Stacey Kayne – Mountain Wild (страница 10)

She waited until he moved around the bed before she turned back to the stove. She watched the play of shadow cast on the floor as she took two bowls from her shelf and began serving stew.

“I sure appreciate you taking care of him,” he said, followed by the sound of his boots thumping to the floor as he pulled them off. “He’s been with me a long time.”

The care he showed for his pet was something that had always intrigued her. She couldn’t recall a time she’d spied Garret in the hills without his dog along.

“He hasn’t been any trouble.”

She could feel his gaze upon her, could tell he was watching her by the stillness of his shadow.

“Glad one of us hasn’t.” Fabric snapped as he shook his trousers out.

She set the steaming bowls aside as his shadow swayed, his hand reaching toward his head. She turned as he slumped forward and reached for the foot of the bed.

“Garret.” She was beside him in a flash.

“I’m all right,” he said, easing down to sit on the trunk.

Maggie curled her fingers into her palms, fighting her urge to soothe him. His complexion had paled. Wearing only his trousers, his shirt clutched in his hand, he rested his elbows on his thighs and blinked as though clearing his vision.

“You shouldn’t have gone out into the cold,” she scolded.

He glanced up, his gaze dark, burning with frustration.

Maggie took a step back, beyond his reach.

“Why in hell am I so weak?”

“You nearly froze to death. You’ve been abed for two days.”

His green eyes scanned her from head to toe and back again. “This may sound rude, but…should I know you?”

“I don’t see why you should,” she said, relief easing her stalled breath. “You were hardly conscious when I found you.”

“You seem to know me…and my dog.”

“I’m sure most folks around these parts are familiar with you and your cattle ranch, Mr. Daines.”

He shrugged on his shirt, his gaze never wavering from hers. “I thought I knew most folks around these parts. And I sure—” He paused, turning his face toward the collar. He sniffed loudly, his eyes widening as he met her gaze. “You washed my clothes?”

“They were already wet.” She wasn’t about to put dirty clothes in her cupboards. “I figured adding some soap couldn’t hurt.”

A slow grin eased his tense expression. He stood and stuffed his shirttails into his waistband. “I smell like a field of flowers.”

“It’s the only soap I have,” she said, realizing now that a man may not care to smell like wildflowers.

“I suppose it’s better than carrying the stench of sweat and horsehide.”

While tending his fever, it made sense to add some soap to that water, as well. Hopefully she’d rinsed him enough since then that he hadn’t noticed.

He sat on the side of the bed and Maggie felt some relief. He wasn’t quite so intimidating when he wasn’t towering over her. Perhaps she could tie him to a chair until he was strong enough to leave.

“I’ll be damned,” he muttered, staring at his mended sock.

Maggie silently cursed the heat in her cheeks. “They were in a sorry shape.”

“You’re more than a thorough nursemaid. I’m indebted to you, Mrs…?”

“Didn’t take much to mend them.”

He stared at her a moment, his narrowing gaze telling her he hadn’t missed her failure to give her name. “I was also wearing a gun,” he said.

“You’ll get your holster back when you leave.”

“I didn’t see any other structures outside. Where are you keeping my horse?”

“There was no horse.”

“No horse?” He surged up. Maggie forced herself to hold her ground, not that she could have backed any closer to the stove.

“I found you and your dog buried in the snow about two miles from here.”

“Buried?”

“Covered by a foot of fresh powder. I nearly walked right past you. If your dog hadn’t stood up, I would have. You’d been hit in the head and had been on the ground for a long while.”

He touched the spot on his head that had been caked with blood when she’d found him.

“Perhaps you should sit down, Mr. Daines. You were suffering from the cold when I brought you here. You had a high fever all of yesterday and most of today. You’d slept so long I was starting to worry the cold or the fever had damaged your brain.”

“It must have. I don’t remember riding into these moun-tains. And I can assure you I am not prone to falling from my saddle.”

“I didn’t assume that you were. Looked to me like someone struck you with a rifle. By the time I found you any other tracks had been long-since snowed over.”

He’d been attacked? Garret tried to jar his memory. Shouldn’t he remember something like being knocked from his saddle? Had he been ambushed? The last he could recall was watching Duce’s tracks fade in the heavy rain.

“I was looking for my partner,” he said. “I followed Duce’s tracks into the hills. What little snow had been on the ground was washed out by the rain.”

“That’s why you nearly froze to death. It didn’t rain long before snow set in, just before sundown. I found you about an hour past dawn. Have you been feuding with anyone?”

“Only half the state,” he said, shoving his hands into his hair. “The cattle trade has been more akin to pirating as of late.”

“Desperation and greed tend to have that effect on men.”

The chill in her husky voice drew his gaze. Why was it her face that filled his mind instead of his attackers?

She nodded toward the front wall. “Go sit at the table.”

She sure didn’t have any trouble passing out orders. His first memory after the storm was her, those blue eyes ablaze with passion, her sweet body arched beneath him as she’d awakened to his touch, his kisses…

“Mr. Daines?”

He blinked, and realized she stood before him with a bowl in her hands, his stern nursemaid, not the lover from his dream. The hearty aroma penetrated his dazed mind, initiating a growl in his empty belly.

“The table,” she repeated.

She obviously didn’t trust him to not end up on his face, staying at his side until he sat in the chair. She plunked the bowl of stew down in front of him and his mouth watered at the sight of steaming chunks of meat in dark gravy. Despite his hunger, he waited for his hostess to join him. Realizing he sat on the only chair, he grabbed the trunk from the foot of the bed and slid it forward.

She stayed by the stove, her bowl in hand, her sweet face pinched in a frown. He gathered she hadn’t planned on joining him at the table. Her steps seemed to drag as she approached him. She nudged the trunk to the far side of the table then hesitantly took her seat.

“I swear I don’t bite,” he said, forcing a smile.

“I don’t usually have company.”

“I don’t usually get lost in snowstorms. I am sorry for putting you out.”

“I’m just glad I didn’t have to bury you in the frozen ground.” With that, she took a bite.

He didn’t wait for further invitation. He heaped a big bite into his mouth and nearly groaned as venison melted against his tongue, the flavorful gravy nothing short of heaven. He emptied the small bowl in a few hearty bites and would have thumbed out the remaining gravy had the bowl not been snatched away from him.

“I’ll get you some more.”

“I don’t want to leave you hungry,” he said, while hoping that big pot was filled to the brim.

“I have plenty,” she said, refilling his bowl. “Luckily I brought more than a frozen cowboy home from my hunt.”

“Thank you,” he said, unable to pull his gaze away from her graceful movements as she sat across from him. Had some sorry excuse of a man left her up here to fend for herself under such harsh conditions? Catching his gaze, she paused before taking another bite. Her tense expression suggested she’d rather be dining alone.

“You were out hunting in that storm?” he asked.