’d been taken to her stall. They headed to bed and, while Angel assured them she’d do the same, she sat in the corner of the stall, hating to leave.

She’d wanted nothing more than to find a blanket and curl up in the hay. Finally, Angel summoned the energy to stand. Seven hours after the ordeal started, she stumbled to her room, almost too tired to undress and crawl under the covers.

She fell into a restless slumber, waking every hour or so burning with thirst. One time she crawled out of bed and poured herself a glass of water. Thirsty. So hot and thirsty. Her arm throbbed underneath the bandage and moisture saturated the cloth.

Angel vaguely remembered bumping her arm when she’d crawled through the rails on the corral but brushed the pain aside in her worry over Bella. Sleep. It sounded so good. She slipped back under the covers, then tossed them aside. Too hot. Mustn’t sleep long. She’d promised Travis she’d be on the job.

Travis. She frowned, her hazy mind drifting in and out, trying to focus. Why didn’t he like her? Was she such a terrible person? She knew she wasn’t pretty. The women at the outlaw camp had told her that often enough, but she didn’t think she was ugly. Angel twisted onto her side and buried her face into her pillow and groaned.

If Travis thought of her as a woman, could he ever love her? Her body jerked, and her eyes flew open. Where had that come from? Not out of any rational part of her brain. Pain induced, that was the problem. She didn’t need Travis to love her. Did she?
Stop it, Angel. He’s your boss.

Her head swam and her arm throbbed. Work. She’d prove herself by what she could do. Find the mountain lion before it brought down any more calves. Tomorrow. Blackness swirled around her and she sank into a pit of heat and pain.

Travis walked into the kitchen, grabbed an earthenware mug, and poured himself a cup of steaming coffee. “Angel up yet?” Thoughts of her had haunted him through the wee hours of the morning. He couldn’t get the picture out of his head—her gentle hands stroking her sick horse or the crooning words of encouragement as she helped Bella to stand.

Libby shook her head. “No. Is the mare going to be all right?” She set a basket of fresh eggs by the washbasin, pumped the water handle, and rinsed her hands.

Travis took a long drink of the strong brew. “She should be fine. Smokey and I turned in well after midnight when Bella showed signs of recovery. Angel promised she’d head to bed shortly after.”

“I didn’t hear her come in, but with my room upstairs I’m not surprised.” Libby topped off her own cup. “Smokey’s not here yet.”

The back door banged and boots clomped across the floor of the pantry. Smokey rushed into the room as fast as his bulk would allow and hung his hat on a peg just inside the door. “Sorry, Boss. I checked on Bella. I’ll have breakfast goin’ in a jiffy.”

“That’s fine, Smokey. How’s the mare?”

“She’s hungry and lookin’ fit this mornin’.”

“Good. The men should be hitting the door soon.”

Smokey grunted and reached for a cast-iron skillet. “Those men are like hogs at a trough. I swear, you’d think they’d never been fed.”

Libby laughed. “That’s a compliment to your excellent cooking.” She dipped an egg in the bucket of water, rinsed it, then placed it in a wire basket nearby. “Do we let Angel sleep?”

Travis scratched his head. “I’m sure she could use it, but I’d like to talk to her before I head out for the day. Maybe you’d best see how her arm is.”

“All right.” Libby wiped her hands on a towel and then hung it on a hook above the washbasin. She glanced around the room. “James isn’t up either. Can you check on him?”

“Sure thing.” Travis headed for the stairs as Libby walked down the hall toward Angel’s room. He started up, wishing he could check on Angel, but that wouldn’t be appropriate. He probably should’ve forced her to see the doctor, but Bella’s injury swept aside everything in its path.

“Travis! Come quick!” Libby’s stricken cry rang through the house.

Travis pivoted on his toe, launched himself down the three steps to the landing, and bolted across the living area and down the hall.

He stopped short at Angel’s open door. He heard the thudding of boots on the floor behind him and sensed at least one person peering over his shoulder. Libby sat on the edge of Angel’s bed, stroking her hair.

“What’s wrong?”

Libby raised a troubled face. “Get the water pitcher. She’s burning up. Send someone for clean rags.”

“Got it, Boss.” Smokey dashed toward the kitchen.

Angel’s bedcovers were tangled around her body and one bare foot stuck out. She rolled her head on the pillow. Beads of sweat dotted her skin, and her hands plucked at the covers. “Bella. Can’t lose… Bella. All I have left.” A sob slipped past her parted lips.

“What’s the problem, Miss Libby?” Arizona’s drawl was missing, and his sharp words conveyed his concern. He peered in the door and Wren crowded in behind him. “Miss Angel sick?”

Travis lifted the heavy earthenware pitcher and poured water into the ivory bowl. “Wren, would you go upstairs and wake James? Arizona, throw some feed to the horses and check Bella again.”

“I did, Boss, afore I came in. She’s munching her hay like nobody’s business. Don’t appear to be any worse for what she went through.”

“Good.” Travis gave a grim smile. “Head back to the kitchen, and we’ll let you know what we find.”

“Sure, Boss. I’ll check on the boy.” Wren twisted his hat in his hands and turned away. They clomped off, their worried voices drifting back until they passed out of earshot.

Smokey appeared at the door with his arms full of rags and stepped inside, laying them on a chair near the bed. “Here you go, Miz Waters. I’ll be in the kitchen fixin’ breakfast. If you need anything more, jest holler.”

“Thank you, Smokey. I will.” Libby dipped a rag in the water, wrung it out, and tenderly wiped Angel’s cheeks. “Shh, it’s going to be all right, Angel. Bella’s fine.”

Travis dampened another rag and passed it to his sister. “Libby? You think it’s her arm?”

“Yes. I checked, and it’s oozing through her bandage. I’m going to change it. You wait in the other room.”

He straightened and frowned. “I hate leaving. What if you need help? What if she gets worse?”

“You can’t be in here, Travis. I can take care of it. Go.” Her compressed lips and firm glance decided him, and he took a step toward the door. A smile softened her grim features. “I’ll call if I need you.”

Travis paused. “Think I should send for the doc?”

“More than likely, but let me take a look first, then decide.”

Angel tried to open her eyes, but they felt so heavy. She had to check on Bella. What if she hadn’t made it through the night? A couple of hours ago she’d tried to get out of bed but got tangled in the blankets and couldn’t fight free. She must have fallen back asleep. She pushed at the covers, desperate to cool off. Couldn’t let her horse die.

“Shh—it’s okay, Angel.” A soothing hand stroked her hair, and something wet and cool touched her forehead. “Arizona checked on Bella, and she’s fine. You need to hold still. You’re ill.”

“Arizona?” She shook her head, trying to clear the darkness. “Bella—“ She managed to pry open her eyes this time, blinking against the strong light coming in the window. The door latch clicked and boots thumped down the hall. Had someone else been here while she slept? One of the cowboys? Travis? Her already warm face grew warmer at the thought of the men seeing her. “Why am I so hot?” She pushed at the blanket and tried to moisten her dry lips. “Thirsty. So thirsty.”

Libby hurried to the bureau, poured water into a glass, and brought it to the bed. She slipped her hand under Angel’s neck. “Let me help you sit up a bit.” She lifted her head a few inches and placed the glass to her lips. “Here you go. Nice and slow.”

Angel took several long drinks and lay back with a sigh. “Thanks. Need to work. I promised Travis.”

Libby placed her hands against Angel’s shoulders and shook her head. “Lay back. Travis knows you’re not feeling well. May I look at your arm?”

“Travis knows? How—?” She closed her eyes, trying to take in the disturbing thought. “Don’t want anyone in here.” She tried to sit up but a flash of pain sent her reeling against her pillow. “Oh. It hurts. Like fire.”

“Let me see.” Libby pulled back the top blanket and sheet to Angel’s waist and picked up the bandaged arm. “I’m going to remove part of the wrapping, but I’ll need to soak it to get it all off. When did it start bleeding again, Angel? You should have told me.”

“I couldn’t lose my best friend, could I?” She tried to muster a laugh, but it turned into a sob. “Bella mattered, not me.”

Libby worked silently, unwinding the cloth until she reached the pad pressed against the raw flesh. It appeared to be glued to the wound and a red stain showed around the edges. She suppressed a shudder as her mind went back to the long days she’d tended her husband, George, as he lay dying. Infection had set in, then gangrene. The doctor did all he could to save him, but it was too late. George’s delirium turned from thrashing to a deep sleep that he never woke from.
Please, God, don’t let that happen to Angel.

From what she could tell, the young woman had no family, no friends, and very possibly no relationship with the Almighty. Remorse struck Libby as she realized she’d never spoken to her about the Lord. She’d allowed Angel to go her own way, working, riding, and mostly keeping to herself without a thought to what the girl might need.

“I’ll be right back, Angel. I’ll get clean water so I can soak this bandage.” She rose from the edge of the bed and walked to the door with the bowl, balancing it on one hip as she grasped the knob and drew the door open. Her brother stood in the hallway. “Travis?”

She heard a soft gasp and turned. Angel’s eyes were wide open and staring. “I don’t want him in here, please!”

“Don’t worry, dear, he won’t come in.” Libby slipped out into the hall, drawing the door closed behind her.