ma’am.” Mark gave a solemn nod as he rushed to push open the screen door. “He’s lying in the dirt, not moving. Luke even poked him with a stick and he still ain’t moved.”
“Hasn’t moved,” she murmured. Were the boys serious? She almost wished it were a snake that had them overly excited.
“You gotta come see, Miss Ravena,” Luke said, his eyes wide. “Besides, his horse is just standing there.”
If what they were saying was true, she couldn’t very well leave a...a dead person in her field. Though what exactly she’d do with him, she didn’t know. First Mr. Grady and now this. But she refused to be beaten down by this day.
Taking the rifle from its pegs above the front door, she followed the boys outside and across the yard. She cast a glance at the barn where she knew Jacob was working and six-year-old Fanny would be playing with the new litter of kittens. Should she ask Jacob to tag along? But she dismissed the thought. She had the gun and it wasn’t as if she’d never seen an expired person before.
Still, she gave a quick prayer for protection and a little added bravery as she trailed the boys to the fields. If she weren’t on such a morbid errand, she might have paused to take in the view—one she never grew tired of. The farm sat on a hillside bench, overlooking the valley, the river and the mountains beyond. A stream ran along the edge of the property and boasted several nice-sized shade trees.
“There’s his horse,” Mark said, pointing.
Sure enough, a lone horse munched on the grass at the edge of one of the fields. The one Mr. Grady had left only partially plowed. Ravena shaded her eyes with her hand and was able to make out a figure lying facedown in the dirt.
Her heart sped up as she strode toward the body. The gentleman was tall and dressed like a cowboy or a farmhand, though even with the small amount of dust and dirt on his clothes, she could tell his were new. Ravena crouched beside him and set the gun within easy reach. There didn’t seem to be any obvious reason for the man’s demise. No limbs twisted at odd angles, no visible head injuries, no blood that she could see. And yet something had caused him to crumble in her field.
She watched the back of his coat for movement and felt immense relief when she saw it rise and fall with breath. A sick or injured man was a far cry better than a dead one.
“He’s still alive,” she announced in a half whisper, though she didn’t know why she felt the need to speak quietly.
“How come he don’t...doesn’t...move then?” Mark asked from where he and Luke stood behind her.
“I believe he’s unconscious.” She glanced past the man, in the direction he appeared to have been riding before his collapse, and frowned. Why would a stranger take the shortcut between her place and the old Beckett farm instead of using the road?
Luke placed his hand on her shoulder in an oddly comforting gesture. “What are we going to do, Miss Ravena?”
She studied the man again. “We are going to gently roll him over and see if we can get him to come around. Hopefully long enough to tell us who he is.”
Placing her hands along his arm and side, she nodded toward his legs. “Boys, you push from there.”
They scrambled into position, their faces more alight with excitement than worry. Boys will by boys, she thought with a rueful shake of her head.
“Now we’ll roll him over on the count of three.” She took a deep breath, then began to count. When she reached three, she and the boys rolled him onto his back. The man cringed in pain, but his eyes remained shut.
A patch of red drew Ravena’s attention to where his coat had fallen back from his shirt. She leaned closer to examine it. “I think he’s been wounded.” But how? A sliver of dread traveled up her spine. Had his injury been an unfortunate accident? Or had someone hurt him, and if so, was the offender still close by?
“He’s wounded,” Mark repeated with awe, sounding far too impressed.
“Go get Jacob from the barn, Mark,” she directed. The injured man didn’t need the boys gawking at him as she tried to clean the dirt from his face and revive him. “We’ll need Jacob to help us assist this man to the house. Luke, get some water.”
They took off at a dash, their childish voices full of wonder as they talked over each other. Ravena allowed herself a small smile at their antics. They might tire her out with their innocent mischief, especially since her grandfather’s passing, but they were good boys.
Taking a corner of her apron in hand, she gently began wiping the dirt from the stranger’s bearded face. He stirred, prompting her to console him. “We’re here to help. You’ve passed out in our field, but we’ll get you up to the house in a minute.” She’d probably need to send one of the boys for the doctor. “Can you hear me, sir? We’ll have you fixed up soon.”
When he didn’t respond, she resumed cleaning his face. She was concentrating on brushing the last of the dirt from his beard before she realized he’d gone completely still. Was he truly dead and gone this time? Jerking her gaze to his, Ravena found his eyes open. Brilliantly blue eyes—familiar eyes—which peered directly at her.
Her heart flew into her throat as she studied his face, now absent of dirt. There were age lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there the last time she’d seen him, as well as tiny red cuts where his beard didn’t cover his tanned skin. But the dark eyebrows, the arch of his jaw, the brown hair lying damp against his forehead were still as recognizable as they’d always been.
“Tex?” His name barely made it past her lips, but a faint smile creased his mouth at hearing it.
“Hello, Ravena,” he murmured in a hoarse voice, which only confirmed the truth.
For better or worse, Tex Beckett had just stumbled back into her life.
Despite his feverish haze, Tex caught a full glimpse of Ravena’s face, furrowed in concern and shock. If possible, she looked even more beautiful than he remembered. The girl of nineteen he’d left behind was now a grown woman.
“Tex, what are you doing here?” Her compassionate tone of moments before had disappeared, replaced by one of firmness and cool indifference. He’d expected as much. Thankfully she hadn’t yet walked away, leaving him to fend for himself.
He swallowed past his parched throat and shut his eyes against the glaring sun. “Could I...get some water?” he asked, dodging her question for the moment.
“Yes, Luke is on his way back with some right now.”
Luke? Tex didn’t remember anyone named Luke living here. Perhaps it was a hired hand or maybe one of the many orphans Ravena’s grandfather had taken in through the years.
A young boy’s excited voice pierced his thoughts. “We got the water and Jacob’s coming.”
“Thank you, Mark,” Ravena replied.
At the mention of the needed water, Tex pried his eyes open to find Ravena leaning over him with a cup in her hand. Behind
