The Heart's Pursuit (16 page)
Jared heard Silver’s voice from above him. “I’ll send someone for the doctor.”
“No. I don’t want a doctor.” He forced his eyes open. “Turn up the lamp and get me some water and a towel.” He slid himself up the length of the bed until he could lean his back against the headboard.
He’d been hurt worse than this through the years and had developed a sixth sense about wounds. This one wasn’t life threatening, but he did need to stop the bleeding before it drained more of his strength.
While Silver went to get the requested water and towel, he removed his shirt to have a look. The knife had made a clean entry and withdrawal, and it wasn’t a deep wound. It could so easily have gone a different way. The assailant had had a good forty pounds on Jared. Instead of running away, he could have finished the job, both with Jared . . . and with Silver.
Memories of his sister as she lay dying flashed in his mind. What if the same thing had happened to Silver? What if the man who’d assaulted her had succeeded? Even the possibility that it could have happened sickened him.
Silver returned to the bedside, holding the washbowl
filled with water and a towel draped over her arm. When her gaze went to his side, her face paled a little. “I still say you need a doctor.”
“No doctor. It would take money we don’t have.” He lifted his hand. “It’s not as bad as you think. All it needs is a few stitches and a bandage. Are my saddlebags in here?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got needles and thread in one of them. In a small pouch.” He chuckled at the look of surprise that crossed her face, then winced at the pain it caused. “You think a man can’t sew? When you live like I do, you have to be able to do your own mending.”
For a moment, he thought she might smile, but her expression turned grim instead. “You’re going to want me to do this mending, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I was afraid of that.”
Silver had to concentrate to keep her hand from shaking as she inserted the needle into Jared’s side. He never made a sound, even though she knew each stitch had to hurt. She didn’t lift her gaze to see if she was right. Better to keep working. Better not to think too much.
But there was another reason she didn’t look up—embarrassment. Her cheeks were hot with it. Never before
had she seen a man’s bare chest or well-muscled abdomen. It felt strangely intimate to be in Jared’s hotel room, seated on his bed, her left hand on his skin while her right drew the thread through his flesh, closing the wound. Of course, there was nothing intimate about the situation. She was nothing more than a nurse to an injured man. But still . . .
When the last stitch was done, she tied it off and cut the thread with a small pair of scissors. As she set the articles on the stand beside the bed, she heard Jared release a long breath.
“Thank you, Silver.”
She looked at him. His eyes had closed, and his face looked even paler than it had been earlier. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Newman?”
Jared.
“No. I’ll be fine.” He paused and grimaced. “A night’s sleep will put me right.”
She didn’t think one night would be enough.
“Go on to bed, Silver. I’ll see you in the morning.”
T
here was a part of Jared that would have liked to take matters into his own hands when it came to the man who’d tried to hurt Silver. But when he got up the next morning, he dressed and went straight to the sheriff’s office. After introducing himself and naming a couple of the better-known officers of the law he knew, he described the events of the previous evening.
“Gotta be Bill Winters or his brother, Mike,” Sheriff Hinkley said after hearing the assailant’s physical description. “More than likely Bill. He’s the bigger of the two. More bear than man. Mean cusses, the pair of them.”
As if in answer, the wound in Jared’s side gave a sharp twinge.
“Is the little lady all right?”
“She wasn’t hurt. Just scared.”
The sheriff pointed in the general direction of Jared’s wound. “Did you see the doc for that?”
“I’m fine. Just needed a few stitches.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Are you going to arrest him?”
“If I bring Bill Winters in and you can identify him, then I’ll arrest him for sure.” He stood.
“I’m going with you,” Jared said.
“Not sure that’s a good idea, Mr. Newman. That ride might open up those stitches you got holding you together.”
“I’ve ridden in worse condition than this.”
The sheriff stood. “Then I reckon we best get going.”
Less than an hour later, Jared and Sheriff Hinkley brought their horses to a halt at the top of a rise. Up ahead Jared saw the small house that belonged to the Winters brothers, according to his companion. The surrounding terrain was rolling and treeless, and the small patch of plowed earth seemed good for growing little more than weeds. About twenty or so yards from the house was a lean-to that served as a barn. A large gray horse stood in a nearby corral, head low, tail swatting flies. A saddle hung over the top rail of the enclosure.
Calling this place a farm would stretch the truth beyond belief.
His gaze returned to the ramshackle house. One horse and one saddle might mean only one of the brothers was at home.
There was a pen at the far corner of the house, close to the corral, and it looked to him like it held several sleeping hounds. The instant they caught wind of the two men and their horses, they would send up an alarm. As if hearing Jared’s thoughts, one of the dogs sat up and began to howl. In almost perfect unison, Jared and the sheriff yanked their weapons from the scabbards on their saddles and dismounted, taking cover in a nearby gully. A moment later, Jared saw the barrel of a rifle appear through the now-open door.
“You’re on private land,” a man called.
“Bill Winters, it’s Sheriff Hinkley. I need to talk to you.”
“What about?”
“About last night.”
There was a moment’s hesitation. “Don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. I’m referring to the young woman you threatened with a knife near the livery stables.”
Silence, then the report of a rifle sounded an instant before a bullet struck the ground a few feet in front of Jared’s position.
Sheriff Hinkley looked over the rim of the gully. “Bill, you don’t want to do this. Be reasonable. Put down your weapon and come on out.”
Another shot was fired, and this time it caught the sheriff in the right shoulder. The man gasped in disbelief as he dropped to the ground with a hard thud. “I should’ve known he’d do that,” he ground out through clenched teeth.
“Stay put,” Jared said. “I’ll take care of him.”
“Keep an eye out for the brother.”
With a nod, Jared began to snake his way north along the gully, rocks and thorns poking him as he went. He feared he’d torn loose a few of Silver’s carefully made stitches. She wouldn’t be happy about that.
Silver was descending the stairs when she heard a man say, “Jared Newman’s room, please.” She stopped to study the stranger at the front desk.
“He ain’t in,” the clerk replied. “Rode out early this mornin’.”
“You’re sure?”
The same question echoed in Silver’s head. She’d knocked on Jared’s door a short while before. No answer. She’d assumed he was asleep. But it seemed he was gone. Ridden off somewhere without her. Again. Leaving her behind. Again.
“I’m sure,” the hotel clerk said. “I saw him and the sheriff ride out of town together.”
The stranger frowned. “Was there a lady with him?”
“No, sir. Just the two men.” The clerk’s gaze moved toward the stairs. “Is she who you mean?” He motioned with his head.
The stranger turned. After a moment, he removed his hat. “Miss Matlock, I presume.”
Silver didn’t like that he knew her name when she didn’t know his. It put her at a disadvantage.
“I’m a . . . an acquaintance of Mr. Newman’s. May we talk privately?” He motioned toward the restaurant across the street. “Perhaps over breakfast.”
She wasn’t sure what to do. He hadn’t given his name, hadn’t said how he knew Jared or knew her name. After last night she was feeling a bit skittish about strangers.
He moved toward the staircase, stopping at the bottom step. In a low voice meant only for her ears, he said, “My name is Doug Gordon. I work for the Pinkerton Detective Agency.”
He didn’t look dangerous or threatening. He wore a black suit over a white shirt. His dark hair was clean, his face pleasant. He had the look of a banker or a lawyer, not a criminal.
“I expected to meet up with Jared this morning. We made the arrangements last night. That’s when he told me you were riding with him.”
Deciding she could trust him at least enough to sit with him in a public restaurant, Silver descended the last of the steps. They left the hotel side by side and crossed the street. Neither of them spoke until they’d been seated at the same table where Silver had eaten her dinner alone the night before.
It was Mr. Gordon who broke the silence. “Did something happen last night? Was there trouble of some sort?”
She shook her head.
Doug raised a quizzical eyebrow. “I think you’d better tell me the truth, Miss Matlock. There must be a reason Jared rode out of town with the sheriff.”
How much should she tell him? He might be Jared’s friend, but he was still a stranger to her.
He sat back in his chair. “Let’s see if I can reassure you. My name, again, is Doug Gordon. I’m a Pinkerton detective, and I’ve had occasion to work with Jared in the past. Mr. Newman is assisting you in finding someone. That’s what he does. Finds people who need to be found. He hails from Kentucky but has not lived there in many years. Not since his family was murdered.”
Murdered? She’d known they were dead. But murdered? Jared had left that detail out.
“You and he are on your way to Virginia City, Nevada, but your available funds do not allow you to travel by train. Which is where I come in. Jared was to meet me to help with a job that could have earned him your train fare. Only he didn’t show up at the appointed time. That isn’t like him.” Doug motioned with his head toward the hotel. “Now it seems he rode out on a different mission without letting either of us know, so something changed between last night and this morning. Care to tell me what it was?”