Marshal of Hel Dorado (38 page)

 
    
Scarlett clung to Sam, thick clouds of black
and gray smoke roiling in the air around them, carrying the stink of burnt
grass, scorched earth and scalded flesh.

 
    
“Shh,” Sam pressed her cheek to his chest,
his body angled to free his right hand. His gun rested in his palm, his posture
stiff and watchful. “I just saw Cody race over the ridge. You didn’t burn him.”

 
    
She sagged, burying her face into his
shirt. He smelled of sun, cedar and horse. Living, not dead. Alive, not
scorched.

 
    
“Dawn,” she whispered, voice catching on a
dry sob.

 
    
“She’s hurt. But we’ll see to her, shh.”
The coolness of his hand was a balm to her overheated flesh. He rubbed her bare
back in slow, easy circles, until her panting eased.

 
    
Awareness prickled through her, the roaring
in her ears abating. Her shirt was in tatters. Her toes wiggled in the cracked,
remnants of blackened, cooked leather boots and her britches were equally
abused, baring one full leg and just laying against the second.

 
    
“They’re running.” Micah announced as he
slid over to them.

 
    
“Give me your shirt.” Sam ordered.

 
    
“Holy cow.”

 
    
“And stop staring at her.” The terseness in
Sam’s voice hurried Micah along. He quickly shed his shirt and passed it over.
“Turn around.”

 
    
Scarlett lifted her head, uncertain of who
he was talking to, but Micah had his back to her and Sam tucked his gun back
into his holster before helping to pull the shirt around the tatters of her
clothes.

 
    
“You okay?” He asked, gentleness softening
the lines around his eyes, but his mouth was thinned and his lips bloodless.
Anger radiated through him. Scarlett swallowed and nodded.

 
    
“Dawn…” The horse’s screams had lessened to
wheezing huffs of breath.

 
    
“I know. We’ll take care of her. I
promise.” Sam’s fingers chucked under her chin, urging her gaze back up to him.
“You have it now? You got it back under control?”

 
    
She nodded, mutely. She’d never let the
fire out like that before, not where it could hunt and hurt, where the flames
could feed on flesh instead of water or dead earth.

 
    
“Okay, good.” Sam smiled a little. “Hunker
down here, stay put. I’ll check your horse.”

 
    
He helped her sit down until her back was
framed against the great spokes of the wheel. His fingers were utterly gentle
as he brushed away the tears from her cheeks.

 
    
“Cold?” The question seemed odd until she
realized she was trembling. The sun-warmed air slid over her skin like ice. She
nodded jerkily, not quite trusting herself to speak through the chatter of
teeth.

 
    
He turned to his brother, but Micah was
already there, squatting down with a blanket from the back of the wagon seat.
It boasted two small smoking holes, but Scarlett ignored them as he and Sam
tucked the blanket around her.

 
    
“How the hell is she cold after that?”
Micah asked, his face pinched with concern.

 
    
“Don’t know. Don’t care. We need to keep
her warm for right now. Go check on the mare.” Sam knelt next to her, stroking
the hair away from her face. “Micah will take care of Dawn. He’s great with
horses. I have to check on your brothers and find Kid. Then see if we have any
survivors. You going to be okay for a few minutes, sweetheart?”

 
    
She nodded jerkily again, fat, heavy tears
welling up in her eyes. She didn’t want him to go.

 
    
“I’ll be right back. I promise.” He pressed
a hard kiss to her lips and then a gentler, sweeter one to her forehead. She
pushed a hand out from the blanket to reach for him, but he was already gone.
His voice was hurried, hot with concern.

 
    
To her left, Micah knelt in the dirt next
Dawn. The mare’s head was down, laying quiescent. Her chest continued to heave,
hard, uneven pants of breath.

 
    
“Is she okay?” She whispered, hating the
quaver that trembled amongst the words.

 
    
“I think so. The one on her back is a
shallow gash. We’ll have to clean it and bandage it, but her hip. This one’s
bad. I’m not sure if they got bone.”

 
    
“Noah.” Scarlett whispered.

 
    
“What?” Micah shoved his hat up, scanning
the horizon briefly before glancing to her.

 
    
“Get Noah.” Her teeth were chattering and
the blanket was doing little to help the heat dripping out of her. “He can
heal.”

 
    
“Well that’s damn useful.” Micah stretched
up as Jimmy’s shadow fell over him. “Good timing on getting back.”

 
    
“We weren’t that far when we heard the
first shot.” Jimmy landed with a soft thud of boots, he spared a glance for
Scarlett. “You okay, Scar?”

 
    
“C-c-cold.” The word stammered against her
chattering teeth. Jimmy shed his trail coat and strode over to her, easing her
foreword to wrap it around her back. The brief heat pressed against her icy
flesh, staving off the shivers. “F-f-find Noah. Dawn n-n-needs him.”

 
    
Jimmy nodded, the long shaggy cut of his
brown hair loose against his face. He’d lost his hair tie at some point. “You
sure you’re okay?” He studied her through hazel eyes, the softness of his
gloves brushing her cheeks.

 
    
Despite her jerky nod, Jimmy looked
unconvinced. “Noah!” He bellowed, his gaze hard and suspicious. Scarlett closed
her eyes, exhaustion rolled over her swifter than a storm in spring.

 
    
She burrowed into the shirt, jacket and
blanket, but even Jimmy’s borrowed heat in the jacket was fleeting.

 
    
She blinked, surprised to find Noah
hovering in front of her. His dark, baldhead gleamed with sweat in the
sunlight. Dirt and a hint of blood marred his cheek. “Noah, help my horse.”

 
    
“I will in just a second, Scar. Want to
make sure you’re okay.”

 
    
“I’m fine.” The words slurred, but anger
pricked her spine and helped her open her eyes all the way. “Help Dawn.
Please.”

 
    
Noah ignored her, his hands were like ice
where they touched her cheek. “She’s burning up.”

 
    
“She did this before.” Sam was suddenly
there. “At the Flying K. One moment she was fine and the next she was hit with
a fever the likes of which I’d never seen. She was trying to get into the
water, I think to let the fire out.”

 
    
Scarlett frowned. The men were talking like
she wasn’t there.

 
    
“I don’t think this is the same thing.”
Noah commented, his tone easy and gentle. Noah peeled back the blanket. “Her
skin’s pink, and raw. Look at the flesh around her neck and shoulders.” His icy
touch slid over her collarbone. Scarlett nearly sighed.

 
    
“It’s the clothes.” Cody was there, pushing
past Sam. He was dressed in britches only, the buttons left undone and a sheen
of sweat shining on the deep gold of his skin. “She caught her clothes on fire”

 
    
“But she’s done that before.” Jimmy
disagreed.

 
    
Scarlett met the concern in Sam’s deep
brown eyes with a rueful smile.

 
    
“Yeah,” Cody knelt down and peeled back the
charred cotton. “But it takes everything she has to keep the fire from burning
her and she was walking right into that firestorm she made.

 
    
Damn impressive, by the way.” Cody flashed
her a quick, proud smile.

 
    
She managed a weak grin. “They shot my
horse, Cody.”

 
    
“I know darling, Noah will fix her up.”

 
    
“That I will. Let’s just make sure you’re
okay.” They were stripping her out of the blanket, peeling away the jacket and
shirt.

 
    
“Hey,” Jimmy gave Sam a shove and nodded to
the wagon. “You can wait over there.

 
    
She doesn’t need an audience.”

 
    
Irritation creased Sam’s face, but one by
one, her brothers all glared at him until he and Micah both retreated a few
feet away.

 
    
“You didn’t have to be mean to him.”
Scarlett whispered, shivering uncontrollably as they pulled away the ragged
remains of her shirt, boots and went to work on her britches. But that thought
was fleeting, because pain seized her when Noah peeled back the top of her
pants.

 
    
“Hell.” Noah breathed. “Get me clean
bandages, water and some of that whisky. Now.”

 
    
“What?” Sam was surging back to her, even
as Cody tossed the borrowed shirt over her chest and leapt to obey Noah’s
demands.

 
    
“She got clipped.” Noah said tersely. “Now
back off and let me work.”

 
    
Clipped.

 
    
“They shot me too.”

 
    
“Yes, they did. Now sit still.” The heat
dripping out of her increased to a stream, soaking her side. She’d never been
shot before. “Help me lay her down. Buck and Kid still out there?”

 
    
“Yes,” Cody’s tone was hot. “Three got
away.”

 
    
“Damn.”

 
    
“Yeah.”

 
    
“Cody,” Scarlett murmured.

 
    
“Right here, darling.” Cody knelt in the dirt,
resting her head against his leg.

 
    
“Is it bad?”

 
    
“Nah. You’ve done worse cliff diving into
the lake.”

 
    
Laughter hurt, so she choked it off and
nodded. “I’m cold.”

 
    
“I know. We’re going to warm you up in a
moment, Noah’s going to clean that gash out first. Okay?”

 
    
“Is it going to hurt?”

 
    
“You tell me.” Noah teased and poured
something wet over her side. The wet sizzled and the burn punched through her
side like a mule kick.

 
    
Breath hissed through her clenched teeth.
“I think I hate you.”

 
    
“There’s our Scar,” Jimmy’s voice carried a
tinge of humor amidst a sea of relief. “Okay, let’s get the wagons straightened
out and figure out what we do next.”

 
    
S
am
kept a firm eye on Scarlett. She was bundled up and tucked in next to a roaring
fire.

 
    
They’d not really wanted to chance it, but
she was too cold otherwise. The firelight glowed warm against her softened
expression. He wasn’t sure what Noah had done, but the hot pink of her skin had
returned to normal and the lines of pain around her mouth eased.

 
    
Kid and Buck returned at dusk. They’d found
one of the three men and buried him. Sam had appointed himself the task of
dealing with the three men Scarlett burned. He’d never forget the sight of
those twisted, charred bodies for as long as he lived. But, they would still be
alive if they hadn’t taken shots at her.

 
    
It was a fair trade in his opinion.

 
    
Noah assured him that Scarlett’s wound was
just a shallow cut, but she’d lost a lot of blood. Ike and Micah had tended the
horses, built a fire and started passing out food. As if by unspoken agreement,
none of the men ate until Scarlett was full.