hospital work.
She liked the vast open spaces. In New York, the sidewalks were always crowded and the streets always loud. Out here, a soul-soothing quiet settled across the prairie at night, broken by the occasional howl of a coyote or the chirping of crickets, the coarse call of a raven or whistle of a whip-poor-will. The town was laid out in the shape of a T, with the church on the east end toward Abilene. Catherine had attended three of the four Sundays she’d been here, and Andrew had grudgingly shuffled along with her.
Thoughts of her brother made her sigh. He had no interest in reuniting with a sister he’d never known. He appeared only at suppertime, and as she had learned a few nights ago, he habitually slipped out of the house after she sent him to bed. Thank the saints, the May nights on this West Texas prairie weren’t bitterly cold.
What was she going to do about Andrew? His sneaking out at night disturbed her, especially with the recent shootings by the McDougal gang. But since the night the Ranger had arrived, Andrew had been around more. She checked on him several times during the night, pleased and grateful to see him asleep in bed. He asked a lot of questions about Lieutenant Blue, wondering if the man were improving, and what he’d been doing at their house in the first place.
She thought he probably admired the Ranger, which was fine if Jericho Blue was a good man. Except for the unsettled sensation he put in her stomach, Catherine couldn’t point to any specific bad thing about him.
Her mother’s pale yellow house sat at the northeast end of town, on the outskirts. The nearest neighbors were in Whirlwind. Beside the small house was a fenced herb and vegetable garden, a root cellar and a spring house. The barn stood about fifty yards behind.
Whirlwind was visible from her bedroom window and an easy walk. Catherine felt secure and independent at the same time. The sheriff’s office was one of the closest buildings if she found it necessary to go for help. So far it hadn’t been, but since the Ranger’s arrival, she had found Sheriff Holt’s nearness comforting.
She would do well to keep her thoughts on Whirlwind’s handsome sheriff rather than the ragged stranger in her bed, but too many questions about Jericho Blue chased through her mind. The pain and regret in his silver eyes when she’d told him about burying his partner conveyed that Jericho had been close to the man. Who else did he care about? Was there a woman somewhere wondering what had happened to him?
The possibility caused a strange twinge that Catherine defined as nerves. The man unsettled her, though logic told her he was too weak to be a real threat. Yet.
Still, something inside her tensed up when he was awake. Even when he wasn’t looking at her, she felt his attention as if he were waiting for something. Something from her.
She was being fanciful. She’d been cooped up too long without fresh air. As she approached the frame house her father had built for her mother, Catherine noted the buckboard and black mare out in front. The Holts were still here.
Good. Catherine didn’t relish the idea of being alone with the Ranger. The quick introduction she’d had to the sheriff’s brother and sister-in-law told her she would like Riley and Susannah Holt. The powerfully built rancher and his petite wife were newly married. Susannah had told Catherine that she had taught Andrew in one of her charm school classes. Catherine had been thrilled to hear that her brother didn’t run away from everyone the way he did from her.
She unhitched Moe from the wagon, then unharnessed and quickly brushed him down, leaving him with some fresh hay before going to the back stoop of the house.
The sound of laughter met her at the door, bringing a smile to her face. She walked up the narrow hallway to the front room. As she stepped around the corner, Susannah Holt peeked around the doorframe of Catherine’s bedroom. Her blue eyes were kind and warm. “Hello! Was your trip all right?”
“Yes, fine. Thank you.”
The woman’s silvery-blond hair was piled on top of her head, stray curls teasing her neck. She wore a smart red-and-white gingham dress, making Catherine self-consciously aware of her plain chambray dress and apron, sprinkled with rusty Texas dust.
“How’s the patient doing?” She walked into the room behind the other woman and stopped in front of her dressing table.
Jericho sat up in bed just as she had left him, wearing the clean white shirt she’d found in his saddlebag. A dark beard covered his chiseled jaw, testifying to the fact that he was still too weak to shave. So far, he’d waved off Catherine’s offers to do the chore for him.
Secretly she was relieved. Just being in the same room with him put that strange heat in her belly. She didn’t want to be within inches of him. His dark, ragged hair was brushed back, drawing her eye to the scar on his left cheekbone. Though he still looked gaunt, there was a bit of color in his face.
Davis Lee Holt, the sheriff, smiled broadly at Catherine. His blue eyes sparkled. “I think Jericho’s on the mend, Nurse.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” She glanced at her patient, but couldn’t hold his gaze, which had turned hot and measuring.
“We sure appreciate you taking him in.” Riley Holt, a handsome, broad-shouldered man, flashed her a dimpled smile that made her wonder how his cousin would look if he smiled that way. “We’re gonna owe you a lot for this. We know he can be difficult.”
“Humph,” Jericho grumbled.
“If you have any problems at all, you send for me.” Davis Lee’s eyes twinkled.
“And you’ll lock him up?” she teased.
“If I need to.”
“Is this the kind of nursing you were taught?” Jericho’s tone was light, but Catherine felt his intense regard like a touch.
She smiled as the others chuckled.
Susannah touched Catherine’s arm. “I brought a few things. Flour, eggs and milk.”
The Holts had already done too much by paying for her mother’s burial before Catherine had arrived. “That wasn’t necessary, but thank you.”
“I also brought some biscuits. I thought Jericho might like them.”
“Do you like honey with them?” she asked her patient. “Haskell’s General Store had some fresh yesterday.”
“He’d eat honey on everything if you gave him a chance,” Riley said with a grin.
“Yeah, even tree bark,” Davis Lee added.
“Biscuits and honey sound good,” Jericho said to Catherine. Pain drew his features taut, but he didn’t appear in any hurry for his family to leave.
She saw him glance at his injured arm for the third time since she’d arrived. “I talked to the doctor about your hand.”
That blade-sharp gaze shifted to her. “What about it?”
“I had a patient in New York with a similar injury to his foot and ankle. He eventually recovered the use of both.”
“Surgery?” Jericho asked tightly.
“No. I massaged his muscles every day and he worked on trying to bend his ankle.”
Interest
