LITMIR.BIZ

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with the gang at the ambush. Was Andrew Donnelly the one who’d shot and killed Hays? Jericho needed to see that kid and examine the horses around here to check if any of their shoes matched the tracks he’d followed.

      A knock sounded on the front door and Catherine placed the tin cup on the bedside table. “I’ll be right back.”

      He closed his eyes as she left, as much to rest as to try and make out her words in the next room.

      She reappeared with a thin, brown-haired man who appeared to be a few inches shorter than Jericho’s six-foot-four.

      “This is Dr. Butler,” she said. “He couldn’t believe it when I told him you were awake.”

      Jericho wasn’t sure how much longer he’d stay that way. Reaching out with his good hand, he awkwardly clasped the other man’s. “Thanks for what you did.”

      “Captain, you should be thanking Catherine.”

      “It’s Lieutenant, Doc.”

      The doctor aimed a warm, affectionate smile at her. “Well, Lieutenant, you’re lucky to be alive, and it’s because of her. She saved your life.”

      A slight blush stained his nurse’s cheeks as she moved to the left of Jericho’s bed. He looked over and nodded. A brief smile touched her lips before her gaze skittered away.

      The doctor eyed Jericho critically. “You surprise me, sir. I didn’t expect you to survive.”

      “You can call me Jericho.”

      “Your color is much better and your fever seems to have gone down a bit. I’d like to take a look at your wrist and leg.”

      “All right.” Jericho wasn’t too keen on having anything looked at, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

      The doctor moved around the foot of the bed and up beside him. He cut away the bandage wrapping Jericho’s wrist and forearm. The flesh was raw and torn. His hand lay limply, curled inward on top of the clean white sheet.

      “Can you move your fingers?”

      He could, but couldn’t straighten out his hand.

      “Hmm. Can you bend your wrist?”

      Jericho tried and jagged pain flashed through him. “Can’t. There’s no give in it.”

      “Don’t force it.”

      “What does that mean, Doc?”

      “Some tendons were torn by the bullet.”

      “But I’ll still be able to use this hand again, won’t I?”

      “I’m not sure yet.”

      “I will. I have to.” Jericho was a lousy left-handed shot. He had every intention of making the McDougal gang pay for what they’d done, and to do that he had to be able to use his gun hand.

      “I need to see how it heals up,” the doctor said.

      “How long?”

      The other man raised an eyebrow. “Longer than three days. You’re getting stronger. I sure didn’t hold out hope for that, not like Catherine did. Let’s check your progress in another couple of days.”

      “I’m gonna be gone by then. The gang’s trail is already cold. The longer I’m laid up, the harder they’ll be to find.”

      “You listen to me, Lieutenant.” The doctor’s brown eyes turned stern. “You lost a lot of blood. By all rights, you shouldn’t be drawing breath right now. If you get out of that bed before Catherine or I tell you, you could rip open your stitches and bleed like a stuck hog. I can’t put any blood back in you. Understand?”

      “Yes.” Jericho didn’t like the doctor’s words, but he appreciated straight talk. He did need to get on his way, but just the little time he’d been awake this afternoon had left him weak and shaky. He probably couldn’t even saddle his horse.

      “I want you to give me your word you won’t try to leave.” Dr. Butler unbuttoned the cuff of his white shirt and rolled it back. “And that you’ll follow my orders.”

      Jericho wasn’t used to following anyone’s orders, but he did owe Butler and Miz Donnelly something for saving his life. Besides, he wouldn’t be worth spit if he saddled up and rode out of here, then passed out. “You have my word.”

      “Good.” The doctor glanced at the woman who stood quietly on the other side of the bed. “Catherine, let’s change the dressing on his leg.”

      “I’ll get the bandages.”

      As soon as she stepped out of the room, Jericho said in a low voice, “Hey, Doc, just what all was shot off down there?”

      The other man grinned. “You still have your private parts.”

      “Will they work?”

      “I believe you’ll be fine, but there is some tissue damage. I’m also concerned about damage to your nerves. That shouldn’t affect your manhood, but it might be a while before everything is back to working order.”

      Just as Jericho exhaled a relieved breath, the Donnelly woman returned with a handful of white strips torn from a sheet. Her face betrayed no emotion, but her eyes had darkened to near purple and her hands trembled. Since his manhood was still intact, Jericho didn’t care to tempt fate by letting this woman near him with a pair of scissors.

      “Uh, Doc, since I’m awake now, I’d just as soon the lady not see me in the altogether.”

      “She’s a nurse, Lieutenant. She’s been trained to ignore embarrassments.”

      “Well, she ain’t never seen my embarrassments and I don’t aim for her to start. No offense, ma’am.”

      “None taken. I’ll wait outside.” She left, and he thought she looked relieved.

      Just what kind of woman had taken him in? Her voice smiled, but she didn’t. She obviously had nursing skills, but not the drawl of Texas. Where was she from? Jericho wondered if there was a Mr. Donnelly. Children? Was her brother the boy Jericho had seen with the McDougals at the ambush? And if so, was his pretty nurse involved with the gang, too?

      As he nodded in response to the doctor’s instruction to stay in bed tomorrow, it wasn’t the boy who had ahold of Jericho’s mind. It was the blue-eyed woman who made him feel as if he mattered.

      Catherine didn’t want to think about Jericho Blue’s manhood. She shouldn’t be thinking about it. But even the next day, as she drove the wagon back from Fort Greer, the memory of his blunt question brought heat to her face. She had been the one to insist she could quell his concerns. But she had nearly dropped the soup bowl in his lap.

      Thinking about his—him—in that way opened up other thoughts, sharpened her unsettling awareness of the Ranger. Why couldn’t she simply think of him as another patient? Saints knew, she’d tended plenty of those.

      Dr. Butler had told her it would take some time for Jericho to regain his strength. As much as Catherine wished for the man in her bed to get better and move on, she had no desire to see him at full strength. Just the taut, ropy muscles in his arms and legs hinted at the power he must possess when in good health. He was a big man. The idea of him regaining his strength reminded her too much of men who used brute force to intimidate.

      She liked Jericho Blue much better when he was asleep. He wasn’t handsome, but she found his stern, chiseled face compelling. A sense of purpose and command surrounded him, as if he was a man who knew what he wanted and would stop at nothing to get it. She shuddered to think how he would be if he wanted a woman. No man had ever made her heart race from anticipation one second, intimidation the next. She didn’t understand it.

      Around him, she felt skittish and on guard. When he’d woken, those silver eyes had been soft, then gone as sharp as a honed blade when he talked about the gang

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