you sent Daryl on a supply run, but until we restock, I don’t have the supplies to treat more injuries like this.”
She reminded him of a long-haired Irish setter after a bath, with the dripping ends of her long hair making dark spots on the front of her gray T-shirt. She was of average height and definitely on the full-figured side of things. Her face was nothing remarkable to look at. Ordinary brown eyes. Simple nose and apple-shaped cheeks dusted with freckles. Pale pink lips.
But her fingers worked with beautiful precision. She ripped the sleeve away and pulled the material down off the end of his arm before wadding it up and pressing it against the slice across the outside of his shoulder. She didn’t even hesitate at his grunt of pain. The woman certainly knew how to make a field dressing. “As it is, I may not have enough sutures to seal this cut. And I’m completely out of antibiotics. We should take him to the hospital in Falls City.”
“Is he dying?” Fiske asked.
The redhead’s mouth squeezed into a frown. “No.”
“Then you’re not going anywhere. You’re a resourceful girl. Figure it out.” Fiske’s tone made that sound more like an annoyance than the compliment it should have been. And there was nothing girlish about the curves straining the damp T-shirt she wore. “Have you been in the lake again, Mel?”
“I took a dip to cool off.” That explained the wet hair.
“Melanie?” Fiske chided, apparently requiring a different sort of answer.
She dropped one hand from the makeshift dressing over Duff’s shoulder and lowered her head to a more deferential posture. “I’ll find a way to take care of him without going to town.”
Without the pressure of her grip, the cut throbbed and blood trickled down his arm again. Thinking she’d given up on defying her uncle to help him, Duff snagged the wadded cotton from her grip and reached over to cover the wound with his own hand. But she surprised him by stretching around him and palming his backside. Her heavy breasts squished against his chest as she patted one cheek and then the other. The grope was unexpected but far more pleasurable than Silas’s fist had been. Duff turned to keep her eyes in sight, gauging her intent. “Not that I don’t appreciate a good butt-grab, sweetheart, but I don’t even know your last name.”
“It’s Fiske...oh.” Rosy dots appeared beneath her freckles as her gaze darted up to his. Her fingers stroked him as she curled them into her palm, and his buttock muscle clenched at the unintended tickle. She pulled back, dangling the blue bandanna she’d stolen from his pocket. “Um...”
“You stopped that girl’s mouth from runnin’, Mr. Maynard.” Fiske chuckled from the porch. “You’re hired.”
“Mr. Maynard.”
With his brain sidetracked by the blush creeping up Melanie’s neck, Duff didn’t immediately answer to the name on his fake driver’s license. She not only hadn’t been getting fresh with him, but she looked mortified for him to believe that she had been. Duff backed away a step, silently cursing how easily her bold touches had distracted him. And this feisty mouse wasn’t even trying! Reel it in, Watson. She was being resourceful, just as her uncle had directed, not putting the moves on him.
He knew better than to let any woman get in his head and derail his focus on his assignment. He looked over the top of Melanie’s wild red hair and nodded his thanks to her uncle. “I trust the open space and quiet time to think you promised me starts now?” He glanced around the circle of lingering onlookers and hardened his voice to a steely timbre. “Or does anybody else want to try to get their licks in?”
Fiske laughed as a few less-daring souls skittered away from the audience. “I promise we have a predictable routine and plenty of opportunities for you to make a living away from outside influences here.” The laughter ended as Henry eyed the slender young woman who had hurried over to help Skinny Guy off the ground. No doubt suffering from battered pride in addition to his bloody nose, he seemed only too happy to drape his arm around the pretty brunette’s shoulders and limp toward the side of the house. “Roy?” Skinny Guy turned. “You did well today. You didn’t quit. I can’t ask for anything more.”
Roy nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“But you aren’t going anywhere alone with my daughter,” he warned. “Silas, you take Deanna on into the house.”
“Yes, sir.” The big guy seemed eager to obey that order.
“Silas will do nothing of the kind.” The blonde who’d been leaning against the post walked to the edge of the porch to rest her hand on her husband’s arm. “Young people need a little time to themselves.”
Henry patted his wife’s hand before seeking out his daughter. “All right, then, tend to Roy. But, remember, dinner’s at six, and I expect to see you there. We have company coming.”
“Who? Silas?” the young brunette whined. “He’s not company.”
“You do as I say, young lady,” Henry ordered.
“Daddy—”
“Deanna Christine...”
The young brunette looked from her mother to her father. “What if Roy and I have plans? I’m not a baby, anymore. I’m almost twenty-two. You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Six o’clock, young lady. Or you won’t be seeing Roy at all.”
Deanna pouted out her copper-tinted lips. “Yes, Daddy.” She wound her arm around Roy’s waist and leaned into him. “Come on. I’ll make those boo-boos feel all better.”
Abby squeezed her husband’s arm before retreating to the corner of the porch to watch her daughter leave. “She’ll be fine, dear. I promise.”
Leaving his daughter’s love life up to his wife’s supervision, Henry repeated his order. “Give Mr. Maynard his bag and get cleaned up.”
Silas waited for a moment, then pulled the knife that was stained with Duff’s blood out of the ground. He held the blade down at his side as he picked up the duffel bag. Since Melanie was working on a field dressing for his cut again, Duff reached out to take the bag. “Thanks, Baldy.”
The big man didn’t immediately release the strap. His eyes sent the message that he was top dog at this place. “You may have the job, but you’re still on probation, Maynard. And you’ll be reporting to me.”
Duff was a big man, too. And backing down wasn’t part of the role he needed to play. He yanked the bag from Silas’s grip. “Just don’t expect me to salute you.”
Silas’s nostrils flared. He muttered something under his breath before wrapping his big bear paw around Melanie’s elbow and pulling her away from her work. “You’re going to that dance with me in a couple of weeks.”
It wasn’t a question. Despite Duff’s vow to keep his hormones in check on this assignment, he dropped the bag to pry Silas’s hand off the woman.
“Are you kidding?” But the curvy redhead didn’t need his help. She smacked Silas’s
