it!â she snapped.
âShoot,â he muttered. âWho put a weasel in your henhouse?â
They lowered Case to the bedding, which lay on a pallet of woven reeds.
âDraw fresh water from the creek,â Sarah said to Conner. âUte, bring those clean rags in from the laundry line.â
Both males hurried to obey her. When she got that fierce gleam in her eyes, it was easier just to take orders than to argue.
She knelt next to Case. As carefully as she could, she dragged off his boots and socks. Though he made no sound, she knew he was still alive, because blood was still oozing from his wounds. When a manâs heartbeat stopped, so did any bleeding.
Too much blood , she thought fearfully, feeling the slipperiness of the boots. Too damned much!
She untangled the chin strap of his hat and tossed it onto a nearby chest made of woven willow branches. With quick motions she unbuttoned his shirt, peeled it from his limp body, and went to work on his undershirt.
When she was finished, she had a clear view of the wedge of black hair that spread from his collarbone to his belt. Blood matted the hair along his right side.
Delicately she ran her fingers over his chest, seeking any wounds beneath the blood. She found none except the one she had already noticed on the inside of his right arm.
Shallow wound , she thought, relieved. Bloody but otherwise not much damage .
She undid his belt. Then she eased his pants and underwear down his torso, fearing every bit of the way what she would discover.
Please, God, not a gut wound , she prayed silently.
The only blood on his abdomen had dripped down from the wound on his arm.
She let out a rush of pent-up breath. With great care she peeled his pants down his legs.
The wounds on his thigh made her stomach clench.
âLordy, but thatâs a prime lot of male flesh,â Lola said from behind Sarah.
âLordy, but he looks more like stew meat than steak at the moment,â she shot back. âGet my uncleâs medical bag, please.â
Laughing, Lola went to the willow-branch chest, opened it, and pulled out an old black leather bag.
âWhat do you need?â she asked.
âA miracle,â Sarah said.
âDidnât know you stored âem in this bag.â
âNeither did I.â
After that there was silence except for the splash of water while Sarah gently cleaned Caseâs wounds. She started with his arm. As she had hoped, the wound was more bloody than serious.
âThatâs not worth stitching,â Lola commented.
All Sarah said was, âHot water, please. Soap. And more rags. Heâs a mess.â
âUte!â Lola called.
âI hear you,â he answered gruffly. âBut why you bother with all that scrubbing whenââ
âQuit grousing,â Lola interrupted. âShe saved your sorry hide once, didnât she?â
Muttering, Ute stoked up the fire and checked the pot hanging on the trivet over the flames.
âGetting there,â he said.
âThank you,â Sarah answered without looking up.
He watched her work with reverent black eyes. At some wordless level of his being he was convinced that she wasa cinnamon-haired angel put on earth to help creatures that couldnât help themselves.
It was something he rarely spoke about, but it was more real to him than any words he knew.
While water heated, Sarah gently cleaned blood from Caseâs body. When she was finished, she looked down at her handiwork.
Lola is right , she decided in a distracted way. This is a prime piece of man .
The idle thought surprised her. Since her harsh initiation into a wifeâs duties in the marriage bed, men hadnât appealed to her physically.
Hastily she draped a clean cloth over Case, preserving at least the shreds of modesty.
But she would be a long time forgetting what she had seen.
Heâs bigger than Hal was .
All over .
The thought made Sarah shudder. She had