by Dee, Bonnie
His small room was crowded with bodies, but soon all of the men left except his two bosses, Murdoch and Rasmussen, the livery owner. They spoke together a moment. He couldn’t see their lips and was too tired to read them anyway. His eyes drifted closed.
They opened again at the pressure of Murdoch’s hand on his shoulder. He explained slowly that the doctor was out on a call, patted Jim’s shoulder and left the room.
Mr. Rasmussen sat on the edge of the bed, pushed his glasses up his nose and frowned, a sure sign he didn’t know what he was doing. He might be able to wrap a horse’s strained leg, but what did he know about people? Jim inhaled a deep breath and pain pierced his side. Something was wrong with his ribs. He gestured to his side, letting Rasmussen know. The man nodded and began unbuttoning what was left of his shredded shirt.
A movement in the doorway caught Jim’s attention. The schoolteacher stood framed there in her blue and white-flowered dress with her daffodil-colored hair. A faint scent of lily-of-the-valley perfume wafted to him. She was like a flower garden filling the dark, stuffy room.
She looked at Rasmussen before entering the room. Only a few paces brought her to the edge of Jim’s bed.
He couldn’t stop staring at her like the idiot everyone thought he was. The sight of her fresh, feminine form in his dingy room was unbelievable, besides which he was dizzy and near passing out from the pain throbbing in his head. His gaze fastened on her lips.
“What can I do?” she asked Rasmussen.
The stableman turned toward her so Jim couldn’t see his reply. Miss Johnson nodded and left the room. He felt pain that had nothing to do with his injured body as she disappeared from view.
Rasmussen lifted Jim’s torso, peeled off his long-sleeved shirt and undershirt, and lowered him back onto the bed. Colors and lights flashed in front of his eyes and the edges of his vision grew dark. Oh God, his worst nightmare was coming true. He would be blinded from the blow to his head and left totally helpless. His pulse beat wildly as panic surged through him. He gasped for breath and could see again. Rasmussen was frowning at him.
“Where does it hurt?”
Jim indicated his head.
“You’ll be all right. I’ll fix you up.”
How the hell do you know? You can barely tend the horses! Jim nodded, his jaw clenching at the pain.
Suddenly the teacher was back. She carried a bucket of water in one hand and some clean rags from the tack room in the other. Offering them to Rasmussen, she glanced at Jim. Her eyes widened at the sight of his bare torso and she quickly looked away.
Rasmussen rose, indicating she should take his seat and wash the blood and dust from Jim’s face and body. He was going to get liniment. The teacher looked after Rasmussen as he walked from the room, her mouth open as if to protest, then she closed it and turned back to Jim. Her smile was tense.
“You. Read. Lips?” She shaped each word carefully.
He nodded.
“I’m going to clean you.” She sat on the cot next to him, her warm hip pressed against his. She dipped one of the rags, squeezed it out and leaned over him to sponge off the blood at his temple. The cloth was cold but it felt good.
He let his eyes drift closed and submitted to the pressure of the wet cloth dabbing his face. She held his chin in her other hand as she bathed his forehead, cheek and neck. Her skin was soft and the scent of lilies much stronger with her so close. Beneath the flowers, he could smell her body, a secret, womanly aroma.
Jim opened his eyes, watching her bend to rinse the rag in the bucket. Her sun-colored hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. Tendrils of hair curled around her face. Two perfectly arched, light brown eyebrows were knitted in a frown of concentration over sky-blue eyes. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, and his heart jolted in his chest.
Turning back to him, she began patting again, this time on the bloody abrasion on his shoulder. The pink blush rising in her cheeks told him she was uncomfortable touching him. A lady didn’t do such things to a strange man. He couldn’t stop watching her eyes even though she refused to meet his gaze. He’d never seen eyes so blue.
All he knew about her was that she was the new teacher. He’d seen her around town a few times. Once, at the mercantile he’d watched as she laughed and talked with a little girl. Her smile and the sweet affection she’d shown the child had made him smile. He’d also seen her walking to and from the schoolhouse. But he didn’t know her name. No one had said it in front of him and he couldn’t ask. There was no reason for him to know it. Yet now he was desperate to have a word for her, a shape of the lips that meant her, even if he couldn’t imagine what the word sounded like.
Jim touched her hand and she finally looked at him. He pointed at her and raised his eyebrows, requesting her name.
“Catherine Johnson.” Her hand touched her chest and her lips moved slowly over each syllable.
Mimicking her, he felt her name with his thrusting tongue and moving lips. Without knowing the sound, he’d never forget the shapes. Memorization came easy to him.
Jim nodded and smiled, accepting the gift of her name.
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