Over the Edge (12 page)

Connor chuckled. But Seth knew for a fact the kid could cry up a storm; no silent night for this little one.

Heath sat down close to the fire on the far side of the hearth opposite Seth. He stretched out his hands toward the warmth.

“Meet your brother, Ethan,” Seth said.

“What?” Ethan looked at the baby.

“Not him.” Seth realized he had a lot of explaining to do. “Heath. Turns out our pa had another family tucked away.”

“What?” Ethan said again, his tone switching to anger.

Heath looked up, anger in his eyes. “You’re the family he had tucked away, not us.”

“Tucked away?” Ethan’s eyes cut to Seth.

Heath shook his head and then turned back to face the fire.

“I’ll explain later,” Seth said, feeling the weight of his exhaustion.

Ethan lifted Connor to eye level. “And
who
is this little guy?”

Seth chuckled then. “Well, truth is, I kinda had a family tucked away, too.”

The heat of the fire, the hard ride home in the bitter cold, the effort it took to resist the temptation of the wild wind, the stress of having a family he couldn’t remember—all of it caught up with Seth, and he sagged back and let the long, long day end.

Chapter
11

Callie shoved her eyes open by pure force. She stared right into the wild blue eyes of the man she’d been hunting for a year. Of course it hadn’t all been spent hunting. She’d taken some time off to give birth and raise her son to a few months of age and bury her pa.

“Where’d I put my gun?” It sounded like growling, and that probably described her attitude pretty well.

Seth reached down and rested his hand on her forehead. “Mornin’, honey.”

Callie felt around and found no fire iron, so she decided to leave payback for later. “Where are we?”

“We’re at my brother Ethan’s house.”

The last couple of days came rushing back to her.

The shootout. Bleeding—she’d done a
lot
of bleeding. A whole lot. Raising a hand, she thought to check the stitches in her scalp. The tiny movement made her left arm hurt so bad she had to bite back a howl of pain. She quit any unnecessary moving.

Her runaway husband was still there, and still just as annoying. And blast the man, he was as good-looking as ever. Better in fact. Clean-shaven now, unlike after the war. And he’d been skin and bones then. He was still too thin, yet it wasn’t as scary. His hair was cut short instead of being long and shaggy as a buffalo. She’d never really seen how sharp his cheekbones were, or how full his lips, or how square his jaw. That had all been masked by his beard and his raving.

“And there was a surprise brother?” Callie was finding it hard to concentrate over the pain.

“I’d never seen him before yesterday.”

“So they weren’t just a surprise to me, then?”

“A mighty big surprise to us both.”

Which reminded Callie that her husband had forgotten her. So the man had a mighty surprising day all around.

“Are you sure? You forgot me. Maybe you forgot your little brother, too.”

“Nope.” Then Seth hesitated and looked over her shoulder. “We’d never seen hide nor hair of him before yesterday, had we?”

“No, that boy was a surprise to all of us.” Another, less annoying face appeared over her husband-the-abandoner’s shoulder. A pretty blond woman who looked like a stiff wind would blow her away.

Turning back to Callie, Seth said, “I was sure of that before I asked. It’s just that these days I’ve sort of started doubting all the things I’m sure about.”

“Howdy, Callie.” Audra peeked around Seth’s shoulder. “I’m Audra. Ethan’s wife. Which means we’re sisters. You’ve been asleep since Seth brought you here late last night.”

Audra, who looked younger than Callie, said, “Step aside and let me see her, Seth.”

“Audra, give me a minute to—ow!” Seth jumped and turned to the woman. “Why’d you pinch me?”

Audra the Dandelion Fluff Woman gave Seth a look that made him stand up from where he sat on the bed and step back. Then, sounding as sweet as sugar, she said, “Go on. Let the poor woman have a minute to wake up.”

Seth stepped around so he hovered behind Audra.

Then Callie sat bolt upright. “Connor!” The movement clawed pain through every joint and muscle. Her head gave a sickening throb. Her stomach swirled, and for a second Callie fought against emptying her stomach. Her stomach was empty, which helped her control her collywobbles. “Where’s my son?”

“He’s fine,” Audra said. “He’s sitting at the breakfast table with Ethan and my two little ones.”

Agony didn’t stop Callie from swinging her legs toward the edge of the bed. “I have to see for myself that he’s all right.”

“You have to stay in bed. You’ve got a fever.” The dandelion rested surprisingly strong hands on her shoulders.

Or maybe Audra wasn’t surprisingly strong. Maybe, instead, Callie was surprisingly weak. “I need to go to Connor.”

The heat of her skin hit her as soon as Audra said the word fever. Callie struggled against Audra.

“Help me, Seth. We need to keep her here.”

Seth rushed around to the other side of the bed, and there was no resisting his strength. His hands replaced Audra’s, and Callie found herself flat on her back. Seth sat on the bed beside her, frowning, watching every breath she took. A pillow that must be goose down felt good on her throbbing head.

“No, please. My son.” With every word Callie’s voice lost power. Wrenching against Seth’s hold sent pain through her shoulder until it could have been on fire. The only clear thought in Callie’s head was to get to Connor. To assure him she was still there to care for him. The death of Callie’s parents rushed into her thoughts as if drawn there by her fever. It had hurt so badly. She could
not
do that to her son. “I’m all he’s got. I have to go to him. He’ll be so afraid.”

“Audra, go get him. Please.” Seth didn’t let go.

Tears burned salt into Callie’s eyes. She couldn’t stay in bed when Connor might be terrified, confused.

Audra stood. “I’ll be right back with Connor.”

“I’m from Texas,” Callie said as Audra disappeared out the door.

“You mean you’re tough enough to get out of this bed?” Seth asked.

“I mean I’m tough enough to do anything I have to do.”

“I like having a tough wife. It’s gonna be fun being married to you.”

Callie narrowed her eyes at her polecat husband. Her good-looking polecat who was grinning at her like he didn’t have a brain in his head.

And she’d married him, so what did that say about her?

“Audra, where are you with Connor?” He raised his voice, not afraid to call for help when he needed it.

“Connor tipped a plate of food onto himself.” Audra’s voice wafted up the stairs. “Ethan has him in the sink, giving him a bath. I’ll be a few minutes.”

Seth was going to have to face his wife all on his own. He lifted one hand from Callie’s left shoulder. He’d been careful to avoid bumping the deep puncture wound on that arm, but even the least little touch had to hurt.

She showed no signs of getting up or attacking. In fact, he was sorely afraid she might hit him with something even worse—salt water. Tears threatened to roll down out of her eyes, and he couldn’t stand it.

Seth rested the hand not busy restraining her on Callie’s cheek. The woman was battered for a fact, and Seth knew a fever was a mighty serious thing.

After all, hadn’t a fever just killed Audra’s husband a few months back?

He brushed her hair back off her forehead and the silk of it tickled a memory Seth couldn’t quite bring into focus. He had touched her hair before, though, he knew it. Of course they’d had a son together. He reckoned there’d been a chance to touch her hair mixed up in that somewhere.

God, please protect and heal my wife.

The prayer startled Seth into straightening from where he leaned close to his pretty wife.

It wasn’t a prayer exactly. Instead it was almost a . . . a still, small voice inside him. It seemed to come from the same place he’d heard the cavern call to him and the storm last night and the wolves. It was almost like God
gave
him the prayer, rather than Seth giving one to God. It was a wonderful, powerful feeling. On the other hand, Seth wasn’t sure having more voices inside him was a good thing. But if one of those voices was God, maybe it was all right. Maybe he’d better listen.

He tried to search for that voice again, tried to pray on his own, and he stumbled over it and turned back to Callie before he could look for his soul and instead find emptiness. Or maybe find so many fears they amounted to madness.

“You had a fever when I first met you.” Callie spoke quietly. Neither crying nor attacking. Seth decided he needed to pray more and longer and harder—if he could just remember how.

“Is that why I don’t remember things?”

Callie shrugged and her shoulder lifting under his hand was a wonder to him. He had a wife. A beautiful wife.

“Why do I have a fever?”

A sick wife.

“Are my wounds infected? Is that what’s causing the fever, Seth?” She was losing that killer tone to her voice.

Much as he didn’t want his wife to be killing mad at him, he thought it was a bad sign.

Seth inspected the deepest cut on her forehead. “It looks a little red, but probably just from being sore. I don’t think it’s infected. The puncture wound on your arm is the worst injury.” She had a hundred small scrapes that added up to a lot of pain and blood loss, but nothing fatal.

“My arm feels terrible.” Her arm rose about an inch before she quit moving. She had on a long-sleeved flannel nightgown.

“It’s the worst of your injuries.” Seth, pursuing only medical interests, unbuttoned the gown. Callie didn’t seem to notice, which was probably best for Seth, survival-wise.

The row of little white buttons on the soft white flannel distracted him for a few seconds and he sort of lost focus on his purpose and unfastened a few more of them than was strictly necessary. He caught himself and returned to doctoring. “It’s got a bandage tied around it to protect the stitches.”

Easing the wide neck of her nightgown aside, baring her unbelievably smooth, lovely shoulder, he squelched a few non-doctoring thoughts and reached for the bandage high on her arm. As gently as possible he untied the knotted strip of cloth.

“Stitches?” Callie frowned. “I’ve never had stitches before.”

“Me neither.” Seth hated the thought.

“Yes, you have. I helped pull the threads out.”

Seth looked up and saw how flushed she was. Annoyed at him for forgetting something else important. And so sick. Her eyes had a watery, glazed look. He leaned forward and kissed the red apple of her cheek slowly, gently, alarmed at the waves of heat coming off of her.

God, help her. Heal her. Make me smart enough to know what to do.

The prayer came again from that hollow place inside him. He took a second to think that maybe, just maybe, God was inside him somewhere. Looking for his soul.

Seth hoped fervently God could locate it.

Pulling the bandage aside gently in case it was stuck to her arm, he uncovered the puncture wound. It was red and angry looking. The six stitches looked painful with the swollen skin acting like it wanted to bust the threads apart.

“Did I get shot?” Cassie studied the ugly wound without mentioning that Seth had partially disrobed her. Yep, she was sick all right.

Seth remembered very clearly that he’d told her the answer to her question already. He’d have pointed that out if he wasn’t bent on sweet-talking her into being his wife in all ways.

“No, you didn’t get shot. But the stagecoach was real shot up. There was a piece of wood, a big splinter that stabbed you here. The doctor put in some stitches.”

“Seth, it’s so ugly.” Callie looked away from her wound and stared at him, her black eyes brimming with tears. “I’m so ugly.”

Her lower lip trembled. Seth thought she looked ridiculously young. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, honey.”

He ran his hand into her hair, mindful of the stitched-up places on her scalp. She looked like she’d lost a fight with a whole barn full of wildcats, and she was still so beautiful he could hardly draw a breath.