A Haven Out West

After witnessing her fiancé’s murder, Jayne Gardiner won’t let herself be caught on the wrong side of a gun again. But a disastrous first lesson in self-defense has left her with a wounded cowboy. She insists on nursing the handsome stranger back to health—whether he wants it or not!

Getting waylaid by a wild shot has definitely put a hitch in Seth Collins’s step—and plans. Duty may call him home, but Seth can’t resist lingering on Eden Valley Ranch to teach the English beauty to shoot. And when a shadowy figure from Jayne’s past resurfaces, Seth’s sudden urge to protect her has nothing to do with duty.

Cowboys of Eden Valley: Forging a future in Canada’s west country

Jayne turned to meet Seth’s gaze.

“I very much regret that I am responsible for your pain.”

He studied her for a moment. “Who did you see shot to death?”

His question jolted through her, bringing all the memories of that day forward in a flash. “My fiancé, Oliver.” She twisted the towel she held, knotting her fingers into the material.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He lifted his hand and caught her fingers. His hand was large, work hardened and steadying.

She tore her gaze from their linked hands and stared into his eyes. Her imagination read a dozen things into his gaze—comfort, concern, perhaps even the offer of protection.

She jerked her gaze away, stepped back to hang the towel over the back of the chair. The last thing she wanted was to be taken care of by anyone. “I’ll be fine on my own.” Her words were firm, almost as if daring him to think otherwise.

LINDA FORD

lives on a ranch in Alberta, Canada. Growing up on the prairie and learning to notice the small details it hides gave her an appreciation for watching God at work in His creation. Her upbringing also included being taught to trust God in everything and through everything—a theme that resonates in her stories. Threads of another part of her life are found in her stories—her concern for children and their future. She and her husband raised fourteen children—four homemade, ten adopted. She currently shares her home and life with her husband, a grown son, a live-in paraplegic client and a continual (and welcome) stream of kids, kids-in-law, grandkids and assorted friends and relatives.

Claiming the Cowboy’s Heart

Linda Ford

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.

—Luke 12:7

To my sister, Leona, and my friend Brenda, as you struggle with so many challenges. Remember how much God values you.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

Eden Valley Ranch, Alberta, Canada

August 1882

“I didn’t expect it to be so heavy.” Jayne Gardiner held the pistol between her fingers. She couldn’t bear the cold feeling of the stock against her palm. Her hand trembled and the shiny steel barrel winked in the sun like an evil tormentor. Panic clawed up her throat like threatening flood waters. She struggled to push it back. She knew firsthand the destructive power of a gun.

She stiffened her spine. Fear would not be allowed to rule her life. She would learn to defend herself and those she cared about. She’d be ready to take action if ever another life-or-death situation arose.

Behind her, her friend Mercy laughed. “It won’t bite.” But then, Mercy lived for adventure. That’s why she’d accompanied them on this trip west. As if ready for an escapade, she wore suede riding pants that she’d purchased before they left Fort Benton on their journey to western Canada and the Eden Valley Ranch, and her mahogany hair was pulled back in a braid.

Beside her, Sybil twisted her hands in the fabric of her fashionable pinstripe blue walking skirt. She completed the trio that recently arrived from England. More reserved like Jayne, she wanted to come on this visit to Canada to get over her parents’ deaths.

Jayne had come to visit her brother, Eddie—owner and operator of the Eden Valley Ranch—and his wife, Linette, though some might think she’d come to put the past out of her mind. She tightened her lips. People who thought that would be wrong. She didn’t intend to forget the lessons her past had taught her.

Sybil shuddered, causing the golden curls that had escaped the elegant roll to bounce around her shoulders. Modern wisdom said a woman with curly hair would be of gentle temperament. Sybil lived up to the expectation. “I hate guns.”

Jayne sucked back an echoing shudder. Her brown hair was thick and straight, supposedly indicating a strong-willed woman. So far, she’d proven the statement false but she meant to change that starting now. “I hate what guns do but I want to learn to shoot one.” She studied the target placed about fifty feet away.

The young women were in a grove of trees that sheltered them from the wind and provided slices of shade depending on the position of the sun. They were far enough from the ranch buildings to not alarm Eddie, Linette, or any of the other caring people there who saw no need for Jayne to learn to shoot a gun. Eddie had said it wouldn’t serve any purpose. It wouldn’t bring Oliver back. And, he’d carefully pointed out, there were plenty of cowboys around the place should it be necessary to shoot a gun. What’s more, he’d said with utmost conviction, he didn’t think such an occasion would likely occur.

Jayne had tipped her chin and vowed she’d learn with or without Eddie’s help. It wasn’t some foolish notion of undoing the past. She would not allow herself to ever again feel as helpless as she did on that horrible day. The events had been burned permanently into her brain.

The day she had in mind had been sunny and warm after days of damp sky. Her fiancé, Oliver Spencer, had suggested spending the afternoon together instead of abandoning her to her own amusements while he pursued his as so often happened. On several occasions, she’d objected mildly to the amount of time Oliver spent in gambling establishments. The promise of some quality time together, just the two of them, had caused her to laugh at his jokes, though, as usual, she failed to understand them. He must have thought her so innocent.

They’d been walking side by side along a street lined with shops inviting their business. She had glanced in one window and noticed a beautiful display of lace gloves and thought of purchasing a pair, but she hadn’t suggested a stop because she and Oliver were discussing the future. She didn’t want to distract him.

“We’ll live in the house with Mother and Father. There’s more than enough room. No need to own another house.”

Did he mean she would go from being under her parents’ direct supervision to being under his parents’? She wanted to be a woman with her own home. Of course, it made sense to start with. “Will we get our own home when we have children?” A hot blush had flooded her body at the intimate topic.

Before Oliver could answer, a man had jumped from an alley brandishing a gun and demanded Oliver give him everything.

Jayne had shrunk back into the recessed doorway of the building beside them and watched as Oliver emptied his pockets of quite a lot of cash.

“It’s all I have,” he’d said, his voice hard with anger.

The thief had jammed the money into his pocket. “You know that’s not all I want.” He’d waved the pistol. “Where’s the key?”

Jayne had glanced about, hoping for rescue but no one turned down the street toward them. No one noticed the robbery.

“I want it back,” the robber had growled.

Jayne had swallowed hard. People passed at the intersection a few yards away. She tried to call for help but her voice failed her.

Oliver had continued to say he had nothing more. He’d even turned his pockets out.

“Where is it? I can’t prove it but I know you cheated. You took everything I have.” The thief had lurched toward Oliver.

She’d never seen Oliver move so quickly. His arm slashed across the man’s wrist. The pistol dropped to the cobblestones and he’d kicked it toward Jayne.

“Pick it up. Shoot him,” Oliver had ordered as he and the thief tussled.

Jayne had stared at the gun just two feet away but she couldn’t move. She’d never touched a gun, let alone shot one. She didn’t even know how.

Oliver’s head had hit the ground with a thud and he’d lain stunned.

The thief had grabbed the pistol. A metallic click had rung through Jayne’s racing thoughts.

“Get up,” the thief had ordered.

Oliver had staggered to his feet.

“I’m done playing around. You know what I want. Give it to me.”

Oliver had swayed.

Someone from the nearby intersection had called out. “He’s got a gun.”

Then everything had happened so fast Jayne couldn’t say what came first. A shot had rung out. Oliver had pitched to the pavement. The thief had raced down the alley. A crowd had surrounded them.

Jayne had hovered in the doorway, too frightened to move while blood pooled around Oliver. Someone had leaned over him. A man had looked up, seen her and waved her forward. Her legs numb, her heart beating erratically, she’d managed to make the few steps and knelt at Oliver’s side. “You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.” She hadn’t believed the words she’d uttered.

He’d caught her hand. He’d struggled to speak past the gurgling in his throat. Something about gambling and winning from the man who had shot him. Then his words ended in a gasp. Gentle hands had pried her away. Someone had taken her home.

For days she’d sat in a straight-backed chair beside the cold fireplace and replayed the scene in her mind. The skin on her face had grown taut every time she’d come to the spot where Oliver had kicked the gun toward her. Fear as deep as the English Channel had shaken her insides. Oliver was dead because she hadn’t been able to act. Hadn’t known what to do with the gun that lay so close to her. All over some gambling money. The world had gone crazy.

One day Bess, her quiet younger sister, had pulled a chair to Jayne’s knees and taken her hands. “Jayne, I have always admired you for your determination and sensibleness. It amazes me you sit here day after day. I beg you to get up and start living again.”

Jayne had looked into Bess’s sweet face and made a decision. She would not be defeated by this event. With God’s help she’d use it to grow stronger. She’d pushed to her feet and hugged her sister. “Bess, you are right. Never again will I feel so helpless. So useless.”

Bess’s smile had widened with relief then faltered at the conviction in Jayne’s voice. “What are you going to do?”

She had no firm plan at the moment. “I’ll tell you what I’m not going to do. I’m not going to be a helpless woman.”

That conviction had carried her away from home and across the North American continent to a new, inviting country.

Now she lifted her arm and looked at her two friends in the grove of trees. “I will learn to shoot.”

Mercy steadied Jayne’s hand. “Hold it like this. Brace with your other hand. Look down the barrel to the target.” She guided Jayne into position then stepped back.

Jayne’s arms lowered until the gun pointed at the ground. “If I hadn’t been so scared of guns I might have grabbed the one Oliver kicked toward me. He might still be alive.”

“Exactly,” Mercy said.

“Or you might both be dead.” Sybil covered her face with her hands as if she couldn’t bear the thought.

Jayne wished she could as easily block the sight of Oliver’s death from her mind, but it wasn’t possible. Any more than it was possible to forget she was twenty-one, no longer planning a wedding, and not ever wanting to think of such things again. Oliver had taught her that life was too fragile to make dream-filled plans.

“You don’t want it happening again,” Mercy insisted.

Jayne cringed. “I don’t have another fiancé, you know.”

Mercy laughed. “Not yet, you mean.”

“Not ever.” Oh, she’d likely marry. Everyone did. But nothing on earth would convince her to again open her heart to such fear and pain and disappointment. Any more than she would ever again let herself become so weak and dependent on others. Though she’d only begun the journey toward living strong and free. “But you’re right about needing to learn to protect myself.” And people she cared about. Never again would she stand by, shaking in fear, while someone died. “I can do this.”

Mercy repeated her instructions on how to hold the gun, aim it and fire it.

Sybil crossed her arms and looked like she’d sooner be anywhere but there. “How do you know all this?” she asked Mercy.

“I sweet-talked one of the cowboys in Fort Benton to teach me.”

Jayne and Sybil looked at each other and shook their heads in unison. Mercy was notorious for sweet-talking men into doing favors for her.

Mercy saw their exchanged glances and simply laughed. “Jayne, pay attention. Aim, squeeze and fire.”

Jayne lifted the gun, steadied it as she squinted down the barrel toward the target. She closed her eyes and squeezed. The gun jerked upward, the noise of the shot making her squeal.

Mercy gasped. “You’re supposed to keep your eyes open and focused on the target.”

“Hi yii.” A yell came from a distant spot.

Jayne eased open one eye. Through the trees she saw a man leaning low over the neck of his horse as he raced away. Her heart clambered up her throat and stuck there like an unwelcome intruder. “Did I shoot him?” Her voice barely croaked out the words.

Sybil fell back three steps. “He might be after us. We better get back to the ranch.”

Jayne shook her head. “First, we have to check and make sure I didn’t injure him.” Her stomach turned over and refused to settle. “All I wanted to do was be ready to defend us against bad people. But if I’ve hurt someone instead—” The blood drained to her feet, leaving her ready to collapse in a boneless puddle. Much like it had when Oliver was shot. So much blood. Such a dark stain.

Tremors raced up and down her spine. Cold as deep as the worst winter day gripped her insides.

Mercy wrapped an arm about her waist. “I’m sure you only frightened him and he decided to get out of range of your deadly aim.” She laughed like it was no more than a silly joke.

“We need to check.” Jayne lifted the hem of her black taffeta walking skirt with its stylish Edwardian hoop underskirt and forced her milky legs to take one step forward and then another. Mercy marched at her side. Sybil hung back then, realizing she would be alone, rushed after them.

They passed the untouched target, pushed through some low bushes, wended between tall poplars with their leaves fluttering noisily in the breeze. The wooded area gave way to a grassy slope with a faint trail skirting boulders. Allowing her legs no mercy, she hurried to the trail and bent over, looking for clues.

She stopped at a round rock that could serve as a seat if they’d been inclined to sit and enjoy the view. A dark, wet streak dripped down the side of the rock. Her heart beat a frantic tattoo against her ribs. “Look. Isn’t that blood?”

The others joined her. Mercy touched the spot and lifted a stained finger. “Fresh blood.” She wiped her finger clean on a bit of grass.

Jayne’s eyes felt as if they might fall from their sockets. “I shot someone.” She straightened and stared in the direction the rider had gone. “What if—” Would she find a body down the trail?

Mercy grabbed her hand. “It was an accident.”

“Explain that to the man I shot.” She pulled Mercy after her and signaled Sybil to follow. “I have to see if he’s on the trail.”

“Dead, you mean?” Mercy said, putting Jayne’s fears out in the open.

“I knew this was a bad idea.” Sybil’s voice was high and thin. “Let’s go back and tell Eddie. He can look for the man.”

That sent resolve into Jayne’s insides. Her brother wouldn’t always be around to rescue her. Besides, he would be angry that she had ignored his directive to forget about learning to shoot. She squared her shoulders. “I don’t need Eddie to clean up after me.” She marched down the trail. But her courage faded with every step. Dark spots, some rather large, dotted the dirt. Once she touched a stain and lifted a damp finger.

“More blood,” Sybil moaned. “Lots of it.”

Jayne tried unsuccessfully to block the memory of blood pooling around Oliver’s body. So much blood. Sybil had no idea.

They passed between two table-size boulders and turned by a stand of thick pine trees whose distinctive scent filled the air. The majestic Rocky Mountains rose to her right. Such wild country. Open and free. Had she spoiled it for some poor, unsuspecting man?

She could see down the trail until it turned and disappeared. No rider. No limp body stretched out in the grass. “Guess he wasn’t injured too badly.” Please, God, let it be true.

Mercy chuckled. “If we hear of some cowboy dying mysteriously on the trail, shot by an unseen assailant, we’ll know who is responsible.”

“Mercy,” Sybil chided. “Show a little compassion.”

But Mercy only laughed. “Jayne knows I’m only teasing, don’t you? It’s probably only a graze. No more than a splinter to a man who lives in this country.”

Jayne’s tension relieved by the absence of a body, she tucked her arm through Mercy’s and pulled Sybil closer. “All’s well that ends well. Now let’s go back to the ranch and see if Linette needs some help.” Her sister-in-law was efficiency on two legs even though she expected a baby in four months.

Sybil glanced over her shoulder. “I pray that whomever you shot won’t be bleeding to death somewhere.”

At the teasing, Jayne faltered. “Maybe I should ask Eddie to ride out and check the trail.”

Mercy urged her onward. “Like I said, it’s likely only a flesh wound. If the man needs help he will seek it.”

Jayne nodded. The words should reassure her but they fell short of doing so. She couldn’t get the sight of a large pool of blood out of her mind. The last thing she needed was another death on her conscience.

* * *

Who was shooting at him?

Twenty-four-year-old Seth Collins bent low over his horse’s neck as they pounded down the trail. One minute he was sitting on a rock, enjoying a pleasant moment as he drank from his canteen and ate a couple of dry biscuits. The next, a shot rang out and pain gouged his right leg. It took two seconds and the sight of blood soaking his trousers for him to realize what happened. Then his only thought had been escape.

He glanced over his shoulder. Saw no sign of pursuit.

Why would anyone shoot him? He was just an ordinary, poor cowboy. Except for the wad of cash he carried. Had someone followed him? He’d joined the cattle drive north from Fort Benton to a ranch in western Canada for only one reason—to earn enough money to pay the special caregiver the doctor had recommended for Pa. A man with knowledge of how to manipulate paralyzed limbs. The doctor spoke highly of Crawford, saying he’d seen great success with other stroke patients. Some, he said, had even learned to walk again.

Now he had to get the money to Montana. If he didn’t, what would happen to his pa? Crawford had committed to staying three months. If he couldn’t help Pa in that time he wouldn’t continue on because he’d found he couldn’t do anything more after that. Seth had written the man saying he’d been delayed and would be there as soon as possible with the man’s wages. Crawford’s response had been terse. “I have others interested in my services. Please return immediately.” Seth had written again. “Please stay until I get there. I’ll be home in a week and I’ll pay you extra.” But he had no assurances Crawford wouldn’t leave and Pa would suffer. Pa was all Seth had left and he meant to get home and take care of him.

He spared a glance at his leg. His buff-colored trouser leg was dark and sticky with blood, which dripped from the heel of his boot. He would need to stop soon and tend to the wound.

And hide his money so those who shot at him wouldn’t discover it.

He rode on at the same frantic pace for fifteen minutes then pulled to a stop on a knoll that allowed him a good view of the back trail. After watching a little while he decided he had outrun the shooter. Or shooters. He reined into a grove of trees that provided a bit of cover yet allowed him to keep watch for anyone following him. As he swung off his horse, his leg buckled under him. What kind of damage had the shot done?

Knowing he had to stop the blood flow, he yanked the neckerchief from his neck and tied it around his thigh. He needed something to tighten it so he hobbled toward the nearest tree, biting back a groan at the pain snaking up his leg and wrapping around his entire body. He broke off a finger-thick branch then plopped, as much as sat, on the ground, stuck the length of wood between his leg and the neckerchief and twisted until the blood stopped. Resting his back against a tree trunk, he held the tourniquet tight and considered his plight.

The wad of money was his major concern. Seemed someone had discovered he carried four months’ worth of wages in his pocket and decided to lighten his load. He stared at his feet, trying to decide what to do. Hard to hide anything on the horse. He had his saddlebags, but that was the first place a thief would look after searching Seth’s person. No hiding a secret pocket in his ruined trousers. He continued to stare at his feet. Hadn’t he once heard of a man who hollowed out the heels of his boots to hide something?

He didn’t fancy trying to pry a boot off his right leg. Figured it might start bleeding again. For sure, it would increase the pain that even now hammered against the inside of his skull. Ignoring the protest from his injured leg, he used it to pry off his left boot then took his knife from his pocket and set to work. He glanced down the trail every few minutes to make sure he wasn’t being pursued.

By the time he’d worked the heel off and dug a hollow in it, his head had grown wobbly. He brushed at his eyes to clear his vision. Then he rolled his money into a tight wad and wedged it into the hole he’d made.

Now to put the heel back on. He found a rock the size of his fist to use as a hammer. Getting the heel on proved harder than removing it but after ten minutes he decided it would do. Had his foot swollen? Must have because he could hardly pull the boot back on.

His head seemed full of air. He swiped his eyes again. Tired. So tired. He shouldn’t have pushed so hard the past two days. Now he was paying for it. He’d rest before he moved on. Just a few minutes.

* * *

“Mister, wake up.”

Seth squinted against the blare of light assaulting his eyes. Awareness of his surroundings came slowly, reluctantly. First, pain. Then thirst. Then the persistent questions of the man kneeling at his side.

How long had he been lying on the ground? Asleep? Unconscious? Either way, he’d wasted precious time. He tried to sit up but the world spun and he decided against the idea. “Who are you?” he managed to croak.

“Eddie Gardiner. Who are you?”

Gardiner? The name seemed familiar but Seth couldn’t place it. “Water,” he croaked.

The man held a canteen to Seth’s lips and he drank greedily before he gave his name. “Seth Collins.”

“Let’s get you on your horse. I’ll take you where you can get help for that leg.”

Seth wanted to argue. Needed to. He had to get to his pa. But his leg hurt like twelve kinds of torture. A little tending wouldn’t go amiss so he let Eddie Gardiner push him onto his horse and lead him away.

He clung to the saddle, which took far more effort than he would normally exert. He managed to tell Eddie about someone shooting him. “Didn’t see them.”

They approached a ranch. A pretty place with a big house on a hill overlooking the outbuildings. Among the structures below the house were a couple of two-story buildings, a cluster of red shacks all alike, a log cabin and a barn. All laid out nice and neat. A bridge spanned a river on one side, leading to more pens and small buildings beyond.

They approached the big house. “This is where I live,” Eddie said. “You’ll get help here.”

Seth managed to swing himself off his horse but didn’t protest when Eddie grabbed his arm and steadied him.

A young woman opened the door.

Seth’s vision was clouded with pain but he was alive enough to note the brown eyes that seemed to smile even when her mouth didn’t, a thick braid of rich brown hair coiled at the back of her head and a flawless complexion. Peaches and cream, his ma used to say.

“This man is injured. He needs our help.”

Someone shoved a chair under him and he sat. Several women clustered around him.

Eddie answered their questions. “His name is Seth Collins. He’s been shot. I found him a few miles to the south.” He gave a wave in that direction. “He didn’t see who did it.”

One of the women addressed Seth. “You’re welcome here. My name is Mrs. Gardiner. This is my sister-in-law, Jayne Gardiner.” She indicated the young woman who had answered the door. Again, the Gardiner name seemed familiar but his brain couldn’t find any more information.

“These are her friends, Mercy Newell and Sybil Bannerman.”

He noted Mercy had reddish-brown hair and brown eyes. Sybil was a pretty thing with blue eyes and blond curls. He hadn’t seen any white women in days and now he was surrounded by them. And him in such a sorry state.

“I wish the circumstances of your visit were different,” Mrs. Gardiner said.

The other three women had been whispering together and now Miss Jayne Gardiner cleared her throat. “I think I might have been the one who shot you.”

Seth stared at this sweet, young thing. His mind couldn’t make sense of her confession. “Why would you shoot me?” How would she know about the money he carried? He pushed aside the remnants of his fatigue. Refused to acknowledge it was pain that clouded his mind. Had someone at the ranch heard he’d collected his wages and ridden south? Were they all in this together?

“It was an accident. I wanted—” she swallowed hard “—I wanted to learn how to shoot a gun so I could protect myself and the ones I care about.”

Eddie jammed his fists on his hips. “I warned you about messing around with guns. I told you to leave them alone. Now do you see why?” He glowered at his sister.

Jayne tipped her chin up and faced her brother. “I must learn how to defend myself. I refuse to be a helpless female.”

Eddie sputtered but before he could get out a word, his wife intervened. “Let’s get this man upstairs so I can look at his wound.”

Jayne brought her attention back to Seth. “It’s my fault. I’ll take care of him.”

Mrs. Gardiner made a protesting sound that ended abruptly. “That would be fine.”

Eddie helped Seth regain his feet and steered him up the stairs that swept to the second story. At the top, he turned them right and into the first bedroom. Seth settled himself on the edge of the bed.

For the first time he gave his leg a good, hard study. It throbbed clear to the top of his head. His trousers were blood-and dirt-caked. He didn’t anticipate the skin beneath looked any prettier.

Mrs. Gardiner and Jayne had followed into the room.

“Eddie, he’ll need to remove those trousers so we can get at the wound,” Mrs. Gardiner said.

“Not my pants.” Seth’s protest sounded weak and he clamped his teeth together. Weakness was not something he cared to reveal.

“We’ll wait outside until you’re decent,” Mrs. Gardiner said as the ladies left the room. He heard them murmur in the hallway, Mrs. Gardiner asking Miss Jayne about the shooting.

Eddie knelt at Seth’s feet. “I’ll help you with your boots and pants.” He tugged at a boot.

Seth would have protested but had to bite back a groan. Cold sweat beaded his forehead.

“Can’t you simply roll up my pant leg?” Seth asked through his clenched teeth.

“Seems to me you’d welcome a clean outfit. Do you have another pair in your saddlebags?”

He grunted in the affirmative.

“I’ll get them later. First, let’s get you cleaned up.” Eddie helped remove the second boot and the soiled trousers then eased Seth to the bed and covered him with a sheet, but not before Seth saw the dirty, bloody wound.

“I’ll send the ladies in to tend that.” Eddie piled Seth’s boots and pants beside the door. Good. So long as the boots were where he could see them.

Jayne and Mrs. Gardiner again entered the room, Jayne carrying a basin of water.

He closed his eyes knowing he must endure having the wound cleansed. Ironic that it was at the hands of the same woman who had inflicted it.

Mrs. Gardiner eased back the sheet to expose his leg. “This doesn’t look good.”

Seth nodded. “I saw it.”

“It’s very dirty.” She shifted her gaze to Jayne. “When did you shoot him?”

She swallowed hard. “It was yesterday.”

Yesterday? He hadn’t realized he’d slept through the night. The urgency of his task struck him. He could not afford this delay. He half sat then fell back. Wouldn’t hurt none to have the wound cleaned up before he moved on.

Jayne pressed to Mrs. Gardiner’s side. She gasped as she saw the wound. She looked at Seth, her eyes wide as she met his gaze. Whether he saw distress, regret or something else entirely, he couldn’t hazard a guess.

“It was unintentional.” She sounded so defensive that in spite of his pain and the awkwardness of being flat on his back with two women in the room, he grinned.

“Seems you should have tended it a little sooner,” Mrs. Gardiner offered.

“Got someplace to be.” Again urgency gripped his innards. The last letter from the caregiver, that one Seth picked up a few days ago at the ranch headquarters, had been dated three weeks ago and gave little information to ease Seth’s concern about Pa’s well-being. Expecting you soon with necessary wages. Job here done.

How could a man give so little assurance in his few words? Seth needed to get to Pa before Crawford left. Might be he was already gone. He’d signed up for three months and no more. If he wasn’t there, who would be looking after Pa? The uncertainty burned the inside of Seth’s stomach.

Mrs. Gardiner tsked.

“Is he going to be okay?” Jayne asked. Her eyes filled with concern. And well they might. She’d shot him.

“We’ll fix you as well as we can,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “But you’re going to have to be careful you don’t get an infection.” She turned to Jayne. “You can clean it up.” She gave instructions.

He closed his eyes to endure the pain that would surely come from having the wound tended.

At first her touch was tentative then it grew firm, more assured. She was gutsy. He’d give her that.

“Why is it so important for you to learn to shoot?” His voice sounded hoarse. He hoped they’d put it down to some strong virtue, not the pain that seemed to clutch every part of his body.

“I need to be able to defend myself and others if the need ever again arises.”

He lifted his eyelids. “Again?” He ignored the pain as he eased up on his elbows to watch her.

“You best lie still.” She pressed firm, damp hands to his shoulders. “Moving makes you bleed more.” Her face was so close to his he could see the porcelain purity of her skin, the dark streaks of brown in her irises and something more—the determination in her gaze. He was beginning to think she was a headstrong woman who gave little heed to the results of her actions. Just the sort of woman he normally gave a wide berth to. For now, though, he must submit to her ministrations.

He sank back on the pillow. “You’ve been involved in gunplay before?”

“Only as a spectator. I saw someone shot to death.” Her jaw muscles tightened. “And I did nothing to prevent it because I didn’t know what to do. Didn’t even know how to shoot a gun.” Her gaze had shifted to a distant place beyond the walls of this room. “That’s when I decided I would never again be a helpless, pampered woman.” She gave a decisive nod. “I will learn to shoot a gun and be ready and able to defend myself and those I care about.” Her voice rang with determination. “Nothing will stop me.”

Seth watched her warily. He knew the folly of insisting on doing foolish acts. Good thing he would be leaving here in a matter of hours. He wouldn’t be around to see the result of her decision. But pity poor Eddie Gardiner trying to keep a rein on his sister.

He hoped for both their sakes that the job wasn’t too much for the man.

If he had time to spare he might offer to help with the task simply to prevent a worse disaster than having her shoot some innocent passerby in the leg. But thankfully he didn’t have time. Because for a man like him who took his responsibilities seriously, this was the sort of woman who spelled a heap of trouble.

Chapter Two

The ragged edges of the wound were covered with dirt and blood. As she cleaned it, fresh blood oozed out and thickened into globs. Jayne swallowed hard, holding back nausea. She’d never taken care of an injured person. Never even entered a sick room. But she would take care of this injured man. It was her responsibility, no matter how tight her lungs grew or how hard her pulse banged behind her eyes.

“Take the wet cloth and sponge away more of the dirt,” Linette said.

She dabbed at the dirt and allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. Another step on her journey to move beyond a pampered young lady who couldn’t take care of herself or help others.

“You need to scrub a little harder to get the dried stuff,” Linette said.

She rinsed the cloth clean and tackled the job again. When she’d finished the area around the wound, she turned to Linette. “What about the blood?”

“Clean right to the edges.” Linette leaned past Jayne’s shoulder to inspect the job. “Good. You’ve got it nice and clean. Now we need to use antiseptic on it.” Linette handed her a small container marked carbolic acid.

“Won’t it hurt?” she whispered to Linette.

“For a moment or two. But it’s necessary.”

Jayne turned to Seth. Knowing whatever pain he endured was her fault tore at her innards. “I’m going to use antiseptic. Linette says it might sting.”

Gritting her teeth at what she must do, she splashed the carbolic in the wound.

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the bed. His eyes caught and held hers. The dark, pain-filled look brushed a tender spot inside her.

“I’m sorry.” Her hands trembled as she set aside the bottle.

Sweat covered his brow.

She grabbed a towel from the stack nearby and dabbed at his forehead, which provided her plenty of opportunity to study him. He was big. She’d noticed that as he’d hobbled up the stairs at Eddie’s side. He had a thatch of dark—almost black—hair in need of a good combing. His hazel eyes, although clouded with pain, held her gaze in a steady grip.

She turned from her musing as Linette handed her dressing material. As she placed a pad over his wound and wrapped strips to secure it, she was aware of him watching her and longed for words to assure him she had nothing but his well-being in mind.

“I truly regret that you must suffer for my ineptness.”

“You’re doing fine.” The hoarse words grated on her heart.

She’d meant shooting him, but he’d taken it to mean her ministrations. “I’m doing my best.”

“I’ll get you a clean shirt,” Linette said. “Yours could do with a good scrubbing.” She slipped from the room.

Jayne turned to meet Seth’s gaze. “I very much regret that I am responsible for your pain.”

He studied her for a moment. “Who did you see shot to death?”

His question jolted through her, bringing all the memories of that day forward in a flash. “My fiancé, Oliver.” She twisted the towel she held, knotting her fingers into the material.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He lifted his hand and caught her fingers. His hand was large, work-hardened and steadying.

She tore her gaze from their linked hands and stared into his eyes. Her imagination read a dozen things into his gaze—comfort, concern, perhaps even the offer of protection.

She jerked her eyes away and stepped back from the bed to hang the towel over the back of the chair. The last thing she wanted was to be taken care of by anyone. “I’ll be fine on my own.” Her words were firm, almost as if daring him to think otherwise.

“No doubt you shall.” He sounded dismissive. And why not? He had no reason to concern himself with her and she didn’t want it.

Linette returned with a clean shirt and helped Seth slip out of his dirty one. “It’s a spare. Eddie has gone to tend your horse and get your things,” Linette said. “In the meantime rest and allow the bleeding to stop. We’ll be back in a bit to see if it has.”

Jayne followed Linette down the stairs and into the kitchen. She glanced about and let out a relieved sigh when she saw Sybil and not Eddie. She did not want to face her brother and once more insist she meant to do certain things that he might not consider appropriate for a proper, genteel young lady fresh from England. His concern about her behavior was at such odds with the free rein he gave Linette. He didn’t protest her doing all sorts of things Father would have objected to. Perhaps that was the difference. He didn’t have to answer to Father for Linette’s actions.

She dumped out the red-tinted water. No doubt Father would be shocked that she’d dirtied her hands in such a fashion. But with or without the approval of the men in her family, she meant to be more than a pretty fixture in some fancy house. She’d prove she was capable, though she wondered if anyone would ever believe it. Eddie didn’t think she needed to learn to protect herself because someone else would do it. Not many years past, her father didn’t think there was any reason for her to continue her studies because once she was married, Oliver would expect her to run his home and provide him with children. Other than that, she’d sit around the house doing needlework and looking content, eager for nothing more than for her husband to return and favor her with a smile.

As for Oliver, well, she’d proven she was of no use to him.

But she’d sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, crossed the hills and rivers and mosquito-ridden land of most of North America for the chance to start over. And to be a person who could take care of herself.

“Is he going to live?” Sybil asked.

Before she could reply, Linette spoke up. “He’ll be fine so long as he doesn’t get an infection in his wound.” She turned to Jayne, squeezing her arm. “This might be the perfect thing for you.” Her smile was gentle. “You couldn’t help Oliver but you can help this man. You’ll need to check his dressing in a couple of hours. If the wound stops bleeding he’ll doubtlessly be wanting to leave. But until it does, he needs to keep still.”

Jayne nodded. Linette was right. This was her chance to atone not only for what she’d done to Seth but what she’d failed to do for Oliver.

She’d grabbed his soiled trousers and shirt as they left the room. “I’ll wash these and mend them.” At least she had a certain amount of skill with needle and thread.

“There’s a tub and washboard hanging on the side of the house,” Linette said. “Scrub out the blood in cold water. I’ll heat water so you can give them a good wash.”

She went out to the back step, filled the tub with water and plunged the trousers and shirt into it. Though she’d never used a scrub board, she’d seen maids using one. Mimicking their actions, she rubbed the soiled shirt and pants up and down the ridges.

Mercy came around the corner of the house as she worked. “Do you remember the young cowboy named Cal?”

“I met him the first day when Eddie took us around and introduced us.” Good. With repeated rubbing across the scrub board, the blood came out, staining the water a muddy brown.

“He says he’ll teach me how to ride.”

“You already know how to ride.”

Mercy made a dismissive noise. “Side saddle. I’m going to learn to ride astride.”

Jayne straightened to give Mercy her full attention. “Mercy Newell, have you taken leave of your senses? Your parents will be shocked.”

Mercy’s merry laugh said enough but she spoke her mind, as well. “Who is going to tell them? Besides, I intend to enjoy every opportunity for adventure this trip offers.”

Jayne sighed. It was useless to try and dissuade Mercy. Besides, who was she to say what was safe and proper for anyone? If she were to listen to the voices around her, she would continue to be who she’d always been and she had already decided against that. She returned to scrubbing the clothing.

Mercy studied her for a long, quiet moment. “Why are you washing his clothes? Can’t he take them with him and tend to them himself? I understand he’ll only be here a few hours.” She tipped her head from one side to the other as she studied Jayne. “Does this have something to do with Oliver?”

Jayne didn’t bother trying to hide her shudder. “I shot some poor passing cowboy.” As she talked, something became clear. “But no, this isn’t about Oliver. It’s about me.”

Mercy wrapped an arm about Jayne’s shoulders and drew her close. “You can do it.”

Linette brought out hot water and helped Jayne fill the tub. “Here’s the soap.” At least her sister-in-law understood Jayne’s need to exert more control in her life. From what she’d heard, Linette had much the same desire when she came west. She said her first hurdle had been convincing Eddie she could be a pioneer wife. Her second had been making him understand he needed such.

A few minutes later Jayne had the shirt and pants pegged to the clothesline. They would dry quickly in the warm sunshine with a breeze to aid the process.

* * *

Seth jerked awake as Jayne entered the room. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Only to rest for a few minutes. He’d glanced at his dressing earlier. It had grown pink, which meant he was still bleeding. How much blood had he lost? Enough to make him feel weak. Not a state he liked.

Jayne moved to the side of the bed and folded back the sheet covering his leg. Her eyes softened with concern. “I’ll have to change the dressing. It’s blood soaked.”

He nodded. “Fix it up as best you can. I can’t afford to lie about.”

“What’s your big rush? I thought cowboys came and went and did pretty much as they pleased.” She folded back the dressing as she talked. Her cool fingers on his skin made it possible to ignore the pain as she uncovered his wound.

He sat up on his elbows to study it. “Is there an exit hole?”

“Yes. Linette checked for it earlier.”

He fell back on the pillow. “Well, that’s good news. And the bullet missed the bone.”

“This would never have happened if Eddie would have given me shooting lessons.”

“Why doesn’t he? Seems it would be the wisest thing to do.”

A quick smile curved her lips. “He doesn’t see it that way. Seems he still sees me as his little sister whom he was taught to protect.” She shook her head. “I keep telling him I don’t want to be protected anymore.” Despite the determined tones of her words, her voice remained calm, the English accent soft and soothing. Like the song of a dove.

“How long have you been here?” Then lest she think he meant this room he added, “At the ranch.”

“My friends and I arrived a few days ago. Mercy, Sybil and myself.”

Three unmarried young women in the Northwest Territories. They would draw men from every direction within a hundred-mile radius, if not more. Especially Miss Jayne. The light from the window next to the bed settled in her hair like a net. Brown was such a flat word for the richest color of hair he’d ever seen.

“We left England for various reasons,” she was saying. “Sybil’s parents are both dead and she longed to get away from her memories. Mercy lives for excitement. The whole trip has been one big adventure for her.” She eased his leg up so she could wrap strips of cloth about it. “That ought to take care of it for now.” She stepped back.

Pain pulsed in the wound. He wanted to ask her to press her fingers to the spot. Her touch would ease the hurt. He turned to her, then thought better of his foolishness. “And you came to forget about Oliver.”

Her expression hardened. “I will never forget. Nor do I want to.” She fluttered a hand. “Not that I wouldn’t gladly erase the images from my mind. But I don’t want to forget the helpless feeling I had as I stood back not knowing what to do.” She curled her hands in a gesture that suggested resolve.

Resolve was good but not when it was combined with stubbornness and refusal to listen to wise counsel. And he had already learned enough about Jayne to know in her case, it was. Despite her brother’s warnings she’d gone ahead and shot a gun. Shouldn’t the accidental shooting have persuaded her to abandon her idea of learning to shoot without a proper teacher?

She was a dangerous woman to know or be around. The kind that left others to bear the consequences of her choices. In this instance, he was the unfortunate one to pay for her recklessness. His jaw tightened as he thought of the burden her stubbornness placed on others.

He stared up at the ceiling. “What time is it?”

“Almost supper time.”

He sighed heavily. “I really need to get on the trail.”

“Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“I got a pa who needs me. He’s all I have.”

Her smile softened her expression and made her eyes dance. “He’s expecting you?”

He tried to think how to answer her question. Yes, Pa was expecting him, though not likely with the generous welcome she appeared to imagine.

Taking his silence for denial of her question, her eyebrows rose. “You’re planning a surprise? How nice. How long since you’ve seen each other?”

“Not exactly a surprise, though he isn’t likely expecting me. I joined a cattle drive four months ago and haven’t seen him since.”

Sympathy darkened her eyes. “Well, then of course you’re anxious to see him, but will a day or two make any difference? Especially if your leg needs the rest?”

“It’s not just my pa.” Shoot, he might as well tell the whole story. “My pa had a stroke five months ago. It left him crippled on one side and barely able to speak.” As he talked the memory of the situation tightened his throat. “I will never forget finding him alone and helpless.”

She patted his shoulder. “I think he wasn’t the only one who felt helpless. I think you did, too.”

He nodded. Held her gaze. Maybe she understood because of her own helpless feeling of watching her fiancé die. “The doctor said there were new treatments. Some patients had been having good success with manipulation of the paralyzed limbs. I would do anything to help my pa so I arranged to hire one of these people who do that. A man by the name of Crawford would care for my pa for a price, and put him through the exercises. In order to pay for his services, I joined a cattle drive. I paid him what I could up front and promised to deliver the rest at the end of the drive.”

“Surely a day or two won’t change that.”

“I don’t know. Our agreement was for three months but our drive ran into trouble crossing the Oldman River. Crawford drove a hard bargain. I sent a letter a few days ago saying I’d be there in a week. I don’t expect he’ll give me much leeway in my arrival time.” He sat up on his elbows and checked for his boots. They were there but his pants and shirt were missing. Never mind them. Eddie would find his clothes in the saddlebags. “I need to get there. I don’t want to put my pa’s health at risk. But more than that, I want to see for myself how Pa is.”

“You said he was all you have left. Your ma is dead?”

He nodded. “She passed away a few years ago.” She’d been ill a few days before he’d gone away on a job but she assured him she was fine. “Go on and do what you need to do,” she’d said. “I’ll be here when you get back.” She’d been there sure enough. In a pine box. He shouldn’t have left her knowing she’d been ill. Pa said he didn’t realize she was so sick. Seth knew even if he had, Pa wouldn’t have sought medical help. He didn’t think doctors had anything to offer. If Seth had been there he would have taken her to a doctor. She might still be alive.

“I’m sorry about your mother and I respect your anxiety about your father but it seems to me you better let your leg stop bleeding so you can get on your way without fear of dying on the trail.” She shuddered. “This is all my fault.”

No getting around that fact and yet he wanted to reassure her. But what could he say? “It was an accident.” His words offered little comfort to her and certainly didn’t provide an excuse in his mind. Accidents were usually the result of foolhardy choices and as such could, with a little common sense, be prevented.

“If I could ride I would deliver your money myself. I’d make sure your pa was cared for in the best possible way. I’d do it myself.”

Seth held back a protest. But he wasn’t sure she was the kind of person he’d send to care for his pa.

Fire filled her eyes. “See, that’s what’s wrong with being helpless. I need to learn to ride like a Western woman.”

He chuckled. “It’s a long ride for anyone not used to the saddle.” She’d be off the horse and leading it before she’d gone twenty miles. The idea tickled him clear to his toes.

She smoothed the sheet over him then poured a cup of water and offered it. Her cool fingers brushed his. Such fine, soft fingers. Evidence that she’d led a privileged life. Hardly the sort of woman to shoot a gun, or ride a horse, or do many of the things required of women in the west. Yet she seemed determined. And some things she needed to know, like starting a fire in the stove, or practical things like that, but where was her common sense? Even if she thought she needed to know how to shoot a gun, there was a reasonable way to do it and a bullheaded way. His leg was evidence that she’d chosen the latter, unwilling to bide her time for proper instruction.

He knew the risks of people who didn’t listen to common sense. He lived daily with the consequence. He scrubbed at his chin, vaguely aware he needed a shave.

“Linette said if your wound was still bleeding you should continue to rest. You have lost a lot of blood already. I don’t know how much a person has to lose.” She shuddered. “Seems like a lot.”

He wondered if she meant Oliver. Had she watched him bleed to death?

She sucked in air and appeared to dismiss whatever thoughts shivered up and down her spine. “She says she’ll provide you a tray so you can eat in bed.”

“Eat in bed? No way. Only invalids and weak women take their meals in bed.” He was neither.

“That’s just your pride speaking. If it means your leg would stop bleeding, shouldn’t you be willing to do it so you can resume your journey?” She sounded so reasonable that he felt like a small child having a pout.

“Very well. I’ll take supper in bed.” He held up his hand to make sure she understood. “But only this once so my leg will stop bleeding.”

She patted his shoulder. “One meal in bed won’t make you a permanent invalid.”

How could he protest when she sounded so reasonable? Pride was a foolish emotion that he had never struggled with before, and now it had reared its ugly head. He didn’t like it.

“I’ll be back later. Try and rest.” She slipped from the room.

He stared at the ceiling. He curled and uncurled his fingers and lay as still as possible, willing the bleeding to stop. Only common sense kept him in this bed. Like Jayne said, he didn’t want to die at the side of the trail. That would not help Pa. But being sensible had never before been so hard.

Please make the bleeding stop. Help me get there in time. He didn’t know if God had a mind to listen to a prayer from a cowboy with little faith. God sure hadn’t listened to any prayer from him in the past, but Ma had often counseled him to “cast all your cares on God.” He’d done little of it in the past but he was powerless at the moment to do anything else. Guess he had nothing to lose by casting.

Maybe he should ask for a hedge around Jayne while he was at it. Seems she’d need divine protection, as would everyone around her if she meant to blindly pursue her own plans despite the risks.

Seemed to him people should consider the dangers involved before they blindly followed their own path.

Chapter Three

Jayne paused outside the door to Seth’s room to adjust the tray on which she’d placed soup, buttered bread, pudding and tea. It was heavier than she expected and hard to balance as she turned the knob. Never before had she realized how skilled the serving maids were to carry on one hand trays piled high with dishes. How did they do it?

“I brought you tea. Supper,” she corrected herself as she then stepped inside the room. She positioned the tray over his legs. She plucked another pillow from the shelf and reached around to tuck it at his back. Their faces were inches apart. His eyes flashed pine green and held her gaze so she couldn’t jerk away. Her heartbeat fluttered in her throat like she’d swallowed a tiny butterfly and it was trying to get free. Her cheeks grew warm. Why was she staring into the eyes of a stranger? And why did it cause such an odd reaction?

From somewhere deep inside, her upbringing exerted itself. She finished adjusting the pillows so he could sit up enough to eat and stepped back, her hands folded at her waist.

“Linette is going to check on your wound after you’ve eaten. She has something that will stop the bleeding. She got it from an Indian woman in the area.” She rattled on, not allowing herself a chance to consider her silly behavior.

He tasted the soup. “This is very good. Sure beats the beans and biscuits I’ve lived on for the last few days.”

“I’ll tell Linette you like it. I’m learning to cook, too. Linette says it’s not difficult. She came out west last fall and had to learn the hard way.”

“The hard way?”

“By trial and error.” She chuckled as she thought of Linette’s stories. At Seth’s questioning look, she said, “She didn’t know how to bake bread and tried to bury the lump of failed dough in a snowbank but Eddie found her doing it.” Baking bread was another thing to add to her list. “And she didn’t know how to cook beans and served them hard. I don’t know any of those things, either, but I will learn.”

“Far more practical than shooting guns.”

“Did your ma know how to shoot?”

He considered her. “Well, now I suppose she did though I don’t recall her ever doing so. Why would she when there was Pa and I and—”

She waited for him to finish but he suddenly concentrated on his food. “And?” she prompted.

He shrugged. “And other people. How did you get to the ranch?”

His question, so out of context, caught her by surprise and she answered without thinking. “We crossed the ocean on a ship then took a train, a steamboat and then the stagecoach.”

“You and your two companions?”

“An older couple escorted us as far as Fort Benton. Why do you ask?”

“Because you talk like you are helpless yet I think it took a great deal of guts and ability to navigate that trip.”

She stared at him. No one—not even she—had acknowledged that it had been a challenge. “I learned a lot.”

“And maybe discovered you could do more than you thought you could.”

“Maybe.” She handed him his tea. His words echoed in her head. Could she do more than she thought she could? She intended to find out on this visit to the ranch. Funny that it had taken a stranger, a victim of her ineptitude, to point out something she’d overlooked.

“Thank you.” She ducked her head at the surprised look he shot her way.

“For what?”

“For making me see that I’m not a helpless, pampered woman.”

He grinned. “I don’t know about pampered. I suspect you are a woman of many privileges but no one has to be helpless unless they choose to be.”

“And I choose otherwise. In the past I have been far too compliant.”

He put his spoon down and considered her solemnly. She considered him right back. “Miss Gardiner—”

“Please, call me Jayne.”

“Jayne, then. There is a vast difference between not being helpless and being foolhardy.”

Her breath stalled halfway up her lungs. She forced her words past the catch in her throat. “Are you saying I’m the latter?” Her words were spoken softly but surely he heard the note of warning.

“What do you think?” But he didn’t give her a chance to say. “Shooting a gun willy-nilly without regard for passersby, without knowing proper safety technique sounds just a little foolish to me. Doesn’t it to you?”

“It sounds to me,” she replied, her tight jaw grinding the words, “like a woman ready and willing to do whatever is required to learn how to take care of herself.” She headed for the door. Then she retraced her steps to face him. “I came here intending to do my best to make your evening pleasant. I meant to bring my friends to visit you.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Too big a job for you to do alone?”

“I think I can handle one lame cowboy.”

“Just like you can handle a gun.”

She pressed her hand to her lips. The man had a way of saying all the wrong things and igniting an irritation that burned away reason. “You know I even thought of reading a book to you so you could rest.” She let out a blast of overheated breath. “But now I believe I will leave you to your own devices. After all, you wouldn’t want the company of a foolish, useless—” Heaven help her, she couldn’t stop her voice from quivering and stopped to get control of her emotions. “Silly woman.” She hurried toward the door.

He was just like her father and her brother and, come to think of it, Oliver. None of them saw her as having any useful purpose other than to grace their table, encourage them whether or not she agreed with them and do nothing to upset the status quo.

Well, they could all look for that kind of woman somewhere else. She would no longer be such a person.

She didn’t need any of them to help her achieve her goals.

Seth’s voice reached her before she made it down three steps. “Miss Gardiner, Jayne, please come back. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Ignoring his call, she returned to the kitchen where the others had cleaned up the dishes from the meal.

“How is he?” Linette asked.

“Anxious to be on his way.”

“Is his wound still bleeding?”

“I didn’t check. I said you would do it.”

“Of course.” Linette went to the pantry and returned with a small leather pouch. “I’ll take this along in case I need it.” She headed for the stairs. “Aren’t you coming?”

Jayne shook her head. “I don’t think he needs two females fussing about him.” Especially one he considered foolish. His words continued to sting.

Mercy draped an arm about her shoulders. “What happened?”

Jayne gave a tight smile. “What makes you think anything did?”

“Because I know that look. Right, Sybil?”

Sybil moved to Jayne’s other side. “Was he rude to you? Inappropriate? I knew you shouldn’t have gone up there alone.”

“He wasn’t rude or inappropriate.”

“Then what?” Mercy demanded.

“He said I was foolish to want to learn to shoot. Said there were lots of people around to take care of me.” He hadn’t exactly said that but it was implied. “He seems to think I’m a threat to everyone’s safety because of my desire to know how to handle a firearm.”

Mercy choked back a chuckle. “I suppose he might have cause to think so.”

“I’ll be more careful in the future.”

Sybil sighed. “I do wish you’d give up this idea but you are far too stubborn to do so.”

“I’m not stubborn. I’m—I’m resolved.” She liked that word much better. “I am resolved to never again feel helpless in the face of danger. To never again feel useless when something needs doing. Why, I might even learn to ride astride like Mercy plans. Just think of the things I could do.” She could offer to ride to Seth’s pa with the money. Of course she would never do such a thing. Despite Seth’s very harsh opinion of her she understood some things simply weren’t safe for a woman, like riding alone across the prairie.

Linette descended the stairs, carrying the tray. “I think that will stop the bleeding so the poor man can get on his way. Jayne, he asked that you keep him company for a few hours. I would do it myself but Grady needs to get ready for bed.” Grady was the five-year-old-boy Linette had become guardian of after his mother died on the ship to Canada. Originally she meant to leave him with his father in Montreal but the man said he couldn’t take care of a small boy. Jayne’s heart went out to Grady. Imagine having your father turn away from you. Why, it had to be every bit as bad as watching a fiancé die from a gunshot wound. At least Grady had Linette and Eddie who loved him and had adopted him.

Jayne’s resentment at Seth’s comments vanished as she thought of how harsh life could be. Besides, she was responsible for his injury.

“Why don’t you two come with me?” she asked her two friends. “I’m sure he’d enjoy your scintillating company.” She didn’t want to be alone with him, provide him with another opportunity to share his opinion of her.

“Sounds like fun.” Mercy steered them down the hall without giving Sybil a chance to voice her opinion.

* * *

Seth stared at the blank white ceiling. Not even a crack so he could make childish pictures in his mind. There were days in his past when he’d thought how pleasant it would be to have nothing to do but lay about. He’d changed his mind in the last few hours. Every ten minutes he decided he’d had enough rest and his leg was well enough for him to move on. After all, it wasn’t like he didn’t have things to do. Important things. But he wasn’t foolish enough to risk his life or limb. Mrs. Gardiner had packed the wound with some kind of powder and said she hoped that would stop the bleeding.

She’d given him a smile. “You could do your part, too, by staying still.”

He meant to do his best to comply.

He grinned at the ceiling. Jayne had taken exception to his suggestion she might be foolish in pursuing her desire to shoot a gun. He’d been careful to add without someone to teach her.

Jayne’s voice came from the stairs and he turned to the door. Another voice answered her. And then a third. He couldn’t hear what was said.

Perhaps she wasn’t coming to see him.

He lifted his head, watching the door. As the footsteps neared, paused, he held his breath.

The door opened. Jayne stepped in, her two friends behind her.

“We’ve come to keep you company,” Mercy said.

Jayne had said Mercy wanted adventure. The way her eyes danced as if she had a secret she couldn’t wait to divulge, he guessed she managed to find her share of excitement wherever she went.

“It’s partly my fault Jayne shot you,” Mercy said. “You see, I was attempting to teach her to shoot the pistol but she closed her eyes. Completely missed the target.”

Sybil shivered. “I tried to warn them it wasn’t a good idea.”

Seth shifted his gaze to her. Jayne had said Sybil wanted to get away from sad memories. There was a darkness in her eyes that spoke of hard times. He recognized it from seeing it in the mirror if he looked hard enough.

Then he brought his gaze to Jayne who hadn’t said anything yet. He wanted to tell her he didn’t mean to hurt her. But he didn’t know how without retracting his words, and he meant them. Foolish choices caused unbearable consequences. He didn’t want her to learn that the hard way.

She shifted her attention to something past his shoulder.

Mercy eased closer. “Tell us about yourself.”

“Not much to tell. I’m just a cowboy who’s finished a cattle drive. But I expect you all have your stories.” Maybe he could get them talking about themselves.

“Tons of them.” Mercy appeared to be the spokeswoman. Sybil looked ill at ease and Jayne looked stubborn. Must be a mule somewhere in her heritage.

Compliant, she said? Not a hope.

“I’m going to learn to ride,” Mercy said.

“Like a man,” Sybil murmured, her voice conveying shock.

“Men are allowed to do all sorts of things that women aren’t. It’s not fair.” Mercy gave another little pout. Then she brightened and gave Seth her attention. “We were talking about you, though.”

He shrugged. “I’m sure you’re far more interesting than I am.” He’d told Jayne about his pa and even his ma. But he didn’t intend to reveal any more. There were some things best left buried in the past. “Tell me about your families. I know Eddie is Jayne’s brother but nothing more.”

“I’m an only child,” Sybil said with a heavy tone.

“It sounds like you regret it.”

She nodded. “I suppose I do. With my parents dead I am all alone except for an elderly cousin.”

Jayne and Mercy pressed close to her on either side. “You have us.”

Sybil smiled and gave a little chuckle. “So I do. One of you set on turning the world upside down.” She nudged Mercy. “And the other bound and determined to shoot her way to forgetfulness.” She patted Jayne’s arm as if to say she meant no harm.

Mercy laughed. “She’s got a way with words, doesn’t she?”

Jayne shifted her gaze about the room until it came hesitantly, and likely reluctantly, to Seth. The way she squinted dared him to point out he had said something similar to Sybil’s words. “It’s not like that at all. I only want to be strong and prepared.”

Sybil patted her arm again. “Of course. We understand.”

Mercy continued to grin at her friend.

Seth jerked his chin slightly hoping she’d understand he had no desire to continue their disagreement.

The look she gave him had the power to start a fire. He tore his gaze from her scowl. “What about your family, Mercy?”

She sobered and got a faraway look in her eyes. “I’m the only living child. I had a brother who died when he was eight.”

“How old were you?”

“Six.”

A lot younger than he had been. Was it any easier at a young age? He couldn’t imagine it was.

“He got sick,” she added, then shook herself and turned to Jayne. “Jayne here is the one with an abundance of family. Tell him.”

“He already knows about Eddie. I also have two younger sisters.”

He nodded encouragement and she continued.

“Bess is almost eighteen and Anne is fifteen.”

“Do you miss them?”

A smile curved her lips. “More than I thought I would. The things with brothers and sisters is you get used to having them around and don’t think about it much then you find yourself turning to speak to them and with a start, you realize they aren’t there.”

She’d so concisely identified how the loss of a sibling felt. He fixed his attention on the ceiling as a distant pain surfaced. Not as strong as it had once been but still pulsing with life. He’d reconciled that it would never die.

Mercy, the bold spokeswoman, broke the silence. “So where are you headed?”

“Corncrib, Montana.”

“Got someone there waiting for you?” She waggled her eyebrows teasingly. “A wife, a girlfriend?”

“Just my pa.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed.

“What? You think I look like a man who has a wife?”

Jayne didn’t give Mercy a chance to answer. “His pa is sick.”

Sybil edged closer. “I’m sorry. I suppose you’re anxious to get there and see him.”

He heard her unspoken conclusion that his pa was on the verge of death and set out to correct it. “Pa had a stroke. He’s in the care of a very capable man. But it’s been four months since I’ve seen him. I’m anxious to see how he’s doing. I’m hoping he’s greatly improved.”

Jayne patted his shoulder and for the first time since she’d fled his room upset by his comments, the tension in his neck eased. “I’m sure everything will work out. Doesn’t God promise us that ‘all things work together for good to them that love God’?’”

Her gaze delved deep into his, searching, challenging.

“I know God’s in control of the universe and nature.” He spoke slowly, bringing his thoughts into words. “But I think He expects us to take care of the details ourselves.” He watched Jayne’s expression change as she considered his answer. It went from surprise to denial to confusion.

“I think we have to trust Him even when we don’t understand or we don’t possess enough faith,” she said.

Mercy spoke. “I kind of think Seth is right. I mean, why would God bother with little stuff?”

“Oh, no. It’s not like that,” Sybil protested. “He cares about everyone. We have to believe that.”

“I do believe.” Jayne shook her head. “But sometimes it’s a struggle to feel it, especially when awful things happen.”

“That’s when we need to trust even harder.”

Silence filled the room for a moment after Sybil’s comment. Seth lacked the energy to argue against it.

“We should leave you in peace,” Jayne said and the three of them walked toward the door.

The loneliness of the room lay on his chest like a weight, and fleeting memories clawed at his throat. He didn’t fancy being alone any more than he had to be. “Wait a minute.”

Jayne hung back.

“Do I recall you offering to read to me?” he asked her.

“That was before.”

“Before what?” He knew what she meant but pretended otherwise.

She shrugged. “Before now.”

The other two hovered at the doorway. Mercy nudged Sybil. “Are they talking about the fact he called her foolish?”

Sybil studied Jayne and then Seth. “I suspect so.” Her gaze bored into Seth’s. “Be warned, if you hurt one of us you deal with all of us.”

He held her look steadily for a moment, pretending to be contemplating her warning. But he couldn’t maintain a serious expression as he imagined being pummeled by their girlish punches. He grinned widely. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Good.” Sybil took the girls each by an arm. “We’ll help Jayne pick out some books,” she said as they disappeared out the door.

He settled back, wondering if Jayne would return. He didn’t regret being honest with her but hoped she would get over feeling offended.

She returned in a few minutes with four books. “Which would you like me to read?” She gave the titles.

“The Arabian Nights.”

“You’re familiar with the stories?”

“My father used to read it aloud.” He hadn’t thought of that for years. At one time, Pa would read aloud every night during the winter. Stories of adventure in a different time and place. When had it stopped?

The answer came readily. After Frank’s death.

All day he’d been fighting the memory but could no longer push it aside. He was fourteen, Frank sixteen. Seth’s long-time friend, Sarah, had caught Frank’s attention and the two of them had been acting silly all afternoon. But when Frank teased Sarah to slide on the thin ice of the river, Seth had begged them to be sensible.

“Life is too short to waste on rules and cautions, little brother,” Frank had called as he ran onto the ice and skidded a good distance. “This is fun.”

“Sarah, don’t go. The ice is too thin,” Seth had said, wanting to yank Frank back to safety.

“It’s holding Frank okay.” Ignoring his warning, she’d raced after Frank.

Seth had hovered on the bank, longing to join them but knowing the dangers.

He’d heard the crackling of the fragile ice and called out a warning but Frank and Sarah only laughed and continued their merriment. Then suddenly Frank had broken through the ice. Sarah, chasing after him, had fallen in, too.

A shudder raced through him as the horror of that day returned to his memories. Oh, how he’d tried to erase it from his mind. He’d succeeded in burying it so deep he thought it would never surface. But today proved how futile his hope for forgetfulness was.

Frank and Sarah had screamed Seth’s name. Their panicked voices echoed through his head and he closed his eyes, which did nothing to stop the pictures playing in his head.

He’d grabbed a branch that lay at his feet and raced to where they’d broken through. His feet had moved like lead. His legs had refused to make the speed he wanted. Every yard had seemed an eternity. Sarah had clung to the edge of the ice. He couldn’t see Frank and then he’d bobbed up.

“I’ll get you. Hang on.” He’d flung himself on his belly and wriggled forward, holding out the branch before him. As soon as Sarah could reach it, he’d called out to her to grab it. “Lay as flat as you can. I’ll pull you out.” The ice dipped toward the hole and water crawled toward him. Would they all drown in the murky water? He’d toed himself more firmly in place.

Inch by inch he’d pulled her to shore and threw his coat over her before he went back for Frank.

But Frank had disappeared. Seth called his name over and over. He’d jabbed at the hole. In desperation he’d yanked off his boots and dove into the cold water. The shock had numbed him clear through. He’d opened his eyes underwater, tried to find his brother but saw nothing. The current tugged at him. He’d surfaced before it sucked him away. So cold he could barely function he’d somehow managed to pull himself out of the hole. He didn’t recall getting himself and Sarah to the house. Only the emptiness of returning without Frank. And the shocked look on his parents’ faces.

Frank’s body was found three days later, caught on a log downstream. The same day that Sarah had died of pneumonia.

The emptiness had stayed, a permanent, unwelcome guest that consumed their home. Consumed Ma and Pa, too, and took residence in Seth’s heart.

Never would he forget how he’d failed. He had done all he could but had been unsuccessful in taking care of those he loved.

He realized Jayne was speaking and jerked his thoughts back to the present.

“Eddie read them to 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? I don’t think I’d explain it like that. What I’ll say if anyone asks is that I got hit by a stray bullet.”

Eddie cleared his throat. “There’ll be no more stray bullets. Jayne, I forbid you to continue this foolish endeavor.”

She bristled like a cat stroked the wrong way. She ducked her head and stared at her plate but her lips pressed together in protest.

Eddie was right about it being foolish but hearing it from the other man’s lips made Seth want to protest. Why didn’t he teach his sister what she needed to know? It would surely make it safer for everyone on the ranch. He guessed from Jayne’s expression that she had no intention of abandoning her plan, despite her brother’s direct order.

“Would you ask the blessing, dear?” Linette said, ending the tension between brother and sister.

Eddie prayed and then food was passed around. Fried pork and eggs, fried potatoes, fresh biscuits and syrup and plenty of milk.

Seth helped himself. “I heard you were a good cook, Mrs. Gardiner. This certainly proves it.”

“Thank you. The girls are learning to cook, too. If you were around longer, you would get a chance to evaluate their progress.”

He pretended a great deal of shock. “I hope their cooking lessons aren’t as deadly as their shooting lessons.”

Beside him Jayne choked. He had the pleasure of patting her on the back. At first, he got a bit of satisfaction out of her discomfort but after the second pat, he had an urge to pull her into his arms, rub her back and assure her she would be safe because he would personally see to it. Instead, he dropped his hands to his lap. He didn’t need one more person in his life to be responsible for.

After she stopped coughing and wiped her eyes, she turned and gave him a look fit to cure leather. “I could have choked to death.”

He felt suddenly remorseful. “I’m sorry. It was a careless remark.”

She nodded. “Then consider us even. I didn’t mean to hurt you even as you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

He wondered if she referred to the choking incident or the words he’d spoken the previous day. But it didn’t matter which. He was leaving today and would prefer to go with no ill feelings left behind. He nodded. “Agreed.”

Conversation around the table turned to more general things—plans for the day, who was going where, what needed to be done.

His nerves tensed when Eddie asked Jayne what her plans were.

“I wanted to explore a bit more.”

Seth relaxed. It sounded like a safe activity. He’d be in no mortal danger as he rode away. And may God have mercy on any strangers riding nearby if Jayne meant to continue with her plans.

Again he wondered why Eddie didn’t simply give her a few lessons. Surely that would soon satisfy her.

When the meal ended, Eddie pushed from the table. Seth pushed back, too.

“Thank you for your hospitality. I’ll be on my way now.”

Linette favored him with a sweet smile. “We understand but you’re always welcome at Eden Valley Ranch.”

That’s when he recognized the name Gardiner. Eddie Gardiner and his wife were well spoken of in the western ranches. “I’ve heard of this place.”

“You have?” Linette asked. “I hope it’s been good things.”

Eddie wrapped his arm about his wife’s shoulders. “What else would he hear?”

“It’s been good,” Seth assured them. “You’re known to offer hospitality to all, regardless of race or social status. People say Mrs. Gardiner nurses the sick, helps the poor and Eddie here is considered a man of honor and integrity.”

“That’s lovely,” Sybil said.

“We’re honored,” Eddie added.

Seth leaned back on his heels and grinned. “I heard a tale about feeding a starving Indian family and outrunning wolves. Is it true?”

Linette and Eddie grinned at each other.

Jayne answered his question. “It’s true. My brother refused to hang an Indian who tried to steal a cow to feed his starving family. Instead, he took him meat. On the way back, wolves attacked them and Linette helped beat them off.” She jammed her fists on her hips. “I intend to become just as brave and proficient.”

Linette reached out and squeezed Jayne’s hand. “And you shall.”

Eddie opened his mouth but Linette jabbed her elbow into his ribs and he closed it without speaking. Had he been about to reissue his orders to Jayne?

Instead, he said to Seth, “I’ll take you to the barn. Your horse is there.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jayne said and no one argued otherwise. Certainly not Seth who looked forward to a private goodbye. “Wait a moment.” Jayne turned aside and brought him his shirt and pants, neatly folded as if they’d come from the best Chinese laundry.

“You washed them?”

Mercy didn’t wait for Jayne to answer. “She washed them, mended them and ironed them. Your clothes could not be in better hands.” Her dark eyes challenged him as if informing him that Jayne had many admirable qualities.

He wasn’t about to argue. No doubt she did, but shooting wasn’t one of them any more than was being bullheaded about it.

“Thank you. I didn’t expect this.”

She tipped her head to one side and lifted one shoulder. “I doubt you expected to be shot by a woman, either.”

He choked on a startled laugh.

Mercy and Sybil chuckled.

“Jayne, there’s to be no more shooting.” Eddie sounded like he was used to giving orders and having them obeyed.

As the three of them traipsed down the hill, he heard Jayne whisper beside him, “You can’t order me around.” No doubt she hadn’t meant for anyone to hear her. Seth worried that things might get a little tense between her and her brother if they kept up the way they were.

Grady shouted from the doorway. “Papa, I’m coming, too.”

Eddie turned to wait for him. “You two go ahead.”

Jayne and Seth continued onward. He shoved the barn door open, and a cowboy nodded a greeting as he saddled a horse.

Seth found his horse in a nearby stall and grabbed his saddle and bridle that hung in the tack room. He noticed they’d been cleaned until they shone. He hadn’t expected that kind of service.

The animal, too, had been groomed until his coat shone. Someone certainly knew how to look after things.

As he lifted the saddle into place, his leg spasmed painfully. It was only a gunshot wound, he reminded himself. Not much more than a flesh wound. Nothing to slow him down.

He led the horse through the door, Jayne at his side.

“I hope you arrive in good time, that the man is still tending your pa and that he is much improved.”

He smiled down at her. “Thanks. I can’t say it’s been fun but it’s been unusual meeting you.”

She chuckled. “I dare say it’s the most unusual meeting either of us has had.”

He nodded, suddenly reluctant to leave. Like that made any sense. But something about Jayne pulled at his thoughts. Of course she did. The woman needed someone to keep an eye on her and make sure she didn’t get herself into more trouble.

He chomped down on his molars. It would have to be someone other than himself because he’d had more than his share of trying to take care of people who didn’t bother to take care of themselves.

“You stay out of trouble, hear?” He swung up into the saddle. “Don’t go shooting any more cowboys.”

A stubborn look crossed her face and then she smiled. “One has proven to be enough trouble. I won’t go for two.”

He laughed and touched the brim of his hat.

She stepped back and gasped. “Seth, look at your leg.”

He did. His pant leg was blood-soaked.

Eddie had reached them and saw the same thing. “You can’t leave like that. It would be foolish.”

Seth stared at his leg then shifted his gaze to Jayne’s eyes, saw her look go from shock to compassion. “Seth, you have to rest it.”

He nodded. He knew he had no choice. “The money...”

“Tell Eddie about it.”

Knowing the reputation of the Gardiners, he knew he could entrust his money to Eddie. “It’s in the heel of my boot. Can you see it goes to Murdo Collins in Corncrib, Montana? I need it to get there as soon as possible.”

He swung from the saddle and began to pry his boot off.

Eddie clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go to the house and take care of that. Linette can tend your wound. Looks like you’ll be here a few more days.” He called to a cowboy barely old enough to call himself a man. “Buster, take care of this man’s horse.”

“Yes, boss.” Buster’s chin had likely never met a razor yet. His hair was shaggy as if it had not seen a pair of scissors in a long time. And his too-short trousers were held in place with a braid of rope.

“Kid looks like he’s lost,” Seth said as they climbed back up the hill.

“He showed up a couple of weeks back asking for a job. Seems he’s all alone in the world. But he doesn’t take kindly to help. Linette offered to give him a pair of trousers from her supply closet but he refused. Said when he earned them, he’d buy them.”

“Guess you can’t fault him for that.”

“You have to allow a man, however young, to have a certain amount of pride. He’s proving to be a good man. He took care of your saddle and groomed your horse.”

He was struck by an errant thought. Maybe Jayne also needed to keep her pride intact by being able to use a gun.

Eddie went through to the kitchen with Seth and Jayne behind him. Seth sank to a chair and removed his boot and pried off the heel. He handed the wad of money to Eddie. “Can I write a note to accompany it?”

Jayne disappeared down the hall and ducked into the room with the desk and books. She returned with paper and pencil, handing it to him with a sad smile.

He wrote a note to Pa saying he had been delayed but would be home as soon as possible. To Crawford he wrote, “There is more here than what I owe you. Please keep it in return for staying with Pa until I get home.” He folded both pieces of paper and handed them to Eddie.

“I’ll see this gets to Edendale right away. We should be able to catch the stage. Petey, the driver, can be trusted to make sure it gets to your pa.” He left the house to tend to the task.

Seth tried to relax. The money would make its way to Corncrib as fast as he could take it himself. But what about Pa? Would Crawford stay? Or would his pa be alone, unable to care for himself?

Linette retrieved her little leather pouch of herbs. “I think it’s best if you return upstairs.” She went down the hall.

Seth rose, preparing to follow.

Jayne reached out and squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry.”

He made up his mind. “The money is on its way. That should keep Crawford there for a few more days.” No point in worrying about things he couldn’t change, especially when this gave him a chance to change one important thing. “My leg will heal fine if I rest it. While I am here you will get shooting lessons from me. That way I can leave with a clear conscience knowing you won’t kill someone accidentally and end up in jail.” He went down the hall and up the stairs to have Linette pack the wound with the herbs.

“They’ll do their work if you give them a chance,” Linette said. “I suggest you don’t move around much for a day or two.”

“I’d sure like to sit in the sun.”

She nodded. “That should be okay so long as you don’t put any weight on that leg. I’ll put a chair by the door.” He hopped down the stairs after her and sat beside the big doors. Being idle weighed heavily but at least he could watch people coming and going.

Jayne and her friends passed the barn toward the bridge. They had said they were going exploring.

He hoped the exploring didn’t involve a pistol. Surely she would wait for the lessons he’d promised... Unless she was too bullheaded to listen to reason.

* * *

Jayne pressed her lips together as she joined Mercy and Sybil. Seth was just like Eddie, barking out commands and expecting her to jump. Yes, she wanted to learn to shoot. But she would have liked it better if he’d offered rather than ordered. Like she’d kill anyone! Her eyes narrowed. Was he any different than her father, or Eddie or Oliver? Did he see her as simply a foolish young woman who needed him to protect her?

She snorted. “I don’t need him protecting me.” She spoke the words aloud without regard to her friends.

They stopped and waited for her to fall in between them.

“Who?” Mercy demanded.

“Why, Seth, of course,” Sybil said. “Jayne, accept it. There is something about you that brings out the chivalry in men.”

“I don’t want chivalry.”

Sybil made a protesting noise. “Who doesn’t want a man who is courteous and considerate, honorable and loyal?”

“Put that way, I have to agree but he thinks he can order me around. He acts like he has to take care of me or I’ll cause a disaster.” She shuddered, remembering how her lack of action had caused a terrible death. “I don’t need a man taking care of me, thank you very much.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he would give me shooting lessons.”

Mercy and Sybil ground to a halt. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yes. But I’d like to be asked not told.” She wondered if her words sounded as petty to her friends as they did to her.

“Either way, seems to me you’re getting a gift,” Mercy said. “The lessons you want from a man whose eyes darken when he looks at you.” She sighed dreamily.

“They do not,” Jayne protested. At least Mercy hadn’t said Jayne’s eyes got all starry when she looked at him. As if they would. Seth was proving to be rather annoying and overbearing. “I don’t need that kind of man in my life.”

“Oh?” Sybil’s voice was sweet. “What kind of man do you need?”

“Right now? None. My heart is locked up tightly. I won’t open it again. It’s like asking to be hurt.”

“You’ll change your mind about that one day,” Mercy said.

“Nope. Not me. Now let’s go follow the river and see where it goes.”

Sybil laughed. “It goes to the ocean. Are you planning to go that far?”

She laughed at Sybil’s nonsense. “So maybe I’ll see where it comes from.”

Sybil pointed toward the mountains. “From the snow up there.”

“But it’s August. Surely the snow is all melted. So where does the water come from that keeps flowing past the ranch?”

Mercy flung her arms wide. “Who cares? It’s a lovely day. Let’s enjoy it.”

Jayne sighed her agreement. The sun glistened off the rugged mountains and dappled the deciduous trees. A gentle zephyr tickled her skin and danced along the grass. Birds rejoiced from every direction. She breathed deep. “It smells so good. Like the air is full of a thousand wild flowers.”

They followed the river past the pens and along a grassy slope. A few steps farther and they entered a grove of trees.

“We should have brought a gun,” Mercy said. “You could practice your shooting.”

“You don’t think there are enough injured cowboys already?” Sybil asked.

“We could go for one each.”

Jayne knew Mercy was teasing but Sybil gave them both a this-isn’t-amusing look.

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