Authors: Sandra Chastain
The problem would be keeping him from leaving. He was determined to find his brother. She couldn’t fault him for that, but he wasn’t ready to travel.
Callahan’s eyes were closed when she entered the room. She hoped that he wouldn’t wake up while she was changing the bandage on his groin. Letting go of a deep breath, Josie peeled back the sheet, folding it over to cover that part of him insistent on making itself known. She was glad that he couldn’t see her inflamed face.
With trembling fingers, she lifted the bandage. The skin around the edges of the wound was dry.
“Be gentle, darlin’,” he drawled.
Josie jumped, almost upsetting the basin Lubina had left on the table. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she said, pouring hot water from the kettle into the pan.
“Do what?”
“Pretend to be asleep.”
“Why? If you want to fondle me unobserved, I’ll close my eyes.” In the wee hours of the morning he’d come to the conclusion that he wasn’t physically ready to ride. If he was going after Ben, he’d have to make peace with his guardian angel. Besides, he liked talking to her and he liked teasing her. Callahan let out an exaggerated sigh. “I’m all yours.”
Josie took her cloth and, without letting it cool, dropped it on his abdomen.
“Hell,” he swore. “What are you trying to do, cook me?”
“Just reminding you that I’m the doctor and I can still hurt you if you don’t stop playing games. Now, be still.”
This time Callahan didn’t argue and he didn’t let her see his smile.
Using sweet-smelling soap from her own washstand and a plain bathing cloth, she washed the wound.
He made no comments during the process. Surprisingly, this disappointed Josie. She missed his flirting. She remembered just this kind of talk between her Aunt Ginny and Uncle Red—before they married. Uncle Red was a lot like Callahan, teasing Ginny constantly. And Ginny had given as good as she got. They’d married and kept on flirting—through five children.
Josie forced her attention back to Callahan’s body and noticed a scar on the calf of his right leg. “What the …?” she whispered aloud.
“Earlier bullet wound,” Callahan said.
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
Callahan squirmed beneath her touch.
“How’d you get shot that time? A fight over a woman?”
“A fight over a woman? Not me. Never met a woman worth getting shot for.”
“Not even your mother?”
He paused for a moment before saying, “My mother was killed during the war, trying to protect my sister from being raped by Yankees. Both of them were killed in the end.”
Josie was touched that Callahan would share something so personal. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “My real mother died in childbirth. The baby died too.” She didn’t know why she’d told him that. She’d never told a living soul about the pitiful little boy that had taken her mother’s life.
He changed the subject by asking, “How soon am I going to be able to ride? I can’t he here while Ben’s out there, maybe wounded, maybe even dead.”
“I’m sure your brother is all right. If he were dead, they’d have found him. Out here the scavengers direct your path, even when the searcher loses the trail.”
He winced. “You mean the vultures, don’t you?”
She nodded. “Look, if it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll ask Bear Claw to send out a full search party. The Sioux know this territory better than anyone. If Ben is out there, they’ll find him.”
“How can you be sure?” he asked.
“They found you, didn’t they? Now, be still.”
He let her dry his feet, pulling the soft cloth between his toes and working it along the limp muscles of his calves. “You have a special touch,” he said.
“Actually, I’m pretty clumsy. Dr. Annie is the angel with feather fingers.”
“This Dr. Annie, I guess she adopted you.”
“Yes,” she answered. “My real mother was a prostitute.” Out of respect for Dr. Annie, she wouldn’t normally have mentioned her real mother, but this conversation with Callahan seemed right.
He didn’t appear shocked or try to ignore her confession, as most people would have. “She must have had a good reason for doing that kind of work. Can’t imagine a woman willingly choosing that life.”
As a young child, Josie had wondered the same thing. And later, when she’d collected enough courage to ask, her mother had just said that a woman does what she has to.
A silence fell between her and Callahan.
He caught her arm, running his fingers up and down the odd curve between her elbow and her wrist. “What happened here?”
“It … got broken. Didn’t heal right.”
He nodded, waiting.
“When my mama died, one of her ‘friends’ looked after me. He taught me how to pick pockets and open safes. I was better at opening safes.”
“Is that how you got your arm broken?”
She was startled at his perception. “Yes. When I was clumsy, I was punished.”
“And Dr. Annie treated your injury?”
“Oh, no. I met Dr. Annie later. We were working a scam on the platform outside the train depot. Dr. Annie was the target that day. Dan caught me in the middle of the con. But Annie wouldn’t let them arrest me. Instead, she took me in and treated me like I was somebody special.”
Josie rinsed out her cloth, emptied her basin, and refilled it with the remaining hot water.
“So what happened after she took you in?” Callahan asked.
“We came here to Laramie and Dr. Annie opened her medical practice. Later, she and Dan got married and adopted me. I had no place else to go, and this was the
best home I’d ever had. I never had a last name so I took theirs. I’m not their blood, but they call me their daughter.”
“I don’t think it was as easy as you make it sound.”
“It wasn’t,” she said, and began absently washing his arm.
After all she’d done to civilize herself, she was confiding details of her past life to a man she knew nothing about.
A possible criminal.
Was that what made her open up to Callahan? Did they share a link based on their common pasts?
Beneath her fingertips, Callahan’s muscles bunched as she washed. Though he didn’t speak, she had the feeling that this man was as caught up in the moment as she.
In a stem tone, she said, “I’m very lucky to have people who love me, who think I’m better than I am. They’ve given me a lot, and Dan and Dr. Annie have always expected a lot from me in return.”
Callahan was listening intently. “Like what?” he asked.
She dropped the cloth in the pan and sat for a moment. “I was expected to learn, to do something with my life to help others. And”—she let out a sigh of exasperation—“to be a lady. I’m supposed to set a good example for my younger sister, Laura.”
“But you’re no more a lady than I’m a gentleman, are you?”
She cut him a quick glance. He wasn’t insulting her; he was just stating a fact. “You’re right. I’m not. I go around pretending all the time. But everyone can see straight through me, and I’m sure they’re laughing behind their smug smiles.”
“Look at me, Josie. Do I look like I’m laughing?” he asked softly.
Why was he doing this, forcing an intimacy between them that she neither welcomed nor understood? She didn’t like the panicky feeling that swept over her. She felt as if he was the only person who’d ever truly seen her. “No. I don’t think you are. You don’t know how to laugh.”
Josie reached for the dressing on his shoulder wound and jerked it off.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry,” she muttered and washed the healing wound.
He deserved a little pain for forcing her to bare her soul like that. She softened her efforts. At least there was no putrefied flesh. She rinsed her cloth and wiped away the soap, vigorously scrubbing his skin.
Callahan groaned. “I think you were wrong about your past, Miss Josie Miller.”
She looked up.
“You weren’t a pickpocket. From the way you’re going after my skin, I think you were a washerwoman. Stop pretending I’m a scrub board and you’re doing laundry.”
“I’m sorry, Callahan.” She applied her bandage, then slid her arm around his neck and beneath his back. “You’ll have to help me here,” she said, urging him to lift himself.
He gritted his teeth and complied as she tied the bandage around the shoulder with a strip of cloth.
“I’m simply trying to do what my mother would do,” she said, as she let him back down. The weight of his upper body pulled her forward. Her chin was only inches away from his lips. She could feel his breath against her neck and the wicked pulse of his heartbeat through her fingertips.
Slowly, she pulled her arm away and leaned back. They stared at each other, breathing deeply. She dropped
her gaze to the bed, trying to break the connection that held them in an intimacy far too strong for her to understand.
But no sooner had her gaze landed on the sheet,
that
part of him began to rise.
She gasped and turned primly away. “And don’t you start that again, Callahan. It won’t work. I already know you’re a randy devil who can’t control himself when he’s around a woman—even when she’s only trying to help him.” She jutted her chin forward and left the room.
“Wait,” he called after her. “Please come back and move the basin so I won’t turn it over.”
She reappeared in the doorway. “It won’t tip over if you remain still.”
“I’m trying.”
“Not all of you is succeeding.”
He groaned. “It’s just that you have a way of tempting my body.”
“I do no such thing.”
“Well, maybe not you, maybe it’s your body. All I know is, mine seems to have a mind of its own.”
“Self-control. All you have to do is exert a little self-control. That,” she said sweetly, “will lower the pole. Without it, the flag can’t wave.”
“Flag?” he said in disbelief. “Darlin’, it’s been called a lot of things, but never a flagpole.”
“Well, my apologies for insulting Old Glory.” She gave a mock salute and left the room. This time, the door closed firmly behind her.
Callahan groaned again. How in hell was he supposed to react? She just kept coming back, touching him, her strands of blonde hair skimming his body when she bent over to dress his wounds. His response was intense and unexplainable. Everything about him hurt. Still, this
woman reached out to him, her blunt words and honesty overriding his condition, invading his dreams, and teasing his body.
Josie slipped back into the room. “Put this nightshirt on.”
Callahan took one look at the white garment she was holding and scowled. “You want me to wear a lady’s nightgown?”
“This is not a nightgown,” she said patiently. “This is one of Dan’s … nightshirts.”
“He wears this to sleep?” Callahan asked incredulously. “Tell me the truth, Josie. Have you ever seen your father in this garment?”
“Well, no,” she admitted, feeling a flush of embarrassment color her face. “But I’m certain he would wear it if Dr. Annie asked him.”
“The only kind of man who would wear something like this is a man who doesn’t have a woman and isn’t going to get one, angel.”
Josie planted her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. “Well,” she said, “I guess that fits your situation pretty well, doesn’t it? Now, put it on or I’ll do it for you. And don’t call me angel.”
“Give me that nightshirt,” he said reluctantly, holding out his hand.
Josie placed the white nightshirt in it and smiled, then pulled her lips into a fine line. The nightshirt was a small victory.
Callahan found the bottom of the shirt and threaded it over his head. He might call her angel, but Josie Miller
was
a temptation. He joked about it, but it was a truth he ought to recognize and accept. He managed to get one arm inside the shirt, but the other one refused to lift itself.
“Here, let me help,” she said, coming to his side. She threaded the shirtsleeve over his arm and the neck over his head, but smoothing the garment behind him wasn’t going to be as easy. “Do you think you could lift yourself if you put your arms around my neck?”
“I’ll try.” He forced himself to a sitting position, hanging his arms around her neck and drawing his good side against her.
Reaching around him was a stretch for Josie because he was so big, but she finally tugged the gown down his back and braced herself with her hands on the bed. He was too tall, too intense. The clean scent of her soap on his body was almost intoxicating, that and his male smell. Helplessly she leaned against him.
He lifted himself against her and she jerked the nightshirt under his bottom, then reached away to brace herself. But his arms were still around her neck, and his hands were threaded through her hair.
Josie’s breath caught in her throat, along with her voice. She gasped. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” He fell back to the bed, pulling her with him.
“Don’t …” But she didn’t know what to say.
Callahan’s mouth covered hers, and Josie instantly knew what it was she wanted. Just for one moment Josie forgot everything she’d ever told herself she didn’t need or wouldn’t allow. In that moment she allowed herself to enjoy his mouth on hers.
Callahan told himself he hadn’t intended to kiss her. He must have gone light-headed or he would never have done it. God only knew how long it had been since he’d kissed a woman. Since a woman’s mouth had opened shyly beneath his lips. But suddenly this one went stiff as a board and began to struggle. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t you dare try to take advantage of me, Callahan. I don’t kiss men.”
He stopped trying to pull her back into his arms and softened his hold. “I’ve never taken advantage of a woman in my life, and I apologize if you thought I intended to now.”
“Apology accepted,” she said. “Now, if you’ll just release me.”
He rubbed her arms gently, moving up and down, touching loosely, reluctant to break the connection. “Why are you so frightened, Josie?”
“I’m not frightened.”
“There’s nothing wrong with kissing. You can leave anytime you’re ready. But I’d like to say thank you for all that you’ve done.”
His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer. He felt the fabric of her dress, simple, unencumbered by undergarments that foolish women wore for the sake of style. Not Josie Miller. She was what she was, with no pretense. “I bet you don’t know how to kiss a man, do you?”