Free The Darkest Heart by Brenda Joyce Page B

you understand English?”
    He was hurting her, but she deserved it. “I’m not going away. I’m not leaving you like this. Now let me up, Jack.” Her voice wasn’t calm—it shook slightly. Partly because she was afraid—he was still so strong and so angry, and possibly crazed with fever—and partly because her breasts were crushed on his hard, wet chest and she could feel his heart pounding and smell his male scent. And then his grip went lax.
    His head went back and his eyes closed, and she knew he had no more strength. She straightened and proceeded to bathe him with cool, clean water, cleaning the wounds as well on his chest and legs. They were angry looking and oozing yellow pus. When she drenched them with whiskey he jerked upright, eyes wide and startled until he recognized her.
    She took advantage and grabbed him around the waist, blushing from the intimate contact. “Turn over, Jack,” she coaxed. “Onto your stomach, on the sheet.”
    To her surprise, his eyes drooped and he obeyed, giving her the chance to get to work on his back. She picked out pieces of straw and dirt. She bathed the wounds with soap and water, then disinfected them with alcohol. As she was wiping his shoulders down with a cool cloth, another lantern flared in the doorway, making her look up, frozen.
    Luke stared.
    Candice felt resolve stiffen in her. Despite the frantic beat of her heart, she calmly wrang out the cloth.
    Luke said quietly, “What’s going on here, Candice?”
    “What does it look like, Luke?”
    He approached with his lazy, relaxed stride. “Not good.”
    Candice dumped the cloth in the water and glared. “How could you leave him here in the straw, without water or a blanket, Luke? I’d expect it of Mark, who’s never gotten over Linda, or even John-John, who is too young to know better—but not of you!”
    Luke squatted. “I told Red to see that he had what he needed. I didn’t know they just dumped him here.”
    His blue gaze was steady on her face. “I asked you a question, little sister. What’s going on?”
    “This is my fault,” she told him, relieved to be sharing the guilt. “Luke, he saved my life, and how did I pay him back? By stealing his horse when he was hurt. Now he’s even worse, because he came after me on foot when he was too ill to do it. I had to come out and tell him I was sorry. And when I saw him like this …”
    Luke regarded her. “His fever still high?”
    “Yes.”
    “I won’t tell anyone about this, Candice. But you’d better go on back to the house. I’ll go get Maria.”
    “This is her fault too,” Candice protested. “It’s because he’s part Apache. You know how much the Mexicans and Apaches hate each other. We should have known she wouldn’t give him any care.”
    Luke absorbed that, then squatted again. “You can’t stay here.”
    “I won’t leave him while he’s like this.” Her dark blue eyes flashed. “It’s not right!”
    Luke sighed. “I’ll stay, I’ll do what you’re doing. You go on back to bed.”
    Candice realized she still didn’t want to go, even though she trusted her older brother completely—and even though she was proud of him for offering to help. But she realized she should give in now, so she hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Luke.”
    He smiled slightly. But his gaze was still probing, questioning.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    The Henderson womenfolk came to call the next day.
    Millie Henderson was one of the town’s matriarchs, the rather weathered wife of a local rancher who was taking a beating from the raiding Apache and rustlers from south of the border. Her sister-in-law Elizabeth was Candice’s age, fair-skinned, petite, and dark. Candice wasn’t close to Elizabeth, even though she was one of the few women her own age in the area. First of all, the Henderson spread was at least half a day’s ride from the High C, which made visiting a big event. Candice had also never had a need for women in her life, other than Maria.