AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Good. My compliments to Webb’s cook.” He took another spoonful, then more, making a visible effort not to spill.
“Webb will be bringing up some coffee,” she said.
“Good. I hope he remembers that I like it black and hot.” The spoon paused as he studied her. His gaze narrowed. “You look like you’ve been dragged across the prairie behind a galloping horse. Have you been here with me the whole time?”
“Yes. It’s my job.”
“But you didn’t have to stay here. You could’ve gone home with your brother and left me to take my chances.”
“I couldn’t do that. You’d lost too much blood. Somebody had to watch you and check the tourniquet. And what if you’d needed more laudanum for the pain? I couldn’t depend on anyone else to know how much to give you. You could have died.”
“I’ve survived worse.”
“But you can only die once. I couldn’t let it be on my watch.”
His mouth twitched in a wry half smile. “Sometimes I think that would be no great loss. My family is gone. There’s no one left to mourn me—except Webb, who mostly seems intent on my owning that ranch property. Even if I were to die, he could set himself up as my next of kin and claim everything I own.”
They stared at each other as the same possibility struck them both. “Good Lord, you don’t think—” he began.
“No. Of course not. Webb may be ruthless, but I can’t imagine he’d commit murder. He’s got too much to lose. Besides, according to my brother, Webb is an expert shot. If he’d wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.”
“Now there’s a comforting thought.” Logan finished the soup, laid the spoon on the tray, and touched the napkin to his mouth. “That was good. I’m feeling stronger already.”
“Would you like more? There’s plenty left in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, but that’s enough soup for now. I’ll wait for the coffee if Webb’s still planning to bring some.”
As if on cue, Webb stepped through the open doorway with two mugs in his hands. Kristin moved the tray with the empty bowl to the nightstand.
“Black for you.” Webb handed Logan the blue mug. “And I assumed the lady would want cream and sugar.” He handed the white mug to Kristin. She took it, even though, while serving in war zones, she’d learned to like it black, the way the soldiers drank it.
“Thank you, Webb.” She sipped the brew, which was so sweet she could barely swallow it.
“Anything to please a lady.” Webb’s hand brushed her shoulder. “If you could use a break, I need to talk with your patient—not long, let’s say, about fifteen minutes.”
“Of course. A breath of fresh air would do me good.”
She set her mug on the tray, then carried the tray down the stairs. This time Webb had turned on the light. Now she noticed the nearly life-sized portrait of his late wife which hung on the wall in an ornate gilded frame. Lillian Reisner Calder had been a stunning woman. Dressed here in creamy brocade with an emerald necklace setting off her rich auburn curls, she was as regal as a queen—in spite of having come to Webb straight from an immigrant farmer’s shack.
Her death must have crushed him. But almost ten years had passed since the tragedy. And Kristin’s shoulder still tingled from his not-quite-casual touch. She was experienced enough to sense when a man was interested in her. And whether for a place at his side or a night’s romp between the sheets, Webb was interested.
She left the tray in the kitchen. Still carrying the coffee, she crossed the entry hall and walked out the front door, onto the porch. The night air was just chilly enough to be refreshing. She could hear the distant lowing of cattle and the cry of a barn owl. The windows in the bunkhouse had gone dark, but the moon, drifting among the clouds, flooded the yard with its pale light.
What if Webb had serious intentions? Would she want this life of security, luxury, and power—and the chance to make peace between their families? Would she wanthim?
But this was no time for such imaginings. For now, all she could do was give the situation time to run its course. During the war and afterward, at the military hospital, she had dreamed of coming home to Montana and setting up her practice. If she failed to make that dream come true, she would never forgive herself.
Tomorrow, if Logan continued to improve, she would ask—or demand if necessary—to be delivered home. On Monday she would start work on the house she’d rented. She’d be too busy to think about Webb Calder or any other man.
She took a sip of the coffee Webb had given her. Now that it had cooled, its sweetness was more revolting than ever. Reaching past the edge of the porch, she emptied the cup on the roots of Lorna Calder’s roses.
* * *
“You’re looking better,” Webb observed. “I take it you’re going to live.”
“I’ve had a good doctor.” Logan sipped the strong, black coffee.
“You have. It’s hard to believe someone so beautiful could be so competent. So much education—when all a woman with her looks needs to do is find a good husband.”
