Free Heart of a Texan by Leigh Greenwood

say who was more dismayed, Russ or Boone.
    “Come on,” Russ said to Prudence in a very ungallant manner. “I’ve got to get somebody over here quick.”
    “She can go with me,” Boone offered. “I’d hate for you to have to go out of your way.”
    “Fine.” Russ turned to Roberta. “If anything happens to the boss, I’m holding you responsible.”
    “Since I’m the one prescribing for him, you might as well hold me responsible, too.” The doctor regarded Russ like he was a small, misbehaving boy. Since Russ was six inches taller and about twice his size, Roberta found it amusing.
    Russ muttered a curse and stalked from the house, slamming the door behind him.
    “Ignore him,” the doctor said to Roberta. “He’s just worried about his boss.”
    “About his job you mean,” Boone said.
    “That too. Now both of you get out of here so Nate can get some rest,” Dr. Danforth ordered.
    “I will be back in the morning,” Prudence assured Roberta.
    Boone said he intended to check on Roberta just as often.
    “Don’t let whatever cowhand Russ sends spend the night in Nate’s room,” the doctor reminded Roberta after Boone and Prudence had left. “He needs his rest. Now that the window has been boarded up, there’s nothing the fella can’t do from out here.”
    “Is it really okay for me to give him some chicken?” Roberta asked.
    The doctor heaved a sigh. “He should probably stick to broth one more day, but I dare say his stomach can handle chicken. Young men these days don’t care what they eat. He could probably digest leather. Just don’t let him eat too much, and don’t let him have anything sweet. He can have plenty of that once he’s strong enough to go home.”
    “How long will that be?”
    “Are you still wanting him out as soon as possible?”
    “Yes and no.”
    The doctor grinned. “Are you going to explain?”
    “I want him out because I don’t have time to take care of him, and I’m tired of Russ McCoy pushing his way in here twice a day accusing me of wanting to poison him. Still, I’m the one who shot him, so I should be the one to make sure he gets well.”
    “What made you change your mind about him being one of the attackers?”
    “He talked in his sleep about seeing the fire and coming to help my father. Besides, he wasn’t wearing a mask like the others.”
    “Glad to hear it. I don’t know him well, but I always liked him.” The doctor cocked his head. “Maybe you ought to get to know him. You might like him, too.”
    “Don’t try putting any romantic notions in my head. I’m not interested in a man who spends half his time playing cat-and-mouse with a murderer.”
    “I heard you told the ranchers you intend to keep farming.”
    “I also intend to find out who murdered my father.”
    “Shouldn’t you leave that to the sheriff?”
    “As long as the ranchers stick together, the sheriff can’t do anything.”
    “Talk to Nate about this. I think he’s as interested as you in finding out who’s behind it.”
    “He’s a rancher.”
    “The attack caused him to get shot. I doubt he’s too happy about that. Think about it,” he said when Roberta was slow to answer. “There’s a lot more to that young man than you think.”
    ***
    “This is good,” Nate said. “If you ever need a job, you can cook for me.”
    Roberta had boiled a chicken, made a sauce from the stock, and served it over rice. The way Nate was wolfing it down, you’d think he’d never had a decent meal. “If you had made biscuits and gravy, the meal would be perfect.”
    “I’m not your private cook.”
    “You could be.”
    “Can you see me surrounded by all those men? Prudence would have a heart attack.”
    “How is that different from working in Boone’s saloon?”
    “One is public, and one isn’t.”
    “I could invite Prudence to chaperon.”
    “Now you’re being ridiculous. Apparently you’re recovering faster than the doctor expected. Maybe you can go home