Married by Christmas. Karen Kirst

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СКАЧАТЬ time with his heartbeat.

      “Do you need more pain relief?” She scooted closer, her too-perceptive eyes grave.

      Beneath the covers, he fisted his hands. “No.” His brain was fuzzy enough without adding medicine to the mix. He had to focus on convincing her to help him get home.

      “What was a female doing with a gang of criminals?”

      “I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but to me she looked like...” His jaw tensed, picturing the bitter reproach marring the blonde’s features. “She looked like a woman who’d been rebuffed.”

      “You think she and Tate were involved romantically?”

      “Could be. Or she was interested and he wasn’t.” Only, why kill him if it was a simple rejection? This woman had seemed deeply distressed.

      “There has to be more to it than that,” she echoed his unspoken sentiments. Tapping her chin, she mused, “Under what circumstances would a woman on the wrong side of the law associate with a lawman?”

      “I don’t know.” Though the lack of answers bothered him, the main issue here was justice. “I do know how to identify them, however, and I aim to do whatever it takes to make certain they pay for what they did. That’s why I need to see Shane Timmons.”

      Concern flowed over her features, and this time she didn’t attempt to hide it. “Did they get a good look at you?”

      “Hard to say. I was positioned on the edge of a clearing, and there was a full moon. The storm was still south of us. I know for certain they saw Rebel.”

      She nodded. “With his distinctive markings, he won’t be hard to identify.”

      And if they did glimpse Caleb’s face, his scar would make it easy for them to locate him.

      “Now do you understand why I have to leave?”

      Popping up, she began to pace. “I can’t let you go.”

      His heart suffered a series of palpitations. Oh, he knew she meant it literally, not figuratively. Still, the words hurled him backward in time to when they were teenagers, to when he’d envied Adam’s good fortune, had wondered what it would be like to have a girl like Becca—beautiful, sweet-natured, affectionate—head over heels in love with him.

      He’d cared about his best friend’s girl a little more than he should have.

      “You have to.”

      She whirled on him, hot color splashing across her cheekbones. “I don’t have to do anything. You are not leaving until you’ve improved or the doctor comes to take you away.”

      “Why, Rebecca Thurston, I do believe you’ve developed a backbone,” he drawled, fascinated by this unusual display of temper. Her eyes blazed with an internal strength not present when they’d been friends. What had happened in her life to forge such a change?

      * * *

      He’d noticed, had he? In his mind, she was still the naive, eager-to-please, hopelessly-in-love-with-love young girl with big dreams and an even bigger future. Well, things changed. People changed.

      That love-struck teenager was long gone. Did he realize he was the one responsible for her disappearance?

      “Yes, well, I’m all grown up now.” Sarcasm dripped from her words. “And I’m obviously the only one thinking rationally at the moment.”

      Caleb didn’t immediately respond. The flicker of humor in his eyes sputtered out, and he studied her with his hooded, enigmatic gaze. Seemed she wasn’t the only one who’d changed. The old Caleb, rarely serious, had been armed with ready, lighthearted quips to combat each and every call to reason.

      “My presence here is putting you at risk.” Why are you placing my safety above your own? his expression prompted.

      Why indeed? He was right to be worried. The murder of a sheriff was a heinous crime, one that wouldn’t be taken lightly. Knowing this, the criminals responsible wouldn’t stop until they’d located the witness. If they’d seen his scar...

      Shivering, she rubbed her upper arms. The fire needed to be lighted, Flossy milked and the eggs collected. Breakfast cooked. Bread made.

      But first, this matter had to be settled. Because no matter what he’s done, I can’t in good conscience send him out there in his current condition.

      “Even if I brought Rebel to the front door and helped you mount him, you wouldn’t make it past the property fence. Your fever is indicative of an infection.”

      “The bullet could still be lodged in my leg. Did you check for an exit wound?”

      Her cheeks heated with embarrassment. “I didn’t think to.”

      “Is this your first gunshot wound?”

      “Is it your first?”

      “My first and only, I hope.” His lips compressed into a tight line, as if he was perturbed she’d ask such a thing. But how was she supposed to know what kind of life he’d led? He was rarely home anymore, preferring to spend most of his time hunting and trapping in the high country. A blessing, in her opinion.

      “I suppose I’ll need to check it,” she reluctantly acknowledged.

      Tending his wound while he was unconscious was one thing. Having him awake and watching her every move would strain her nerves to the limit.

      A lump in her throat, she approached the bed and, folding the quilts back, checked the compress. “I—I’ll try not to cause you further pain.”

      Eyes closed and face averted, he muttered, “Just do what you gotta do.”

      Gingerly slipping her hand beneath his knee, she lifted his leg, wincing at the breath hissing between his teeth.

      “No exit wound.” She carefully covered him, heart knocking against her rib cage. She knew what his next words would be before he uttered them.

      “The bullet needs to come out.”

      Dread settled like a pile of rocks in her stomach. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, Caleb. I have very little knowledge when it comes to these things. Ma always tended Pa’s nicks and scrapes.”

      Adam’s injuries had been tended by a doctor. Her responsibilities had been limited to giving him water and mopping his forehead with a wet towel. And holding his hand, offering her support, her unending devotion—which he ultimately rejected.

      “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if there was any other alternative.” Regret was carved into his austere features.

      “Give me a minute.” Although she didn’t really have a choice, she craved a moment to wrap her mind around the ghastly task facing her.

      Crossing to the hearth on wobbly legs, she extracted logs from the firebox and placed them in the fireplace. Lit the fire.

      “Time to go outside, Storm.” Stumpy tail quivering, СКАЧАТЬ