Dorothy Garlock - [Wyoming Frontier] by Midnight Blue Page A

across his lap, but otherwise he was completely nude. She quickly averted her eyes.
    He looked up when she opened the door. His bruised face was still swollen and his dark hair looked as if he had been in a violent windstorm. He squinted at her, and a string of swear words dropped into the silence.
    “Hell and damnation! Sweet Jesus! Good God Almighty, Holy Sainted Mother of God! What the hell are
you
doing here?”
    The hostile greeting stunned her into silence and splintered her thoughts. Wildly she sought a reason for his fury. Finally she was able to speak.
    “Mr. Gallagher, I must insist that as long as you remain in this house you refrain from taking the Lord’s name in vain. Hell and damnation are permissible; the rest of what you said is not!”
    He gaped at her as she lifted her chin and looked down her nose at him and then away. “I’m Mara Shannon McCall. We met once, a long time ago.”
    “I know who the hell you are—”
    “Oh, dear! I’ve heard that already once this morning. Should you be sitting up?”
    “You were the woman who found me . . . helped me in the wagon! Jesus!”
    “Mr. Gallagher.” She made a restless movement with her hand. He continued to look at her. “Being hungry must account for your vile mood. Trellis is bringing some meat. I’ll make a strong broth—”
    “Broth! Hell and damnation, woman. I need something that will stick to my ribs and give me some strength so I can get the hell out of this vipers’ nest before someone slits my throat. Where are my clothes?”
    “I didn’t take them off you,” she snapped, her face going beet red. “Mr. Sparks did. They were nothing but rags anyhow.” Mara deliberately turned her back on him and smiled at Brita. “I’ll bring some water so you can wash. Trellis went down to the cookhouse to get your breakfast. I’ll be able to cook our meals here after today.”
    “You’re not staying.”
    Mara heard the shocking words and turned back to stare at the man before she remembered that he was naked except for the corner of the blanket. She found herself fascinated by his broad shoulders and wide chest marked by cuts and bruises. A triangle of soft dark hair covered his chest down to where the white bandage was wrapped about his middle. His thighs were rock hard and covered with soft black down. His legs looked to be as sturdy as tree trunks. She had seen a picture of a naked man in a medical book and knew what he covered with the end of the blanket. Her face flamed at the thought.
    “What did you say?”
    “You heard me the first time. I said you’re not staying here. This is no place for you. I tried to head you off at Sheffield Station.”
    “You have no say in the matter, Mr. Gallagher, and I’ll thank you to tend to your own business. I’m of age. I own this place, and I have a perfect right to be here.”
    “I said nothing about the
right,
you addle-headed woman. I said this is not the place for you. You belong back in Denver among your own kind.”
    “And what kind is that?”
    “Society . . . where you can get a rich husband to take care of you properly.”
    “I’m not in the market for a husband, rich or otherwise. I’d think you would be pleased that I’m here. Your mother needs care that Trellis can’t give her.”
    “I’ve got a Mexican woman lined up to come here and look after Ma. I’d have taken her away from this place long ago, but she wouldn’t go. Something about honoring her marriage vows,” he added sarcastically.
    “Now, now,” Brita said soothingly. “Ye be in no shape to be carryin’ on, son. Yer head must be fair bustin’.”
    “Aye, ’tis. Damn women don’t know when they’re well off.”
    “Damn men don’t, either,” Mara said calmly. “Lie down before you bleed all over the place and I have another mess to clean up. And cover your nakedness!”
    “Jesus, my God! Deliver me from a bossy woman.”
    “If one more word of blasphemy comes from your mouth, Pack Gallagher, you