Bittner, Rosanne (35 page)

"You
were shot through the lung, you know."

He
rubbed at his eyes. "I seem to remember hearing someone say that.
Everything I've heard has been like a strange dream." He glanced at the
book on her lap. "You been reading?"

Tess
leaned back and picked up the book. "I bought it from a traveling
salesman. I thought I would read to you once you were more alert and on the
mend. Maybe that will stimulate your interest in learning to read better
yourself."

He
closed his eyes again for a moment. "You're determined to civilize me,
aren't you?"

She
moved her chair closer. "Something like that. But I must say, you are more
civilized than some around here who profess to be our best citizens." She
swallowed, looking down at the book. "There is something I have to tell
you, John, but first, is there anything you want? Something hot to drink?
Another bath? Something to eat?"

He
grimaced as he tried to scoot up to a sitting position. "Just help me...
get up."

She
set the book aside and hurriedly took the pillows to stack them behind him.
"I don't think you should be doing this."

"I
have to. I've lain here long enough, and you've been caring for me like a damn
baby."

"John,
you've been very sick, near to death. There were a couple of times when the
doctor thought you
had
died! When you love someone you do what's
necessary to keep them in your life."

The
remark surprised him, and he wondered if she even realized she'd said it. He
studied her, as she plumped another pillow, the scattering of freckles on her
face, her eyes, so incredibly blue. She wore a blue dress that seemed to match
those eyes, and this was the first time he'd noticed her waist was getting
thicker. "I missed you, Tess."

She
straightened, meeting his eyes. "And I missed you."

John
saw the color coming to her cheeks, and she turned away. "I'll go fix you
some tea."

He
knew she was suddenly embarrassed. This was not the time to press her about her
feelings.

Tess
left, her heart pounding at realizing something had changed between them. She
loved him. She truly loved him. She fixed the coffee and cut a piece of bread,
taking both into the bedroom on a tray, which she set on his lap.

"This
is a lousy way to come back and impress my new wife," he said with a
frown.

"Just
eat," she answered. "I'm glad to take care of you. I believe you
helped care for me once, and the necessity is bound to come up again. That's
part of what marriage is all about, John Hawkins. The words are 'for better or
worse, in sickness and in health.' You continue to love and support each other
in the worst of times. Now drink some of this coffee and eat the bread. I'll
make you something better in a little bit. All you've eaten up to now is broth.
You'll waste away to skin and bones if you don't start getting solid food into
your stomach soon. Dr. Sanders says there is no damage to your stomach or
digestive tract. You should be able to eat anything you want." She sat
down on a chair beside the bed. "You look better, John. Your coloring is
more normal, and your fever is gone. Surely you'll be all right now."

He
sipped some coffee. "Did you ever doubt it? I told you I was too mean to
die." A sharp pain jabbed his ribs, and he grimaced before drinking more.

"How
do you like our house?" Tess asked, feeling suddenly a little awkward,
hating having to tell him what she knew about Jim Caldwell.

"Hard
to say. All I've seen is this room." John studied the colorful quilt on
the bed as he took a bite of bread and swallowed it. "I've never lived
anyplace that had a woman's touch, at least not the touch of a woman like
you."

"We'll
build an even better house out at the farm someday, something bigger. We'll
need the room." She dropped her gaze at the remark. If she was going to be
a real wife to him, they would surely have more than one child. Besides, he
deserved children of his own blood.

"I
guess we will," he answered. "How's the seamstress business?"

Why
did she feel so nervous? When he'd been sick, she had been in full control. Now
at the first sign of his getting better she was reminded of what a powerful,
sure man he could be. They were still a little bit like strangers. "It's
going very well, although I haven't done anything the last few days. I've spent
all my time with you, except for resting whenever Jenny could come over."

John
frowned. "I meant to ask about that, but just didn't feel good enough to
bother. You've been letting Jenny Simms help take care of me?"

"I
decided she was the best one to ask. She knows you... intimately." She
felt too warm. "And she's not the fainting type."

John
grinned. "You're a strong, smart woman, Mrs. Hawkins."

Tess
sighed, rising from the chair, still averting her gaze. "Not so
smart."

"What
do you mean?"

She
sighed, moving to the foot of the bed. "John..." She finally looked
at him. "I have something to tell you." She confessed what she'd
heard at the Caldwell house. "It's my fault you've been through this
hell," she ended. "If you had died..." She swallowed back tears.
"I thought I was helping by not telling. I was afraid if I told, you'd go
charging in there and get yourself shot. Now look at what's happened. If I had
told you, you probably would have been more careful."

She
wished she could read his dark eyes. He took one more swallow of coffee and
asked her to take the tray. When she walked around the side of the bed to do
so, he gripped her arm gently.

"You
were thinking of me," he told her. "That's all that matters." He
let go and rubbed at his eyes as she set the tray aside. "The fact remains
I did a stupid thing, whether you had told me or not," he continued.
"At least now I know I was right, about Caldwell, but the man is bound to
lay low for the winter, so I'll still have trouble proving anything. I'd just
better not set eyes on Casey Dunlap anytime soon!"

The
look in his eyes set fear in her heart. She knew that, because of the shooting,
John Hawkins would not quit the Rangers until he found the man who had shot him
and proved Jim Caldwell was guilty of cattle theft. "Maybe you should tell
all of this to Captain Booth and let him take care of it."

He
shook his head. "No. I'll probably talk to Booth, but proving who did this
is something I have to do, especially now. It was either Dunlap or Caldwell
himself who shot me." His hands balled into fists. "I'll find out
which one, and he'll damn well regret it!"

"John,
if you find out, you have to let the law take care of it. Bring them in with
proof. Don't try to settle it yourself. No one would believe you. You could
hang. Let the
law
settle this, the right way, for once." She rose.
"Harriet Caldwell is so bent on civilizing Texas, talking of bringing in
more teachers, preachers, and such. Imagine if she finds out her own
husband..." She sighed. "Much as I dislike the woman, I actually feel
a little sorry for her. I am sure she has no idea what's been going on. And
poor old Colonel Bass would turn over in his grave if he knew the kind of man
he was giving so much land to."

John
just shook his head. "Leave it to you to feel sorry for an old bat like
Harriet Caldwell. You told me she treated you no better than a slave."

Tess
sat down on the edge of the bed. "I suppose that's the only kind of life
she's ever known. I heard Jim Caldwell talking one evening about the grand
plantation they once owned in the Virginias. Maybe he felt desperate after
losing it all. The way we're all brought up, the things we lose in life can
cause us to sometimes make rash decisions, like you... killing the man who hurt
your mother and carrying so much hurt and hatred around inside of you."

John
frowned. "You think marrying me was also a desperate decision? A rash
decision?"

She
met his gaze. "Of course it was. But we don't always have to regret such
decisions. I just think Jim Caldwell is going to regret some of the decisions
he's made."

John
leaned his head back. "I
know
he'll regret them."

"John,
you have to be more careful than ever. I didn't go through all this just to
have you turn around and get yourself killed."

His
look of vengeance softened, and he moved a hand to press it against her belly.
"How are you? All this extra work can't be good for a woman in your—"

"Don't
talk about my condition as though I'm going to collapse at any moment."
She stood up, shaken by his mere touch. "Just because I'm carrying doesn't
mean I'm not as strong as ever."

He
smiled. "Heaven forbid you should show any weakness." He put his head
back. "I'm willing to admit... I'm
not
feeling very strong right
now; but that's going to change... real quick."

Tess
sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm glad to see you looking better and
talking more normally."

He
watched her eyes. There was something there he'd never seen before. Love.
"You didn't answer me—about how you really are."

She
rose, tucking blankets around him. "I'm just fine. You rest now. I'll fix
some homemade soup for you." She walked around to the foot of the bed.
"I'm so sorry, John. Are you sure you aren't angry with me for not telling
you what I heard?"

He
watched her lovingly, already feeling tired again. "All I care about is
how you feel about that baby you're carrying. He's mine, you know. You remember
that. Come spring, we'll be a family."

She
touched her stomach. "I don't know yet how I feel about the baby. Maybe it
will be more real for me when I actually give birth. I'll know then."

His
eyes began to droop shut. "The natural thing for a woman... is to love any
child that comes... from her own body. It shouldn't matter who fathered it.
That's what my mother... always told me."

Tess
walked to the doorway. "Your mother must have been very special," she
said quietly. She realized they were more alike in their life experiences than
she'd given thought to before. They both knew what it was like to lose someone
dear to them. They had both seen violence and death, and prejudice. She was
relieved he didn't seem to blame her for what had happened, but she would
always blame herself. She would make it up to him. The best way to do that was
to love him the way he wanted and needed to be loved. She turned to tell him
that she loved him, but he had already drifted back to sleep.

"You
stupid son-of-a-bitch! It was
you,
wasn't it?" Jim Caldwell
glowered at Casey Dunlap. Caldwell could tell by the look in Dunlap's eyes that
he was right. He fought an urge to pull his gun and shoot the man, and instead
turned away, fists clenched. "You came riding in that day a couple of
hours after Hawkins left, never said a word. Then I go into town four days ago
and find out from Higgins that Hawkins was shot the same day he'd been out to my
place! Higgins is so busy pretending to be working with the Rangers to find out
who did it, he didn't get the chance to come out here to the ranch and let me
know what was going on! You could at least have let me in on this mess, dammit,
Casey!" He whirled. "What in God's name were you thinking! And where
have you been all this time!"

Casey
shrugged, a hard look in his eyes. "I just figured it was time to shut
Hawk's mouth, so I shot him. I rode out to camp in the hills till things
quieted down."

"Well,
you should have at least
finished
Hawkins! The bastard is going to live!
And you should have waited for a time when he was completely alone, not when he
was with his partner. If you were going to shoot one, you might as well have
shot
both
of them!" He threw up his hands. "You know goddamn
well that when it comes to decisions like this, you let
me
make them!
Here I am trying to keep Hawkins off my back, and you pull this stunt! There
will be Rangers all over this ranch in no time! Thank God there aren't any
stolen cattle around here."

"I
shot him after he was off your property," Casey spoke up in his own
defense. "They can't pin this on you or any of your men. His partner never
saw me, didn't have a chance to come lookin'. I made sure my tracks led away
from your place, took a long way around, rode through a stream bed for quite a
ways to help cover my tracks. Besides, like I said, Ken Randall didn't have a
chance to come after me. We've had a good rain since then. By now the tracks
are gone."