Short-Straw Bride (10 page)

By the time he turned back to Meredith, the woman had already pushed herself up to a sitting position and had her legs dangling over the side of the mattress. Deep lines furrowed her brow, and her left hand gingerly cupped the side of her head, but her chin was set and her back straight.

The woman had grit. If he hadn't learned that truth last night, watching her power through her pain this morning would've proved it.

Travis rushed to her side and wrapped an arm around her middle. Something pink and lacy winked at him from within the sheets. Recognizing the corset, he loosened his hold on Meredith in order to grab the frilly thing and flip it down to the far corner of the bed. Maybe if she found it with her other belongings, he'd get lucky and her confused mind would assume she'd taken it off herself.

Cinching his arm back around her ribs, Travis took her weight on himself and slowly raised her to her feet. “Easy now,” he said. “I'll help you get to the end of the bed.”

She leaned into his side as they moved slowly toward their goal, her left arm circling his waist. When they reached the bedpost, Meredith released him to grasp the oak column, and Travis found himself missing the contact. He maintained his grip another moment until certain she was secure. Finally, he slackened his hold and slipped his arm free.

“I'll be right outside the door.” He ducked his head and shoved his thumbs beneath his suspender straps. “Call out if you need anything.”

He couldn't quite bring himself to look at her with her dress half undone, but he heard her quiet “Thank you” as he strode to the doorway.

Once the door had been pulled closed behind him, he pressed his back into the wall and exhaled a long, slow breath.

Fifteen minutes later, Meredith called him back into the room. She'd managed to change and crawl back under the covers. Sitting with the blankets held up to her chin, she bit her lip and hid her eyes from him behind lowered lashes.

“I didn't want to bother you,” she said softly, “but I couldn't reach all my hairpins. It hurt too much to twist my head back and forth.”

Travis crossed the room and, lowering himself beside her, reached for the first pin he could see. She hissed a little when a tangled strand pulled painfully against her injured scalp. Travis scowled. His rancher's fingers were too thick for this. But who else was gonna do it? Setting his jaw, he reached for another pin. This time she didn't make a sound as he extracted the thin black wire. His confidence building, Travis searched for more. By the time he found the last one and added it to the pile next to his hip, Meredith's eyes had closed and her back slumped against his chest.

Travis eased her down to where her pillow waited. Scooping the discarded pins into his palm, he pushed to his feet only to have the bed groan at the loss of his weight. Meredith's lashes fluttered open.

“Travis?” she whispered, her voice groggy.

“Yes?”

“You're the best hero I ever dreamed up.”

And in that moment, Travis wanted to be more to her than a dreamland hero left over from her childhood. He wanted to be her hero in truth.

But his wants never came first. His brothers, the land—those were what he swore to protect. And with Meredith's connection to Mitchell, he couldn't afford to indulge in selfish whims. No, when Meredith recovered, he'd see she got back where she belonged—far away from him.

M
eredith drifted in and out of sleep most of the day. Each time she woke, she'd ask the same questions: Where was she? What happened? And each time, Travis gave her the same answers. Despite her continued memory trouble, however, her disorientation improved. No more talk of dreams or heroes, for which he was exceedingly grateful. If Crockett had overheard one of those statements, he'd never let Travis live it down. Besides, the less he thought about those early conversations, the better. He had no business trying to be someone's hero. He had enough to worry about.

Like the fact that someone was trying to drive him off his land. And because of that, he had no barn, only half the hay stores he'd need for winter, and an injured woman whose presence kept him in the house when he should be out helping his brothers build a temporary shelter for the stock. Travis paced over to the window and raised an arm to cushion his head as he leaned against the wall.

“I'm sorry about your barn, Travis.” Meredith's soft voice settled over him like a comfortable, well-worn shirt. He turned and found she had bolstered herself on the extra pillows without his aid and was regarding him with remarkably clear eyes.

How had she so accurately deciphered his thoughts? He pasted on a smile, not wanting to burden her with his worries, and stepped away from the window. “It's nothing for you to be sorry about. The boys and I can build another.”

“But it will cause you hardship. Perhaps if I had gotten here sooner . . .”

Travis's mouth hardened into a stern line. “None of the blame belongs on your shoulders, Meredith. Mitchell's the one responsible. Without your warning, things could've been a lot worse.”

Travis dropped onto the bedside chair ready to scold some more, but it suddenly hit him that she hadn't asked him her usual questions. “Do you remember what happened?”

She started to shake her head but stopped with a wince. “Not really. I remember coming out here and helping fight the fire, but I have no memory of you and the others returning or anything else from last night.”

“Do you recall me explaining how you got injured?”

“Samson, right?”

He nodded, and she smiled like a pupil trying to impress her teacher. “You told me when I awakened a while ago.”

“And four times before that.” A true grin split his face. She was getting better. “I'm glad it finally sank in.”

Her brows knit in bewilderment. “Four times? How long have I been . . .” She glanced down at the bed, as if only then recognizing the significance of where she was, and slid down on the pillows until the blankets came up to her chin.

So much for bypassing the awkwardness.

“It's nearly suppertime. I'll have Jim bring you some broth if you think you can manage eating.”

“Suppertime?” she squeaked. “I was here all night and all day?”

“And you probably won't be leaving anytime soon.” Judging by her horrified look, the prospect didn't exactly thrill her. Well, being chained to a sickroom when he had work to do wasn't his first choice, either. If he could deal with it, she sure as shootin' could, too.

“Look, Meredith. We have no choice in the matter. That lump on the side of your head ain't there for decoration. You're seriously hurt. Crockett knows what he's talking about when it comes to things like this, and he insists that you not leave until you've recovered to the point that there's no chance of you blacking out on the way home or growing so dizzy you fall off your horse. Until now, you couldn't even remember where you were. No way was I going to dump you outside my gate just because propriety said you shouldn't be here. Propriety wasn't kicked by a mule.”

Travis sucked in a breath and reined in his temper. It was only natural for her to be alarmed. She was in her nightclothes in a strange man's bed. Any sane woman would protest. It only proved how delirious she'd truly been when she'd rambled on about him being handsome and the hero of her dreams. He should be thankful for the evidence that she was in her right mind again.

So why wouldn't that pang in his chest at the thought of her leaving go away?

“I understand.” Meredith looked at him with those big eyes of hers and made an effort to clear the trepidation from her face. But when she bit her bottom lip, he knew she still harbored worries.

“I see our patient's awake again.” Crockett leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb. His trousers and shirt were streaked with soot, but his face and hands glowed from a recent scrubbing. “How are you feeling, Meredith?”

“Stronger, thank you.” Her lashes remained lowered, and her grip on the blankets tightened.

Travis moved to the foot of the bed to shield her from his brother's view. “She remembers things, too,” he said. “Not everything, but enough that I don't have to repeat explanations.”

“Well, that's good news.” Crockett angled his head past Travis and projected his voice across the room. “Another couple days of rest, and you should be up and about.”

Meredith's quiet moan was all the catalyst Travis needed. He strode to the doorway and, taking Crockett by the shoulders, manually pointed him toward the kitchen.

Crockett resisted, concern creeping into his voice. “Is she in pain?”

“Only if she moves.” Travis strong-armed his brother into the hall. “Why don't you get her some of that soup Jim's heating up? She hasn't eaten since yesterday.”

Crockett pulled out of Travis's hold and turned on him. “What's wrong with you?” he hissed. “You're acting as if you think I'm going to hurt her or something.”

“It's not that. It's just . . .” Travis let out a heavy breath. “She's not too pleased about having to prolong her stay, and your reminders aren't easing her worries none.”

Crockett jutted his chin. “Well, she's going to have to get used to the idea, because I'm not letting her leave until I'm sure—”

“I already made that plain to her,” Travis interrupted. “And she's coming around. She just needs some time to settle things in her mind.” He glanced back toward the open doorway. “Meredith's tough. She'll weather whatever storm comes.”

“She's got spunk. That's for sure.”

Hearing the admiration in his brother's voice, Travis turned to scowl at him. “Just get the soup.”

Crockett's gaze returned to the doorway to Meredith's room, giving Travis the distinct impression that the man remembered all too well what she looked like tucked up in bed.

He gave his brother a shove. “Get going.”

“All right. All right.” Crockett caught his balance and finally moved toward the kitchen. “I'll brew some willow bark tea, too. It'll help with her pain.”

“Fine.”

Travis marched back to his room and made a beeline for his chest of drawers. He grabbed the first shirt his hand touched and yanked it out of the drawer. His bootheels clomped against the wood floor, then muffled as he hit the rag rug at the side of the bed.

Meredith watched him, her brows slightly quirked.

“Arms up,” he said as if she were a child and not a very beautiful, very grown woman. “Crock is gonna bring some tea and soup in a bit, and you won't be able to eat if you've got a death grip on those blankets.” He scrunched the shirttails in his hands and stretched the unbuttoned neck hole wide. “Put this on. It'll cover you up and still allow you to eat.”

She hesitated for a moment, then released the blankets and stuck her arm through the sleeve, her disgruntled expression making him smile.

With Meredith's condition no longer critical, Travis joined his brothers outside the following morning. He and Crockett split her care between them, and at her insistence, only checked in on her when a break in their work allowed it. Her head still pained her, though the willow bark seemed to take the sharpness away, but it was the dizziness that kept her in bed. He'd provided her with a book to read, Ballantyne's
The Wild Man of the West
, and while he doubted a less feminine book had ever been written, she'd assured him it helped pass the time.

Late that morning, Travis headed to the pump. It was his turn to look in on Meredith. He pulled off his work gloves, tucked them into his coat pocket, and ran his hands under the icy water streaming from the spout. Then he dampened his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow. As he moved the cool cloth around to the back of his neck, two shots fired in close succession echoed from the direction of the road.

Company.

In a blink, he unfastened the protective loop on his holster, his fingers testing the freedom of his Colt. After Mitchell's attack, he and the boys had taken to wearing their gun belts even when close to the house.

“Neill, take position by the shed!” Travis yelled as he ran to the corral. He ducked through the fence and grabbed his saddle from where it lay slung over the top rails. He caught a glimpse of Jim running around the corner of the shed and called out for him to guard the road.

Crockett appeared at the corral with a horse blanket, and Travis whistled for his gelding. As the two worked in tandem to get the animal ready to ride, Travis ordered Crockett to see to Meredith's protection.

“She warned us Mitchell's man would return to make another offer after the fire. Things might get ugly when I spit in his face.” Travis mounted, and Crockett moved to open the railings.

“I'll watch over her, Trav. Just keep your head out there.”

He nodded to his brother and nudged Bexar into a run, his eyes only briefly touching on his bedroom window as he charged past the house.