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He could have been a fly on the wall for all the attention she paid him. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Where you going?”
“To get the needle and silk.”
“I don’t need stitches.” He was talking to air.
“Lady says you need stitching,” Cougar said, coming over to the bed.
“You don’t have to sound so all-fired cheery about the prospect,” Asa muttered.
“Just being neighborly.”
“Uh-huh.” Asa pointed to the door. “Why don’t you try being neighborly back at your place?”
McKinnely didn’t take the hint. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves. Elizabeth came back in the room, a brown wooden box in her hand. He didn’t need to ask what was in it. Every ranch had its medical supplies. Just as no cowboy ever wanted the lid lifted.
“Elizabeth, I forbid you to come near me with that stuff.”
As if she hadn’t heard, she proceeded to pour whiskey into a cup. She handed it to him. “Drink this.”
He sniffed. Pure, unadulterated whiskey scoured his nostrils with its scent. He sniffed again. Real whiskey. Maybe even Kentucky sipping stock. He tossed the contents back and held out the glass for a refill. From the corner of his eye, he saw Cougar perking up with anticipation.
“That your father’s stock?” Cougar asked, as soon as Elizabeth had topped off Asa’s glass.
“I assume so.” She threaded silk through a needle, then dropped thread and all into a bowl of the whiskey. “I found it in his study after his death.”
“Just the one bottle?” McKinnely asked.
“No.” Elizabeth poured more water over her hands. She hadn’t even gotten the soap into a good lather before McKinnely was asking, “Want me to toss that for you?”
Elizabeth’s “that’s all right” had no more influence than Asa’s initial refusal of help had. McKinnely could be mule-stubborn when he had his own agenda. He poured water over Elizabeth’s hands. He didn’t stop until the basin was near to overflowing and Elizabeth was doing her best to conceal the concern for her floors. “That’s fine, thank you.”
“No problem.”
“You can just toss it out the window.”
“It’s no problem at all to take it out back.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
Elizabeth could have saved herself the breath. Asa wasn’t fooled about why McKinnely wanted the trip downstairs. A body had to pass right by the study while coming and going. His opinion of his neighbor went up another notch. It took a smart man to think on his feet.
Elizabeth pulled some white rags from the box.
“You’re not sewing me up,” he told her again.
Yes, she was. “The wound needs cleaning. There’s dirt embedded in it.”
She’d be lucky if he didn’t get an infection. Tears stung her eyes at the thought. To her astonishment, Elizabeth realized she wanted to cry. Because a man had been hurt of all things. She blinked quickly to dispel the moisture. She didn’t want Asa to see. He’d probably decide weepy women were too delicate to ride a carriage into town.
“That’s what McKinnely said,” he admitted.
“And you didn’t let him clean it?” She wanted to cuff him over the head for such stupidity.
“The man’s got the touch of a bull.”
She bent her head to hide a smile. “I’ll endeavor to be gentle.”
“Being as you’re a woman, it can’t help but be an improvement.”
She rose from the side of the bed and walked to the foot. As she opened the chest, she said, “For a man who grew up with some pretty poor examples of women, you seem to have definite opinions on their qualities.”
She grabbed a sheet and stood straight. That half smile on his lips told her he was going to make her laugh. Probably because her eyes were still stinging. As observant as he was, it was too much to hope he wouldn’t notice.
“I spent a goodly portion of my adult years studying the matter,” he informed her.
“I’m sure you did.” And she didn’t want to hear about it.
“Where is Cougar with that basin?”
“He’ll be along presently,” Asa answered. After he sampled some of that whiskey. He patted the bed beside him. “Come here.”
Elizabeth did, only because she wanted to slide the wadded sheet beneath him to catch the water from cleaning his wound. She leaned over to do just that, and he caught her wrist and tugged. By nearly twisting full around, she managed to avoid landing on his side. As it was, she plopped on the bed hard enough to jostle a groan from the man. Her apology was instantaneous. As was her anger. “What are you trying to do, kill yourself? I could have landed on you!”
“A little feather like you couldn’t make a dent on a cushion.”
“Huh!” Ladylike or not, there wasn’t anything more eloquent she could come up with in the face of such nonsense than an inelegant snort. She pushed herself straight. The effect was immediately ruined as his hand slid across her cheek. His fingers curled around the back of her head.
