Claiming the Cowboy's Heart. Linda FordЧитать онлайн книгу.
me, too, when I was much younger.” She adjusted his pillows, straightened his covers. “Are you comfortable?”
He almost caught her arm as it passed over his chest. If he had something to hang on to he might be able to escape the awfulness of his memories. Instead, he pushed them back, deep inside, and slammed a door to keep them at bay. But like wisps of black fog, the remnants of horror lingered. Sooner or later, he knew, they would dissipate. He steadied his voice. “Reasonably so.”
“Very well.” She drew the chair close and began to read the story of “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.”
Her voice soothed him, filling him with happy memories of life before Frank had died. He drifted pleasantly on her words. When she finished he couldn’t lift his eyelids, even when he heard her whisper, “Good night,” before she slipped away.
What a crazy couple of days it had been. Shot. Rescued. Cared for by the hands that shot him. No one would ever believe that. It was as if God had played a role in orchestrating it.
God! He couldn’t imagine that God cared one way or the other what happened to Seth or most of the people he met. The Almighty sure hadn’t cared about saving Frank or Sarah from drowning. Or how his death had affected their ma and pa. And even Seth.
But Jayne had suffered a painful loss, too. And she continued to trust God. A smile tugged at his lips. She also fought back, mostly by taking control of life in every possible way—even to shooting a gun, despite the fact no one seemed to care to give her instructions. Except Mercy, and he wondered how valuable her lessons would be. He rubbed at his leg. It didn’t seem she was a very good teacher.
For the safety of everyone within shooting distance, someone should give Jayne lessons.
Chapter Four
Seth wakened as someone stepped into the room. He sat up and stifled a moan at the pain that reminded him why he was in a strange bed in a strange room with a strange man standing at his side. Then his mind cleared and he recognized Eddie.
“Good morning,” Eddie said.
“Morning.” The word croaked from his dry throat and he reached for the cup of water Jayne had left on the table beside him.
“I brought you your things. I was here last night but you were already asleep. Linette wants to check your leg one last time.”
“Thanks.”
Linette joined her husband and changed the dressing. “It’s not bleeding but I believe a couple more days rest would be in your best interest.”
“Thanks. But I have to get going.”
“We’ll leave you to get dressed, then.” Eddie handed him his saddlebags. “I believe your other things are waiting for you downstairs.”
“Please join us for breakfast,” Linette added. “Turn right at the bottom of the stairs and the kitchen is at the end of the hall.”
“Thanks.” He waited until they left the room before he threw back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. A stark-white dressing covered his wound and would keep it clean until he reached Corncrib. He pulled on his dark gray trousers, and his black-and-white-striped shirt. Putting weight on his leg caused his wound to protest but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t ignore. He tugged on his boots, pulled a comb from his supplies and ran it through his hair then stood tall. There. He felt like a man again. He slung his saddlebags over his shoulder and left the room.
The stairs were wide and led down to a big door that stood open, allowing a cool breeze to blow through the screen. This was the door he had stumbled through with Eddie’s help yesterday. So much had happened since then that it seemed more like a week ago.
He paused at the bottom of the stairs to stare at the view. The house overlooked the neat ranch buildings he’d noticed yesterday. Several cowboys crossed toward the nearest two-story house. He gave it all a quick study then lifted his gaze. The view of the mountains caught at his breath. They were gleaming with the morning sun. So big and majestic. So powerful. The words of one of Ma’s oft-repeated verses entered his mind. “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea.” Ma had been devastated by Frank’s death but in spite of it, Seth suddenly realized, she’d remained serene. He hadn’t been able to understand. Was it because of her faith?
A faith he shared but to a lesser degree. He wasn’t sure God would lend a hand if Seth needed it. He’d called God’s name several times when trying to rescue Frank. Where was God then? Or was he blaming God for an individual’s own choice? Was not the individual responsible for the outcome? These were oft-repeated questions to which he could never find a satisfactory answer.
He turned to his right and strode down the hall. As he passed a room, he glanced inside at the bookshelves filled with books, a large mahogany desk and an oversize black armchair, plus some very nice paintings. One seemed to be a perfect replica of the mountain scene he’d admired seconds ago.
To his left, he glimpsed a formal-looking dining room that had an empty, unused look. Then he reached the kitchen.
“Good morning,” Jayne said, smiling cheerfully as he entered. She was probably eager to see him gone. After all, he was a constant reminder that her shooting had been a failure.
She should be happy he was only slightly injured because of her foolish activity. She might have left a body on the trail. His body. Then who would take care of Pa? Maybe God had been protecting all of them—Jayne, Seth and Pa. He’d study the thought more closely when he had the time.
The room was large, dominated by a big table. To one side were cupboards and a stove, and on the east side, the rising sun shone through the generous windows.
The others greeted him. Linette held a small boy before her. “This is Grady. Grady, say hello to Mr. Collins.” The boy held a half-grown gray kitten.
Seth squatted down to the boy’s level, ignoring the pain in his leg. “Pleased to meet you, Grady. And what’s this fine fellow’s name?” He scratched behind the cat’s ears earning him a loud purr.
“This is Smokey. He’s a good cat. He never fights with the other cats. Not like Snowball. Snowball is always fighting. He’s got a torn ear ’cause he fights too much.”
“Why, it sounds like Smokey is a very smart cat.” The animal pushed against Seth’s hand, begging for more attention.
“He is. He can climb a tree faster than anybody and he eats slow, like a gentleman.”
“A fine cat, indeed. I expect he’s good company for you.” He straightened to ease the pain in his leg.
“Yup. But my best friend is Billy. He lives down the hill with Daisy and Pansy and Neil and his new ma and pa, Cassie and Roper. Mr. and Mrs. Jones,” he corrected as Linette opened her mouth. No doubt she meant to tell him he shouldn’t call adults by their first names.
Seth’s eyebrows peaked. “Wow. That sounds like a real good story.”
Linette gave her son a gentle shove toward the door. “Put Smokey outside and wash up for breakfast. Seth, have a chair.” She indicated one next to Jayne.
He sat. Feeling Mercy and Sybil’s gazes on him, he lifted his head to give them each an inquisitive look. “Did you want something?” he asked.
Sybil shook her head.
Mercy leaned forward. “We were wondering how you would explain your—” she tipped her head toward his leg beneath the table “—gunshot wound. Jayne doesn’t think you’ll admit to your friends that a woman shot you.”
He turned toward Jayne.
Her brown eyes flashed a teasing challenge. “They might wonder why you let a woman outshoot you,” she said.
He practically choked. “Outshoot?