Over the Edge (4 page)

For some reason he wanted to say, “As usual.” Seth would be the first to admit that much of what went on around the end of the war was real hazy in his memory. Between starvation, bullet wounds, laudanum, and the way he was haunted by memories of war and fire and nightmares, he’d lost big chunks of time.

And one great big ol’ chunk was wriggling in his arms right now.

“So how are you?” Seth barely controlled a flinch at the lamebrained question aimed at the half-massacred woman. Next he’d be asking her about the weather.

“I’m not all that good, Seth Kincaid.”

“W-we’re . . .”

Be a man.

“We’re married?” He shouldn’t have made that sound like a question. He might as well admit it, though. He wasn’t going to be able to lie his way through it. Not that he was a man for telling lies. But he didn’t have to spout every single word of the truth every time he opened his mouth, now, did he? “And we have a baby?”

Callie made a sound Seth had never heard from a human being before. Sorta like a wildcat crossed with a wounded grizzly bear during a Civil War battle in a cyclone—in hell. Only way, way more fierce.

“I’m sorry. Real sorry. But I haven’t been well, Callie.” Seth said that fast, before she unleashed her claws. She lay there, coated in blood, sewn up like a ragged quilt, and here he stood telling her
he
wasn’t well.

“That comes as no great piece of news. You’ve never been well, not since I’ve known you.” Callie seemed to gather herself as she twisted on the table, swinging her feet off until she sat up. Her tanned skin had turned to ash gray.

“Here now, you lay back down.” The doctor glared over his shoulder at her. He had his hands full all the way to his elbows with the two men the sheriff had brought in.

“I’m watching her, Doc.” Seth shifted the baby into his left arm and steadied Callie with his right. He was glad the cast was off his ankle because he was going to need both arms and legs to hold them up.

His family.

He had a family.

Seth leaned close, mighty brave considering she might be preparing to pounce—then have his head for lunch.

“I’m sorry, really. I got your letter and I’ve been riding around searching. Rafe and Ethan, too. We’ve been looking for you. I can’t even remember how I got to Colorado. So much of the end of the war is lost to me. Then a man drugged me and I ended up living in a cavern real close to my home ranch. Then both my brothers got married and I broke my leg and Rafe made me claim a homestead and build a cabin.” He really needed to quit listing all his problems, considering hers.

Seth glanced at the little boy and didn’t want to hear what Rafe had to say about this. Rafe was crazy for family and responsibility. Seth figured his big brother wasn’t gonna be real proud.

“Did I mention I was sorry?” Seth finished weakly.

His wife’s square little shoulders slumped. She frowned so deep, for a minute Seth was afraid she might cry. He wasn’t looking forward to that.

“I have a cabin built. My brothers helped me. And since we got your letters and knew you were coming, we made it big enough for a home, not just some lean-to shack.” It was big enough for the baby, too, but that was just good luck.

“Get me off this table, then, and let’s go home.”

Smiling, Seth slipped an arm around her waist and helped her off the table. “You’re not upset? You’re going to forgive me and come live with me without a fuss?”

“No.” Callie’s smile had edges just as sharp as cougar claws, and fear curled in Seth’s belly. Her letter had come from Texas. He reckoned she was as tough as the rest of her state. “I’m going to get you alone where no one can save you.”

Seth didn’t hide the flinch this time. There she stood with her sleeve cut off. A heavy bandage over stitches in her arm. Big old clumps of her hair shaved off with ugly black stitches showing on her scalp. Her face white from blood loss and fatigue, the rest of her red from where the blood that was supposed to be inside her had gotten out, and Seth didn’t doubt for a minute he was going to have his hands full saving himself.

He looked at his grinning son. He deserved whatever havoc she wanted to wreak.

“Okay, let’s go. We’ll get a room for the night. You can’t ride to my place until you’ve had some rest.”

“It’ll be a switch having you take care of me.” Callie moved at Seth’s gentle urging toward the door. “I wonder how long that’ll last.”

The parson blocked their way. “I don’t think you’re up to leaving yet, Mrs.—”

“Callie Kincaid.” Callie reached her right hand out and rested it on the parson’s shoulder. “You saved us, Parson. You saved all of us on that stage, and most important to me, you saved my son.”

Seth hadn’t said thank-you yet. Callie moved on to the parson’s wife. “Thank you. I saw you running with Connor. I saw your husband using his body to shield both of you from stray bullets when you were inside the stage. I know it didn’t suit either of you to leave me, but you saved us all. Me, the men riding on the stage, Connor, and yourselves. You did the right thing.”

The parson’s expression changed. Not to pride, like some men might’ve felt if a woman bragged on them like Callie had just done, but more like relief that he didn’t have to feel ashamed. Seth could understand that. Running for help while a woman stayed behind would shame a man. That bit of shame faded to acceptance of the way he’d handled things. Seth was glad of it.

Callie was right. The parson and his wife had saved everyone. “Thank you both.” Seth didn’t shake the parson’s hand because he was busy holding his son and keeping his wife from melting into a heap on the floor, though Callie probably didn’t melt easy. Seth turned to the doctor. “I’m going to get a room for Callie. She’s exhausted. I’ll come for you if there’s any trouble.”

Callie didn’t talk, and from what Seth knew about her—all learned in just the last few minutes—he figured she was near collapse, since she seemed like the type who would balk at being taken care of, and she didn’t.

The doctor rapped out several orders. Seth nodded and eased his family . . . odd, he had a family. Of course he’d always had a family. Rafe and Ethan. But now he had a wife and a child.

More than odd.

When they got onto the street, Seth saw his horse standing there at the hitching post. He turned around and called, “Parson.”

The parson and his wife came outside.

“Can you put my horse up?” Seth jerked his head at the livery stable visible about two blocks down. “I’m going to get a room in the hotel right across the street, but I don’t want to leave my family.”

Family.

Almighty odd.

“I’d be glad to.” The parson seemed eager to help. Probably still felt poorly about leaving a woman in the middle of a gunfight while he ran for help. Seth didn’t have time to reassure him.

“And we’ll see about getting anything she left on the stage.”

“Your wife is my size,” the parson’s wife said with a smile. “If we can’t find her things and a change of clothes, I’ll send over a clean dress out of my own satchel.”

That struck Seth as a really good idea. “Thanks, ma’am. We appreciate it.” He was as good as carrying Callie by the time they got across the street.

The hotel manager took one look at Callie’s bloody, partly shaved head and gave them a room on the ground floor. Seth appreciated not having to carry her upstairs.

“Can you send us some food and some warm water? She needs to wash up.” Seth looked at Callie. She was standing, except his hand was bracing her up.

“Right away, sir. We’ll be glad to help you in any way we can.” The manager led the way to a door, unlocked it, went in and set the key down and hurried out.

Seth eased Callie onto the bed. She groaned and then lay still. He hoped she was asleep; otherwise they would need the doctor again.

A slap in the ear turned him around to look at his son.

Odd didn’t begin to describe it, but he’d be hanged if he didn’t like it.

“Hi.” Seth jerked in surprise. “Uh . . . Callie?”

She lifted her eyelids as if they weighed a pound apiece. “What?”

“What’s his name again?”

There was too long a silence. Finally she said, “His name . . . your son’s name . . . is Connor. And you’re lucky I’m too weak to kill you, Seth Kincaid.” Her eyes went shut again.

Seth decided not to ask any more questions. “Hi, Connor.”

The boy gave him a reckless grin that scared Seth just because he thought he understood it completely. Seth Kincaid had sown the wind. Now, with his son’s help, he was going to reap the whirlwind.

A scary thought, but life would never be dull. Seth hated dull. He smiled. “You and me, little man, are going to have us some fun. You’re really gonna like my cavern.”

Chapter
4

Callie’s eyes flickered open, and in the dim light she saw a roof over her head. A roof that wasn’t carried along on wheels.

She’d been a long time traveling.

Connor!

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed—or rather tried to—and it all came back to her like a closed fist.

The pain was a big ol’ reminder.

Then a face popped up right over her head, which she’d never managed to get raised. The look in his eyes, like blue lightning, excited, a little crazy. She’d found her husband.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve being alive, Seth Kincaid.” Talking hurt. “Get out of this bed.” She’d have shoved him out, but even thinking of it hurt.

“Shh, you’ll wake Connor.” Seth’s smile eased into concern and he moved
closer.
“How bad does it hurt?”

“Like a wolf pack had half of me for supper and now they’re finishing me up for breakfast.”

The room was in darkness, except for a low-burning lantern. Seth looked sleepy. Which meant he’d been right here beside her for long enough to fall asleep. It was a wonder she hadn’t been jerked awake by his nightmares.

“The doctor sent me some medicine for the pain.” Seth held up a bottle clearly marked laudanum.

“Get it away from me.” Callie wrinkled her nose and noticed the pain. From wrinkling her nose? She wondered just how battered she was. “You used to have terrible nightmares when you took that stuff. Did I get shot?”

“Nope. The splinters from the stage cut you up something fierce, though. Doc had to sew you up here and there. And you have dozens of scratches that aren’t bad enough for a needle and thread. You’ve got blood in your hair and, well, everywhere honestly. You look awful.”

Callie remembered that her husband had always been unfailingly honest. She wasn’t all that thankful for the trait right now. She tried to lift her hand to examine her injuries, and it hurt like blue blazes.

“There’s food if you can stand to eat it.”

“I feel on the verge of casting up what little is in my belly, so I won’t try eating. Maybe a drink of water, though.” Callie tried to sit up and it wasn’t working.

Seth looked nervous, but he slid his arm under her shoulders, and with a gentleness she remembered from before, he eased her into a sitting position and moved some pillows around so she could lean back. Everything hurt, every breath, every thought.

Seth lifted a glass of water to her lips. The sip stuck in her throat and had to fight its way down.

“Wait.” She managed to lift one arm and push him away. He stopped without her having to wrestle him. He was paying really close attention, which was sweet.

How dare he be sweet?

Then the water went down and it was like it opened her throat and thirst came roaring to life. “More, please.”

Seth eased the water back to her lips and gave her a tiny swallow, then another. She could drink now. She was desperate.

Then as suddenly as she’d been desperately thirsty, she was afraid she’d be sick.

Turning her mouth, Seth was quick to notice that no water was spilled.

“I think I . . . I might be . . . be sick.”

Seth set the glass aside and had a damp cloth ready. Icy cold. In the chilled October night, even in a poorly heated hotel room, the cool cloth felt good.

“Let me press it against your neck.” He shifted her body and it hurt a bit less than it had at first. The cold cloth at the base of her skull eased her nausea.

“I taught you that.”

“You did? I don’t remember learning it. It’s just something I know.” His hands were so strong.

He had a way of focusing on her so completely that she felt like the only woman on earth. She remembered how he’d paid attention to her. But then her memory wasn’t in question, was it?

Their eyes met as her stomach settled. Aching muscles relaxed as she began to hope she’d avoid humiliating herself by needing to empty her stomach.

Not to mention how much it would hurt to vomit. The very thought was agonizing.

And speaking of agonizing thoughts . . . “Seth, why did you leave? What happened?”

His eyes, so vulnerable she’d been done in by them from the first, looked sad. “I’m sorry, Callie. I don’t even know what happened. I—when did I leave, was it?—I don’t remember there being a baby.” He shook his head as if denying he’d done such a thing.

“You don’t even remember there being a
wife
. Connor wasn’t . . .well, I wasn’t up to traveling for a while; that’s why it took me so long to come after you.”