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The fire in the stove had burned down to coals. Kristin stirred them with the poker and added chunks of wood until she had a crackling blaze.
Only as the warmth began to spread into the parlor did she realize how tired she was. Her legs and body ached as if she’d been carrying a heavy load.
Logan groaned, stirred, and settled again. Whether she was tired or not, it would be up to her to see that he didn’t roll off the sofa or put weight on his wound. Seating herself, she lifted his head and maneuvered it gently into her lap.
He opened his eyes, gazing up at her in the last of the fading light. His lips moved. She hushed him with a fingertip. “Don’t try to talk,” she said. “Just rest. We’ll both rest.”
He gave a slight shake of his head. “I’m trying to remember what happened. How did you find me?”
“I found your horse. When I saw the blood on his side, I knew somebody was hurt. Then I saw the birds.”
“You could’ve left me for dead. Why didn’t you?”
“I’m a doctor. It was my responsibility to do what I could.”
“Even if you’re a Dollarhide?”
“My name has nothing to do with anything.”
“And you don’t know who shot me?”
“I don’t—” Kristin broke off at the sound of horses outside. The beam of a flashlight shone through the curtainless front window. An instant later there was a pounding on the front door.
“Kristin, are you in there?” The voice was Blake’s.
“Yes. The door’s unlocked. Come on in.”
The door opened. Blake, holding the flashlight in one hand, strode into the room. The beam found the pair on the sofa. “What in hell’s name—” he sputtered.
“It’s all right,” she said. “This man’s been shot. I found him after my mare bolted. That’s his horse outside.”
Blake exhaled. “Thank heaven you’re all right, Kristin. When the mare came home on the wagon road, I was afraid I’d find you hurt somewhere, or worse. That’s why I came in the buggy. I even brought Mother’s old medical kit.”
“Oh—Blake, you’re a godsend! Now I can get this man somewhere safe.”
Logan raised his head. When he spoke, the irony in his voice was subtle as a shift in the night breeze, but it was there. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Logan Hunter—Major Hunter, not that it counts for much anymore.”
“You must be the Calder cousin I’ve been hearing about.” Blake’s tone was courteous but cold.
“And you’re Blake Dollarhide. If what Webb tells me is to be believed, you’re the devil incarnate. But I like to judge people for myself. Please excuse me if I don’t get up.”
Blake’s gaze had shifted to Kristin. “Good Lord, what happened to your blouse? You look indecent!”
“The major is wearing my blouse as a bandage. As for my looking indecent—” She shrugged. “When someone’s losing blood, modesty doesn’t count for much.”
“Here.” Blake stripped off his twill jacket and tossed it to her. “At least you’ll be warmer.”
“Thank you.” She eased Logan’s head off her lap and helped him sit up before slipping on the jacket and buttoning it down the front. “We could use a blanket if there’s one in the buggy. And I’ll need the medical bag.”
Blake nodded and disappeared outside without another word.
“Did I get you in trouble?” Logan asked.
“He’s surprised, that’s all. We were apart for years, but he still thinks he should play the big brother. I suspect he doesn’t know quite what to make of me.”
“I can sympathize. I don’t know what to make of you either.”
“You don’t have to make anything of me. I’m your doctor, no different from a man.”
