Spitfire Sweetheart: A Four Weddings and A Kiss Novella (4 page)

“I’ll be here to see her home,” Pa said with a single jerk of his chin, “and she won’t go about unescorted. Not now and not ever again. You’re right, Carstens.”

Pa clamped his Stetson on his head and patted Maizy awkwardly on the shoulder, then wheeled toward the door and left.

Maizy watched him go. Then slowly, because she was afraid of what she’d see, she turned back to Rylan. They looked at each other in dismay, and she knew just what he was thinking.

He wanted her gone, but he needed her.

She wanted to help, but she wanted to do it wearing britches.

Neither of them had a hope of getting what they wanted.

CHAPTER FIVE

R
YLAN WAS TRAPPED IN THE CABIN WITH THE WOMAN WHO
had destroyed his future.

And she was so pretty he couldn’t think straight when she was anywhere near him. “Your cheeks are a little flushed.” Maizy touched his forehead with a hand hard with calluses, but it was a gentle touch nonetheless. He had to get her away from him.

“I don’t think it’s a fever. Let me get a cool cloth.” She ran one fingertip over the bump on his forehead and down his cheek. Her face held a frown of such sweet regret Rylan’s heart ached.

He told himself she was just trying to doctor him, but it felt like more than that. It felt caring . . . intimate.

“You must have a terrible headache.”

Rylan had never seen her like this. All womanly and gentle. Every other time he’d seen her, she’d worn a six-gun
strapped to her hip, for heaven’s sake. Who knew she could be so . . . so . . . so female?

“Even without a fever, a cool cloth might reduce the pain.” Maizy left off touching him, thank heavens, and rushed to the basin of cool water by his dry sink, clomping across the floor like a field hand.

There was the tomboy. Rylan felt a bit more in control by the time she hurried back to his side.

Folding the wet cloth neatly, she laid it on his forehead. He winced at even that bit of touch, but the cool cloth really was soothing.

She was a terror, but she worked hard. Since he’d moved in, Rylan had talked with Auggie many times, and he knew Maizy probably worked harder than her pa. That ranch wouldn’t survive without Maizy’s help unless that old skinflint Auggie hired some men. Which was what he should have done years ago. It wasn’t a big spread, so that outlay of cash for cowpokes might make a tight budget snap. Rylan knew that for a fact.

“Does it hurt terribly?” Maizy’s voice surprised him. It was so kind, so concerned. Her blonde hair was in a neat bun, just a few wisps escaping to curl over her ears and touch her neck. Her blue eyes shone with concern and kindness, not the thoughtless recklessness she’d displayed before.

He closed his eyes so he couldn’t see her. But, like a man who had stared at the sun too long, she was burned into his
brain. Her dress was too tight and worn so thin it hardly had any color anymore. It had been blue about one hundred washings ago.

“The worst is my chest, the broken ribs. Seems like a man can’t move anywhere without causing his ribs to ache.”

“I really am so sincerely sorry you got hurt. I haven’t even said thank you yet. You saved my life.” Her voice wobbled.

Rylan’s eyes shot open to meet her blue ones and he saw them brimming.

She blinked quickly and dashed away the tears with a swipe of her wrist. “Now, can you tell me what you’d like for an evening meal? If you’ve got beef or venison, I might need to get it on to roast right away. I’ll make plenty for Rawhide too. Then I can turn my attention to cleaning. It’s a fine cabin but . . . but . . .” She looked a bit lost as she studied all the clutter stacked through the cabin. “I need to knock a f-few cobwebs down.”

Rylan saw about a hundred cobwebs without turning his head.

“And the floor needs to be swept and scrubbed.”

She had to find the floor first.

“And you’ve got things stowed here and there. I can tidy those stacks up.”

That was putting it nicely. The cabin was jammed with junk left by the previous owners, whoever they’d been. He’d barely even noticed it until Maizy started her fussing.

“The house was here when I bought the ranch, and this clutter came with it. I’ve added my own things to the mess,
and I haven’t spent a lick of time tending it. I reckon that’s pretty easy to see.”

“I’ll tidy it up in my spare time. First, after I get a meal on, I’ll do the washing. I’ll get some water on to heat for that. It takes awhile. It’s a cool enough day that a fire in here will be welcome, thank heavens. Doing the washing in the heat of the summer gets tiresome.”

“Maizy,” Rylan began, his spirits rising at the thought of getting so much help, “I don’t expect you to clean up a mess I’ve spent a year ignoring. I just need someone to cook and wash up the dishes and help me out of bed a few times a day.”

“I’ll do everything you need, and what spare time I have, I’ll use to clean. I’m not a girl to sit idle.”

She tugged at the neck of her dress. “Let me cool this cloth off again.” She lifted it from his aching head, went back to the basin, wrung it out, then returned.

“That really does feel better. Maizy, is—” He broke off, then asked, “why do you go by Maizy? Your pa called you Margaret.”

“I was named Margaret after my mother. Pa got to calling me Crazy Maizy when I was a young’un. I guess I was running wild even back then. Maizy stuck.”

“It’s hard to think of you as a Margaret. Maizy suits you.”

“I doubt I’d answer to anything else.” Maizy smiled as she adjusted the cloth.

“That really does feel good.” Rylan hadn’t slept much since his head had cleared yesterday. Everything hurt too much to fully relax and sleep. He realized, with that cloth soothing the worst pains, he was exhausted.

“I think the cloth will stay on.” Maizy’s voice seemed to come from far away. It was as soothing as the cloth with none of her usual irritating sass. “I’m going to get some work done. But I’m just a step away.”

Rylan wanted her to stay close. He tried to open his mouth and tell her not to go, but his eyelids were heavy and the cloth was staying put. It was too much effort to speak.

CHAPTER SIX

M
AIZY WONDERED IF
R
YLAN EVEN HAD THE GUMPTION
to chew, let alone handle a knife and fork.

He stirred from a long afternoon of sleep and she quickly scooped mashed potatoes onto a tin plate. She slid on an elk steak she’d simmered to tenderness, then diced into bite-size pieces.

This meal was going to be as easy on Rylan as she could make it.

She reached Rylan’s side just as his eyes flickered open. His sleep-dazed, handsome blue eyes made her think of the river, the one beside her hidey-hole. It reflected a perfect New Mexico sky, the same color she saw in his eyes.

He focused on her and seemed confused for just a bit, then he shifted his weight as if to sit up, and everything was driven out of his expression except pain.

A gasp tore from his throat. “I forgot.” The words were barely above a whisper as he instantly lay still.

Pain she’d caused.

“I’ve got a meal for you, Rylan.” Except she was afraid to touch him, let alone have him sit up. Could a man eat flat on his back?

Rylan’s eyes closed, and he breathed as if each breath had to be taken carefully. Finally he opened his eyes. “If you slide an arm behind my shoulders and slip a rolled-up blanket behind me, I can sit up enough to eat.”

Each word echoed with pain as if he knew it was going to hurt. Then he added, “It smells good, Maizy. Thank you. Rawhide ain’t much of a cook.”

A compliment and thanks. For some reason that touched Maizy’s heart in a way nothing ever had. Rylan was a brave, kind man. And here he was, battered and broken because he’d risked his life to save her. That only made the words mean more.

Maizy got the blanket rolled up just right and laid it beside Rylan, then slid her left arm under him, just as he’d said. He didn’t make a sound, but she saw the way he clenched his jaw.

An inch at a time, Maizy lifted. His head and wide shoulders were pressed against her. His soft dark hair rubbed against her neck. She was closer to him than she’d ever been to a man, not counting Pa—and she didn’t get overly close to him most times. It took all her strength to lift Rylan. She never could have done it on her own, but he helped. As soon as she could, she tucked the blanket behind him and eased him back. He took quick shallow breaths as he adjusted to the new position.

Finally, through a weak smile, he said, “You’re a lot more
careful of me than Rawhide.”

Maizy quickly sat beside him on the bed. She was on his left side and his injured leg was on the right, so she didn’t have to contend with it.

“I can manage.” He grasped the fork, but his hand trembled as he tried to stab a piece of elk.

“Let me.” Without asking permission, she plucked the fork away and offered him a bite of meat. He opened his mouth, most likely to say he could do it himself. Before he could fuss, she stuck the food in. He chewed, then his mutinous expression changed.

“This is delicious.”

Maizy smiled. “I made plenty for your cowpoke too. When he comes in, there’ll be a hot meal ready.”

“He’ll be late. He’s working all the hours God made trying to keep up with a job that was too much for the two of us to begin with.”

Because of Maizy.

Rylan didn’t say it, but Maizy knew.

She had a tin cup of milk and she gave him sips now and then. She’d baked biscuits and fed him those too. When the plate was clean, Rylan sighed in contentment.

Maizy picked up the bowl of peaches. She’d found a can, sugared some of her biscuits, then poured the peaches over them and added a bit of sweetened cream.

By the time they’d finished, Rylan was eating with enthusiasm, and he’d even adjusted the position of his broken leg a couple of times with minimal groans of pain.

There was little time for talk between bites, and Maizy discovered she enjoyed this quiet caring for a man. Meals were no-nonsense back at home.

She set the bowl aside.

“Thank you. I haven’t been able to eat much. Rawhide’s meals lean toward tough, mostly burned meat. Maybe a good meal will help me regain some strength and knit these bones a bit faster.”

“I hope so.” Maizy reached for the dishes.

She took them away, then wrung out a cool cloth and brought it back to rest on his brow. “Do you want to stay sitting up?”

“Yes, awhile longer.”

Maizy went to work. Knowing Rylan was watching her made her conscious of every move. She tried to stand in a more ladylike way, though heaven only knew exactly what that was. Her dress choked her a bit less when she stood straight, so she tried to think of being ladylike as a way not to strangle. It wasn’t surprising the dress was tight, since it was a fifteen-year-old hand-me-down from Ma. Pa said she’d been close in size to Maizy, but it was likely Ma was a wee bit smaller.

Lighting the lanterns as dusk came, Maizy had the dishes clean. Rylan cleared his throat and drew her attention.

He was looking at her in a markedly uncomfortable way.

“What is it?”

“I, um . . . think you’re going to have to . . . to . . . help me stand.”

The very thought made her stomach swoop. She’d hurt him badly just sitting him up. “Why?”

“I need the”—he cleared his throat—“the privy.” A tinge of pink showed on his cheeks, and Maizy knew that he would have preferred to have waited because Rawhide and Pa were due soon.

Determined to be very matter-of-fact, she said, “We’ll get it done.”

He was dressed in some sort of a nightshirt. He wore britches that’d been slit up past his knee on his right leg so the white plaster showed.

“My ribs are the worst. The leg hurts but the cast keeps that from being so bad.”

“How can I help?”

“First, help me sit all the way up, then help me lift my broken leg and swing it off the bed.”

“Let’s go slowly.” Maizy took up her spot on his side, arm under him, just like before. Only one gasp of pain escaped as he straightened.

“All right.” His voice was hoarse as if he controlled the need to shout in pain. “Get my leg.”

Maizy lifted as Rylan inched around.

She lowered the cast to the floor. “Let me get on your left side.”

Nodding, Rylan said, “My left leg can take my weight. And I can stand on my broken leg for a few seconds while I step forward. If you get under my left arm to help me balance, we can do this. It’s only a few steps outside the back door.”

He made it sound easy. Maizy soon knew it was anything but. He had his left arm around her neck, and when he put weight on his broken leg, he so tensed from the pain he liked to choke her. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead and his jaw was a grim, tight line.

She had her arm around his waist. As they stepped out the back door, which had two steps to contend with, she gripped his waist tighter, wringing a gasp out of him.

“Your ribs,” she whispered as she realized what she’d just done. A wash of tears surprised her. She fought them back, but hurting him tore at her heart.

“I’ve had busted ribs once before. They’ll start shaping up in another week or two. A bone takes six weeks to heal, the doc said. But ribs quit the worst of their hurting long before that
.
. . mostly.”