a bond linked somehow by the identical scars on their wrists.
Moving the lamp near the bed, she turned the wounded man’s face toward the light. His skin was ghost-pale but warm to her touch, telling her that he was still alive and that the wound probably was infected. His jawline was hard and straight, his dark hair a touch too long, and his mouth pulled tight in pain.
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to see when she finally looked at the bandit, but even beneath the mud, his good looks shocked her. Why had she thought his face would be scarred, his nose broken, his mouth twisted in a permanent sneer? But here was the face of a young man with a long Roman nose and chestnut brown hair. She might need a shovel to remove all the mud from him, but Cherish aimed to see just what this man, who had dared kiss her as no other had, looked like.
Even now, as she touched him, she felt her heart race. For the first time in her life she wanted to touch him as a woman touches a man and not just as a nurse touches a patient. This outlaw covered with blood and mud was somehow the key to unlocking feelings she’d never allowed out.
Cherish slipped into her wrapper without taking her eyes off the man in her bed. She’d need hot water and bandages if she was to do him any good. Somehow she had to find help, but who? Grayson was the most logical choice. He’d hauled water for their baths and firewood. Maybe she could get him to bring up a few more loads. He’d be the least likely to talk because he hadn’t more than nodded since she’d met him. Plus, if Maggie trusted him so completely, he must be worthy of trust.
Tiptoeing into the sitting room, Cherish stumbled over Grayson’s discarded clothes. She could hear his heavy breathing coming from the couch and knew it would be no easy task to wake a man who had worked as hard as he had since before dawn.
With her usual passion for neatness, she straightened his damp clothes and folded them over a chair by the fire. A crumpled telegram fell from his pants pocket and curiosity made her take a moment to glance at it.
Cherish couldn’t believe what she saw. She moved closer to the fire and read the message again. It was addressed to a Captain Grayson Kirkland and the short message left no doubt that he’d been assigned to a new job.
She read the last sentence three times. “More details with Friday train arrival.” She’d been on the Friday train as had the priest and the wanted man. Since Grayson couldn’t have possibly wanted her, he must be hunting one of the two men. Yet, why was he playing this game of not understanding English? He obviously read it. Was he playing Maggie and her for fools, or was Maggie a part of this and, in her usual overprotective way, hiding the truth from Cherish?
Folding the paper, she replaced it in the pants pocket, then walked soundlessly out of the room. When she was safely back in her bedroom she bolted the door and whispered, “Wonderful. Some rest I’m going to get. I know two facts for certain. Grayson is a Union officer probably looking for one of two men, and they’re both less than ten feet away from him in my bedroom.”
Chapter 6
Dawn sifted through the thin curtains and ribboned the bed where the stranger lay. Cherish’s hand trembled slightly as she dug once more for the bullet lodged in his chest. Tiny white lines formed around his mouth, but the man the priest had called Brant didn’t cry out. He was awake and with her each step, though he didn’t speak or open his eyes.
“There!” Cherish let out long-held breath. “It’s out.” Before, when she’d worked with a gunshot wound, she’d always tried to remove herself as much as possible from the person near death and think only of the bullet to be dislodged. But she found that difficult now. Even as she worked she thought of this stranger and how he’d touched her in the darkness of the train. His kiss had been unlike anything she’d ever dreamed a kiss
Moving the lamp near the bed, she turned the wounded man’s face toward the light. His skin was ghost-pale but warm to her touch, telling her that he was still alive and that the wound probably was infected. His jawline was hard and straight, his dark hair a touch too long, and his mouth pulled tight in pain.
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to see when she finally looked at the bandit, but even beneath the mud, his good looks shocked her. Why had she thought his face would be scarred, his nose broken, his mouth twisted in a permanent sneer? But here was the face of a young man with a long Roman nose and chestnut brown hair. She might need a shovel to remove all the mud from him, but Cherish aimed to see just what this man, who had dared kiss her as no other had, looked like.
Even now, as she touched him, she felt her heart race. For the first time in her life she wanted to touch him as a woman touches a man and not just as a nurse touches a patient. This outlaw covered with blood and mud was somehow the key to unlocking feelings she’d never allowed out.
Cherish slipped into her wrapper without taking her eyes off the man in her bed. She’d need hot water and bandages if she was to do him any good. Somehow she had to find help, but who? Grayson was the most logical choice. He’d hauled water for their baths and firewood. Maybe she could get him to bring up a few more loads. He’d be the least likely to talk because he hadn’t more than nodded since she’d met him. Plus, if Maggie trusted him so completely, he must be worthy of trust.
Tiptoeing into the sitting room, Cherish stumbled over Grayson’s discarded clothes. She could hear his heavy breathing coming from the couch and knew it would be no easy task to wake a man who had worked as hard as he had since before dawn.
With her usual passion for neatness, she straightened his damp clothes and folded them over a chair by the fire. A crumpled telegram fell from his pants pocket and curiosity made her take a moment to glance at it.
Cherish couldn’t believe what she saw. She moved closer to the fire and read the message again. It was addressed to a Captain Grayson Kirkland and the short message left no doubt that he’d been assigned to a new job.
She read the last sentence three times. “More details with Friday train arrival.” She’d been on the Friday train as had the priest and the wanted man. Since Grayson couldn’t have possibly wanted her, he must be hunting one of the two men. Yet, why was he playing this game of not understanding English? He obviously read it. Was he playing Maggie and her for fools, or was Maggie a part of this and, in her usual overprotective way, hiding the truth from Cherish?
Folding the paper, she replaced it in the pants pocket, then walked soundlessly out of the room. When she was safely back in her bedroom she bolted the door and whispered, “Wonderful. Some rest I’m going to get. I know two facts for certain. Grayson is a Union officer probably looking for one of two men, and they’re both less than ten feet away from him in my bedroom.”
Chapter 6
Dawn sifted through the thin curtains and ribboned the bed where the stranger lay. Cherish’s hand trembled slightly as she dug once more for the bullet lodged in his chest. Tiny white lines formed around his mouth, but the man the priest had called Brant didn’t cry out. He was awake and with her each step, though he didn’t speak or open his eyes.
“There!” Cherish let out long-held breath. “It’s out.” Before, when she’d worked with a gunshot wound, she’d always tried to remove herself as much as possible from the person near death and think only of the bullet to be dislodged. But she found that difficult now. Even as she worked she thought of this stranger and how he’d touched her in the darkness of the train. His kiss had been unlike anything she’d ever dreamed a kiss
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