The Outlaws: Jess (3 page)

"I want to go home."

"You can't be moved yet. In a few days,
maybe. We'll have to wait and see what develops in the next few
hours."

Meg's eyes grew round. "Like what? I can
still die, can't I?"

"Well, there's always the possibility of
infection. I doused your wound with carbolic acid and I'm hoping it
was enough to prevent infection. If not, a fever is bound to
follow. But don't worry, I'm a doctor. I know what to do to help
you."

Jess saw disbelief march across Meg's
features. Obviously she wasn't of a mind to take his word for
anything. But he had more important things to worry about, like
saving her life.

"I'm going to give you some more laudanum,"
Jess said, reaching for the bottle. "Rest is the best thing for you
right now. When you awaken I'll feed you some rabbit broth. You'll
need it to keep up your strength."

Meg shook her head. "No. No more laudanum. I
can't think when I'm drugged."

"Don't think. Just concentrate on getting
well. You want to return to Zach, don't you?"

Meg sent him a startled look. "How do you
know about Zach?"

"You called for him in the night. Is he your
husband?"

Meg shook her head.

"Brother?" Another negative shake.
"Father?"

"No."

Jess abruptly cut off his questioning.
Clearly Zach was Meg's lover. Jess wished the man were here now so
he could give him a good dressing down. No man in his right mind
would allow his woman the freedom to turn to bounty hunting for a
living.

"Open your mouth, Meg," Jess said sternly.
"I'll just give you enough laudanum to dull the pain."

Meg stared at him, then opened her mouth with
marked reluctance. Before long she had fallen asleep. When she
awakened several hours later, Jess patiently fed her broth and bits
of rabbit flesh. She fell asleep again. Jess built up the fire and
settled down for the night on the bedroll he'd taken from Meg's
saddle.

Her cry in the night pulled him from a deep
sleep and he sprang to her side. It didn't take a genius to
recognize the irrefutable signs of infection and fever. Meg was
drenched in perspiration, thrashing from side to side, damp strands
of dark hair plastered to her pale face. Her body burned with heat
that would kill her if it wasn't doused.

Disregarding propriety, he stripped off her
trousers and drawers, picked her up, and carried her to the water.
Though the night was warm, the water was cool. Sitting in the
water, he held her on his lap, letting the water spill over her
heated flesh. He held her like that until her body felt cool to the
touch. Then he carried her back to her bedroll and pulled away the
bandage covering her wound.

The sickening stench of infection immediately
cast him back into the dying days of the war, when the wounded
piled up so fast that they died before they could be treated. Those
horrible days and hectic times weighed heavily upon Jess as he
stared down on the unconscious woman stretched out on the
ground.

I won't let you die! he silently vowed. He'd
seen too many men perish, smelled the nauseating odor of death too
often to give up now. Jess would defy the devil himself to save
this woman. Stiffening his shoulders, he set to work to save Meg's
life.

First he disinfected his hands and scalpel.
His hands were steady as cut into the infected flesh. Greenish pus
spurt out, but he ignored it, pressing on the wound until the blood
ran clean and red. Then he disinfected it with carbolic acid. He
decided not to sew it up, preferring to leave it open to drain. It
would leave a scar, but what was a scar compared to one's life?
Lastly, he fastened a clean bandage over the wound.

As Jess washed up at the stream, he prayed
that his skill had been enough to save Meg's life. No one as young
and vital as Meg deserved to die.

Jess worked throughout the night and into the
next day to save Meg's life. He made countless trips to the river
to fetch cool water to bathe her feverish body. He alternately
spooned broth and water into her mouth and coaxed her to swallow a
medicinal concoction to bring down the fever. He reopened the wound
and squeezed out pus at least two more times.

Jess tried to retain a professional manner as
he cared for Meg's personal needs, but because he was a man,
because he simply couldn't help himself, he looked at her. At the
sweet curve of her breasts and the long, shapely turn of her calves
and sleek thighs. Not an ounce of fat rested anywhere on her taut,
athletic body. Yet everything about her was softly feminine. With a
effort, he forced sexual thoughts from his head and concentrated on
his patient.

Three hellish days passed as Jess fought for
Meg's life with a determination that spoke volumes about his
dedication. On the fourth day, Jess rejoiced at the first
indication that Meg would recover. Meg's fever broke, leaving her
eyes clear and lucid for the first time in days. More importantly,
her wound no longer oozed pus. A scant few hours ago she was
calling for Zach and muttering things Jess couldn't understand. Now
she was gazing at him through clear green eyes and he couldn't be
happier.

"I'm alive."

Her voice sounded like she'd been chewing on
gravel.

"Did you doubt it?"

"There were times..." Her words fell off and
she grew thoughtful. "How long have I been like this?"

"Six days from the time you were shot. For a
while I feared you wouldn't make it. Welcome back to the world of
the living."

"I never thought I'd owe my life to an
outlaw," Meg rasped.

"You don't. When you're ready to listen, I'll
explain the mix up. Right now we need to get some nourishment into
you. Are you hungry?"

She shook her head. "Just thirsty."

"I can fix that." He held his canteen to her
lips and she drank greedily.

"Help me to sit up," she said when she had
drank her fill.

Jess eyed her skeptically. "You're too
weak."

"Lying in bed won't bring back my strength. I
have to get home. Zach is surely worried sick by now."

Zach again, Jess thought. She'd called to him
so many times in the past several days he had grown thoroughly sick
of the name.

"Zach shouldn't have let you leave home in
the first place. What kind of man would let his woman chase after
outlaws?"

Meg bristled angrily. "You don't know Zach.
You have no right to criticize. Are you going to help me or do I
have to do it myself?"

"Lie still," Jess said. "Moving around will
only aggravate your wound. It's looking pretty good right now but I
can't guarantee a full recovery unless you follow orders. I shot a
prairie chicken this morning and made some broth. After you've
eaten, I'll consider your request."

Meg watched Jess Gentry, if he was indeed who
he said he was, through shuttered lids as he poured broth and bits
of meat into a cup and carried it back to her.

"I won't eat unless I can sit up to do it,"
Meg persisted.

"You're one stubborn female," Jess growled.
"Very well, I'll bring your saddle over to support your back. Try
not to move around too much."

Jess brought Meg's saddle over to her bedroll
and placed it behind her. Then he carefully lifted her, propping
her against it.

Meg sucked in her breath, gripped in the
throes of agony. But the debilitating pain wasn't the worst of it.
She suddenly realized she was naked but for a bandage covering the
upper part of her right breast. She grabbed for the blanket with
her uninjured left hand and dragged it up to her neck.

"My clothes! Where are they?"

"I washed the blood from them as the best I
could. I'll bring them to you when you're ready for them
again."

"You undressed me!"

Jess raised a finely etched brow. "Do you see
anyone else around? Look Meg, I'm a doctor."

"You're a man!" Her voice held an edge of
panic.

"Relax, Meg. You're my patient. I have no
interest in you as a woman."

Meg was unconvinced. Experience had taught
her that all men, except for Zach, who had proven his
trustworthiness, were despicable animals. Zach was the kindest,
gentlest man she knew. He would never hurt her, unlike most men
roaming the earth.

"How do I know you're a doctor?"

"You're alive. What further proof do you
need?" He spooned up a bit of meat and broth and held it to her
lips. "Open."

The delicious aroma wafted up to tempt her
and her mouth opened of its own accord. Jess carefully spooned the
mixture into her mouth, then another, and another, until the cup
was empty.

"More?" he asked, pleased to see that her
appetite had returned. She was still pale but her lips weren't
nearly as bloodless as they had been.

"That's enough for now. I want my
clothes."

"Not yet."

"I have to..." She flushed and looked
away.

"Ah," Jess said, immediately aware of her
needs. "I can carry you down to the river. You can use a bath,
anyway. Just don't get your wound wet."

"I can walk..."

"Absolutely not."

Meg turned a bright red as Jess knelt beside
her, pulled the blanket away, and lifted her into his arms.

"You can't...this isn't..."

"Relax, Meg. You're my patient, remember? I
see you only as someone who needs my help."

Liar! Jess thought to himself. He was
profoundly aware that the bundle he held in his arms was naked
female flesh. He had nursed Meg thorough days of illness, knew her
body intimately, yet not as intimately as he would like were she
not his patient. Try though he might, there wasn't ever a time
these past days he hadn't viewed her as a desirable woman.

He reached the river and carried her a few
feet into the water. Then he lowered her to the sandy bottom and
stepped away.

"Will you be all right if I leave you to
fetch soap and towel?"

"Just go," Meg said through gritted
teeth.

Jess gave a curt nod and retraced his steps
back to the campsite. When he returned with soap and towel, Meg was
still sitting where he had left her, letting the gentle current
wash over her. It reminded him that he needed a bath himself, and a
shave. He sat on a log and pulled off his boots.

"Did you bring the soap?" Meg asked.

He held out his hand, palm up. "It's right
here. I'll bring it to you. I could use a bath myself."

He unfastened his belt and worked his
trousers down his legs. Meg let out a squawk of dismay. "Can't you
wait until I'm through? This is...indecent."

Jess gave her a hard look. "I'm sure I'm not
the first naked man you've seen. Turn your head, you don't have to
look."

Meg's head whipped around, but not before she
got a tantalizing glimpse of strong legs lightly furred with soft
brown hair. She was relieved to note that he wore drawers, and that
it looked as if he meant to keep them on to preserve her
modesty.

Meg kept her gaze averted as Jess waded into
the river. He sat down behind her and she felt the soap slide over
her back. She stiffened. "I can do that."

"No, you can't." When he finished with her
back, he handed her the soap. "Remember, don't get the bandage
wet." Then he swam off into deeper water.

Meg washed as best she could. She was tiring
fast and needed to lie down. Jess was right. She was still weak;
she couldn't have stood on her own had her life depended upon
it.

Not a moment too soon, Jess waded back to
her. "Are you ready to go back?" He searched her face. "You're
pale. This has been too much for you."

"I'm...ready," Meg said. Why did her voice
have to tremble so? "Did you bring a towel? There's one in my
saddlebags."

"I found it. Are you ready? Put your good arm
around my neck."

Meg obeyed, wincing when her right arm was
jostled as he lifted her out of the water. He strode to the log
where he'd left the towel and sat down with her in his lap. Then he
picked up the towel and used it to dry her. Very carefully, so as
not to disturb the bandage. When Jess's hands moved slowly down her
torso, Meg plucked the towel from his hand.

"I can finish, thank you."

Jess gave her a lopsided grin and rose
slowly, careful not to hurt her. Then he retraced his steps to camp
and returned her to her bedroll. She snatched the blanket up to her
neck with uncommon haste.

"I suggest you try to sleep now. You've had
enough exercise for your first day out of bed. I'll try to hunt up
something for our dinner while you're napping."

"I'm...not...tired," Meg said, stifling a
yawn. "Maybe I'll just close my eyes for a moment."

"You do that," Jess said as he walked away to
retrieve his clothing from the riverbank. When he turned back to
tell her he wouldn't be long, she'd already fallen asleep.

A purple dusk was swiftly closing in when Meg
awakened. A mouthwatering aroma brought a spurt of saliva to her
mouth. She felt pangs of hunger for the first time since she'd been
shot.

"Did you have a good nap?" Jess asked,
kneeling beside her.

"Did I sleep long?"

"Long enough."

"I think I can eat something now. That's a
good sign, isn't it?"

"A very good sign. I'll bring food as soon as
I change your bandage."

He started to pull down the blanket and
stopped abruptly when Meg placed a hand over his. "Do you have
to?"

"Meg, take your hand away. I've already seen
everything you've got. Your body is as familiar to me as my
own."

Meg gave a soft cry and turned her head
aside, unable to look him in the eye. Did he have to remind her?
"Very well, do what you must."

Jess worked swiftly, removing the old bandage
and placing a new one over the wound. "You're healing nicely but
you'll always bear a scar. Are you in pain? There's still some
laudanum left."