now, she assisted him up and onto the mattress, taking a moment to wrestle his black duster off before urging him to lie back. The sight of a red circle blooming on the white compress struck a chord of fear deep within her. The very real possibility of him succumbing to his injuries, of him dying, loomed like a menacing specter. For the first time since she’d discovered him unconscious in the snow, Rebecca was truly frightened.
She wasn’t a doctor. She possessed limited nursing skills. What if she inadvertently did something to hurt him or make his condition worse?
Again, she asked God why. Why couldn’t he have ended up in someone else’s yard? Someone more knowledgeable. More capable. Someone whose life hadn’t been sullied by his careless disdain for others.
The very last thing she wanted was to shoulder this particular burden.
He was still agitated, lips moving as his head thrashed from side to side. A couple of words she understood. Danger. Sheriff. Leave. He was delirious, of course, but were his warnings grounded in truth?
She paused in applying a fresh compress. “What kind of secrets are you carrying?” Afraid of the answer, she turned back to her task, thankful the bleeding had lessened. Working quickly, she tucked the quilts tight about his long length. Then she spooned up a small dose of laudanum and put it to his mouth.
“You need to take this.” Supporting his head, she held him steady as he sipped. Grimaced. Quaked.
When it was gone, she set the spoon aside and eased onto the mattress edge. Closing her mind to the past, if only temporarily, she administered the comfort he needed, gently threading his fine, glossy hair away from his face. Weak firelight glinted in the blue-black strands. He seemed to settle at her touch.
Lightly, gingerly, she traced the slashing black eyebrows with her fingertips. Then, more daringly, she traced the hard contours of his face—the jutting cheekbones, strong jawline and chin—all the while avoiding the scar. It was too terrible a reminder of the sawmill accident that had altered the course of their lives.
“Why did you have to involve Adam in your mischief?” she quietly demanded, knowing he couldn’t hear her. Knowing, too, that even if her ex-fiancé hadn’t accompanied Caleb that fateful night, something terrible would’ve happened eventually.
Feeling cramped suddenly by her proximity to him, she rose to her feet and interlocked her fingers behind her back. Touching Caleb wasn’t supposed to feel good. Perish the thought!
He turned his head as if in search of her. “Not safe,” he whispered.
Though sleeping, he wasn’t at complete rest. Something was clearly bothering him. Something so big it penetrated his mind’s cloak of unconscious. A frisson of unease tightened her shoulder blades. Could they truly be in danger?
There was no disputing the fact that, wherever Caleb O’Malley went, trouble followed.
Caleb thought he just might burst into flames. Heat licked his insides, a strange heat that had him battling the heavy covers one minute and his teeth clacking together the next. The pain was constant, as if a red-hot branding iron had been plunged deep into his flesh.
If only he could clear the fog shrouding his brain.
The sense that it was no longer night tugged his eyes open. Searching the chilly room, his gaze encountered a woman asleep in a rocking chair situated before the now-cold fireplace, wavy brown hair shot with copper streaks skimming her shoulders and features softened in slumber.
Becca.
For a split second, he was startled to see her. Confused. Why? How? Then the fog dispersed, and he remembered every disturbing detail. Sheriff Tate. Caleb had witnessed the cold-blooded murder of Cades Cove’s sheriff. And he’d been spotted, which meant his presence put Becca and Amy in grave danger.
“Becca.” Spurred by their predicament, he managed to prop himself up on his elbows. “Wake up.”
A medium-size, shaggy black-and-white dog of uncertain origins lifted its head to study him with curious eyes. Caleb didn’t recognize the pet, which meant he or she had joined the family within the past two years. While not much to look at, the dog must certainly be well loved. Becca was famous for her weakness for strays.
He called her name again, and she jerked upright, jade irises nearly eclipsed by wide, black pupils. She blinked. Focused on him. Sympathy and concern flashed across her face, tucked away the moment she became aware of his regard. All business once again.
Rising with the grace of a dancer, her movements lithe and fluid despite having slept in an awkward position, she seemed to float across the floor. He used to tease her that gravity didn’t have as tight a hold on her as the rest of earth’s population. Maybe it was her artistic spirit, her ability to see beauty in ordinary things.
Going to the kitchen, she dipped out water for him. Helped him drink the cool liquid, which heated as it slid down his parched throat.
“I need for you to bring Rebel to me so I can get outta here.”
Her fingers tightened on the glass. Plunking it onto the bedside table, her brows descended. “I will do no such thing.”
Stunned by the conviction in her voice, he slumped onto the pillow. He couldn’t recall her ever standing up to Adam this way. No sirree, she’d gone along with pretty much whatever his best friend suggested. Not that Adam would’ve asked her to do anything questionable. Or risky. That had been Caleb’s department.
“I have to get home.” He could send his brothers to fetch Sheriff Timmons. “Why won’t you help me?”
“You have a life-threatening injury, that’s why,” she retorted, exasperation twisting her mouth. “For once in your life, accept that you have limitations. You’re not invincible, Caleb O’Malley. Thought you would’ve learned that by now.”
The words hung in the air, the implication quite plain. She meant he should’ve learned his lesson two years ago, the night he’d dared Adam to break into the sawmill yard.
Closing his eyes, he recalled the last time he saw her. Back in August, he and his brother Nathan had been delivering milk and cheese to Clawson’s Mercantile when they’d crossed paths. Her derision and anger, entirely justified, had practically reached out and strangled the life out of him.
“I know how difficult this must be for you,” he scraped out. “No one would’ve blamed you if you’d left me to freeze out there. I appreciate everything you’ve done, but my family can take it from here. No need to impose on your hospitality any longer.”
Shock crystalized in the jade orbs. “You think I’m that coldhearted? You think I’d leave you t-to...” She flung out an arm. Emotion rippled through her lithe form. “Just because I despise everything you stand for doesn’t mean I’d wish death upon you.” Pushing hair away from her face, she turned her back on him. Stalked away from the bed.
“I didn’t mean to imply...” He sighed, frustrated at the weakness invading his body again. Waves of it, jumbling his thoughts. “I’m sorry, Becca.” For all of it.
Slowly spinning on her heel, ivory
