“Jonah?” he called, his voice raspy and weak. He moved his swollen tongue inside his mouth, which was dry as cotton.
Where was the boy? Memories of what had happened started to materialize. He and Jonah had nearly reached a small homestead, hoping to ask for some water and perhaps a meal, when three riders had started shooting at them. He touched his bandaged chest again. He’d been hit by a bullet.
“Jonah?” he called, more forcefully this time. Or did his voice merely sound louder in his ears? The increased pounding of his heart in his chest only aggravated his injury.
Cade stood, the walls and bunk swirling all around him. Blinking back the sensation, he took a hesitant step toward the door, then another. Had there ever been a time he’d felt this weak? How long had he been in that bed?
He reached for the doorknob, twisted it, then pulled the door open. A warm breeze danced around his legs and . . .
Cade glanced downward.
“Hell,” he grumbled. Looking over his shoulder, he strained his eyes to see anything in the dark room. His clothes were nowhere. No matter. Finding Jonah was more important. A large piece of white fabric, perhaps a towel of some sort, hung on a peg by the door. He hastily wrapped it around his waist as best as he could, but it didn’t conceal much.
Swaying on his feet, he followed the faint flickering light to what appeared to be the main room in this home. A fire crackled in the hearth, its flames the only source of light. Cade’s eyes roamed the room, and fell to the figure of a woman sitting in a rocking chair in the far corner. Her head rested on her right shoulder, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open. A thick, dark rope of hair tumbled over her left shoulder, the rest of it concealed under a knitted shawl. A rifle lay across her lap.
Cade’s eyes narrowed. The flames cast shadows on her face, the light dancing off her hair and cheek. The soft peacefulness of her features drew him in to where he couldn’t pull his gaze from her.
He shook his head to clear his mind. Perhaps it had been too long since he’d looked at a female, or maybe the gunshot wound had left him with an addled brain, but he’d never gazed upon a lovelier vision than this young woman sleeping in such an uncomfortable position.
He cast a hasty glance over his shoulder toward the bedroom, then back at her. Was she sleeping in that chair because he’d been in her bed?
One of the logs popped and crackled loudly in the fire. The woman stirred. Sudden awareness of his complete lack of clothing hit him the instant her eyes fluttered open. He clutched the towel firmly around his hips. A loud gasp escaped her lips, and she scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide as saucers. She didn’t hesitate to point the rifle at him.
“Raise your hands,” she commanded.
Cade stared, then his lips widened in a grin. “You sure you want me to do that, ma’am?”
He slowly lifted one arm, gritting his teeth at the pain in his chest that followed. His other hand held tight to the towel, which barely covered him. His grin widened. “Please put that weapon down, ma’am. As you can see, I ain’t armed.”
As if she’d just realized that she’d been staring, the woman spun around. Her hand flew to the shawl covering her head. She fumbled with the rifle in her other hand, setting the weapon against the chair. Cade lowered his arm.
“Why aren’t you dressed?” she squeaked, a distinct hitch to her voice.
He chuckled. “You tell me.”
Her spine stiffened, and she stood straighter. “Your britches are on top of the dresser,” she said. She’d definitely found her voice again.
“I didn’t see them, or I’d have put them on.” Cade turned to head back to the room, then stopped. “The boy?” he asked.
The woman started to turn, but quickly stopped and expelled an exasperated breath. Cade’s lips twitched in a smile.
“Jonah’s fine. He’s asleep in the other room,” she said, clearing her throat. “I couldn’t save your shirt,” she added hastily.
“I’ve got a spare in my saddlebags.”
“I’ll have to bring them in from the barn.” She moved to head toward the front door, all the while keeping her back turned.
“Don’t trouble yourself. I can get it in the morning.” His words stopped her. He tilted his head. “I can go without until then. Unless it bothers you, of course.”
She turned fully, her eyes narrowed on him. She kept her gaze locked on his face while her hands clutched the ends of the shawl tightly under her chin. Cade’s heart jolted in reaction to her bold move. He raised his brows.
“Why would it bother me? I’ve tended to you for the last three days.”
Cade’s forehead scrunched together. “Three days?” he echoed.
She nodded. “Frankly, I didn’t expect you to live.”
Her gaze travelled to the bandage around his chest before meeting his eyes again. “Since you managed to get out of bed, I’d imagine you must be hungry.” She waved her hand at him. “I’ll heat some soup, and you can eat after you get your britches on.”
She broke eye contact, and darted from the room toward an alcove that looked to be the kitchen.
“Yes, ma’am,” Cade called after her. He headed for the bedroom from where he’d come. Although she tried to act brave by ordering him around in a haughty tone, her wide eyes betrayed her unease.
After his vision adjusted to the darkness of the room, he found his britches. By their clean smell, they’d been washed recently. Cade slowly slipped into them after lighting a lamp that sat on top of the dresser. Each movement sent jabs of pain to his chest.
He fumbled with his socks. All the holes that hadn’t made this pair worth saving had been mended. Putting them on proved to be pure agony. He eyed his boots on the ground, and slipped into them as well.
A quick glance around the room told him that his gun belt wasn’t there. Since his release from prison, the weight of his Remington strapped to his hip gave him comfort. Asking the woman for his weapons back right away might put her on edge, though.
Cade glanced toward the main room before he eyed the door across the hall. If that was the woman’s bedroom, and her husband was asleep in there, where was Jonah? He might get shot a second time if he took a look in there, so he headed for the sound of dishes clanking in the kitchen.
“Thank you for the trouble,” he said before entering the small room. Better to make his presence known rather than startle her again. She’d already pointed a rifle at him, and was liable to throw a knife this time.
A table that could accommodate two people at best stood in the center of the tiny room. The mouth-watering aroma of soup and bread filled his nose, reminding him, along with his light-headedness, that he probably hadn’t eaten in the three days this woman had told him he’d been in her care.
She turned from standing by the stove, a bowl in her hand. The shawl she wore over her head hid much of her face, but not the dark circles under her eyes. Guilt nagged him that she was losing sleep, most likely because of him.
“Sit.” She pointed to one of the simple wooden chairs under the table. Cade complied, grimacing when he pulled the chair out. He muttered a curse.
“Along with a bullet hole in your chest, you might have a cracked rib or two,” she said, setting the bowl in front of him. “Your ribs stopped the bullet, or you’d most definitely be dead right now.”
Cade stared up at her, the fragrance of her clean clothes overtaking the aroma of the food. She held the back of her hand to his forehead. The brief touch sent a jolt of awareness through him the likes of which he’d never encountered.
“Your fever’s finally broke.” She moved to the counter, and returned seconds later with a large slice of bread and a spoon. Cade’s eyes followed her every move; the gentle sway of her hips as she walked, the dangling rope of hair down her back, and the way she carried her shoulders, proud and confident.
“Looks like you’ll live. Jonah will be mighty glad.”
A hint of a smile passed over her lips. She raised her brows,
looking down at him expectantly. “Can I get you something else? I’m not sure you should drink coffee just yet, but some tea or water?”
Cade blinked, and nodded. He was still staring. Picking up the utensil, he tore his eyes away from her, and spooned some meat from his bowl. “Some water, if you don’t mind,” he said, and shot another hasty look up at her. “Thank you.”
He swallowed the food, cursing silently for acting like some foolish kid in front of the candy jar. He really had been locked up too long.
He forced his attention on the soup while she rummaged along the counter. Moments later, she set a tin cup of water in front of him, and pulled out the other chair. She cradled a steaming cup of tea between her hands after she sat.
“Thank you for looking out for Jonah.” He glanced up when she didn’t say anything. Her smile sent another jolt through his chest.
“He was sick with a fever, but he seems to have recovered. He’s been hovering over you all afternoon.”
Cade worked the muscles in his jaw. If he’d taken better care of the boy, Jonah wouldn’t have gotten sick, and he wouldn’t have been shot.
“Who shot me?” he asked, staring across the table. “Friends of yours?”
The woman took a hasty sip of her tea. She laughed scornfully. “Hardly.”
“But you know them?”
“Yes, I know them. You killed one of them.”
Cade sat up straighter, ignoring the sting in his chest. He wasn’t even back to Elk Lodge yet, and he might be in trouble with the law again. He mentally shook his head. If he’d killed a man, it had been in self-defense. This woman was a witness.
He stared at her. “Who are they?”
“Just a bunch of troublemakers you shouldn’t concern yourself with. You’re hardly in any condition to ride after them, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
She had a point, but her reluctance to tell him who had shot him begged for more questions.
He leaned forward. “Beg pardon, ma’am, but I think being shot at makes it my concern. Why’d they shoot at me?”
She shook her head, one hand clutching the shawl under her chin. Cade itched to pull the thing away. He’d heard of folks who’d taught their women to cover up for modesty. From what he’d glimpsed of her so far, he could understand why a husband would want to keep his wife’s looks hidden away. Come to think of it, where was her husband when the shooting started the other day?
“I don’t know why they shot at you. You probably surprised them.”
Cade scoffed. “I was in plain sight, definitely not sneaking up on the place. I was only gonna ask for some water for the boy.”
She sat stiffly across from him, studying her cup of tea and clutching that shawl around her face. She certainly didn’t trust him. At least she wasn’t pointing her rifle at him again. Once his head cleared, he’d demand some better answers. Right now, the simple effort of sitting upright and chewing his food was a struggle.
“Well, I thank you again for fixing me up, and for looking after Jonah.”
Her smile returned, although it appeared forced. “He’s a good boy, Mr. Cade.”
He raised his brows, and his lips twitched. “You seem to know my name, but what should I call you?” He hesitated a moment, then added, “And, it’s just Cade. No mister.”
She sat up straighter, then reached her hand across the table. Cade eyed it for several seconds before he took it in his own and gave it a gentle shake. Their eyes met.
“Laura Engelman.” Her gaze fixed on his. “You can call me Laura.”
Chapter Five
Somewhere in the distance, a rooster crowed. Cade groaned, and opened his eyes. Sunlight filtered in through the lace curtains of the room, and he blinked to bring his surroundings into focus.
Memories of the previous night jabbed him as sharp as the pain in his chest when he moved too quickly. Cursing through clenched teeth, he pressed his hand against the bandage and rolled onto his good shoulder. He swung his legs over the side of the mattress, and waited for the stars to stop swirling in front of his eyes. How long had he been passed out this time?
It seemed as if only minutes had gone by since that pretty lady had ordered him back to bed once he’d eaten the soup she’d set in front of him. It had been the best meal he’d had in years. What was her name? Laura Engelman. A smile passed over his lips. She sure was a plucky little thing, full of spit and fire, even if she was scared as hell of him.
He couldn’t blame her for that. He probably looked no better than he had the day he’d been released from prison. He ran his fingers through his scraggly beard. He could use a good shave, no question. A beard probably wouldn’t keep anyone in Elk Lodge from recognizing him, but it might make people look harder before they did. For now, it might be a good idea to keep the element of surprise on his side.
Cade stood on unsteady legs. His eyes swept the room, and fell to the foot of the bed. A shirt lay draped over the footboard. It wasn’t one of his, but he reached for it anyway. No doubt it belonged to Laura’s husband, and she’d left it there for him. Mr. Engelman would surely appreciate him wearing his shirt rather than parading around bare-chested in front of his wife.
He slipped one arm through the sleeve, grimacing as he pulled the shirt on. The homespun tightened around his shoulders when he was done with all the buttons. He tucked the ends into his britches, and headed for the door. Time to collect his saddlebags and gear and, more important, find Jonah. If the boy was over his sickness, maybe they could make it to Elk Lodge by nightfall.
Cade gritted his teeth when he opened the door leading to the rest of the house. The simple action sent a hot jolt of pain through his chest. He was in no condition to ride off anywhere, but he couldn’t remain here. He had somewhere to be, and a score to settle. Exactly how he was going to do that still eluded him, but he’d think of something.
The house was eerily quiet, the only sound coming from the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock that stood against the wall in the main room. The fire in the hearth had been banked, and only a few coals still glowed a faint orange. A slight breeze swirled through the room from the open window in the kitchen, carrying the smell of bacon and biscuits with it.
Cade’s stomach answered loudly in response to the delicious odor, but instead of following his nose, he turned and made his way to the other bedroom. Hesitating, he knocked, and strained his ear. No one answered from the other side. He glanced over his shoulder before he opened the door into the bedroom. Snooping through the house didn’t sit well with him, but he’d been surprised once already the day he got shot. He didn’t need any more unexpected surprises.
A quick sweep of the room revealed that someone had slept in the bed recently, but it was empty at the moment. The quilt on the bed matched the rose and green flowery pattern of the curtains that hung from the window. This room definitely held a feminine touch, but if this was the Engelmans’ bedroom, there was no evidence that a man slept in here.
Cade’s eyes lingered on the single pillow on the bed before he closed the door and headed for the kitchen. A plate of bacon, eggs, and biscuits sat on the counter next to the stove. As much as his mouth watered, he didn’t help himself to the food. He might have spent the last four years in prison with some of the lowliest men he’d ever come across, but some of his manners were still intact.
A child’s laughter, followed by that of a woman’s, drifted in through the open window. Cade pushed the lace curtain aside and peered out, but the window didn’t face the main yard. The shrill whinny that could have only come from Cloud drowned out the sound of the laughter. The distant rumble of hooves pounding on dirt quickly followed the calls from his horse.
Cade headed for the front door of the house when Laura’s muffled voice ordered, “Go inside, Jonah.”
Seconds later, the door opened, and a small figure scrambled in. He’d barely shut the door behind him, when his eyes lit up and a bright smile covered his face.
“Cade.” Jonah d
ropped the saddlebags he carried. The boy rushed up to him, and rammed into Cade’s waist, his little arms wrapped around him.
The impact sent a jolt of pain ripping through his chest. Cade held back a swear word, and swayed on his legs.
“Jonah,” he produced through clenched teeth, one arm going around the boy. “I’m sure glad to see you.” He closed his eyes to stave off the swirls of stars that clouded his vision.
“Miss Laura told me you woke up last night.” Mercifully, Jonah stepped away from him. He stared up at Cade, his eager look filled with the kind of hope and exuberance only found in a child’s eyes. “She said you might die, but she made you all better.”
Cade grimaced through the pain in his chest. “Yeah, looks like she did a fine job making me better.”
All at once, a serious, concerned expression replaced the happy look on Jonah’s face.
“There are men coming. Miss Laura told me to go inside. She looked worried.”
“Where’s Mr. Engelman?” Cade moved to the window, taking care to stay out of sight.
“Who?” Jonah rushed up to him, and Cade grabbed his arm and pushed him to the side, away from the window.
“Miss Laura’s husband,” he clarified while keeping an eye on the four riders approaching the house.
“It’s just Miss Laura here, and you and me.”
Cade’s eyes darted to the boy. He frowned when Jonah confirmed his suspicion. Laura Engelman lived here alone. The thought left him with an odd sensation in his belly. She was too young, and too pretty, to be living on a farm miles away from town, on her own. She was an easy target for every no-good drifter who came up on the place.
Like you, Cade.
The four riders pulled their horses up just shy of the narrow porch leading to the house. Laura stood her ground, the dust the animals had stirred up engulfing her. She held a basket in one arm, and clutched at her shawl with the other. The muscles along Cade’s jaw twitched.
In His Touch: Blemished Brides Book 2 Page 3
