Miracle Jones (34 page)

She fought the thought, but it invaded anyway, sending her heart pumping sickeningly hard against her rib cage.
Blue could have been lying.

Even now, Harrison might be dead.

Chapter Fifteen

Harrison’s right arm throbbed with pain.
He was amazed that he had that many nerves still intact to produce such burning fire.
Rather than dwell on the extent of the injury, he was somehow comforted to learn the limb was functioning to its capacity.
A damn painful capacity at the moment, he reminded himself through gritted teeth as he cradled the arm to his chest.
Brody was a good shot.

Or had it been Brody?
he wondered, frowning as a new thought struck him.
Brody had been in a wagon, and Raynor’s men hadn’t stumbled across any wagon.
Nor had they found the woman.
How could Brody have pushed Miracle in the mud and gotten away that fast?

He remembered Miracle pointing in first one direction, then swinging around to point in another.
Ice flowed through his veins.
What did that mean?

He closed his eyes.
What the hell was the matter with him?
Pain was making him suspicious.
He’d asked for no more lies between them, and she’d given her word.

“How’re you holdin’ up?” Raynor asked, swinging his bulky body around in the saddle to glance at Harrison.
Harrison was astride Jace’s rangy buckskin.
They’d managed to capture the horse on the road, but Harrison suspected his own mount was lost forever.

“I’ll live.”

Rain began to fall, damp, persistent, but misty rather than an out-and-out deluge.
Good.
It would melt the fog.

“I think we should go back.
Brody’s long gone tonight, and your brother should look at that arm.”

“I’m fine,” Harrison argued tersely.
He’d been the lucky one.
Jace Garrett was in danger of losing his life.
Though Harrison had no respect for the man, he didn’t want him to die.

“Danner, I’m going to have to protest.
That arm bears lookin’ at right away.” Raynor stopped his horse and shifted to look at Harrison again.
“If it makes you feel better, my men’ll keep searchin’ the area awhile.”

Harrison glanced around to the seven other men left.
Two had taken Raynor’s wagon and Jace Garrett back to Rock Springs.
There was no point in him staying any longer.
It could be hours before any trace of Brody was found, maybe even until daylight.

“Dawkins, you go with Danner,” the sheriff ordered.
“The rest of you fellas follow me.”

¤   ¤   ¤

“Is he going to live, Dr.
Danner?” Billy asked anxiously, staring down at Jace Garrett’s unconscious form.
Jace was lying on his back on Tremaine’s operating table, his face pale.

Tremaine snorted.
“Yeah, he’s going to live.
Took a bullet in the leg, but it’s just a scratch.
The lily-livered fool fainted, that’s all.
Near as I can tell, he should be out of here by morning.”

“He don’t look too good.”

“He never did,” Tremaine responded.

While Billy helped, Tremaine cut the offending bullet from Jace’s thigh, then stitched up the hole.
Jace came to about the same time, moaning with pain.

He tried to sit up, then clenched his teeth and groaned.
“Danner…?” He focused on his adversary’s face.
“My God, I’m at the infirmary.
Am I going to die?”

Tremaine threw back his head and laughed.
“You’re too damn lucky to die!”

His laughter brought one of Raynor’s men scurrying into the room uninvited.
He glanced around, looking for trouble.
“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Tremaine said, waving smelling salts beneath Jace’s nose.
Color flooded Garrett’s cheeks, and he pulled away violently.
Tremaine threw a look at the lawman.
“You’re sure Harrison’s all right?” he demanded again.

“A nasty wound to the arm, but the bullet passed clean through.”

“Which arm?”

The man blinked.
“Um, I’m not sure, Dr.
Danner.”

“My leg,” Jace declared piteously.
“What about my leg?”

“I cut the bullet out.
Your nine lives are still intact, Garrett.”

“You cut the – Christ, Danner!
You had no right!
I could be –” He broke off, the pain in his leg making him jerk spasmodically, but he struggled upward anyway.

The blood rushed from his head, and Tremaine pushed him back down on the operating table, holding him there.
“Stay put and tell me about Harrison.
Raynor’s man said they found him making sure you were still alive even though he’d been shot himself.
What happened?”

“We were blasted at close range.
I thought the bullet hit my chest…” He lifted a hand to his throat.

“That’s why you – swooned?”

Jace’s lips went white with fury.

“Scared spitless, weren’t you?
I can’t figure out why you went with Harrison in the first place.
It’s not like you to do something out of the goodness of your heart.”

“Go to hell, Danner.”

“After you, Garrett.”

Tremaine’s laughter roared to the roof of the infirmary once again.

¤   ¤   ¤

Harrison would have rather not bothered with the man Raynor had insisted escort him.
He could jolly well get to Rock Springs by himself.
And it was doubly infuriating when the man insisted he go straight to the infirmary.
Tremaine would undoubtedly force him into one of the beds, and by God, he had too many things to take care of to waste hours recuperating.

But he was worried about Jace, so he stifled his impatience and walked through the doors of the infirmary and down the short hall to the operating room.
To his total amazement Jace was awake and glaring daggers at Tremaine, who looked more amused than worried.
Seeing Harrison, Tremaine broke into an out-and-out grin.

“Thank God Jace isn’t the only lucky one.
They said you were all right, but I wanted to see for myself!”

“You okay, Jace?” Harrison asked with concern.

For some reason Jace’s face turned brick red with anger.
“You can all go to hell!” he muttered furiously.

“Take him to the recovery room,” Tremaine told Billy.

“What’s he so all-fired furious about?” Harrison wanted to know as Billy began wheeling Jace down the short hall which led to recovery.

“I haven’t forgotten what you intimated about that dirty little half-breed, Danner!” Jace yelled, then swore at the pain the effort cost him.
“Spread that around town and see what it gets you!”

“Another word about Miracle, and the next bullet you feel will be from my gun,” Harrison growled furiously, sorry now that he’d wasted so much time worrying about the selfish bastard.

“What’s that all about?” Tremaine wanted to know.

“Never mind.” There was time enough to explain later.
Now that he was assured Jace was all right, Harrison wanted to find Miracle.
“By the looks of him, he’s going to be fine.”

“Better than you,” Tremaine said sharply, eyeing the bloodstained sleeve of Harrison’s shirt and the way he favored his arm.
“Let’s look at that.”

Harrison obediently let his brother make a cursory examination, though he refused to remove his shirt.
“You must have done a terrific job putting the nerves back together the last time it was injured,” he grumbled.
“Feels like hell.”

“I want to check it more closely.”

“Not now.
I haven’t got time.” To Tremaine’s look, he explained impatiently, “I need to see Miracle.”

“You plan to wake her up at this time of night?” Tremaine arched a brow.
It was near one o’clock.

“I’ve got a few questions I’ve got to ask her.”

Tremaine stared into his brother’s determined, white-lipped face and shook his head.
He pulled back Harrison’s jacket, just enough to assure himself the wound was manageable, then grunted in agreement.
“I’ve never known you to be so stubborn, Harrison.
What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing.”

He left before Tremaine could offer up more resistance.
He knew his older brother.
Tremaine had been known to tie down unwilling patients if he thought it would be good for them.
Harrison had no intention of slowing up now.

Weakness surrounded him three steps before he reached the shop’s front door.
Frustrated, he shook his head and gritted his teeth, willing the dizziness to pass.
He made it to the door and stopped, panting.
Blast.
The incredible energy he’d been running on had just drained out.

He tested the door, found the lock broken, and shoved it open against the crate that had been propped beneath it.
“Miracle!” he yelled, not caring whether he woke Miracle, Uncle Horace, or half the population of Rock Springs.

Light footsteps sounded on the stairs before he was even halfway across the room.
A lantern popped ahead of her, and Miracle appeared, holding the kerosene lamp in one hand, a knife in the other.
Seeing him, she cried, “Harrison!” in wild relief.

“Do you always have to threaten me with a knife?
What happened here?” he demanded, his senses clearing as he realized someone had broken in.

“Oh… the door.
Uncle Horace smashed into it.”

“And broke the lock?” he demanded, unable to imagine Uncle Horace having the strength.

“It was rotted out,” she explained.
“Are you all right?
Oh, my God!” The light illuminated the dark stain spread across his shirt.
“You’ve been shot, haven’t you?”

“It’s not serious.”

“Sit down!”

She sounded furious.
Harrison opened his mouth to say more, but she practically pushed him into a chair beside the wood stove.
He sank into it with a disgusting lack of strength.

Miracle stirred the remaining embers inside the stove until they glowed bright red, throwing off a shield of heat.
Her sumptuous derriere was pointed in his direction, and he forced his gaze elsewhere.

“We didn’t find Brody, but he fired some shots off at us.”

“Did you see anyone else?”

“No…” Harrison frowned.
“Not even the woman he kidnapped.” She was now systematically stripping off his jacket and shirt.
“You can stitch me up if you want, but I don’t want any of your quack medicine,” he growled.

“You’re bleeding.” She spoke in the same no-nonsense tone Tremaine always used.
“I’m going to stop it.”

“Not now.
I need to know some things.
When you were kidnapped, how many men were in the gang that captured you?
I was just wondering if Brody was the last – goddammit!” He ended on a hiss as she peeled his shirt sleeve away from where it had stuck to his skin.

“Shhh.
I’m going to have to cut this off with the scissors.”

“Would you just stay put and listen?” He grabbed her arm with his good hand, holding her tightly.
“Those shots fired at me and Jace – someone wanted to kill us, but the fog got in the way.
I don’t see how Brody could have gotten that far ahead of us, being as he was in a wagon.”

“He probably ditched the wagon somewhere along the way.” Her dark brows pulled together at the sight of his wound.
“This is a mess.”

“How many men kidnapped you?”

“Three.
Bushy Eyebrows, Jeb, and Brody.
Jeb killed Bushy Eyebrows that first night.”

“And we found Jeb by Fool’s Falls, so they’re all dead except Brody.
Brody must be the ringleader then.”