Page 9

She lowered her gaze and drew a wiggly line in the dirt with her big toe. “I should probably”—she glanced up quickly, then down—“check your backside, make sure he didn’t break the skin.” She lifted her gaze. “You don’t want to get an infection”—she waved her hand limply in the air—“back there.”

He smiled warmly. “No, ma’am, I surely don’t. I swear, Miss Grant, when I stopped here yesterday, I had no intention of putting you to all this trouble.”

“It’s no trouble, Mr. Leigh. Besides, I’ll put the tincture of iodine on it to begin with so it shouldn’t fester at all.”

He watched her hurry to the house and decided it was a good thing that the medication burned hotter than hell. Otherwise, he didn’t know how he’d endure her gentle fingers touching his backside without his body reacting and making a fool of him.

Loree pumped the water into the sink, then set about scrubbing her trembling hands.

What in the world had possessed her to offer to look at Austin Leigh’s backside?

She wondered if the tincture of iodine would be as effective if she simply poured it into a pan and told him to sit in it and soak his wound. If there was even a wound to soak.

She heard his boots hit the porch. She inhaled deeply, grabbed a towel, and dried her hands. She glanced over her shoulder. He stood in the room, looking as uncomfortable as she felt.

She’d drawn the curtains aside allowing the late morning sun to pour inside. She pointed to a chair opposite the one he’d used that morning. “I can probably use the sun best if you stand there.”

He gave her a long slow nod, but she thought she saw worry reflected in his blue eyes.

“I’ll be gentle,” she assured him.

“That’s not what concerns me,” he grumbled as he moved to stand behind the chair.

She grabbed the bottle of iodine and a cloth.

She hurried to the table, but once she arrived she wished she’d walked more slowly.

She pulled the stopper and soaked the cloth.

She only wanted to do this once, really didn’t want to do it at all.

She glanced up. He was staring hard at something on the far wall.

“I … I guess you need to lower … your britches,” she said hesitantly.

She saw a muscle in his cheek jerk.

“Why don’t you get behind me?” he suggested.

She stepped around him and tried not to think about the buttons his fingers were releasing. Her breath came in short little gasps. She watched as he grabbed the back of his britches and struggled to lower one side while keeping the other raised. He bent over slightly.

“Can you lift your shirt?” she asked.

She stared in amazement as his skin came into view.

So incredibly white that it reminded her of clouds on a summer day, but just above his hip, his skin turned as brown as soil.

He must have often worked without a shirt, and she realized with sudden uneasiness that she was about to touch a part of him that the sun had never seen.

“Is the skin broken?”

She flinched at the harshness in his voice and dropped her gaze to the area where he had halted his britches’ downward journey. Torn flesh and blood marred his otherwise smooth backside. “Yes.”

Gingerly she touched his britches, the tip of her finger skimming over him. He jumped as though she’d pressed a red-hot brand to his flesh.

“I’m sorry. I just … I just need to lower these a little more.” She brought them down as far as she dared, grateful the horse had nipped him high on the cheek.

She pressed the iodine to the wound, heard his sharp intake of breath, and saw his fingers tighten around his shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

“Trust me. The more it stings, the better.”

She heard the strain in his voice and worked as fast as she could, pressing the cloth to the wound—

“Good God Almighty! What are you doing, Loree?”

Loree spun around at the unexpected voice, lost her balance, and toppled into Austin as he was turning, struggling to pull up his britches. He reached out to steady her, swore harshly, and released her to grab his britches before they slipped any lower.

Loree would have laughed if it weren’t for the young man standing in her doorway, glaring at her. Her heart was pounding so hard that it sounded like a herd of horses stampeding between her ears. “Dewayne, what are you doing here?”

Dewayne Thomas removed his hat, his blond hair glinting in the sunlight, his brown eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Austin. “Come to check on you after last night’s storm. Heard there were tornadoes about. Wanted to make sure you were all right.” He jutted out his chin. “Who’s this?”

“Mr. Leigh. He was traveling to Austin, but his horse came up lame—”

“So how come he’s taking off his clothes in your house?”

“He wasn’t taking off his clothes. He was treating his horse and it nipped his backside.” She held up the stained cloth as evidence. “I was just applying some tincture of iodine to his wound so he wouldn’t get an infection.”

“Good God, Loree, I’d think you’d have more sense than to let a stranger into your house after that man murdered your family.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Austin Leigh jerk his head around, his gaze boring into her.

“What do you know about this here fella?” Dewayne asked.

“I know all I need to know.”

“You know what a man can do once his britches is undone?”

“That’s enough, Dewayne!” she yelled. She hurried to the sink, threw the cloth into it, and began frantically pumping water and washing her hands. Tears stung her eyes, and she felt the heavy silence permeating the room. She heard the hesitant footsteps.

“I meant no harm, Loree, but I was Mark’s best friend. He’d want me watching out for his sister.”

She grabbed a towel, began to dry her hands, slowly turned, and forced herself to smile. “I know, Dewayne.”

As though her words reinforced his position, he turned to Austin. “What’s your business in Austin?”

“My business in Austin is my business,” Austin said, his eyes hard, his mouth a firm line. “But I’m no threat to Miss Grant. As soon as my horse is healed, I’ll be on my way.”

Dewayne snorted. “I’m supposed to believe that just ‘cuz you say so.”

“I’ve lied once in my life and it nearly cost my brother his life. I’d need a damn good reason before I’d lie again.” He tilted his head toward Loree. “I appreciate your gentle ministrations, Miss Grant. I’ll finish tending to my horse now.”

She watched him walk through the door, his back stiff, and she somehow knew that Dewayne’s distrust had wounded Austin more than his horse or some man in a saloon had.

“I don’t like him being here,” Dewayne said, the inflection in his voice reminding her of a petulant three year old. “What if he finds out what we did?”

“How’s he gonna find out?”

Dewayne pushed out his bottom lip. “You might tell him.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You trust him enough to drop his britches, you might trust him with our secret.”

“He has no interest in anything around here. He just wants to get his horse healed so he can move on. He’s been a perfect gentleman. He chopped wood for me—”

“I coulda chopped wood for you.”

Smiling softly, she touched the nick on his chin, remembering when he’d ridden over after his first shave, wanting to show it off. “You can’t always watch out for me.”

Dewayne blushed and ducked his head. At moments like this she found it difficult to look at him and not see what her brother might have been as a man.

He had only been fourteen when the killer had hanged him from the rafters.

Only fourteen. How often had she wished she had been the one to die, and he the one to live?

“Then why don’t you move to town, Loree?”

“I like living here.” In her self-imposed exile, her punishment for what had happened that night and all that had followed.

“But what if some fella stops by who ain’t a gentleman?”

“I have my rifle and Digger. Remember how he attacked you the first time you showed up after I’d found him?”

Dewayne laughed. “I still got the scars on my calf. You sure it was the man’s horse and not Digger that bit him?”

Loree tilted her head in thought. “Oddly enough, he only growled at Mr. Leigh. He didn’t attack him.”

“Maybe Digger is getting to be like you. Too trusting.”

Smiling, she shook her head. “No, he chased away a man in a medicine show wagon last week. I think Digger would attack anyone he thought would harm me.”

“Well, if the storm didn’t do any damage here, then I reckon I’ll head home. If that fella’s still around tonight, you bolt the door.”

Simply to appease him, she said, “I will.”

She walked outside with him, hugged him as she always did—the way she had hugged her brother—and watched him mount his horse and ride away. Then she strolled over to the man who was brushing his stallion near the corral.

“Dewayne meant no offense,” she said quietly.

“None taken.” He stopped brushing his horse and met her gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me someone had murdered your family?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d lied?”

“It’s not the same.”

“How is it different?”

“It just is.” He walked around his horse and began brushing the other side as though he needed to put distance between them. “I told you I served time in prison for murder.” His hand stilled, his blue gaze capturing hers. “I’m not a murderer.”

Her throat tightened. She knew he spoke the truth.

He wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer. Remembering the puckered flesh on his shoulder—a scar similar to the one she possessed—the kind of scar a healing bullet wound left behind, she imagined he had killed in self-defense, shooting the man who had shot him.

“I know that. You don’t have the eyes of a murderer. ”

He seemed to relax as though she’d lifted a burden from his shoulders. “Who did he hang?” he asked, his voice low.

Loree stumbled back, her heart racing. “What?”

“There’s a rope dangling from the rafters in the barn.”

She had to give Austin Leigh credit. He didn’t miss much.

Dewayne had cut her brother down. Until last night, she’d never found the courage to return to the barn, much less remove the rope that had taken her brother’s life.

“My brother. He dragged us to the barn, tied us up, and hanged my brother before shooting the rest of us.”

Horror delved into the depths of his eyes. “He shot you?”

Oddly enough, his reaction told her more about him than anything else. He wasn’t a man who would hurt a woman.

“Yes, but he didn’t check to make certain I was dead. I guess since I’m so small, he assumed one bullet would be sufficient.”

“Did the law find him?”

“No.”

He laughed derisively. “Ain’t that the way of it. They send me to prison, and they let a man who murdered three people go free. You gotta wonder about the justice system sometimes.”

She had wondered about justice a lot in the passing years, wondered if it even existed.

“Is that why you let the barn go to ruin?”

Once again, his insight surprised her. She nodded. “I can’t stand to go inside.”

“You went inside last night, looking for me.”

She felt the warmth suffuse her cheeks. “Because I was worried about you. My mother always got after me because I worry more about others than I do about myself. She said it would get me into trouble someday. I’ve thought about burning the barn, but I’m afraid I’d set the whole hillside ablaze.”

“Imagine your brother’s friend would have helped you with that.”

“Dewayne is sweet and he means well, but sometimes he does or says things without thinking of the consequences.”

“He seems to care for you.”

“He was the one who found us. I’d probably be dead if not for him.” She turned away, the bitter memories bringing forth images of soul-searing pain. A warm, gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

She looked into blue eyes that reflected not only a pain equal to hers, but an absence of dreams. Each had suffered as the result of a killing, and she couldn’t help but believe that he was as much a victim as she was. Neither had escaped unscathed. “It wasn’t your doing.”

“No, it wasn’t, but making you remember was.” He removed his hand from her shoulder and heaved a sigh. “So now I owe you more than I did before. There’s gotta be something around here that I can do for you.”

“Actually I do need something done.”

“Tell me what it is and I’ll do it. I pay my debts.”

He paid his debts. Loree wondered if that was the reason he didn’t seem overly bitter that he’d spent time in prison. He had killed someone. He’d given up a portion of his life. He’d paid his debt.

Now he wanted to repay her. She didn’t think his pride would accept that his company was payment enough. No, he needed a chore. Smiling, she began to walk away, trusting him to follow. She knew the perfect chore for those beautiful long fingers of his.