Free Miner's Daughter by Alice Duncan Page A

learn not to
be fussy about maintaining all of the silly airs and graces people
who live in towns think they need to survive. They’re wrong, you
know. All of those things are unnecessary luxuries.”
    Airs and graces? Was the woman mad?
    Stupid question. Of course, she was. Although
he hated it, the notion of Mari’s fingers massaging his neck
appealed to him. Tony sat back in his chair and glowered at her.
“Very well. If you must.”
    “I swear, men are such babies,” Mari muttered
as she dabbed more iodine onto his cut head.
    He winced inside, because it hurt. But he’d
be boiled in oil before he’d let her know it.
    “There. Now don’t move again, or we’ll never
get this done.” She gently placed the pad over his wound and held
it there while she plucked one of the pieces of tape from the arm
of his chair.
    In order to bandage him properly, she had to
lift her arms, thus giving Tony an up-close and perfect view of her
bodice. She had a nice shape. And she obviously didn’t go in for
corsets and a lot of boning. Although she was slender, the curves
he could see were all hers. He could tell, because her nipples
pressed against the calico. Tony swallowed and couldn’t decide if
he was more happy to have found that out, or the opposite.
    She worked fast. Too fast, in Tony’s opinion.
He wanted to investigate her attributes for a while longer.
    No such luck. He had just about decided that
the size of her breasts was probably perfect—not mere fried eggs
and not balloons, but a delicious handful—when she sat back,
lowered her arms, and said, “There. All done.” She sounded
intolerably self-satisfied.
    “If I get an infection . . .” his voice
trailed off, because he didn’t want her to accuse him of being a
baby again.
    “You won’t get an infection,” she said with
conviction.
    He wanted to argue, but held back because he
didn’t want her to think he was sniveling. In truth, he was only
furious and wanted to lash out at her for catching him unaware and
beaning him. He was a man, blast it, and she was a skinny little
snippet of a female.
    Perhaps not skinny . . .
    At all odds, she was female, and females were
supposed to be weaker and less capable than men. They weren’t
supposed to bash men over the head with rocks.
    Miss Marigold Pottersby was about as weak and
incapable as a grizzly bear. With elaborate courtesy, he bowed to
her from his chair. “I’m sure you’re right.”
    Her head tipped slightly to one side, she
gazed at him through slitted eyes. “And if you do get an infection,
be more than happy to lance it for you.”
    Her smile was as evil a one as Tony had ever
seen. For some reason, it made him want to laugh out loud and hug
her hard. Good God, insanity must be contagious. “Thanks a
lot.”
    “Think nothing of it.” She gathered her
medical accoutrements together, rose from her chair in a more
stately manner than Tony would have guessed her capable of, and
trounced off to Martin’s side.
    Martin, Tony noticed with interest, was
grinning at the two of them, as if he thought they were as cunning
a pair as he’d ever seen. Tony’s urge to laugh vanished. Miss
Marigold Pottersby was a very dangerous female.
    “Ready to watch this thing now?” Martin
queried in a friendly, let’s-all-be-pals voice.
    Mari set her tape, scissors, and gauze on a
table. “I guess so.” If she was enthusiastic, she hid it
admirably
    “Let’s get it over with,” Tony growled.
    Mari frowned at him He frowned back. So they
were back to square one.
    Martin had already arranged chairs for them.
While she was doctoring Tony’s wound, Mari had moved a couple of
them out of line. She pushed them back, then sat in the one on the
end, leaving a chair between herself and Tony. Although this didn’t
surprise Tony, it did disappoint him. He couldn’t have said why,
since he really wasn’t keen on being close to a woman who was
evidently out to kill him if she got the chance.
    “I thought you were