The Outlaw Bride (4 page)

“I will,” she agreed. Anything to get him out of the house before her patient called Ben’s name out loud. She led Will to the door, opened it, and stood impatiently while he walked to his horse.

“Oh,” he said, turning back, “Ellie sent you this.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew something wrapped in a piece of velvet.

“Ellie?” she repeated, knowing that his use of Ellie’s
first name was out of character for Will, who was usually very proper. “What is it?” she asked, hurrying toward him.

“She called it a payment on what she owes you. Normally, I’d have refused to bring it, but considering the current situation in your home, maybe it’s a good idea.”

Inside the material was a lady’s derringer, its finish polished to perfection. “I can’t take this.” She couldn’t take a gift from Ellie, knowing how much of a sacrifice it had been for the girl. Josie had more money than she’d ever need. She’d made a lot of money playing the stock market with her grandfathers while she’d lived in New York. It was still sitting untouched in the Sinclair Bank, earning even more every day. She hadn’t decided yet what she would do with the money, but a need would show itself eventually.

Will shook his head. “Don’t think you have much of a choice. That saloon girl is a proud little thing. She’s already quit her … job.”

“Quit her job?” When Josie had told Ellie to change her life, she hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly. “Will, you’ll help her find something else, won’t you?”

His expression spoke louder than his words. “Like what?”

“Like maybe at the general store.”

He gave an uncomfortable laugh. “Josie, no self-respecting housewife is gonna buy from a woman like Ellie.”

“I’m no housewife, but if somebody doesn’t give her work soon. I’m going to open a store and hire her myself,” Josie said. “If a woman wants to change her life, someone should help her do it.”

Will shook his head. “You and Dr. Annie. Always looking for a challenge, mostly on behalf of someone else.” He looked toward the clinic and his attention was drawn to the derringer. “You just be careful,” he cautioned. “You can shoot it, can’t you?”

“Every woman in the west knows how to shoot a gun, Will.”

Long after Will’s horse had left the courtyard, Josie was still dwelling on his words.
Be careful.
That’s what her grandfathers had advised when she left New York to practice law in Wyoming. Of course, they’d added one more thing:
but don’t let it stop you from taking a chance if it’s a good one. Go with your hunch, Josie.
Josie thought about the times she’d beaten those two at poker and she laughed to herself at the memory. Nothing would stop her grandfathers from taking a chance—even a bad one. Roylston Sinclair was seen by many as a prissy intellect, and Teddy Miller never pretended to be anything more than the gambler he was. How the two lovable old rascals ever produced upstanding children like Annie and Dan Miller was a mystery. Josie should have been their daughter.

Her grandfathers would understand why she was taking a chance on her patient. Explaining her actions to her adoptive parents might be harder.

Still, she had a hunch about this man. In the absence of proof, lawyers set their defense on instinct all the time. She just wasn’t sure if women should do the same thing.

The door opened and shut. Callahan heard her soft footsteps approach the bed. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know it was her, the golden-haired woman who
had flitted through his dreams. There was a spark deep inside him, in a place her fingers hadn’t touched.

He’d been awake for awhile and when he was finally ready to open his eyes, she was the first thing he saw.

“I’ve come to wash and shave you.”

“No!”

“No? Well I’m sorry, but I don’t intend to touch you again until I get rid of the smell that’s plaguing my mother’s clinic.”

“That’s not all you’re going to have to get rid of,” he growled, “if you don’t bring me a chamber pot.”

Stunned by his announcement, Josie stared dumbly for a moment and then scurried to the washstand, returning with a china pot.

“Help me sit up!” he said.

She slipped her arm beneath his shoulders and lifted, avoiding his stormy gaze. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d cleaned up after him, but he’d been unconscious then. Now he was—she looked at his heaving chest—one very conscious, virile man. She guiltily cast her eyes to the ceiling as she strained to lift his back.

“What the hell?” He swore and came to a sitting position. “I’m naked as a damn jaybird. Where’re my clothes?”

“I burned them.” She handed him the pot.

He took it, almost dropped it, and cursed again.

“Let me hold it,” she said, trying to sound like Dr. Annie would have.

“Close your eyes,” he demanded. He was hopping mad.

The sound she heard brought an unwelcome blush to her cheeks. She wouldn’t have thought, after his fever, that he’d have stored so much bodily fluid. He must have swallowed more of the broth than she’d thought. Finally, there was silence.

“Are you done?” she asked.

“I am.”

Josie covered the chamber pot and lowered it to the floor. She put her arm around him for support as he leaned back. His strength surprised her. Something almost physical sparked between them, hot and strong. He interrupted the moment by reaching for the sheet. “I assure you, Mr. Callahan, you have nothing I haven’t seen.”

“And I’ll bet you took a good look, didn’t you?”

Her face flamed. “I would never take advantage of you,” Josie said haughtily. “After all, I am a well-respected member of the community. A lawyer, in fact.”

He frowned. “None of the lawyers I know are women.”

Josie fumed. “Well, if you are Sims Callahan, you’d better hope and pray that you’ve finally met one because the sheriff’s got a posse out looking for a couple of outlaws—the Callahan brothers, Sims and
Ben.
Seems they’ve disappeared along with a saddlebag full of money that was supposed to have paid for a herd of cattle. When you were brought to the house, you were out of your head. You kept calling out for someone named Ben. I’m thinking that means you’re Sims.”

“They didn’t find Ben?”

“You were the only one that Bear Claw found.”

Callahan wrinkled his forehead. “Who’s Bear Claw?”

“He’s the chief of a Sioux tribe who lives on part of our land. He’s a friend of ours—and yours too, now.”

Callahan lay still, absorbing all of this new information. A sea of questions swept through his mind. What had happened to Ben? Did he get away? Or was he lying out there somewhere, full of bullet holes? He felt like a caged bear. Helpless. Unable to do anything. “Get me some clothes, Miss—what is your name, anyway?”

“It’s Josie Miller,” she replied. “Miss Miller to you.”

“And my horse?” he asked, ignoring her response.

“You have no horse. At least, Bear Claw didn’t bring it in. And it wouldn’t matter if you did. You wouldn’t get ten feet before you’d be food for the coyotes.”

“You don’t understand,” he said, and tried to sit up once more. Dammit, he had to get out of here. Ben’s life was at stake.

“No, Mr. Callahan,
you
don’t understand. You’ve been more or less unconscious for four days, and you’ve lost a lot of blood. You’re tough, but right now you’re very weak. It’s going to be a while before you can leave this house. Please be still, Sims.”

“Call me Callahan,” he said wearily. “And I’m not a thief, damn it.”

He had admitted to being a Callahan. Fear washed over Josie. He
was
the man Will Spencer was looking for. But she still wasn’t convinced that he had committed a crime. She knew how it felt to be branded a thief, even when you weren’t.

Callahan knew she was right. He was too weak to go searching for Ben. He stopped fidgeting, then closed his eyes for a long, silent moment. “I really wasn’t out of my head all the time. I kinda enjoyed waking up to my guardian angel lying next to me.”

“I’m not an angel. Now he still while I shave you.” Josie lathered her hands with a cake of soap and plopped suds on Callahan’s face. She’d never shaved a man, but she’d watched her adoptive father, Dan, shave often enough. Not much to it, she decided, working suds into Callahan’s thick, black beard. His whiskers curled around her fingers and made her remember her initial reaction. Sims Callahan had hot hair.

She reached for the straight razor.

Callahan opened his eyes.

“I hope you know how to use that,” he said.

“Nope,” she admitted. “But I expect I will have learned by the time I’m done, won’t I?”

After she got rid of the beard, she washed his face and neck and chest. Lord, he had a broad chest. He didn’t complain when she changed his shoulder bandage, though she knew it hurt. But when she reached to pull down the sheet, her fingers hesitated. Viewing his manhood had been difficult enough when he was asleep. Now, he was awake and aware of every move she made.

“If it’s your mother who is the doctor, why are you treating me?”

“She’s away on a holiday. Since I’ve helped her over the years, Bear Claw brought you to me.”

“How many men have you washed?” he asked.

“Plenty,” she snapped, tugging at the sheet. “Now let go.”

“First, let me have your hand, Josie,” he said, ordering her, not asking.

He took her hand in his large calloused one and laid it on his stomach. She couldn’t conceal the jolt of awareness that shot through her.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, Miss Josie Miller. It is Miss, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. I’ve never married. And I never intend to.”

“I take it that means you’re a virgin?”

Josie gasped at the embarrassing assumption.

“Then you’d better close your eyes, or you’re going to see a man’s body announce its reaction to a woman.”

Josie didn’t have to ask what Callahan was talking about. The sheet that was resting on his lap began to rise and thrust forward as if it had a life of its own.

“It’s called desire, darlin’, and it’s happening. Right now.”

“No,” she whispered, and fled from the room, bumping into Lubina, who was bringing clean towels.

“What’s wrong, Josie?”

“He’s alive,” she said dryly.

“Of course he es alive,” Lubina repeated. “You said he would live.”

“Yes, but he seems to have a new problem,” Josie announced loudly. “His male organ is becoming enlarged. He’s a very sick man so it must be”—her voice got deliberately louder, enough for Callahan to hear it—“infection. Draining it is a medical procedure Dr. Annie never taught me. I’m going to have to study my medical books.”

Lubina crossed herself. “Dear Holy Mother,” she repeated, gazing heavenward. “Whatever you do, don’t let Miss Josie figure it out.”

4
 

Callahan took a deep breath and gritted his teeth as he pushed himself up. He’d been shot before. Hell, he’d been shot more than once, but this might be the all-time, flat-out most embarrassing hurt he’d ever been through. One bullet wound he could have managed, but two, in different parts of his body, should have erased any desire he’d felt. They hadn’t.

He ought to be angry with his angel of mercy for running from the room. Instead, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Miss Josie Miller might have been embarrassed by his erection, but he wasn’t.
Everything
still worked.

Callahan’s thoughts shifted to Ben, and for the rest of the day, he concentrated on trying to remember what had happened. The memories came back, one piece at a time. He and Ben had been riding north from Sharpsburg
toward Laramie, when out of nowhere, three or four men on horseback attacked. The bastards had picked their spot well, hiding above them behind a formation of rocks until he and Ben were almost past. Then they started firing.

He’d been hit immediately, in the back, just below his belt, but he’d concealed it from Ben, throwing his brother the saddlebag filled with the money and yelling for him to ride like hell. Callahan had reined his horse behind the last boulder and returned fire, holding them at bay just long enough for Ben to get away. Then he headed in the opposite direction. That’s when the second shot caught him in the shoulder. He still might have made it if his horse hadn’t gone down.

After that, things got a little hazy. He remembered another horse, a big dun-colored animal with an odd scar on its haunch. The mark looked like a crescent moon with a circle at one tip. On the horse’s back rode a shadowy figure, but he couldn’t recall anything beyond that, except heat and pain. He didn’t know how long he’d lain there before the Indian found him and brought him here.

If Ben was really missing and the money for the cattle was gone, they’d lose the ranch. Without the new cattle or the money they’d contributed to buy them, they wouldn’t be able to survive. None of the ranchers would. This would be the second home the Callahan brothers had lost. The family plantation in South Carolina had been the first. Neither Ben nor Callahan could claim credit for that. But the loss of their ranch, as fledgling as it was, would be their fault. He could take losing the ranch, but he couldn’t take losing his only brother.

————