Free Captive Heart by Michele Paige Holmes

constructed his tale. “She’s a city girl. We wrote a couple of letters. I took the train and met her in Chicago, and we were married. Next day we boarded the train heading back to Colorado, then three days ago, in the middle of Nebraska, that train was waylaid by outlaws.”
    “Oh my,” Mrs. Beckett exclaimed, one hand covering her heart. “I suppose it was dreadful.”
    He nodded emphatically.
    “Were there many of them—outlaws, I mean? Do you know what they were after? Was there some special cargo on the train?” Mrs. Beckett’s tongue practically tripped over itself as she struggled to get all her questions out.
    “I’m not certain what they were after,” Thayne said. “But they threw all us men off the train, myself included. But Emmalyne, my little Emma—”A half smile touched his lips as he remembered the way she’d fought him on the train. “She launched herself at the nearest outlaw, somehow threw him off balance, then she jumped right outta that train after me. We both nearly died.”
    “I’d wondered at her bruises,” Mrs. Beckett said.
    Have you now? Good thing I thought to explain these few things, then. “Once we’d recovered enough to walk, we started out along the track. Trouble was, we didn’t have much in the way of food or water. After a bit, we ventured away from the rail line, searching for a spring to get us by.” Thayne shrugged. “That’s about the whole of it—oh, except for the holes.” He touched his shoulder gingerly. “Outlaws shot me twice. I lost a fair amount of blood. Emmalyne took care of me.” He looked up the stairs again with what he hoped was a tender expression.
    “Only thing I did was carry her here after she stepped in that snake’s path. But you see, she’s had a time of it—hardly slept at all except with me to comfort her. She’s had terrible nightmares about them outlaws.” Thayne shook his head. “Heck of a way to start a marriage.”
    “Well she’s sleeping beautifully now. Must be the tonic.” Mrs. Beckett studied him for a long minute. “Unbutton your shirt, Mr. Kendrich.” She folded her arms across her chest, waiting expectantly.
    He stared at her. “Excuse me?”
    “That’s quite a tale you’ve just told, and I wish to see if it’s true. Beyond that, you may be in need of some doctoring yourself.”
    “I’m well enough,” Thayne grumbled. But he began unbuttoning his shirt, only too eager to have such proof to offer the doctor’s wife. When he’d undone the last button, he pulled the shirt back as much as he could. Carrying Emmalyne had hurt, but rotating his shoulder brought a fair amount of pain as well.
    Mrs. Beckett stepped forward, lips pursed as she inspected his wounds.
    Thayne grimaced, then swore under his breath as her fingers tugged at the makeshift bandages stuck to his skin with a mixture of dried blood and sweat.
    “Hush now,” Mrs. Beckett scolded. “From the looks of this, it appears that maybe you are in need of a bed.” A genuine smile touched her lips. “A bed and a spoonful of Humphrey’s Homeopathic Number 28.” She stepped aside and directed her newest patient up the stairs. “Arthur will be singing a different tune when he discovers I’ve cured not one but two patients in his absence.”

Chapter 11
    Thayne whistled cheerfully as he left the bank and headed toward the livery. The promissory note from Deadwood had arrived that morning, and he was out to purchase a team of horses, a wagon, and supplies for the remainder of their trip and the winter ahead. Had Emmalyne recovered faster, he’d have simply bought a couple of horses for them to ride, but she’d slept most of the past two days, waking only for short periods of time.
    He was worried about her slow recovery—more worried that her already tiny frame was shrinking further without proper nourishment—but he hoped that would soon be amended. After being forced himself to take Mrs. Beckett’s nasty tonic, then sleeping like the dead