Authors: Megan Hart
Jed knew that aside from his other fine skills, Miles Shaw could follow a wood tick on solid rock. If anybody would be able to help him find his wayward woman, it would be Miles. Jed spit into the dust.
"Thanks, Miles. Let's get started."
"Get Mr. Peters here a horse,” Miles told Sammy, who ducked his head and hurried off to do just that. “Charge it to my account."
"Now, Miles, I can't let you..."
Miles held up his hand. “Jed, it seems to me we've got a missing person here. It's my job as sheriff to find her any way I can. I'm allowed to provide my deputies with horses to help them do their job."
"Deputy?” Jed asked.
Miles grinned. “Son, I hereby deputize you to serve the town of Staghorn in any matter I order you to."
Jed smiled grimly. “Does this mean I can arrest Caite when I find her?"
"If you think a night in the poky will set her straight,” Miles replied.
Sammy had brought Jed's mount, a tall roan gelding, already saddled and bridled. Jed swung up on the horse and nodded at Miles. “I reckon it might."
Rocky was Miles’ own horse. Sammy brought him next, and the sheriff swung into the saddle with practiced ease. “Thanks, Sammy."
"Let's go find her,” Jed said. He only hoped he would have the chance to arrest Caite when they found her. He didn't want to have to bury her.
"Whoa!” Caite cried, desperately trying to rein in Tripper. The big animal, usually so placid, had been completely spooked. No matter what she did, the horse would not stop.
Caite clung to the saddle horn and gripped the massive beast with her legs, to no avail. She was rapidly losing her grip. She screamed breathlessly, terrified and unable to stop herself.
Tripper ran on, the thunder of his hooves filling the air around her until she thought she might go deaf. He dodged hillocks and tufts of grass, every movement loosening Caite's grip a little more. Up ahead, Caite could see the next bend of the creek they had stopped at just before Tripper took flight.
Caite felt the horse tense under her, and understood in that moment Tripper meant to jump the creek.
"No!” she cried, the wind tearing the word away from her and scattering it to the dirt.
Tripper jumped. Caite fell. And then she knew nothing more.
The darkness surrounded her. There was pain in the darkness, and voices calling her. She wanted to ignore them, sensing that to respond would bring the pain even closer. The voices were insistent, though, snarling the strands of her consciousness until they were forced to mesh together once more. Caite opened her eyes.
"She is waking,” a familiar, soft voice said.
Lorna.
Caite rolled her eyes, the only part of her that did not hurt it seemed, toward Lorna's voice. Everything seemed a little blurry and soft around the edges. Lorna's kind face swam into focus. Sally was next to her. Both women were looking at Caite with clear concern on their faces.
"Caitleen, can you hear me?” Sally asked. She pressed the back of her hand to Caite's cheek as if feeling for a fever.
"What happened?” Caite whispered through gummed lips. She poked her tongue out to moisten them. She was terribly thirsty.
"Are you remembering anything?” Lorna helped Caite into a sitting position, which made her head swim dizzily. Blessedly, the older woman then held a cool glass of water to Caite's parched mouth.
The water was like heaven washing down her arid throat, and for several minutes, Caite merely relished the feeling. She took several more small sips, letting the cool liquid trickle past her lips and fill her mouth with its sweetness. When at last she had drunk her fill, she sat back against the pillows. She saw she was in her bed at Heatherfield in the dear little room off the kitchen.
"I remember riding Tripper,” she said hoarsely. “I was running away from Jed and his contract."
Lorna's mouth tightened. “Jed and his stupid contract,” she muttered. “I would like to be beating the stuffing out of him for that contract."
Sally patted Lorna's hand. “Let's concentrate on Caite."
"I fell off,” Caite said, not a question. She had a sudden, vivid recollection of the ground flying up to meet her. She shivered.
"When Tripper found his way back here without a rider, we were all mighty worried,” Sally told her. “But then, when Jed brought you in..."
"Jed found me?” Caite asked. So he had come after her. Was it out of concern for her safety, or just to hand her over to the sheriff? She supposed it no longer really mattered.
"Jed and Sheriff Shaw both did. They were tracking you from Staghorn. Oh, Caitleen!” Lorna scolded. “What were you thinking, taking such a risk?"
Caite took Lorna's hand and squeezed it with what little strength she had. “I am so sorry, Lorna, believe me. I know I behaved abominably. I was foolish."
The hand holding Lorna's was red and cracked.
Sunburned.
Caite reached up to touch her face, realizing at once she had been burned there as well. Wincing, she ran her fingers across her lips. No wonder she had had trouble opening her mouth to speak. A horde of tiny, painful blisters clustered in the corners of her mouth and across the tender flesh of her lips. She had been burned badly.
"How long was it before Jed found me?"
"We think it must've been several hours.” Sally pulled Caite's hand away from her face. “If it wasn't for Sheriff Shaw, he might not have found you at all. You were far off route."
Caite burst into tears. “I was so stupid!"
Lorna and Sally both hugged her, rubbing her back until the tears had passed. Then they busied themselves tidying her, wiping her face gently with a soft, damp cloth and rubbing a soothing cream into her blisters. Their generous ministrations only made her feel worse. She did not deserve such kindness.
"Here, drink this.” Sally handed her a cup filled with a warm, pungent brew.
Caite sipped the bitter liquid, frowning at the taste. “What is it?"
"It'll help to build your strength after the bleeding."
"Bleeding?"
Lorna and Sally exchanged glances. What she saw on their faces was enough to make Caite's heart pound. The cup shook in her hand.
"You'll be fine,” Sally assured her, seeing Caite's distress. She took the cup back. “The bleeding has stopped. You and the baby are both fine."
"Baby?” Caite felt the blood rush from her head, and was horribly certain she was going to faint. She shook her head weakly, as if she could shake away what she had just heard.
"You were not knowing?” Lorna asked gently.
"How can this be?” Caite asked, the reality of what Sally had told her sinking in slowly. What a foolish question. She knew exactly how it had happened. “I'm going to have a baby?"
"We just assumed you knew,” Sally told her. She exchanged a helpless glance with Lorna. “We thought you and Jed both knew."
"Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Caite murmured, burying her face in her hands and rocking back and forth. She was pregnant
. With Jed's child.
Soothing hands held her once more. She could not let herself break down now. More than ever, she had to be strong. Not for herself, but for her child.
Jed sat, unmoving and unseeing, in one of the deep leather chairs in the main room. All he could see was Caitleen in the grass, arms and legs askew. Her beautiful, pale skin had burned and was beginning to blister. She hadn't even moaned when he picked her up.
Miles had found her trail right off. They had followed her as fast as their mounts could run, but it had not been fast enough. He had been too late to protect her from the fall.
"I reckon she'll be all right,” Miles mentioned from his seat across the room. It was the first he had spoken since they had brought her in.
Jed started, torn from the terrible memories. Rubbing eyes that felt flooded with broken glass, he looked over at the sheriff. “I hope so."
"She looked bad, son, but I've seen a lot worse."
Jed stood, wincing at the way his knees and back popped. He must have been sitting for a real long time. “If you're trying to make me feel better, Miles, you're not."
"Sorry."
Shorty came in from outside, his weathered face solemn. He nodded to Miles. “Howdy."
"How's that mare of yours coming?” Miles asked. “She foal yet?"
"She's close,” Shorty said.
How could they be talking about such mundane things when Caite lay dying?
Jed fumed, the events of the past several hours finally catching up with him. Shorty and Miles were still yammering on about foals, horses, and all manner of things he didn't want to listen to.
"Would you just shut up about all that?” he growled suddenly. “What the hell difference does it make if you breed Zany Blue with Billy Royal, or Topper, or with your blasted self?"
Shorty stared at him silently, his face inscrutable. “I reckon I'm gonna let that go, Jedson, since I know you're worried about Miss Caite."
Rage filled Jed, and it felt a sight better than the fear that had been saturating him before. He curled his fingers into fists. He didn't much like Shorty's tone, and he told him so.
"I reckon I don't care what you think of my tone,” Shorty said, dismissing Jed as if he were of no account. The lean cowboy turned back to Miles and started talking about the foaling again.
"Don't turn your back on me, Shorty,” Jed warned. The anger had nearly chased away the sight of Caite lying so deathly still. Almost, but not quite. He needed more.
Shorty shot him a look of disgust. “Go sit back in your chair, Jedson, and think on what you done."
"What I done?” Jed hollered, taking a menacing step toward his friend.
"Yeah,” Shorty said slowly. “What you done to Miss Caite. If you hadn't been so gol-darned set on scaring her with that stupid piece of scrap paper, none of this ever would have happened."
That what Shorty said was true didn't matter. With a growl of utter rage, Jed sprang on the other man, intent on beating him into the ground. Shorty was quick, turning just as Jed jumped. The men came together like a pair of wolves fighting over the same carcass.
Jed's fist split Shorty's lip. Grunting in pain, Shorty countered with a quick jab to Jed's stomach. Each man was good with his fists, and anger fueled them both. Every punch connected with flesh, until both Shorty and Jed were on the floor, tussling like schoolboys.
"Stop it, both of you!” Lorna's sharp command rang through the main room.
Jed and Shorty continued to beat the beans out of each other. Only when Lorna marched over and grabbed each of them by the ear, pulling them apart, did they stop. Still glaring at each other, they backed off to their separate spaces.
"I am ashamed of you both!” Lorna cried. “Causing such a ruckus when Miss Caite is needing her sleep!"
"She's awake?” asked Jed eagerly. His nose felt about three sizes larger than normal, and one eye was rapidly swelling shut, but he didn't care. He only wanted to know if Caite was all right.
"She did wake, yes.” Lorna grabbed his arm as he tried to brush past her. “But she is not ready for you, Little Jed."
Jed scowled. “Don't treat me like a boy, Lorna."
Lorna's usually merry eyes glinted fiercely at him. “You are acting like a boy! Fighting with Shorty! What were you thinking? Both of you!"
Shorty snorted. “Ask Mr. Hothead here, Lorna."
"Don't tempt me, Shorty..."
"Stop it this instant!” Lorna yelled. “I am ashamed of both of you."
"He's just mad ‘cause I told him the truth,” Shorty stated calmly. “It's his fault Miss Caite is in such a mess."
"It was her own fault she got in such a mess,” Jed retorted, although he knew Shorty was right.
Shorty walked over to him until they were face to face. The tall cowboy's eyes were hard, and his voice low and disgusted. “You ain't fit for Miss Caite to wipe her boots on, Jedson. No wonder she run off rather than be forced to marry you."
With a strangled cry of outrage, Jed launched into Shorty again. Their fighting was twice as violent this time around. Shorty slammed Jed against the wall, knocking the couch out of the way. Jed countered by butting Shorty with his head. Everything was a red rage of fists and curses, until one small sound broke through the tumult.
The cocking of a gun.
Through all the fighting, Miles Shaw had just sat and watched. At some point, however, he had decided he had had enough. Now he stood behind Shorty, his peacemaker Colt .45 pointing square at Jed's face.
"I reckon you boys ought to show some respect for Miss Caite's condition,” the sheriff remarked lazily. The gun didn't waver an inch.
Shorty backed off from his stranglehold on Jed's throat. Jed stepped away from the wall, hands up to show Miles he had no intention of using them. When both men had moved away from each other, Miles motioned with the gun that they should each step forward again.
"Shake hands,” he ordered.
Shorty and Jed still glared at each other hatefully.
"Go on, now. You're friends, ain't ya?"
Shorty's glare broke, and he looked shamefaced at Jed. “I reckon we are."
Jed stuck out his hand. “I'm sorry, Shorty. I never should've taken my fists to you. You were right about Caite. It's all my fault."
"Yep. I know,” Shorty replied. “But I know how upset you are about all of this, and I shouldn't have baited you."
The men shook hands heartily, neither one wincing despite their bruised and bleeding knuckles. Lorna clucked, shaking her head. Jed gave her a swift hug.
"I'm sorry for shouting at you, Lorna. I was being an pigheaded lout."
Lorna huffed, but returned the squeeze. “All right, Jed. We are all worried about Miss Caite."
Miles holstered his gun and looked pointedly at both Jed and Shorty. “I don't want to have to take this out again."
Jed nodded. He couldn't blame Miles for pulling out the peacemaker. He had Shorty had been acting like blasted idiots. Except it was really just him acting like the idiot. Everything was his fault.
If he hadn't tried to scare Caite, she wouldn't have run off. Tripper wouldn't have been spooked, and she wouldn't have been thrown. She wouldn't have cracked her head so hard it knocked her into next week, and the sun wouldn't have burned her lovely complexion.