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Authors: Elizabeth Lane
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cheek. “Here’s the tea. I sweetened it for you.”
His bloodshot eyes blinked and focused on her. With effort, he raised his head, then fell back onto the pillow.
“Here.” Sinking onto a bedside chair, she lifted his head, cradling it in the crook of her arm. His stubbled jaw rested against the curve of her breast. “Careful, it’s hot.” She held the rim of the cup to his lips.
He took a careful sip. “Hot and sweet,” he mumbled. “Like you.”
“You’re out of your head. Just drink.” Clara was acutely conscious of his heat through her shirt. Her nipples had contracted to aching nubs that showed through the thin fabric. She could only hope he wouldn’t notice.
When he’d drained the cup, she lowered his head to the pillow and slipped her arm free. His fevered eyes burned into hers. Sick as he was, Tanner had a look of sharp-edged danger about him. He was like a wounded hawk, submitting to her care only because he had no choice.
As she rose and turned back toward the kitchen, thestorm struck. Chain lightning cracked across the sky, each flash followed by a cannonade of thunder. The clouds split open, sending a deluge of rain. Water pounded the roof and streamed down the windowpanes. Outside, the yard was fast becoming a sea of mud. Only then did Clara remember.
The horses!
Heaven help her, she’d left Tarboy tied to the corral. The mares were in the paddock, and Galahad was loose in the barn, still bridled and saddled. The animals would be terrified.
Without bothering to grab a slicker, Clara raced outside. The black gelding was snorting in fear, eyes rolling, nostrils flaring red. “It’s all right, Tarboy. You’ll be safe in a minute.” Clara untied the reins and sprang into the wet saddle. Water fell in solid sheets as she drove Mary’s horse into the barn and headed for the paddock to round up the mares.
Lightning struck close, splitting a huge cottonwood on the far side of the road. The sound of it crashed across the sky like the hammer of doom. By the time Clara reached the paddock, the two mares were wild with fright. But Tarboy, an experienced cow pony, knew his job. Galloping, shifting and pushing in response to Clara’s touch, he soon had the mares galloping for the open corral. From there it was easy enough to close the gate and herd them into the barn.
With the horses safely inside, Clara closed the barn door behind her. There were only two stalls. She led the nervous Galahad into the first one, taking time toremove his saddle and bridle. Tanner’s bedroll, lashed behind the saddle, seemed unnaturally heavy. Reaching inside she pulled out the .38 he’d used against the two robbers. She hesitated, then tucked the pistol into her belt. Having a gun in the house might not be a bad idea.
Tarboy went into the other stall. With much praise and petting, she lifted off the saddle and bridle and rubbed him down with a towel. By the time she’d finished doing the same for the two mares and Mary’s gelding, her teeth were chattering. She was soaked to the skin. And she would get wet all over again going back to the house.
There was no use putting it off. Bracing herself for the downpour, she stepped out of the barn, sprinted through a quagmire of mud and manure in the corral and clambered over the fence. The yard was a spattering lake of rainwater. Clara ran toward the house, sloshing with every step. Her boots would be a mess, but that couldn’t be helped.
Out of breath and dripping, she stumbled up the stairs and onto the porch. There she peeled off her wet boots and sluiced water out of her shirt, jeans and hair.
Even in the warmth of the house she was shivering. It was urgent that she get into some dry clothes. But first she needed to check on Tanner.
She found him sleeping so deeply that he barely stirred at her touch. He was still feverish but no longer chilling. Clara lingered a moment at his bedside, listening to the drone of the rain and the slow cadence of
His bloodshot eyes blinked and focused on her. With effort, he raised his head, then fell back onto the pillow.
“Here.” Sinking onto a bedside chair, she lifted his head, cradling it in the crook of her arm. His stubbled jaw rested against the curve of her breast. “Careful, it’s hot.” She held the rim of the cup to his lips.
He took a careful sip. “Hot and sweet,” he mumbled. “Like you.”
“You’re out of your head. Just drink.” Clara was acutely conscious of his heat through her shirt. Her nipples had contracted to aching nubs that showed through the thin fabric. She could only hope he wouldn’t notice.
When he’d drained the cup, she lowered his head to the pillow and slipped her arm free. His fevered eyes burned into hers. Sick as he was, Tanner had a look of sharp-edged danger about him. He was like a wounded hawk, submitting to her care only because he had no choice.
As she rose and turned back toward the kitchen, thestorm struck. Chain lightning cracked across the sky, each flash followed by a cannonade of thunder. The clouds split open, sending a deluge of rain. Water pounded the roof and streamed down the windowpanes. Outside, the yard was fast becoming a sea of mud. Only then did Clara remember.
The horses!
Heaven help her, she’d left Tarboy tied to the corral. The mares were in the paddock, and Galahad was loose in the barn, still bridled and saddled. The animals would be terrified.
Without bothering to grab a slicker, Clara raced outside. The black gelding was snorting in fear, eyes rolling, nostrils flaring red. “It’s all right, Tarboy. You’ll be safe in a minute.” Clara untied the reins and sprang into the wet saddle. Water fell in solid sheets as she drove Mary’s horse into the barn and headed for the paddock to round up the mares.
Lightning struck close, splitting a huge cottonwood on the far side of the road. The sound of it crashed across the sky like the hammer of doom. By the time Clara reached the paddock, the two mares were wild with fright. But Tarboy, an experienced cow pony, knew his job. Galloping, shifting and pushing in response to Clara’s touch, he soon had the mares galloping for the open corral. From there it was easy enough to close the gate and herd them into the barn.
With the horses safely inside, Clara closed the barn door behind her. There were only two stalls. She led the nervous Galahad into the first one, taking time toremove his saddle and bridle. Tanner’s bedroll, lashed behind the saddle, seemed unnaturally heavy. Reaching inside she pulled out the .38 he’d used against the two robbers. She hesitated, then tucked the pistol into her belt. Having a gun in the house might not be a bad idea.
Tarboy went into the other stall. With much praise and petting, she lifted off the saddle and bridle and rubbed him down with a towel. By the time she’d finished doing the same for the two mares and Mary’s gelding, her teeth were chattering. She was soaked to the skin. And she would get wet all over again going back to the house.
There was no use putting it off. Bracing herself for the downpour, she stepped out of the barn, sprinted through a quagmire of mud and manure in the corral and clambered over the fence. The yard was a spattering lake of rainwater. Clara ran toward the house, sloshing with every step. Her boots would be a mess, but that couldn’t be helped.
Out of breath and dripping, she stumbled up the stairs and onto the porch. There she peeled off her wet boots and sluiced water out of her shirt, jeans and hair.
Even in the warmth of the house she was shivering. It was urgent that she get into some dry clothes. But first she needed to check on Tanner.
She found him sleeping so deeply that he barely stirred at her touch. He was still feverish but no longer chilling. Clara lingered a moment at his bedside, listening to the drone of the rain and the slow cadence of
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