The Tracker by Mary Burton Read Free Book Online Page B

marshal took a step toward her. “Gun!”
    Rose started to cry. Ellie scooped up the baby. She glared at the marshal, all traces of desire gone. “You can’t have your gun,” she said, as if speaking to a child. “When you’re ready to leave, I’ll give it to you.”
    “Damn you, woman, I’m in no mood to argue.” He pressed his fingers to his temple as if talking hurt. “There are men who’ll kill me if they catch me defenseless.”
    She lifted an eyebrow, unmoved. “Is that supposed to scare me?”
    “They’d also kill you and that baby of yours just for fun.”
    A cold chill snaked down her spine. It had beena fluke she’d hit him. If there were others, she might not be as lucky defending herself and Rose.
    “You will be safer with me armed,” he said, as if he’d read her thoughts.
    She suspected he was right. With Rose cradled close to her, she went to a chest behind the dining table. “It’s in there.”
    He limped to the chest and retrieved the gun. He snapped open the chamber and turned the cylinder. Satisfied his gun remained loaded, he snapped it closed.
    “Anyone else come by the stop since I’ve been here?”
    “No. Frank Palmer might not find me out here.”
    “He will.” He closed his eyes for a moment.
    She kept a respectful distance. Injured predators could still move quickly. “I told you I don’t know anything about the gold.”
    He swayed. “He doesn’t know that.”
    Her next retort died on her lips when she noticed the red stain on his bandage. “You’re bleeding.”
    The marshal glanced down. Neither the blood nor his nudity seemed to bother him. “A little blood doesn’t matter.”
    She laid the baby in her crib. “You don’t have an ounce to spare. It’s a wonder you didn’t bleed to death.”
    “I’m fine.”
    Stubborn, stubborn man. She wrapped her arm around his waist. He felt as hot as a fritter.
    He gave her a good bit of his weight. “If it weren’t for Frank Palmer headed this way, I couldn’t care less if you passed out. You’re easier to deal with when you’re out cold. But I need you healthy so that you can keep my baby and me alive.”
    He touched his bandage and grimaced. “Woman, anyone ever tell you you’re a pain in the ass?”
    She guided him back to his bed. “More times than I can count.”
    When he sat back down on the bed, he was pale and his white bandage—which she’d only just changed—was stained crimson.
    “You’ve gone and torn one of my nice, neat stitches, mister,” she murmured.
    He ground his teeth as if he were in pain. Few men could have risen from the bed at this stage of the healing process, let alone walked. He lay back against the pillows and she lifted his feet onto the bed before covering him with a sheet.
    Taking scissors from her basket, she knelt beside the bed and uncovered his wounded leg. “I went to a lot of trouble to save your life and I’d hate to see my efforts go to waste.”
    Her saucy tone had his eyes narrowing. “You’re the one who shot me.”
    She shrugged. “I told you to stop.”
    Gingerly, she worked the tip of the scissors under the gauze. She could feel the marshal tense and suspected if she did anything threatening, he’d act.
    “Would you relax? I feel as if I’m ministering to a wounded bear. If I were gonna kill you, I’d have done it long ago.”
    He released the breath he held. “I am relaxed.”
    “You’re back is about as stiff as one of these floorboards.”
    He grunted.
    Her cutting complete, she slowly peeled the fabric away. She leaned closer to get a better look at his leg.
    “I think you’ve only ripped the top stitch. If I bandage the wound tightly enough, and you stay in bed, the bleeding should stop.”
    “I feel like I’ve been run over by a herd of buffalo.”
    “You’re lucky to be alive.” She took a jar from her basket and scooped out some ointment. She probed the wound with her finger. “By the looks of things, I’d say I did a good job patching