Wagonmaster by Nita Wick Page B

blood. His shirt was ripped, but he found no wetness.
    Suddenly, Jimmy, Wheeler, and several others stood over him. All of them spoke at the same time. The haze of pain fogging his mind made it difficult to understand what they said. It took him a moment to realize that they wanted to know if he was all right. He thought about trying to stand up but decided it would be best to catch his breath first. Still dizzy from the intensity of the pain, Josh tried to speak but had to stop and clear his throat to make his voice work. “I’ll be fine. Just pulled my shoulder.”
    Jimmy answered first. “All the same, you oughta have that wife of yours take a look at you.”
    â€œI don’t need—”
    A soft, feminine voice interrupted his response. “What happened?” Addie pushed her way through the men, fell to her knees before him, and grabbed his chin with one hand, lifting it firmly while she removed his hat with the other. She looked into his eyes. As always, he could read her thoughts in those midnight blue orbs. She was worried about him, but there was something more. An offer of strength and support called to him. She spoke calmly, but the concern in her eyes betrayed her alarm. “Tell me where it hurts.”
    â€œI’m all right, darlin’.” He tried to smile, but it was probably more of a grimace by the way she reacted.
    â€œNo. You’re not all right. You’re injured.” He shook his head, trying to convince her otherwise. She ignored him and turned to the others. “Tell me what happened,” she demanded.
    Jimmy said, “The wagon was stuck. Reynolds here ’bout had his arm yanked off when the oxen tried to bolt.”
    She examined the arm he cradled at the elbow. Briskly and efficiently, she pushed the sleeve back, pressing on his hand and wrist. Her hands moved higher. Josh wanted to pull away, but knew if he tried it would only cause more pain. “Addie, I’m fine.”
    â€œI’ll be the judge of that.” She spoke quietly, but her words brooked no argument. “You have bruising along your arm, but no broken bones.” Still on her knees, she ran her fingers along the top of his shoulder. “There’s a great deal of swelling here. I think—”
    Josh stood, grateful his knees didn’t buckle again. He reached down with his uninjured arm to help Addie stand. “I said I’m all right.” He hadn’t meant to snap at her, but he could tell by the hurt in her eyes that he’d done just that. Josh tried to soften his words. “I’ll be fine, darlin’. It’s nothin’ a good shot of whiskey won’t cure.” Aware that the others watched their exchange, he brushed her cheek with his thumb. “Go on now and tend to your supper. I’ll be there soon.”
    Addie rested her hands on her hips. She didn’t speak a word. She didn’t have to. The look she gave him clearly said that the subject of his injury was not closed. She would have her say later. And judging by the fire that danced in her eyes, she had no intention of letting him ignore her.

Chapter Seven
    A short time later, Josh rubbed his aching shoulder. The pain hadn’t eased at all. The throbbing in his bruised arm had lessened, but he could hardly move it without sending shots of fire through his shoulder. With a tired sigh, he headed toward Addie’s wagon. She’d probably want to examine it again, but he doubted she could do anything for it. It would heal with time.
    Addie leaned against her wagon with a tin cup in one hand. The other held a bottle of what looked like whiskey. God bless the woman! A good shot of whiskey would do wonders for the pain in his shoulder.
    Josh stopped before her. She said nothing, but the twinkle in her eyes warned him the whiskey would have strings attached. “Name your price, darlin’.”
    Her eyes widened in a false show of innocence.