Read Online Knight in a White Stetson by Claire King - Free Book Online Page A

that the next time he felt the urge to drink a half bottle of Wild Turkey in front of Calla’s family.
    He pressed his palm to Lester’s wound. “Give me that first aid kit, will you, Jack?” Henry said. Jackson stepped forward and handed the blue metal box to Henry. Calla had yet to move from the doorway, though Henry was gratified to see the color returning to her cheeks.
    “Hold this,” Henry commanded Lester as he placed a bandage on his head. “Tight. We want to stop the bleeding.”
    “Oh, poor Lester,” Helen fretted, looking worried and oddly guilty. “Poor dear. Can I get you something?”
    “No, that’s all right, ma’am,” Lester said bravely. “If we can just get this bleeding under control, I’m sure I’ll be okay.” He groaned again loudly for effect. Helen nearly swooned, her hand fluttering across her ample chest. It was all Henry could do not to laugh. He met Jackson’s eye. The older man was obviously suppressing the same urge.
    Henry pried Lester’s hand away from his forehead and applied a dab of antiseptic ointment to the oozing wound. Lester winced and moaned dramatically again.
    “Is he going to be all right?” Calla asked quietly from the doorway.
    “He’s fine, Calla. Just a little bump. What’d you hit him with?”
    Calla looked solemnly into Henry’s soft brown eyes.
    “A bat.”
    Henry gave a short crack of laughter. Calla turned on her heel and vaulted down the stone steps.
    “You’re okay, Lester, but you’ll have a headache for a while, and your eye will swell shut.” He helped Lester up off the floor. “You’ll look like a hockey player. Drives the women wild.”
    “You pissant,” Lester jerked away from the grasp Henry had on his arm. He weaved a little and Helen reached out to steady him. “That hellcat nearly killed me. Didn’t even bother to turn on the light before she hit me.”
    “What were you doing in here in the middle of the night, Lester?” Jackson inquired softly.
    “Well,” Lester had regained his composure enough to recover his drawl, Henry noticed. “I missed dinner. I was just looking to see if Miz Helen had saved me a little old lump of that apricot pie I saw she was making this afternoon.”
    “Why didn’t you turn on the light, old man?” Henry asked.
    “Why don’t you go jump off a cliff, young fella?” Lester retorted. He put his hand to his head. “Ooh, I feel a little dizzy. Maybe I got me a concussion.”
    “Oh, poor Lester,” Helen wailed. “Here, come sit down.”
    “More likely it’s the liquor,” Henry whispered in Lester’s hairy ear as he helped him to a kitchen chair. “You smell like a still.”
    “I ain’t the only one,” Lester snarled.
    Henry straightened. “Try to stay awake for another hour or so. I’ll come back and check on you. But I’ve seen a lot of concussions, and this is just a bump on the head.”
    “Thank you, son,” Jackson said. “You’re mighty handy to have around. You might want to lay your hand to going out and checking on Calla.”
    “I planned to.”
    Henry washed his hands at the laundry room sink, pulled on his boots and headed for the barn. Calla was probably out there crying her eyes out, Henry thought fondly. A little feminine angst was a pleasant thing, in his view. Brought out the best in a man.
    He found her where he knew she’d be—perched on the top rung of the stall where Bubba spent his lonely, gelded nights. Her back was to him.
    “Is he okay?” she asked as he pushed the barn door shut.
    “He’s fine. You must have pulled up.”
    “I realized it was him at the last second. He went down like a brick, though. Thought I might have killed him.”
    “I know. You okay, sweetheart?”
    She turned to him. Her eyes were not full of tears. Or even a little feminine angst. They were blazing. He felt that plank slam against his chest.
    “Don’t call me sweetheart.”
    “Okay.”
    “Don’t call me anything but Calla. I’m your boss, not your sweetheart. Got