until recently there hadn’t been any doctors around. Men healed or they didn’t. A few years back when one of their vaqueros had been thrown from his horse, he’d broken ribs and been spitting blood the way Rafael was. Madre had wrapped his ribs and kept him in his bed. He’d been as good as new in a month. A doctor couldn’t do any more. Trying to get Rafael to San Francisco and a doctor who didn’t know him would likely aggravate the injury Rafael had.
Glancing over his shoulder, Daniel didn’t see any sign of pursuit, but they couldn’t wait around. He would have to patch Rafe up enough that he could make it home—fast.
He drew up alongside his brother. “Is anything broken?”
Rafael moved his shoulder in a small circle. “Doesn’t...seem so.”
Daniel tugged off the stupid poncho Rafael had thrown at him just before stealing his rifle and galloping off this morning. He wished he hadn’t followed or that he’d turned back sooner.
He should have lassoed him, would have, if he’d had any idea that Rafe would stop the stage as if he were robbing it. When Rafael had tugged his poncho over his face, he should have realized.
Using his bowie knife, Daniel hacked the bright material into strips and knotted a makeshift bandage around his brother’s shoulder. Then he tied Rafe to the saddle, just in case he passed out. That his brother didn’t protest knotted Daniel’s neck.
“We have to go,” said Daniel. He scanned the horizon, looking for a dip or a cluster of trees and shrubs that would indicate a waterway. They were at least twenty miles from the edge of their ranch. Making sure they didn’t leave tracks leading straight back would make it thirty, but the detour had to be taken.
He took the other horse’s bridle, headed toward what looked like the best possibility and prayed that no one would come across them.
Hours later, they finally drew their horses to a halt in front of the house, and Daniel dismounted. Fortunately, their hands were all out on the north range with the cattle.
Rafael was trying to untie himself, coughing. He’d said next to nothing for the past hour they’d run the horses toward the ranch. His face was chalky, but he’d held his own for miles and miles of hard riding.
“Madre!” Daniel shouted.
He untied Rafael. Dismounting, Rafael collapsed. Daniel staggered under his brother’s solid weight.
“Madre!” Daniel shouted again. “I need your help.”
Rafael opened his mouth, but ended up coughing again. He gestured and they turned to step onto the long wooden deck.
“I am cooking. Do not shout at me,” their mother retorted.
Rafael pointed at his chest and then raised his hand toward their house. “Tell...her.”
Daniel steered his brother, who was now weaving like a drunk. “Ma, Rafael’s hurt.”
Their mother appeared in the open doorway, her dark eyes open wide. She took one look at her older son and ran forward to help. Her footsteps shook the planks under their feet. “What happened?”
“He’s been shot,” said Daniel.
“What did you do, Daniel Werner?”
“I kept him from being killed,” Daniel told her, not that he expected his mother to appreciate that fact.
“How could you let him get shot? On the day his bride comes?” demanded Madre.
“Leave him ’lone, Ma,” said Rafael. “Not his fault.”
Their mother narrowed her eyes and glared at Daniel. In his younger days, he would have expected the paddle when she looked at him like that. Now he was just tired of everything being his fault. Defending himself to his mother was just wasted breath. He’d stopped trying years ago.
“Let’s just get him inside. You’ll need to plug the hole in him and get him bandaged up.”
“You’ll have to get Anna.” Rafael panted.
“No.” He couldn’t go get Anna. The moment when they had locked eyes crowded out his other thoughts. For that one minute all the rest of the world had melted away, and he could see nothing but her. Her image was seared into his brain.
Daniel shivered.
His brother’s bride had gotten a good look at him, too, the best look at him of anyone on the stage. Granted, he’d pulled the poncho up to his eyes, but if anyone would recognize him, it would be her.
“She can’t know,” Rafael groaned.
“Why not? Daniel, what is going on?” Madre likely would have put her hands on her ample hips if she weren’t helping to support Rafael.
“Tried to stop stage,” said Rafael.
“Why would you do that?” She lapsed into Spanish, calling on the saints and muttering indignations.
“He wanted to see Miss O’Malley. But people who stop stages are generally robbers.” Daniel glared at his brother.
“Did you do nothing to stop them, Daniel?”
“He...tried,” huffed Rafael.
His brother’s shortness of breath worried Daniel.
Madre shot him a dark look as they maneuvered Rafael through the doorway. “It was just a misunderstanding.”
“There was a gunfight,” Daniel said. “I don’t think anyone is going to call it a misunderstanding.”
“You shot at people?” screeched Madre, but she was looking at Daniel.
Rafael met his eyes, and Daniel closed his.
“No, Ma. Daniel didn’t shoot at all,” Rafael said and then stopped to pull in some breaths. “I did.”
“You would not defend your brother?” she demanded of Daniel.
“God, Ma.” Daniel tensed and then lowered his voice. He had no idea where the girl who helped Madre about the house was. She might be in earshot, although he hadn’t seen her. “It wasn’t my intention to help him stop a stagecoach. Now we can’t let Miss O’Malley know, or who knows what she’ll do.”
“Listen to him, Ma.” Rafael heaved in a whistling breath. “’S right. Anna can’t find out.”
“Oh, my poor angel.” Madre stroked Rafael’s hair.
All the way home, Daniel had just been thinking he had to get Rafael home before he collapsed, but now a hell of a lot more problems had to be dealt with.
“No one can know that it was Rafael, Ma. Otherwise they might arrest him.” Of course, he’d be arrested, too. And they’d both be hanged. Daniel’s throat tightened as if a noose were already strangling him.
“Go...get her...late,” mumbled Rafael. “If no one...”
If
