Read Online The Horseman's Bride by Elizabeth Lane - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Lane
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attacked the buttons of his clean shirt, peeling back the upper part to reveal the fresh bandage her grandmother had laid in place earlier. Tanner watched her with heavy-lidded eyes as she untied the wrappings and lifted away the dressing. This morning Mary hadn’t bothered with the poultice. The wound appeared clean and free of infection.
“How does it look?” His voice slurred slightly.
“Fine on the surface. But that blade went in deep. The germs could have gotten into your bloodstream.”
His mouthed response—likely a curse—trailed off as his eyes closed. Clara laid a cautious hand on his forehead. His skin was burning.
Clara replaced the dressing over the wound. If only her grandmother hadn’t gone to town! Clara had only a cursory knowledge of Mary’s mysterious dried herbs. Some of them were potent cures; but misused, they could be dangerous, even poisonous. Experiment too freely, and she’d be as likely to kill Tanner as to heal him.
Rushing to the kitchen, she put the kettle on to boil, opened the cupboard and began rummaging through the jars, bags and little pots her grandmother kept on the top shelf. Just to be safe, she would use only the herbs she recognized. If she could just manage to keep Tanner stable, Mary could do more for him when she arrived home. For now, she could simply pray that Tanner’s body would be strong enough to fight the infection.
Willow bark…everyone knew it was the best thing for fevers. But would an unchecked fever be best for fighting the infection? Deliberating, Clara decided not to take that chance. Tanner’s temperature felt dangerously high. At least some willow bark tea might make him more comfortable.
She crumbled the dried bark and tossed it into the boiling water. Then she went back in to check on Tanner. She found him shivering on the bed, his teeth chattering.
She leaned over him. “Tanner, can you hear me? You’re chilling. We need to get you out of your clothes and under the covers. You’ll have to help me.”
“Sorry it’s not under more pleasurable circumstances,” he muttered, fumbling with his belt buckle and buttons.
“Being sick’s no excuse for that kind of talk!” Clara caught the legs of his jeans and jerked them down past his feet. His gray cotton underdrawers revealed barely a glimpse of what lay beneath. All the same, she averted her eyes as she pulled the covers out from under him and tucked them over his body. “We’ll leave the shirt for now. I’ll get you more quilts. By then your tea should be ready.”
His eyes fluttered open. “What kind of tea? I’ll be damned if I’m drinking more of that knockout potion your grandmother gave me last night.”
“Stop fussing. It’s just willow bark, for the fever.” She hurried into Mary’s room, stripped the quilt and coverlet off the bed and brought them back to lay over Tanner’s chilling body. He had stretched out on his side, his profile starkly beautiful against the white pillowcase. Who was he, this man of secrets? Why had he risked his life to leave here this morning?
One tawny curl had tumbled over his forehead. Impulsively Clara brushed it back into place. Dear heaven, what if she couldn’t save him? What if he was fated to die, right here in this bed?
By now the tea was brewed. As she stood by the open kitchen window, straining out the bark, a low rumble reached her ears. Leaning over the sink, she peered through the screen. Angry, black clouds were pouring over the mountains to spill across the sky.
Anxiety formed a knot in Clara’s stomach. A heavy storm could keep her grandmother in town for the rest of the day, longer if the creek flooded the road. For Tanner, the delay could mean the difference between life and death.
Adding milk and sugar to the bitter tea, she carried the cup into the bedroom. Tanner was still shivering. Maybe the hot tea would help the chills. In any case, he was going to need plenty of fluids to fight the infection.
She touched his
“How does it look?” His voice slurred slightly.
“Fine on the surface. But that blade went in deep. The germs could have gotten into your bloodstream.”
His mouthed response—likely a curse—trailed off as his eyes closed. Clara laid a cautious hand on his forehead. His skin was burning.
Clara replaced the dressing over the wound. If only her grandmother hadn’t gone to town! Clara had only a cursory knowledge of Mary’s mysterious dried herbs. Some of them were potent cures; but misused, they could be dangerous, even poisonous. Experiment too freely, and she’d be as likely to kill Tanner as to heal him.
Rushing to the kitchen, she put the kettle on to boil, opened the cupboard and began rummaging through the jars, bags and little pots her grandmother kept on the top shelf. Just to be safe, she would use only the herbs she recognized. If she could just manage to keep Tanner stable, Mary could do more for him when she arrived home. For now, she could simply pray that Tanner’s body would be strong enough to fight the infection.
Willow bark…everyone knew it was the best thing for fevers. But would an unchecked fever be best for fighting the infection? Deliberating, Clara decided not to take that chance. Tanner’s temperature felt dangerously high. At least some willow bark tea might make him more comfortable.
She crumbled the dried bark and tossed it into the boiling water. Then she went back in to check on Tanner. She found him shivering on the bed, his teeth chattering.
She leaned over him. “Tanner, can you hear me? You’re chilling. We need to get you out of your clothes and under the covers. You’ll have to help me.”
“Sorry it’s not under more pleasurable circumstances,” he muttered, fumbling with his belt buckle and buttons.
“Being sick’s no excuse for that kind of talk!” Clara caught the legs of his jeans and jerked them down past his feet. His gray cotton underdrawers revealed barely a glimpse of what lay beneath. All the same, she averted her eyes as she pulled the covers out from under him and tucked them over his body. “We’ll leave the shirt for now. I’ll get you more quilts. By then your tea should be ready.”
His eyes fluttered open. “What kind of tea? I’ll be damned if I’m drinking more of that knockout potion your grandmother gave me last night.”
“Stop fussing. It’s just willow bark, for the fever.” She hurried into Mary’s room, stripped the quilt and coverlet off the bed and brought them back to lay over Tanner’s chilling body. He had stretched out on his side, his profile starkly beautiful against the white pillowcase. Who was he, this man of secrets? Why had he risked his life to leave here this morning?
One tawny curl had tumbled over his forehead. Impulsively Clara brushed it back into place. Dear heaven, what if she couldn’t save him? What if he was fated to die, right here in this bed?
By now the tea was brewed. As she stood by the open kitchen window, straining out the bark, a low rumble reached her ears. Leaning over the sink, she peered through the screen. Angry, black clouds were pouring over the mountains to spill across the sky.
Anxiety formed a knot in Clara’s stomach. A heavy storm could keep her grandmother in town for the rest of the day, longer if the creek flooded the road. For Tanner, the delay could mean the difference between life and death.
Adding milk and sugar to the bitter tea, she carried the cup into the bedroom. Tanner was still shivering. Maybe the hot tea would help the chills. In any case, he was going to need plenty of fluids to fight the infection.
She touched his
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