The Outlaws: Jess (2 page)

"No, take care of your brother. Press on the
wound to stop the bleeding. I can do this."

"Make it fast. I ain't leaving until I know
the bastard's dead."

Those unwavering green eyes were still
focused on him. He saw neither fear nor pleading in their startling
depths. What he recognized was acceptance, and perhaps regret.

"Close your eyes and don't move," Jess
whispered, hoping the bounty hunter had the presence of mind to
realize what he intended.

Holding his hand steady, he fired into the
ground scant inches from the bounty hunter's head. Then he
immediately dropped to his knees and smeared blood from the
previous wound onto the bounty hunter's head, making it appear as
if Jess's shot had been a fatal one.

"Is the bastard dead?" Jay called out.

"Can't get any deader," Jess replied.

Jay gave the bounty hunter a cursory glance.
"Good. I gotta get Lucky to the doc. Why don't ya join us? We could
use another gun."

"Reckon I'll have to decline," Jess replied.
"Always been a loner. Go on, get your brother to a doctor before he
bleeds to death."

"Yeah, you're right. If I were you I'd
hightail it away from Cheyenne before the body is found."

The tense silence nearly got the best of Jess
as he watched Jay hoist a swaying Lucky up into his saddle. By some
miracle Lucky kept his seat and the two outlaws rode off. It
couldn't have been too soon to suit Jess. He turned back to the
bounty hunter, praying it wasn't too late to save his life as he
dropped to his knees, noting that the bounty hunter's eyes were
closed.

Jess lifted the man's shoulders so he could
peel off his vest. He stared in mute disbelief as the man's hat
fell off, releasing a cloud of long black hair. Resisting the
obvious conclusion, Jess refused to believe what his eyes were
telling him.

Carefully he removed the bounty hunter's
leather vest. With shaking fingers he unbuttoned the black shirt,
revealing a blood-soaked camisole trimmed in dainty lace. He stared
in disbelief and no little amount of dismay.

What in the hell. A woman!

Never in his life had Jess encountered
anything so ridiculously absurd. Women belonged at home, raising
children, cooking, and seeing to their husband's needs, not
traipsing around the countryside packing guns and chasing outlaws.
The profusion of blood spreading over the woman's right breast
turned Jess's thoughts to more important matters. It wasn't for him
to judge another human being; his mission in life was to heal
people.

Focused now on saving a life, Jess retrieved
his black medical bag that never left his sight and returned to the
wounded woman. He used his scalpel to cut away the bloodied shift,
concentrating on the gaping wound instead of the most perfect pair
of breasts Jess had ever seen on a woman. Milky white mounds topped
with pert, rosy hued nipples.

Reaching once more into his bag, Jess
uncorked a bottle of carbolic acid and poured it over his hands.
Then he probed the wound with his finger. The woman moaned and
opened her eyes.

"Don't...touch...me..." Her voice was riddled
with pain.

"I'm not going to hurt you. The bullet has to
come out. I have some laudanum in my bag that should help dull the
pain."

"Don't...touch...me..." she repeated through
clenched teeth.

"Look, lady," he explained gently, "it's either I
remove the bullet or you die. Those are your only options, and
there's no time to waste. You've lost a lot of blood."

Vivid, pain-filled green eyes bored into him.
"Your brothers..."

"They aren't my brothers and they're gone."
He reached into his bag for the laudanum. "Are you going to
cooperate or do I have to pour this down your throat?"

She pressed her lips together and gave him a
belligerent glare.

Jess sighed. He was so damn weary; he
shouldn't have to deal with this. Uncapping the laudanum, he held
it to the woman's lips. When she refused to drink, he pinched her
nostrils until her mouth opened, then he poured a generous dose
down her throat.

She shuddered, gagged, and swallowed.
Satisfied, Jess sat back on his haunches and laid out his
instruments on a white cloth he'd brought forth from the depths of
his bag. Then he poured carbolic acid over the lot. By the time he
built up the fire to provide sufficient light for the surgery and
turned back to his patient, she had fallen under the spell of the
laudanum.

"Good," Jess said to himself as he reached
for the scalpel. He didn't want to hurt her any more than he had
to.

Jess studied the wound before probing for the
bullet. The bullet had entered two inches below her shoulder, just
above her right breast, missing the lung by a hairbreadth. His
concentration was so intense that beads of sweat dotted his
forehead and ran into his eyes. His hand was steady as the scalpel
bit into flesh and hit lead. Jess's relief was profound as he eased
the bullet out. The rush of blood that followed worried him and he
exerted pressure until the bleeding slowed to a trickle.

When he poured carbolic acid into the wound,
a scream ripped from her throat. He gentled her as best he could,
gave her another dose of laudanum, and waited until she quieted to
close the wound. His hands were shaking as he held a needle to the
light and looped fine silk thread through the eye. But they
steadied when he turned back to his patient. He had done this
countless times in the past, but this was the first time he'd dug a
bullet from a woman's tender flesh.

With neat, precise stitches, Jess closed the
wound and bandaged it with strips of gauze. Then he sat back to
inspect his work. There was a good chance the woman would live if
she was strong enough to fight the fever that would soon follow,
and the infection that came on stealthily and sucked the life from
unsuspecting souls.

There was little Jess could do now but make
the woman comfortable. He placed his bedroll near the fire,
carefully lifted her onto one blanket and covered her with another.
Then he sat beside her on the hard ground to wait and watch. Though
Jess tried to remain wakeful, his weary body betrayed him and he
dozed off. He awoke with a start when the woman cried out and began
to thrash around.

"Zach! I hurt."

Her voice was hoarse, her face contorted.
Jess was beside her instantly, bathing her face and holding his
canteen to her lips.

"Here, drink."

She took a sip, gagged, then fell back into a
stupor. Jess fed more kindling to the fire, then returned to his
vigil beside her, pondering the unusual circumstances that might
have led a beautiful woman to become a bounty hunter. And the woman
was beautiful. Beautiful and shapely. He should have known she was
a female the moment he saw those long feminine legs encased in
tight trousers. And the voice. Low and throaty, too soft to belong
to a male.

Damn! A female bounty hunter. What in God's
good name would force a woman into so dangerous a profession? What
were her parents thinking? Or her husband? Who was Zach? Obviously
someone she loved. If Zach was here now he'd pound some sense into
the man. What kind of man would allow a fragile woman to chase
after vicious outlaws? The longer he thought about it the angrier
he became. She could have been killed. If he hadn't been a skilled
doctor, she'd most likely be lying dead in a pool of her own
blood.

Unable to keep his eyes open, Jess drifted
off to sleep. He awoke to daylight, abruptly aware of luminous
green eyes staring at him.

"You're awake."

Meg Lincoln had been awake a good ten
minutes, her thoughts in a turmoil. The man she recalled from her
vague memory of last night was sitting beside her, his arms resting
on his bent knees, his head bowed. He was sleeping. She could see
little except his thick, sun-streaked brown hair.

She knew he was one of the Calder brothers
but found it difficult to reconcile what she knew about the outlaw
brothers with this man who possessed the skills of a trained
doctor. To her knowledge, none of the Calders had ever studied
medicine.

Meg stifled a groan. She hurt so damn bad
tears sprang to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She wanted
Zach. He'd always been there when she needed him.

Suddenly the man stirred, lifted his head,
and stared at her. His eyes were hazel, she thought, with golden
flecks in their centers. It surprised her that she would notice
facial characteristics when she hurt so badly. His eyes weren't the
only thing she noticed. The man was handsome in a rugged sort of
way. Broad forehead, a bold slash of a nose, wide mouth and full
lips. None of his features were classic, but put together they
seemed to work in ways most women would admire. He was a large man,
sleekly muscled and thoroughly masculine.

"You're awake."

His voice held a trace of southern accent.
She liked that but shoved the startling thought aside. She had more
important things to deal with.

"Why didn't you ride off with your brothers?"
Her voice was little more than a croak. She wet her parched lips
with the tip of her tongue but she had little moisture to
spare.

"Would you like some water?"

She nodded weakly. He held the canteen to her
lips.

"Drink slowly," he cautioned.

Meg took a sip, then another, letting the
life-giving liquid soothe her throat.

"That's enough for now. How do you feel?"

"Like I've taken...a canon ball.
You...didn't...answer my question."

The Calders aren't my brothers. I tried to
tell you that before but you wouldn't listen. They barged into my
campsite shortly before you arrived. I never saw them before in my
life."

"I...don't believe...you."

"Suit yourself, lady. But why would I save
your life if I was one of the Calders?"

Meg didn't know what to believe. She knew three men
had robbed the bank, and that they had been positively identified
as the Calder brothers. She couldn't think straight. Pain had
reduced her to a mindless lump of pure agony. She'd sort it all out
when she could think coherently.

"Are you in pain?"

She nodded weakly.

"I'll give you some laudanum."

He lifted her head, held the bottle to her
lips and tipped up the bottle. This time she swallowed without
offering an argument.

"What's your name?"

"Meg Lincoln."

"I'm Jess Gentry."

Jess Gentry, Meg thought as the laudanum took
effect and her mind shut down. It was a lie. It had to be. The man
was a Calder. She just had to figure out why he possessed medical
skills and why he chose to save her life.

"Sleep," Jess said, brushing damp curls away
from her flushed face. "You're going to need all the strength you
possess to get you through this."

"Zach." The name slipped unbidden from her
lips as she slid effortlessly into unconsciousness.

Jess studied Meg's features while she slept.
She couldn't be more than twenty-one or two, he decided. In sleep,
her face was wiped free of pain. Her broad forehead was smooth and
unlined above perfectly arched brows. High cheekbones, full, lush
lips, eyes that slanted upward at the outer corners. All those
characteristics alone might not be attractive, but put together in
a perfect oval with skin as smooth as cream made for a damn
provocative female.

Someone ought to talk some sense into her,
Jess decided. Did she have a death wish or something? Only a woman
who cared little for life would take up so dangerous a profession.
Looking back on her bold entrance to his campsite, he decided she
must be one cool character with nerves of steel.

Rising stiffly, Jess stretched and walked
down to the river to wash and refresh himself. Taking off his
shirt, he splashed water over his face, shoulders and torso. He
contemplated taking a full bath but decided to wait until later.
When Meg awoke she'd need nourishment. His first order of business
was to bag a fat rabbit and boil it up into a rich broth. He also
needed to find Meg's horse.

Jess put his shirt back on and returned to camp. Meg
was still sleeping. He checked his guns, strapped on his gunbelt
and disappeared into the shadows of the cottonwoods. He found Meg's
mare tethered to a tree a few hundred yards from the campsite,
happily munching grass. He left the mare for the time being and
continued on his quest for food.

Thirty minutes and two rabbits later, he
retraced his steps to Meg's horse and returned to camp with rabbits
and mare in tow.

Meg slept on as Jess gutted and cleaned the
rabbits and put one in the battered coffeepot to boil and staked
the other over the fire to cook. Then he checked Meg for fever,
pleased to find it only slightly elevated, and inspected her wound
for infection.

So far so good, Jess thought with relief as
he sat down beside Meg to await developments. Unfortunately things
could change quickly with wounds such as Meg had sustained. He was
gazing off into the distance, thinking about Rafe and Jess when Meg
awakened and spoke to him.

"Am I going to die?"

Jess's thoughts snapped back to the present
and his gaze swung around to the lady bounty hunter. "Not if I can
help it."

"I'm thirsty."

Jess carefully lifted her head, reached for
his canteen and held it to her lips. She drank deeply, sighed, and
indicated she'd had enough.

"How are you feeling?" Jess asked, studying
her pallor with a critical eye. She'd lost too much blood for his
liking.

"Like I've got one foot in the grave. I still
don't understand why you didn't leave with your brothers."

"I'm not a Calder," Jess returned shortly. "I
told you my name last night."

Meg regarded him with confusion. "Jess
Gentry. I remember, but..."

"Just concentrate on getting well. We'll sort
everything else out later."