Her sheepskin vest was a better disguise than he had suspected. Who could have guessed her breasts were so full, so firm. He felt heat flood through his body like water through a sluice gate. Not even his most intimate moments with Lillian Claiborne had caused his body to respond so quickly. And there was no woman in the world any more feminine and alluring than Lillian.
Madison cursed himself for his lack of control. He ought to be thinking of getting her to a doctor, not her breast, her skin, or the soft curve of her lips. He snatched his hand from her body. Still muttering under his breath, he quickly rebuttoned her shirt.
It worried him that Fern hadn't regained consciousness. He also worried about the bruise forming on her forehead. He hadn't seen it at first, but it had darkened quickly. He didn't know how many other bruises might mark her body. And he couldn't find out. Not here. He had to get her home to her father.
He knelt down and slipped one hand behind her back and the other beneath her legs. She didn't weigh as much as he had expected, but carrying her along the rocky streambed and up the steep bank to the prairie above proved a difficult task. He was thankful to find a cattle crossing.
Madison quickly discarded the idea of mounting her on her own pony. He was a good horseman, but he couldn't support her and control two horses. Straining his every muscle, he lifted her into his saddle and mounted behind her. Breathing deeply from his exertions, Madison put his arms around her, leaned her against his chest, took up the reins, and started Buster forward with a squeeze of his knees.
Her horse followed of his own accord.
Madison didn't dare move out of a fast walk. He had no idea how a jarring trot might affect a concussion or broken ribs. He also worried she might have suffered an internal injury. As the minutes rolled slowly by, he wondered why he'd never bothered to learn more about the human body.
If you're going to make a practice of driving people into a blind panic, you ought to be prepared to deal with the consequences.
But he hadn't done it intentionally. He had been so worried about Hen, so hopeful of finding another explanation for what happened the night Troy Sproull was killed, he hadn't given any thought to how his words would affect Fern.
Yet now, as she leaned against him, her breath even, her pulse strong, he asked himself what could have caused this strong-minded woman to hide her femininity under men's clothes. He wondered whether she was covering herself up because she was ashamed of herself or because she didn't want to attract male interest. Either way it didn't make sense.
If she had done it to avoid attention, she had made a tactical error. He couldn't imagine a more surefire way to attract the attention of cowboys starved for feminine companionship than to dress in pants. It would have stopped traffic in New York or caused a riot in Boston.
The longer he rode with her in his arms, the more his awareness of her physicality increased until he could think of little else. Worried as he was, his body responded her to nearness, to the feel of her warmth pressed against him.
Never before had he been so acutely aware of a woman. Never before had what he wanted to do been so completely out of the question. Their bodies touched along most of their length with nothing but thin material preventing their flesh from coming into heated contact. There were moments when Madison felt even that hardly counted. The heat generated between them might burn away this fragile barrier at any moment.
He rode with his arm around her middle to hold her in the saddle. Every time she fell forward, her breasts pressed against the inside of his arm. Despite trying to concentrate on Fern's possible injuries, his entire consciousness focused on the feel of her breast.
And his body trembled from waves of pure lust.
Nor could he forget the shapeliness of her calves or the gentle curve of her thighs. Never had he been so intimately familiar with the body of a woman he couldn't fully see or touch, and it imposed a severe strain on his self-control. He kept imagining what she would look like without her clothes. Just the thought caused him to grow so hard he ached.
As little as an hour ago he had thought of her as an amusing curiosity, someone with whom he might wile away a few dull hours. Yet now she caused him to writhe on the spear of his own desire.
It disgusted him that his physical nature should so easily gain control over his brain. It horrified him that at times he had wished he hadn't any control at all. He had observed enough of the animal side of man's nature to know it often caused him to do things that had a calamitous effect on his life and career. It was a matter of principle with him that he never let this happen.
His relief when the Sproull farmhouse came into view was almost physical.
"Hello in there," he called. "Anybody home?"
No one answered. He rode up to the house and peered in through the window. No one was inside. He rode over to the barn, circled it, calling all the while, but no one answered.
Her father wasn't home.
He couldn't just toss her on the bed and ride off. Even if her father came back soon, Madison didn't know if she would let him take care of her. He had to take her to Abilene.
But even as he turned Buster toward town, he felt the warmth stir in his limbs once again. He cursed. He didn't know what it was about this woman that affected him so strongly, but the sooner he put some distance between them, the better.
* * * * *
Madison had almost reached the outskirts of Abilene when Fern groaned and stirred awake. When she twisted around to look up at him, he could see the pain in her eyes.
"Don't move," he said when she tried to wriggle out of his arms. "You've been hurt."
"What happened?" she asked, still struggling to escape his embrace.
"You fell off your horse."
She stopped struggling and turned her unbelieving gaze on him. "I never fall off my horse," she declared, wincing with pain. "You must have done something to me."
A flash of anger prodded Madison's temper, but he tapped it down before he could utter any more ill-chosen words. His anger sprang from guilt; he could only atone by accepting the responsibility for what he had done.
"I said something I shouldn't. It made you too angry to watch where you were going. Your horse stumbled and you pitched forward into the creek. I wouldn't be surprised if you have a deep concussion as well as a few broken ribs."
"How do you know?" she asked, her eyes wide with trepidation.
"I checked."
"You handled me?" she asked, anger and fright mingled in her voice.
Madison didn't know why her reaction should irritate him so much. He couldn't expect her to like being handled by a stranger.
Yet it made him furious.
Because she made him feel guilty. And after struggling so hard to control his physical nature, he felt he deserved a little credit. If she guessed what he would have liked to do, she probably wouldn't wait to see him hang. She'd shoot him herself.
"I touched you as little as possible."
"How dare you touch me at all."
"What was I supposed to do? Ask a passing gopher? Forgive me if I didn't follow the proper etiquette for a woman who dresses, acts, and expects to be treated as a man. You'll have to explain it to me sometime."
"I don't want to see you ever again," Fern exploded. She pushed against his chest, then groaned with agony.
"You may have some broken ribs," Madison said, sympathy and concern battling with anger and guilt. "Stay still until I can get you to a doctor."
"Take me home," she cried.
"I did, but your father was gone."
"Take me back this minute."
"When is he supposed to get back?"
"I don't know. Maybe tonight. He's gone to sell to the drovers."
"Who'll take care of you?"
"I can take care of myself."
"No. You need a doctor to look at your chest to see if you really are hurt."
"No man is going to look at my chest!" Fern exclaimed. "Let me down right now."
&nbs
p; But when she tried to break his hold, her face crumpled with pain.
"You wouldn't make it five yards. You'd collapse in the street."
"That's none of your concern."
"Ordinarily I would agree with you, but somehow it would get around town that I was responsible for your fall. Next thing you know people would be saying I took you home and left you to die. By tomorrow every man in Dickinson County would be after my blood."
"It wouldn't do them any good. I'm going to get it all."
Madison surprised them both by laughing. "Why don't you just relax and let me take you to a doctor? Which one do you normally see?"
"I haven't seen a doctor since I was born, and I don't intend to start now."
That shouldn't have surprised him. She was just the type to refuse to admit she needed any kind of help.
"Pick one."
"If you don't let me down, I'll scream."
"For a woman wanting to be treated like a man, you sure are quick to use a woman's trick," Madison said.
"I'll use any trick I can to get away from you," she replied. "Now let me go."
For a moment, Madison was tempted to do just that. She wasn't his responsibility. But the pain in her eyes wouldn't let him.
"I will make a compromise with you. I'll take you to my sister-in-law. If she says you're okay, I'll take you home. If she says you're hurt, you're going to see a doctor."
He expected to her keep arguing. Her capitulation convinced him she was suffering a lot of pain.
"At least allow me to ride my own horse. I may let her examine me, but I won't be carried through town in a man's arms, particularly yours. I'd rather have all my ribs broken."
Madison couldn't decide which of the impulses competing for his attention he ought to follow. He was tempted to settle for breaking her neck, but he ultimately decided it might be a little rough on George to have two brothers hang at the same time.
"Can you hold on to the saddle horn?" he asked.
"Of course. What kind of mollycoddle do you take me for?"
"Why don't you just answer my question?"
"I can hold on," she said, subdued.
Madison slid from the saddle. Without his support, Fern swayed, but she managed to stay erect. "It'll be easier if you stay on Buster. I'll lead the horses."
She didn't like that arrangement, but she was finding that without his support, the pain was much worse. The increased discomfort took the steel out of her resistance.
"Don't take me through the middle of town," she managed to say through teeth gritted with pain. "I won't be paraded around like a circus freak."
"How am I supposed to get you there without using the streets? I'm neither a magician nor do I have a magic carpet to transport you. I doubt whether Buster or your pony would ride on it if I did."
"For a grown man, you talk more foolishness than anybody I ever met."
"I'm sure my professors at Harvard are chagrined they allowed me to graduate first in my class."
"I don't mean you're stupid," she said, "just that you say stupid things. I know you do it just to make me mad." She paused for a moment. "I guess I can't blame you. I never said anything nice to you."
Surprised, Madison turned and looked up at her.
"Even though you are the most miserable, low-down, piece of rotten cowhide I ever had the misfortune to come across, I probably shouldn't say so."
Madison swallowed. "Being such an extremely poor specimen of humanity, it would surely be unreasonable of me to expect your approbation."
"There you go again," she said, "always--"
She never got to finish her sentence. Two dogs dashed across the street practically under Buster's feet. He came to a stiff-legged stop, causing Fern to be thrown roughly over the saddle horn and onto his neck. This broke her grip on the saddle horn. She slid off the horse's back into Madison's arms. Her cry of pain as she fainted banished all anger and uncharitable thoughts from his mind.
Ignoring the stares of everyone he passed, Madison hurried along the street until he reached the house George had rented. A fence surrounded the yard.
Two little boys played on the porch. "What's your name?" Madison called out.
"Ed Abbott," the bigger boy responded, looking scared.
"Open this gate, Ed. Then run inside and get your mother. This lady has been hurt."
"Mama's gone," the boy stated. "She said I was to stay on the porch and not talk to strangers."
"Get Mrs. Randolph then," Madison said.
"She's taking a nap."
"Then wake her."
"Mama said not to," the boy replied.
Madison fought down a desire to throttle the child.
"Open the gate," he barked.
"No."
Madison wondered if the entire state of Kansas had banded together to thwart him. He had navigated the treacherous waters of New England society with far greater ease than he had endured twenty-four hours in Abilene. He bent down far enough to grasp the latch. Opening the gate wide enough to insert his toe, he kicked it open with his foot.
"Miz Randolph! Miz Randolph!" Ed screamed. The little boy merely stood watching, a carved wooden wagon in his hands. Rose came through the front door as Madison climbed the porch steps.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "Why is Ed yelling?"
"Fern Sproull was hurt in a fall from her horse," Madison explained, ignoring Ed. "She's in a lot of pain."
"You ought to take her to a doctor."
"I wanted to, but she won't go. I can't leave her at home because her father's gone."
Rose looked at Fern more closely. "I don't like the look of that bruise. Bring her in."
"I'm afraid she might have some broken ribs, too."
Rose led the way into the house and to a small bedroom with a minimum of furnishings. "Has she been unconscious since the fall?"
Madison smiled in spite of himself. "She was conscious long enough to give me a good blessing out just a few minutes ago. Some dogs startled her horse. She fainted when she fell off." Rose looked up, startled. "I caught her," Madison added.
"If she has any broken bones, I'm calling a doctor whether she likes it or not." Rose stared at Madison. "Well, what are you waiting for? You're going to have to get her out of these clothes. In my condition, I can't do it."
Madison felt heat rush over his body like a blast from an open furnace. He couldn't undress Fern in front of Rose. He didn't know what George would have done, but he had just had ample proof he would humiliate himself.
Chapter Six
"She'll kill me if she finds out."
"Then I won't tell her."
She would find out. Women always found out the very things they shouldn't. At least he could take off her boots. That shouldn't give rise to any future desire to fill him full of bullet holes. But after he removed her boots and set then in the corner, he still faced a fully clothed Fern.
"Come on," Rose said impatiently. "I can help a little, but I can hardly bend over without falling."
If Rose fell, George would kill him. If Fern found out he'd undressed her, she'd kill him. Either way it didn't look like he had very long to live.
But there was no one else.
The moment Madison leaned forward, his hand extended to deal with the buttons on Fern's shirt, he felt his body begin to tighten. It's absurd to become so excited over the thought of touching her. You're just going to remove her shirt. You're not going to touch her breasts.
Suppressing a strong desire to rush out and buy a ticket for the next train out of Abilene, Madison quickly unbuttoned Fern's shirt. Leaning across her body and averting his eyes from the twin mounds of her breasts, he slipped his arm under her and lifted her up just enough to ease her arms out of the sleeves.
The shirt wouldn't come off.
"Her hands are caught in the sleeve," Rose told him. "Hold her while I unbutton her cuffs."
Madison lost all ability to concentrate. His face was practically buried in Fern's breasts. He l
owered her back on the bed.
"I'll lift her after you've unbuttoned her cuffs," he said, taking a deep breath to clear his head.
"You act like you've never touched a female," Rose said, a trace of a smile on her lips.
Madison didn't answer. If he didn't say anything, he couldn't incriminate himself. But his body could. He fought down the surging desire while Rose had her back to him.
As soon as Rose unbuttoned the second sleeve, Fern's shirt slipped off easily. But Madison wasn't done yet. He still had to remove her pants. He heaved a fatalistic sigh.
Rose, amused by his predicament, watched.
Even as he undid the buttons to Fern's pants, Madison could feel a scalding heat surge through his loins. Wrenching loose the last button, he tried to pull her pants off by the legs.
Rose couldn't completely hide her smile. "You can't snatch them off," she said. "They're as tight as a second skin. Here, let me help."
Taking several slow breaths to calm his thumping heart, Madison slid his arm under the small of Fern's back and lifted her gingerly. Rose helped him work the pants slowly over Fern's hips.
Very slowly. The longer he held her, his face close to her stomach, the longer his hands stayed in contact with her upper thighs, the more agitated he became. Finally, with a strong pull, Rose brought the pants down to Fern's knees. Madison stepped around Fern, and with a quick pull they were off.
He clutched the pants in front of him. He only hoped his expression didn't reveal how deeply he had been affected.
"Now her shift."
"No!"
"You can't leave her in it," Rose argued.
"Yes, I can," Madison declared, adamant. "You can bandage her in or out of it, but I'm not touching it."
Rose grinned. "Don't tell me you're--"
"Don't say it," Madison said, struggling to recover his accustomed gravity. "In the course of this day I have endured enough at the hands of that . . . Fern . . . to give me grey hair. I'm sorry she got hurt, but if she had let me take her to a doctor, none of this would have been necessary."
"I still can't bandage her chest over her chemise," Rose insisted. She sat down on the side of the bed, her back to Madison, and begun to run her hands over Fern's rib cage. Madison heaved a sigh of relief and willed his body to return to its normal state.
Fern Page 6
