Free Candace McCarthy by Sweet Possession

like it since.”
    Still, Amelia didn’t think she wanted to make the man’s acquaintance.
    She was glad when they reached the mission. Thoughts of what Cameron had just told her lingered in her mind. The mental images that Cameron left with her were disturbing, and after thanking Cameron for his escort, she went to her bedchamber to be alone. Once in her room, she was bombarded with unsettling thoughts. Cameron’s story had bothered her, but it was her embarrassment with Daniel and her distress over her attraction to a married man that she struggled to come to terms with.
    She sat on her bed and had visions of a dead man with three bullet holes in his head intermingled with images of Daniel’s expression after she’d been foolish enough to insult him.
    She had gone to the blacksmithy to make peace with Daniel Trahern, but the only thing she’d accomplished was to alienate him further.

Six
    “Amelia!” The harsh whisper accompanied by a gentle shake of her shoulder jolted Amelia awake in the middle of the night.
    She blinked in the darkness and saw her father silhouetted against the soft light filtering in from the next room. “Father, what’s wrong?”
    “Patient,” he said, and turned away.
    Without another word, Amelia sprang from her bed and pulled a dressing gown over her nightwear. She was familiar with such a summons; she’d helped her father often enough with his medical practice back in Baltimore. Her heart gave a lurch as she hurried to the front room. She had immediate thoughts of Daniel Trahern. Was he sick or injured? It had been over a week since she’d seen him, and although he was married, she couldn’t seem to get him out of her mind.
    At the door to the infirmary, she was pulled up short at the sight of her father’s patient. It was an Indian brave, looking so much different than the other Indians she’d met. A different tribe, she guessed. She became aware there were others in the room. She checked her surroundings and was taken aback by the number of Indians who had come with the patient. She did a quick mental count. There were eight of them, all watching her father from various positions about the room.
    She drew a sharp breath and entered the infirmary. Several pairs of dark eyes pinned her as she reached her father’s side. Her gaze fell on the patient, and she had to conceal her reaction of surprise. The brave, merely a boy, had suffered a gunshot wound. The young Indian held himself erect, trying hard not to flinch or make a sound, as John Dempsey examined and probed the wound with his fingers. She felt instant sympathy for him.
    Without a word from her father, Amelia left his side to gather the supplies and instruments he would need to remove the bullet and properly tend the wound. First order of business was to clean the injury and the surrounding area. She handed her father a cloth and the solution he’d need. He accepted the items with a nod of thanks, and with a frown of concentration on his face, got to the task at hand.
    While her father was thus engaged, Amelia set up his instruments—a lancet, a probe, and the new pair of forceps—where John Dempsey could reach them. As she worked, she was aware that the Indians watched her. Tense, she refused to meet any of their gazes. She kept her eyes on her work, her father, and their young patient.
    Her father caught and held her glance. Amelia nodded at the silent message and went to prepare a dose of laudanum for the boy’s pain. She poured the proper amount into a glass tumbler and brought it to the patient to drink. As she extended the glass toward the boy, a hand shot out to clamp about her wrist.
    Amelia gasped and almost dropped the glass. Her gaze shot to the Indian who’d grabbed her, an older warrior with red-and-black stripes painted across his chest and forehead, and tattoos circling his wrists and upper arms.
    The angry brave muttered something in his own language.Petrified, Amelia looked at him, then at her father.