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An urgent moan escaped her as she eagerly clutched the canteen and began drinking. He knew she wanted to gulp it down, but nausea and vomiting would be the end result, so he said again, “Slow. Drink slow.”

He let her drink as much as he dared, and all the while scanned the area for a companion or clues as to how she'd come to be there. When he thought she'd had enough, he told Jim, “Let's get her to the wagon.”

Rhine gently scooped her up and she began to fight. She had all the power of a gnat but she was flailing and twisting and crying out hoarsely. He backed out of reach of the ineffectual blows. “No one's going to hurt you, darlin', I promise. We're just trying to save your life.” She continued to fight. Rhine, carrying her as best he could, looked over at Jim with disbelief.

Jim cracked, “Pretty feisty for a half-­dead woman. Probably a hellion at full strength.”

When they reached the wagon, Rhine laid her down in the bed. Jim placed the carpetbag and the cookstove they'd found near her. “You drive. I'll tend,” Rhine said.

While Jim turned the team towards Virginia City, Rhine worked on their patient. The first thing needed was to cool her down. With that in mind, he began undoing the buttons of her shabby blouse, and she began flailing and crying out again.

Barely missing being punched in his eye, he told her, “I need to open your clothing so you can cool off. Stop fighting me now. Please.”

But she kept it up. He ended up tearing the blouse in two, and she instinctively covered herself. A damp and much mended shift lay under the shredded blouse. Guilt rose within him but soon dissolved beneath what he knew to be necessity, so he poured water on the clean handkerchief he pulled from his coat and began sponging it against her bare shoulders and arms. He bathed her face, and in the process cleared away the mask of salt left behind by the desert heat. He removed the patterned head wrap covering her matted, sweat-­wet hair and once again wondered how she'd wound up in the middle of the desert. Repeatedly soothing her with the damp handkerchief and his voice, he decided that once they reached town, he'd hand her over to boardinghouse owner Sylvia Stewart. She'd take things from there.

I
t was dark by the time they reached Virginia City, and Rhine looked upon that as a blessing. He didn't need gossip hounding him for playing the Good Samaritan. To avoid prying eyes, they drove through the city's alleys to Sylvia's place. Jim ran in and seconds later returned to say, “She's not home. Whitman Brown said she'd be back within the hour.”

Rhine cursed. “Okay. Let's take her to our place. One of us can come back for Sylvia later. Hopefully she has room to take her in.” Even though there was something about the fretfully tossing young woman that made him want to hold onto her until she was well enough to take care of herself again, he knew she needed to be cared for by a woman.

Once they reached his saloon, he told Jim, “Let me get her upstairs, and you go and see if you can find Doc Randolph.”

“Will do. Do you need my help?” There was concern on Jim's broad face, too.

Rhine jumped down from the bed then reached in and gently eased her into his arms. The tossing and soft moans of protest started up again. “No, she weighs less than a baby rabbit. You go on ahead. I should be all right.”

So while Rhine entered the silent saloon through the back door and climbed the stairs to his apartments, Jim drove away.

Chapter Three

R
hine entered his shadowy bedroom and gently placed Eddy in the center of his large four-­poster bed. Another man might fret over her and her dirty clothing being laid on the clean sheets, but he was more concerned with her well-­being. Her breathing was so shallow and her skin still so hot he worried that she might not pull through. Taking a hasty look back at her over his shoulder, he quickly grabbed a basin and hurried down the hall to the washroom to fill it with water so he could continue wiping her down.

Luckily, it was a Sunday and the saloon was closed. Otherwise she might've been disturbed by the noise and revelry of drunk miners and card players from the floor below. He stuck the large sponge into the water-­filled basin and slowly and gently slid it over her face, throat, and the tops of her breasts above the shabby shift. That she wasn't wearing a corset was a plus. More than likely she would've died in the heat had she been. To his thinking, she'd be better off nude and immersed in a tub of cool water, but he needed to wait for Jim to return with Sylvie—­as she was affectionately called—­or Doc. The questions surrounding Eddy's plight continued to plague Rhine, but they had to be set aside until she was strong enough to answer.

A short while later, Jim entered with Sylvie and both came to the bedside. Concern filled Sylvie's face. “Sorry I wasn't home. I was out at the orphanage. Jim said you found her in the desert?” The middle-­aged boardinghouse owner was a trusted friend.

Rhine stopped his ministrations for a moment. “Yes. And her skin's iron hot.”

Sylvie placed her palm on her forehead. “She is very warm. Poor thing. I'd suggest a tub, but until she's fully awake I'm scared she'll slip beneath the water.”

“I can hold her up if you think that will help.”

She studied Rhine as if thinking that over. “It might. Do you know who she is?”

“No.”

“Okay. Do you have a shirt or something for her to wear?”

“Yes” He walked to his wardrobe and took down a shirt. “Jim, were you able to find Doc?”

“He's in Reno. He'll be back in a day or two.”

Rhine saw the exasperation on Sylvie's face. She had been a nurse for the Colored troops during the war and served in that capacity now for the city's Colored community. According to the rumors, she and Doc Randolph had been at odds for decades, but Rhine had no idea why.

Sylvie took the shirt from his hand. “Let me get her undressed and I'll call you in to carry her to the tub. In the meantime start filling it with water.”

Eddy thought she was dreaming about being carried down a dark tunnel. She knew a man was carrying her but she had yet to see his face. He eased her into a pool of water and she leaned back against his strong shoulder. The water lapped over her like a balm, magically erasing all her hurts and soothing her everywhere: throat, arms, breasts. It felt so glorious, she sighed with pleasure. Languidly opening her eyes, she stared into the deep green gaze of a White man. For some reason, she wasn't alarmed. His jet black hair and handsome, ivory-­skinned features seemed familiar somehow. She gently cupped his unshaven cheek—­something she'd never done to any man before—­and he smiled softly. She smiled in return, and that was the last thing she remembered.

“I trust you'll be gentlemen if I leave her in your care for the night?”

Jim nodded.

“Of course,” Rhine added, eyeing the woman sleeping peacefully in yet another one of his clean shirts beneath a light blanket.

“My cook, Felix,” Sylvie said, “left to go back East yesterday, so I'll have to listen to my boarders complaining about my serving them burnt breakfast before I can come back here to check on her in the morning.”

Rhine smiled. Everyone in town knew Sylvie had no cooking skills at all. He pitied her boarders. “Do you have a replacement for Felix in mind?”

“Not yet. Nor do I have a place for this young woman to stay, at the moment. One of the men will be leaving in a few days and she can finish her recovery with me. Will you mind looking after her until then?”

Rhine glanced over at Jim, who shrugged, so Rhine replied, “No.” His fiancée Natalie probably wouldn't approve if she knew, but he'd cross that bridge if and when the time came.

“Okay good. I'll bring some aloe for her sunburn tomorrow. When she wakes up, encourage her to drink, but not a lot all at once. Jim, cook her light food. Eggs, maybe some toast, and we'll see how things go. Let's hope she'll be in better shape after she rests up.”

Rhine agreed.

Jim asked, “Do you want me to drive you back?”

Sylvie nodded. After glancing down at the young woman a final time, she said, “Keep an eye on her.”

After their departure, Rhine surveyed his sleeping guest. He ran his eyes over the clear-­as-­glass ebony skin, the long sweep of her lashes, and her perfect mouth. While in the tub, she'd taken him by surprise when she opened her eyes, looked deeply into his own, and cupped his cheek as if they'd been lovers. The urge to turn her hand and place his lips against her damp palm had also taken him by surprise. He had a fiancée and was due to be married before year's end. He had no business thinking about kissing another woman. Deciding what he'd felt was nothing more than concern, he set the incident aside and took a seat to watch over her as promised and await Jim's return.

Eddy awakened in a four-­poster in a large room barely lit by a turned down lamp. Having no idea where she was or how she came to be there, she shook the cobwebs dulling her thinking and noticed she was wearing a man's shirt! Perplexed, her eyes moved around the room to a well-­appointed sitting area and then to the face of a White man watching her from one of the chairs. Panic flared. She snatched the blanket to her neck and she drew back fearfully.

“Don't be afraid. You're safe. I'm Rhine Fontaine. My friend Jim and I found you in the desert.”

Confused, she tried to force herself to calm down so she could make some sense of this, but she couldn't. Watching him warily, she asked, “Where am I?” Her throat was dry as sand. She wanted water badly, but needed to solve the mystery of this first.

“Virginia City.”

“And this place is?”

“My bedroom.”

Her eyes went wide. “I need to go, I can't stay here.”

“Maybe in a few days, but right now—­”

Alarmed, she didn't let him finish. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her mind was so foggy she wasn't sure what was happening, but she knew she had to get away.

He stood and said urgently, “No! You'll fall!”

He was right. The moment she stood, she was hit by a wave of weakness so strong, her legs folded as if they were made out of cards. She cried out involuntarily as she hit the floor.

He walked over to her. “As I said, maybe in a few days. Are you okay?”

Drawing away again, she looked up and recognized the face of the man from her dream. She stilled. Had it been a dream? “I'll scream!”

He sighed. “If you feel that's necessary, go right ahead, but I'm not going to hurt you—­in any way. When you're done, I can help you back into bed, or carry you to the facilities, whichever you'd prefer.”

Heated embarrassment burned her cheeks. Her needs were not something she talked about to a stranger, and especially not a White man stranger. “I can walk.”

“No, you can't, but if you want to try, I'll wait.”

At that moment she saw her bare legs sticking out from beneath the long-­tailed shirt, and also realized she had on no underthings! No drawers. No shift. As quickly as her weakened state allowed, she reached up and pulled the blanket down. Ignoring him as best she could, she covered her bare legs. This was getting worse and worse.

“As I said, my name's Rhine. And yours?”

“Eddy. Eddy Carmichael.”

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Carmichael. You gave my partner Jim and I quite a scare out there in the desert, but I'm pleased to see you are recovering.”

Then her muddled brain remembered Nash's perfidy and her walk across the desert, but nothing else. “How long have I been here?”

“Four or five hours.”

Lord, she was thirsty. “May I have some water please?” she croaked. She felt so weak. It was not a state she was accustomed to.

He poured her a glass from a pitcher on the nightstand and handed it to her. “Slowly,” he advised softly. “Just a little for now.”

She nodded and took a few short swallows. The water tasted so good and she was so thirsty she wanted to down the entire offering, but heeding his advice, she took only a few more slow pulls. Done, she handed the glass back and her parched throat savored the relief. “Why am I so weak?”

“Walking the Forty Mile Desert under a full sun takes its toll. So, Miss Eddy—­facilities or back to bed?”

She hated to admit it but she really needed choice number one. Thoroughly scandalized, she confessed softly, “The facilities, but I can walk. Just point me in the right direction.” Looking around, she didn't see a screen of any kind.

“It's at the end of the hallway.”

“Oh,” she said disappointedly. Still bent on getting there under her own power, though, she wrestled with the blanket in an attempt to fashion it around her waist. Trying to get it out from under her hips and secured without treating him to another show of her legs was a struggle, however. He'd seen more of them than any man ever before.

“Do you want to go today?” he asked in a tone of muted amusement.

She shot him a glare. Reasonably certain the blanket was secured, she said, “Yes.” Now she just had to get up. No small task. The fullness of the blanket made it difficult to get her feet planted so she could stand. She decided she'd use the side of the bed to give her the leverage she needed. She scooted closer.

“You always this stubborn, Miss Carmichael?”

“It's called determination, Mr. Fontaine.”

“I stand corrected.”

Giving him another withering glare, she grabbed hold of the bed's wooden side panel and began working herself to her knees. She made a bit of progress, but her weakened state conspired against her efforts. Refusing to surrender and breathing harshly, she slowly inched herself to a standing position, careful not to get her feet fouled by the swath of blanket, and promptly keeled face forward onto the mattress.

Chuckling softly, he picked her up from behind and placed her gently into the cradle of his strong arms. He smiled softly. “It's called stubbornness.”

Rolling her eyes, she allowed herself to be carried from the room.

Rhine came from a long line of determined women, and the little lady presently in his washroom could have been one of them. While he stood waiting in the hallway a short distance away from the closed door to give her the privacy she needed, he had nothing but admiration for Miss Eddy Carmichael. He wondered again what she'd be like at full strength. Those withering looks she kept shooting him had probably brought more than one man to his knees, but he was finding them amusing.

The door opened and there she stood, upright but panting from the exertion. She appeared to be wobbly on her pins and on the verge of toppling, so he went to her and picked her up. She didn't protest but he could tell by her tight face that she wasn't enjoying being carried as much as he seemed to be enjoying offering the assistance.

He set her gently back in the center of his bed. “Would you like more water?”

She nodded.

He poured again from the pitcher.

When she'd had her fill she handed the glass back with a shaking hand. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

“And thank you and your friend for rescuing me.”

“You're welcome for that, too.”

“I had a carpetbag with me. Did you find it?”

“Yes.”

“Can you bring it to me.” No matter her condition, she wasn't going to go without underwear.

“Yes, I will. Now, lie back.”

Again a nod. He waited while she undid her cocoon. From the slow pace of her movements, she obviously had very little strength, but rather than offer to help and draw her ire, he let her handle it alone. Finally free of the blanket confines, she slowly spread it out, seemingly careful to keep her lovely legs hidden from his sight. Content, she snuggled in. If she had any lingering worries or misgivings about being in the room with him, she didn't voice them. “Rest now,” he told her quietly. A blink of an eye later she was asleep. Shaking his head at her determination, he went back to his chair for some rest of his own.

T
he next time Eddy awakened she was alone. The drapes on the windows were drawn, giving her the sense that it was night and making her wonder how long she'd slept. Finding herself alone was a relief. Seeing her carpetbag on the nightstand was a relief as well. Her rescuer had been caring and attentive, but a woman like her had no business in the home of a White man, let alone his bedroom. So far, he'd lived up to his pledge of not harming her, but would it last? She would have to trust him at least for now. For her own peace of mind though, she needed somewhere else to recover, but her still weak state made that a problem. She knew no one in Virginia City. Was there a Colored community? If so, did he know someone who'd be willing to put her up until she got back on her feet? For a woman who'd always depended upon herself, being bedridden was maddening. That she had no idea how long it would last only made it worse. Struggling up, she retrieved the carpetbag and after puzzling over the torn blouse she found inside, she took out a clean pair of drawers. It seemed to take a lifetime to get them on but she managed. She didn't have the strength to add a shift so she left it off.

Hearing the doorknob turn, she raised the blanket to her chin. Fontaine walked in.

“Good evening, Miss Carmichael.”