Texas Pride: Night Riders (26 page)

“I won’t have him in my house,” said Roberta.
The lying, back-stabbing, barn-burning, livestock-killing traitor.

Nate Dolan had been the only rancher she thought might have had some sympathy for her father. He’d advised him against building the dam, against trying to farm in such dry country, and against making enemies of some of the most powerful men in the area, but he’d always defended her father’s right to do what he wanted with his land, no matter how stupid he thought it was.

She would never have believed that Nate would help the other ranchers destroy her father’s farm if she hadn’t seen him galloping down the drive with her own eyes.

How could the townsfolk even think she’d allow one of the attackers into her house? It would be too much to ask of the most forgiving woman.

“Can’t you take him to town?” the sheriff asked.

“He’s hurt too badly,” said Dr. Danforth.

“I don’t care if he dies,” Roberta said. That wasn’t really how she felt, but she couldn’t face the idea of having Nate in her house.

“Well I care, young woman,” the doctor stated. “I’ve seen too many men die, and I don’t intend to see this one follow the rest if I can help it. I’ll put him in a bed if you have one. I’ll put him on the floor if you don’t, but he’d going to stay in his house until he’s well enough to travel. Then you can tell the sheriff of your suspicions.”

For a moment she was speechless with shock and rage.

“It’s the only practical solution,” the sheriff said.

“I don’t care if it’s the
only
solution, I won’t have that man in my house.” She had barely launched into a list of reasons why it was inhuman to ask this of her when four men carrying Nate Dolan’s unconscious body walked through the doorway. “Where do we put him?”

“Through there,” the sheriff directed.

Roberta thought at first she would position herself in front of her father’s bedroom door and dare anyone to enter, but she could tell from the sheriff’s attitude that he wouldn’t hesitate to remove her bodily. There didn’t seem to be anyone to whom she could appeal for support. This was Texas cow country, and people had had little sympathy for her father’s stand.

It looked like she didn’t have much choice, but she didn’t intend to have anything to do with Nate Dolan. Let the doctor see to him. “What are you going to do with him?”

“I’m going to patch him up as best I can. Then I’m going to leave some medicine in case he develops a fever or gets an infection.”

“And who’s going to feed him and look after him?”

“You are.”

***

“What do you need me to do?” she asked the doctor. She hadn’t thought the sight of blood bothered her, but seeing it smeared over Nate’s chest made her stomach feel nauseated. She resolutely fought the feeling. She expected she’d see more blood before she saw the last of Nate Dolan.

“I need you to help me extract the bullet,” the doctor said.

She took the pan of water, dipped a cloth in it, and started to clean the blood from Nate’s chest. A little oozed out of the wound, but it didn’t take long before he was clean.

Much against her will, she became aware of his chest in a way that was unsettling. It was almost bare except for a little hair around his nipples and a trail that led to… She quickly averted her eyes. His broad shoulders tapered down to a slim waist. Even in repose, it was easy to see the muscles that enabled him to wrestle full-grown steers to the ground. Like every Texas cowman, his face and neck were deeply tanned, but his chest was pale. No self-respecting Texan would be caught outside his bedroom without a shirt. Some even took a bath in their long underwear when they were on a trail drive.

Nate wasn’t wearing any long underwear. In fact, he wasn’t wearing anything. The doctor had undressed him while she was gone.

Knowing she was in the room with a naked man was something of a shock. It didn’t matter that he was unconscious. He was naked, he was a man, and he was in her house. He wasn’t her father, her husband, her brother, or a relative. He was a stranger, a man she knew mostly by reputation. She was nearly certain the doctor wouldn’t dress him before he left.

“Pay attention.”

She directed her thoughts to the wound, which the doctor’s probing had caused to start bleeding again.

“That’s better,” the doctor said when she’d wiped away the blood. “You’re not going to faint on me, are you?”

“No.”

“Ah! I think I found it.” Seconds later the doctor extracted a bullet. He held it up, squinting at the blood-covered bit of grey metal. “That didn’t come from a rifle. He was shot with a pistol.”

Roberta’s stomach clenched. She remembered standing over her father’s body, holding his pistol while tears of grief spilled from her eyes. When she heard the sound of hooves she hadn’t hesitated. She’d pulled the trigger.
She
had shot Nate.

“He ought to be okay now,” the doctor said, “but you’re going to have to watch him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he develops a fever. You better hope he didn’t get a concussion when he fell out of the saddle. We don’t need the biggest rancher in the area suffering from brain damage.”

“What do I feed him? How do I feed him?”

“Don’t try to feed him anything until he wakes up, or you’ll probably drown him. After that, a clear broth for a day or two. Vegetable broth will do, but beef or chicken would be better.”

“I don’t have any beef, and the chickens were scattered.”

“Once everybody hears he’s here, you’ll probably have every unmarried woman in town above the age of fourteen offering food,” the doctor said. “A man like Nate Dolan won’t lack for nurses.”

“How long do you think he’ll be here?” Roberta asked as the doctor was putting the last touches on the bandage.

“It’s hard to say. A week if things go well. Maybe two if they don’t.”

“What do you mean
if things don’t go well
?”

“Fever or infection. Some people heal slowly, but he looks like the kind of healthy young man who can bounce back quickly if you take good care of him. You probably ought to sit up with him tonight. If he comes through the next day okay, you ought to be able to relax after that.”

“How can I relax with a sick man in my house for at least a week?”

The doctor looked at Nate’s unmoving body. “I don’t think he’ll be getting in your way.”

“He’s in my way just by being here.”

“Well he can’t be moved just yet, so you’ll have to get used to it. Now I have to go. Mrs. Millican’s baby has jaundice, and Mrs. Grady’s third boy broke his arm…
again
. Good thing I never had a hankering to be a rich man. This town would be in a mess of trouble.” The doctor gathered up his equipment, stuffed everything into one oversized bag, and walked out the door.

“Buck up,” he called over his shoulder. “At least your patient is young and handsome. Be glad it’s not old Mr. Grunwald. I can’t find a nurse who can last half a day without wanting to suffocate him.”

How did he know she didn’t want to suffocate Nate Dolan? Just because he hadn’t shot her father didn’t mean he wasn’t as responsible as every one of those masked cowards for her father’s death.

What was she going to do about the farm? Her father was not a rich man. They depended on their crops to survive. She didn’t know what could be saved, but she was certain it wouldn’t be enough to put the farm back on its feet. And she was determined to do that even though she didn’t intend to stay in Texas. She would not let the ranchers win. The farm would thrive once again.
Then
she would go back to Virginia.

***

Nate wasn’t sure whether he’d simply woken up or regained consciousness. It probably didn’t matter. His mind was fuzzy, his vision was blurred, his body hurt, and he had no idea where he was. The last thing he could remember was seeing a fire. He must have gone to help. A fire often meant people lost everything they owned and had nowhere to live. But try as hard as he could, he couldn’t remember whether he’d found the fire, or what he’d done after he got there.

A feeling of exhaustion gripped his entire body. He felt incapable of lifting his arm, even turning his head, but that was ridiculous. He was thirty-one years old and was supposed to be in the prime of his life. He’d just spent two weeks in the saddle trying to cross the trail of Laveau diViere. He couldn’t be incapable of sitting up.

But he was. He did manage to turn his head. He even lifted one arm, but he couldn’t sit up.

What had happened, and why did his chest feel like it was in a vise?

He turned his head to the left and then the right. He was in a small but well-furnished bedroom. It appeared to be a man’s bedroom, but it wasn’t his or one he recognized.

He listened intently, but he couldn’t hear any sound. As much as the mystery of where he was and why he was there unsettled him, he felt safe. Whatever had happened, someone was taking care of him. Unable to move and mentally exhausted, he gave up looking for answers just now. He needed to rest more. Maybe then he could sit up.

***

Her father had always said that after a productive day, he felt great even if he was so tired he could hardly stand up. Roberta figured he must have hidden some whiskey in the barn for his brain to be that fuddled. She was exhausted after spending all day cleaning up and trying to save some of the crops. She was too tired to think. She was even too tired to be hungry. After she’d checked on Nate to make sure he was okay, it had taken what remained of her energy to clean up and drag herself to a rocking chair on the front porch. Now all she wanted to do was soak up the cool of the evening until she could summon the energy to drag her tired body to bed.

The sun had set, but it would be light for about another hour. Swallows darted through the air on their erratic flight to catch insects. She suspected a few of the airborne predators might be bats. Just thinking of them made her shiver, but she welcomed any critter that would devour the insects that fed on her crops. They were certainly more welcome than the man driving a buckboard she saw approaching. She recognized Nate’s foreman long before he reached the house. If Nate was said to be built along the lines of a greyhound, then Russ McCoy was modeled after a bulldog. There wasn’t a man in three counties with shoulders that wide or a neck so thick.

“What do you want?” she asked when Russ brought the buckboard to a stop.

“I’ve come to take Nate home.”

“What took you so long?”

“I didn’t know he was here. Hell, I didn’t even know he had come back until Gill Pender told me his wife had taken some beef broth to you for him.”

“If you know that much, you know the doctor said he can’t be moved.”

Russ had gotten down from the buckboard and come up to the porch. He was probably an inch or two shorter that Nate, but his bulk made him look bigger. Roberta suspected he could wrestle a steer to the ground without taking a deep breath.

“Taking him home can’t be half as dangerous as leaving him here with no one but you to look after him. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past you to poison him. If I thought you could hit the broad side of a barn, I’d swear you were the one who shot him.”

“If I had, it would have been no more than he deserved for being one of those cowards who murdered my father.”

“Nate thought your father was a fool for rebuilding that dam—I heard him say that to your father’s face—but he would never have any part in what happened here last night. I don’t know how he even came to be here.”

“The doctor will tell you when you can take your boss home. As much as I’d like to see everyone involved in the attack hang, I’ll do everything I can to make sure your boss survives his stay here. After that, I intended to see every single one of those men punished.”

“I heard they were all masked. How can you know who they were?”

“I’ll find out.” She didn’t know how, but she didn’t intend to give up until she did.

“I’m not leaving until I see the boss.”

“He’s sleeping.”

“How can I know that without seeing for myself?”

Roberta wasn’t sure she could summon the energy to get to her feet, but somehow she managed. “Okay, one look. Then I want you out of my house and off my land.”

An agitated voice was heard from inside the house. “Russ, get your butt in here before that woman kills me.”

Sins of the Highlander

by Connie Mason with Mia Marlowe

ABDUCTION

Never had Elspeth Stewart imagined her wedding would be interrupted by a dark-haired stranger charging in on a black stallion, scooping her into his arms, and carrying her off across the wild Scottish highlands. Pressed against his hard chest and nestled between his strong thighs, she ought to have feared for her life. But her captor silenced all protests with a soul-searing kiss, giving Elspeth a glimpse of the pain behind his passion—a pain only she could ease.

OBSESSION

“Mad Rob” MacLaren thought stealing his rival’s bride-to-be was the perfect revenge. But Rob never reckoned that this beautiful, innocent lass would awaken the part of him he thought dead and buried with his wife. Against all reason, he longed to introduce the luscious Elspeth to the pleasures of the flesh, to make her his, and only his, forever.

“Ms. Mason always provides a hot romance.” —
RT Book Reviews

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