“Carlos—bring me the bottle—” Jax’s voice was ragged.
No need to ask which bottle, Callie thought. Carlos moved like a cat, retrieving the whiskey from one of the saddlebags. “Got any salve?” he asked from where he knelt.
“It’s—in there, too,” Jax answered.
Carlos returned to the bed, handing the jar of salve and the Boozer’s Whiskey bottle to Callie. She uncapped it and poured a good amount over the wound, remembering Dolly Ames’s advice. Jax grimaced as the liquor branded itself furiously into the recesses of the freshly-burned wound. He cursed harshly, arching up from the bed.
“Easy, love…easy,” Callie murmured soothingly.
She took up the cool rag and sponged his neck and face again, then reached for the jar of salve.
She dipped her fingers in the jar and smeared on a bit of the medicine. Just as she finished, a knock sounded at the door. She looked at Carlos quickly, and saw he already had Jax’s Colt trained on the door. “Who is it?” she called.
There was a slight hesitation, then, “Doctor Naylor, ma’am.” There was another pause, a hint of self-mockery in the rich bass voice as it came once more, muffled through the door. “I’m here to—to see about my…patient.”
Callie glanced at Jax. He looked up at her through half-lidded eyes, a caustic smile on his lips. “You’re pretty damn persuasive.”
Callie bit her lip. Now he showed up! After what she and Carlos had done—amateurishly, painfully, treating the wounded flesh, when he would have known precisely what to do. She wanted nothing more than to open the door and tell Dr. Naylor to go straight to hell. But she could see it meant something to Jax that his brother had come. Maybe it was progress, of a sort.
“Shall I open it?” she asked softly. “It’s your call, Jaxson.”
“What the hell,” he responded gruffly. “Might as well see what he wants.”
Callie stood and walked to the door, flinging it open. Jeremy Naylor lounged against the doorjamb, medical bag in hand. Laconically, he walked inside the room, and Callie closed and locked the door behind him without speaking.
He shot her a quick glance, his gray eyes gleaming at her unhidden anger. His gaze roved to where Carlos sat, steadily pointing the six-gun at his chest. He stared at the boy until he finally lowered it. Then, Naylor walked over to the bed, turning his full attention to Jax as he sat down beside him.
“Jaxson. Looks like you’re staying one step ahead of trouble. As usual.” The doctor’s look was uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure what to say to his brother—after all these years. He glanced away quickly as their eyes met, trying not to reveal too much of himself.
“And, as usual, you’re there to…bear witness, Jeremy.”
Doctor Naylor didn’t answer, but Callie could see he knew exactly what his younger brother was referring to. He grimaced as he leaned over the wound to examine it, lightly tracing the beginning dull streaks of red starring from it under the bronze skin. He seemed to forget his earlier misgivings and Jax’s cryptic reply as concern for his patient took over. After a few minutes, he nodded. “Not the neatest job I’ve ever seen, but it looks clean.”
“We did the best we could, doctor, since you were unavailable at the time,” Callie responded crisply, raising her chin. Jeremy looked up at her. There was regret in his face that Callie could not mistake.
“I…apologize, Miss Buchanan. Let me assure you that I will not be—unavailable—should you require my services again. As I’m sure Jax has explained to you by now, we are half-brothers.”
“Yes. And I-I appreciate you coming over. Finally.”
“Why did you come, Jem?” Jax murmured.
A wry grin stole across the other man’s features. “Your lady shamed me into it. Once I got to thinking about it, I was ashamed of a lot more than just letting you lay over here and—and die.” The doctor seemed to find it hard to meet his younger brother’s piercing stare. He continued in a low voice. “There were all those years that came before. I don’t know—it might be asking too much, but—”
Jax reached to grip his brother’s arm, his surprise obvious at the haunted expression Jeremy wore, along with the hopefulness he tried to rein in. “Forget it, Jem. It’s…all water under the bridge. You’re here now. That’s what matters.”
The doctor tore his gaze away and stood up, as if he were afraid his emotions were about to boil over. He composed himself and reached inside his jacket pocket, pulling out the jewel case. Turning, he hesitantly held it out to Callie.
“My brother must mean an awful lot to you, Miss Buchanan.”
Callie took the case from him, and opened it. The rubies lay on their bed of black velvet, winking up at her silently. She closed it, clasping it to her, looking at Jem with tears in her eyes.
“You offer a sultan’s fortune for his life,” he went on in a soft tone, tinged with envy. “Is he worth it?”
Callie nodded, unable to speak.
Jax watched her, his expression unreadable. Jem laid his hand on his brother’s forehead. “I’ll come back later on to check on you. Try to get some sleep, will you? Drink lots of water—no whiskey—and try to eat something if you can. I’ll have a tray sent up.” The doctor’s expression became somber. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better, brother. Whoever poisoned that arrowhead was a professional. I’m going home to get cleaned up, then I’ll be back. Tonight will be…the most crucial time.”
Callie understood what Jeremy wasn’t saying in front of her. No need to speak it aloud.
Tonight, Jax would either live…or die.
****
A few minutes after Jeremy left, a tap sounded at the door. “Room service, ma’am,” a voice called. Callie took no chances, waiting until Carlos raised the pistol toward the door before she opened it.
“I’ll bring it in,” the waiter said, as Callie reached for the tray.
“That’s all right. I’ll take it.” She pushed the door closed and set the tray on the serving table, locking the door once again.
Carlos eyed the tray hungrily.
“Go ahead, Carlos. Help yourself.” Callie smiled at the boy.
“I—I will wait, Señorita. Until you and Señor Jax have eaten.”
Callie started to insist, but Jax reached for her hand and gently squeezed her fingers. “What is it?” he asked, nodding toward the tray.
Callie lifted the lid to reveal a steaming tureen of beef broth and fresh bread, a plate of meat and vegetables on the side. She spooned some of the broth into a cup and held it to Jax’s lips.
“Let me. I can—do it.” Determinedly, he reached for the cup and turned onto his side, managing the few sips Callie had put in the container.
It was all she could do to remain nearby without touching him, without reaching to help him. But he was proud. And strong, she was glad to see. He handed her the dish and she offered him a drink of water from a clean cup. He accepted it, drinking thirstily, then lay back upon the soft mound of pillows at his back.
Callie tried to eat a piece of the bread, but it tasted like sawdust to her. She needed to do something for Jax. His body gleamed with a fevered sheen, and the red streaks, tell-tale indicators of infection, seemed even more pronounced than before. Absently, she motioned for Carlos to eat. She took up the cool rag once more, moving it slowly across Jax’s hard-muscled chest that rose and fell with his shallow breathing.
He was in very grave danger. Looking down at him, she realized nothing else mattered. Nothing. Not the house in Washington, not Dunstan Treadwell, not even her own fate. She had seen the expression in Dr. Naylor’s eyes earlier. He was worried. Although he’d given his brother a kind of warning of what was yet to come, Callie had the distinct feeling he hadn’t told Jax the complete truth. But, perhaps he hadn’t needed to. Perhaps Jax already knew—everything.
Callie swallowed hard and glanced at Jax, feeling his gaze upon her. There was an unfathomable look in his obsidian eyes for a long moment, as if he were waiting; wait
ing for her to tell him something he expected—and wanted—to hear. But she remained silent, unsure of what to say.
“Why’d you…come back to me?” His words began to sound slurred, and Callie peered at him closely, noticing the difficulty he had focusing.
“Because…because I love you, Jaxson McCall,” she whispered brokenly. She laid her head beside him on the bed. “I love you so much.” Then, the tears came, and her shoulders shook. “I’m so selfish, Jax. I—I left—tried to leave because my being with you puts you—in danger. Dunstan Treadwell will never give up. He’ll just keep coming, and keep coming…”
“Ah, Callie, don’t. Don’t cry, sweetheart.” He patted her hair awkwardly, his fingers lingering on the silkiness for a moment. “Don’tcha know I—I…love you, too?”
She sniffed and lifted her head. “How would I, Jax? You never told me.”
He smiled at the petulant edge to her voice. “I told you, Callie.” He lowered his gaze to the fresh, aching wound at his shoulder. When he met her eyes once more, she understood completely. “I told you.”
There was no double meaning, no hidden context.
He took the arrow. It had been meant for her. He very well might die tonight in her place. She put her hand to her mouth and gave a strangled sob. Oh, yes, he’d told her he loved her in the most genuine terms. She just hadn’t been listening.
“I’m sorry,” she said hoarsely.
“For what?”
“You—you know what. For leaving. But Jax, I just didn’t want you to get hurt anymore because—because of me.” She paused a moment. “That was why I left. Not because I wanted to leave you. I—was trying to keep you safe. I’ve been nothing but bad luck—trouble—for you, from the very beginning.”
He moved his hand slowly to her chin, tilting her face up. His almost-black eyes glittered hotly. “Don’t ever say that.” He took a deep breath, and she watched him reining in his thoughts, his focus. “Callie?”
She touched his cheek. “I’m here, darling. Right here with you.”
“Is there a chance you—you might be…” his voice trailed off, as if he was thinking of what he wanted to ask. He tried again. “A chance you might be…carrying my baby? Pregnant?”
Callie’s breath caught in her throat at the note of wistfulness she thought she heard in his foggy tone. She remembered, suddenly, the lie he had concocted to tell Blue Feather, to mark her as his woman, his love. Yet another “I love you” she’d overlooked. Was this truly a dream for him too? To be married in more than name, to have a family…
It really was too soon to tell, she told herself. She should have started her monthly right around the time they’d first made love. She searched her mind quickly. She was late, certainly, but that could be due to nerves. Or—or being pregnant.
She nodded hesitantly. “Yes. There’s a chance.”
Jax smiled, his eyes closed. “That was a special ‘I love you,’ sweetheart.”
He seemed certain that it was so, even though she’d only said there was a chance.
He opened his eyes slowly and managed to focus on her one last time before the blackness swallowed him up. “When’re you ever gonna believe?”
Chapter 21
The weary, endless hours of the night dragged by, and still Jax slept. Fitful at times, he would move suddenly, then groan at the swift pain, finally relaxing back into the pillows.
Carlos lay huddled in a corner of the room asleep, leaving only Callie and Dr. Naylor to keep one another company.
The doctor was worried, Callie knew. He sat in one of the chairs beside the bed, not leaving Jaxson, checking his fever and pulse with a regularity that let Callie understand just how dangerous these hours were for the man she loved.
“Why don’t you lie down, Miss Buchanan?” Jeremy suggested, concern edging his deep voice.
Callie roused herself. She’d been falling asleep in the other chair. She stood slowly, and gave him a faint smile.
“I am tired.”
Jeremy grinned. “I’ll bet. Traveling with my brother cannot have been easy.” He glanced toward the bed. “Trouble seems to always find him.” He became thoughtful. “Up ’til now, he’s always managed to come out of it all right. But this time…I just don’t know.”
“Thank you so much—” Callie broke off abruptly, her eyes filling with tears.
The doctor gave a muffled curse and came to his feet.
“Don’t,” he said quietly. “Please.” He looked away from her and took a long, deep breath. “Miss Buchanan—I don’t know what Jaxson’s told you about the few months we spent together at our father’s ranch—” He met her unwavering stare. “Our lives were hell there. We were all miserable, under the old man’s thumb—but Jaxson and Brendan took the brunt of our father’s foul temper more than me, or any of the others. The two of them tried to run—twice.”
Callie nodded silently.
“My father,” he went on bitterly, “damn near killed them. Drug them back like wild animals at the end of a rope. Then he whipped them to unconsciousness. The second time they ran, he made me go along as we tracked them.” He shook his head. “He was a hell of a tracker. Had to be, to find Jax. When he did find them, he beat them bruised and bloody and left them…out there. No water. No horses. No medicine.” His silver-gray eyes bored into hers. “It was a message to me. And that was why—why I hated Jax and Bren. They were everything I wasn’t. Tough and strong—and able to spit in that bastard’s eye.” He tore his gaze from Callie’s and looked down at his half-brother.
“I…could never screw up that kind of courage. Not one time. They did it twice. They’d have run again if he’d brought them back, and he knew it. I think he intended for them to die. When we rode away, he never looked back.” He shook his head. “But—they made it, thanks to Joe and Dolly Ames. The old man hated the Ames’ after that. I felt…relieved. At least, I knew they were alive. And they were safe, at last. But, I didn’t know what to do about it. Part of me wanted to admire them, to love them—as brothers.” He gave a self-deprecatory laugh. “I still had to live with the old man, though. And I’d seen firsthand what would happen if I ever did get my courage up to run. Didn’t know what I’d run to.” He glanced at Callie. “If they’d…accept me. Or what Joe and Dolly would do if I showed up there. So, I did nothing. I just continued to hate.”
“Jeremy,” Callie murmured softly, seeing his anguish. “I wanted—I was trying to say thank you—for coming, after all.”
He started to reply, but Callie crossed the room, quickly laying her hand on his arm. “No, it’s important! I—I despised you this afternoon.” Her voice trembled. “I didn’t understand how you could refuse—but now, I do. Fear like that is hard to overcome. And the shame, as well, for being a part of what your father did to them.”
“I think Jax must’ve always hated me,” Jeremy muttered. “But he had every right. Every right.”
“He doesn’t hate you.”
Jeremy raised his silver-mercury gaze slowly to Callie’s.
“This is a chance for you to—help him,” Callie went on. “Maybe you couldn’t before, but you were just a boy, too! Now, you can make your own decision. What your father did was wrong, but you’re not that kind of man, Jeremy. Jaxson knew that.”
Jeremy gave a caustic snort. “I don’t see how that’s possible! I did the exact thing he knew I would do. Nothing. Once again. I refused—refused to come when you asked. When he asked.”
Callie squeezed his arm reassuringly. “I could see the hurt in his eyes when you didn’t come, doctor; and the relief in his eyes when you did. He hoped for it, but he didn’t admit it to me—or even to himself. I think—” she stopped, unsure if she should continue, then decided to finish her thought. “I think maybe he remembered that day when your father forced you to go with him, to ‘bear witness’, as he said earlier. He saw something in you that let him know you—you weren’t like your father any more than he and Brendan were. He’s held that inside, and recognize
d there was goodness in you, even when you hadn’t realized it yet.”
Jeremy arched a dark brow. “I guess you must believe the goodness never surfaced until a few hours ago.”
Callie hastily tried to mend her words, unwilling to hurt him. “I only meant that—”
“Miss Buchanan, you wound me,” he teased, but the light in his eyes was genuine, not laced with his earlier self-mockery. “Did you really mean all that?”
“Of course I meant it. And furthermore,” she gave him a smile, “I think there’s hope for you yet, doctor. I’m sorry for—what I said to you this afternoon. For calling you that—that name.”
Jeremy’s expression turned serious. “No. Don’t ever apologize for that. Calling me a bastard was what brought me to my senses. Made me realize I could do something to rectify—our relationship.” He looked at Jax once more. Callie patted his arm and he slowly returned his silver gaze to her. He smiled, but there was a trace of sadness in his expression. “Despite what Jax has gone through in his life, Miss Buchanan, I think right now, he’s pretty damn lucky.”
Callie lay down, finally, next to Jax, positioning herself beside him with care. She draped her arm across his gridded belly, feeling the corded hardness of his muscles under her palm and fingertips. His skin was still extraordinarily warm, but it didn’t seem quite so hot as before. Maybe the fever was breaking. Or, she thought dejectedly, maybe it was only wishful thinking.
She met Jeremy’s glance as he laid his hand on Jax’s forehead, and could see he’d noticed the change as well. He grinned at her, his relief evident.
“You did some good work. The fever’s beginning to break.”
“It’s because you came.” Her voice was sleepy, her eyes already closing.
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