Give Me A Texan. Jodi Thomas

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ he could stand it no longer. “What is it, Aggie? What’s wrong?”

      “Nothing,” she said as she removed the tray and began tugging the bandage on his head away. “How do you feel?”

      “Fine.” He returned a lie for a lie.

      “The stitches are holding. I don’t think you need a bandage again.” She brushed his hair away from his forehead and moved to the wound on his arm. “The cut looks good. You heal fast.”

      Hank didn’t want to talk about his injuries. He wanted to know what had changed between when she’d cuddled next to him this morning and now. Until this moment he’d thought he missed little by not having a mother around. Now he realized how much he had to learn about reading women. No. Not women, he corrected. Aggie.

      When she tucked the blanket around him, his fingers gently closed over her hand. “What’s wrong?” he asked again, his tone more demanding.

      When she tried to tug her hand away, he held fast. He’d never learn if he didn’t start right now.

      Finally, she looked up at him, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “We’ve only been married two days and you’ve been injured two times. At this rate you’ll never last a week.” Her chin rose slightly as if she were forcing herself to face facts. “My sisters were right. I’m nothing but trouble. Dolly said once that having me around is no different than having the plague circling. All my sisters were glad to help my poppa get rid of me.”

      Hank laughed then realized she didn’t see the humor. “Aggie, it wasn’t you who had a knife at the train station, or who wielded the board in the darkness of the barn.” He tugged until she sat beside him. “But it was you who took care of me. And the reason your sisters wanted to marry you off had nothing to do with you being bad luck, trust me on that.”

      She nodded once, obviously not believing him. She pulled her hand away.

      He fought the urge to reach for it and hold on tightly, but she had to come to him on her own time if there was ever to be anything more between them.

      The rain tapped on the windows again, drawing their attention. Aggie turned up the lamp by the bed, then watched gray streaks run down the long windows. “Tell me about the beauty of this land again, dear. I’m having trouble remembering.”

      Hank laughed, realizing this time of year it would be hard to see any beauty, but she seemed to need calming. Worry wrinkled her forehead, so if she needed to talk of something besides what had happened, he’d give it a try.

      He told her of the first day he’d ridden over his land. How spring turns the world green and the colors in the rock walls of the canyons seem to wave and billow like the skirts of Spanish dancers. He described a summer shower that came up all of a sudden like a phantom riding the wind, dumping a bucket of water that sparkled like diamonds over the wet grass. He told how a dust devil seemed to chase him over the open range, following behind no matter which way he turned his horse.

      He caught her glancing out the window from time to time as if she didn’t quite believe his tale. The tapping grew louder as the rain turned to hail. The tiny balls of ice hit the ground and bounced almost like popcorn jumping in a skillet. Within seconds the ground was white as snow.

      Hugging herself, Aggie asked, “Should I light the fire in the main room?”

      “No.” Hank chose his words carefully, knowing there might be a long way between what he wanted and what was about to happen. “We’ll be warm enough under the covers.” He kept every word level, without emotion, as if he’d said the same words many times before.

      She nodded, and to his surprise picked up the flannel shirt. “I’ll wash up in the kitchen and change.”

      As soon as she left, Hank grabbed the stick that Blue had left to serve as a cane. Slowly, he moved off the bed. Without putting any of his weight on the broken leg, he crossed the few feet to the washstand and chamber pot.

      Aggie might be his wife, but there were some things Hank had no intention of asking her to help with. By the time he was washed up and back to the bed, sweat covered his forehead. He sat down with his back resting against all the pillows and pulled the covers up to his chest. He wished he’d had the sense to buy a nightshirt sometime in his life. Having lived all these years alone, he’d seen no need. But Aggie might find his bare chest shocking.

      Hank smiled suddenly. She hadn’t commented on it earlier. Maybe she didn’t notice. One leg of his long handled underwear had been cut off at the knee just above where the splint started. The other leg was spotted with dried blood, but he’d wait until morning to put on a clean pair. He wasn’t sure he had the energy tonight.

      Aggie appeared wearing his shirt. “I washed my gown earlier,” she began, “but it didn’t get dry.”

      “You look fine,” he said, and then wished he’d thought to say something more. In truth, she looked adorable.

      She sat on the end of the bed and folded her legs beneath her. “I was hoping, if you’re not too tired, that we could talk a while.”

      Hank didn’t move. Bedtime conversations were totally new to him and he had no idea what to talk about. She, on the other hand, looked like this was part of her nightly routine, and with four sisters it may very well have been.

      She placed her elbows on her flannel-covered knees and rested her chin in her hands.

      He swore she looked twelve years old.

      “Blue and I have been talking and we don’t think the attack on you was an accident. No one would be just riding by this place. It’s too far off the road.”

      “So, what are you saying?” Hank watched her as he tried to follow the conversation. She had shifted and now the soft roundness of her left breast molded against the shirt. Suddenly, nothing about her seemed childlike. There was no doubt she was all woman.

      “I’m saying…” She moved again and Hank closed his eyes so his ears would work. “I’m saying,” she repeated, “that someone wants you hurt…or dead.”

      Hank shook his head then regretted the action. “I don’t think so. I don’t make a habit of crossing folks if I can help it, and it’s been years since I even had a heated discussion with anyone.”

      “Try and think,” she coached. “Who lately would benefit from your being hurt or dead? Who has threatened you?”

      “Nobody but Potter Stockton on the way back to town the other night. He told me I’d be wise to get on the train and forget about you, because I must know you’d never come.” Hank told the account in passing, nothing important, he thought…until he saw Aggie’s face. “You can’t believe Stockton would send someone to hurt me? Sure, he was probably disappointed when he learned you left with me, maybe even mad. But mad enough to try and kill me?”

      Aggie nodded. “On the way to the station, Charlie told me he was glad I didn’t pick Potter even though Dolly thought he was the best choice. Charlie said he heard Potter beat a man near to death one night after losing a few dollars in a poker game. He said the railroad man had gunfighter eyes—cold and hard as casket wood.”

      Hank raised a doubtful eyebrow. “But Charlie still invited him to dinner?”

      Aggie СКАЧАТЬ