Shea felt anger rising again.She had, after all, sewed him up and nursed him, and she was receiving precious little credit for either.
Ben nodded reluctantly.“She did hit you.…”
For a moment Shea thought amusement danced in Rafe’s eyes, but it disappeared so quickly, she wondered whether it was merely the glow of a candle.
“I promise I won’t turn my back on her,” Rafe said.
“You wouldn’t have to,” Ben said.“A little nudge on her part would do as much damage now as that damned frying pan.”
Rafe ignored the warning.“There’s a pole in the stable.”
“If I can get past that bear of yours.”
A noise came from Rafe that could be interpreted as a chuckle.Shea doubted, however, that Rafe had the ability to do such a thing, even if his rock-hard nature allowed it.Even the slightest movement appeared to cause new waves of pain and weakness.He was wincing now as he very slowly lay down.
Ben took one last measuring look at him, and then at Shea.“I suppose Rafe has told you about the dangers of the woods at night.”
“Repeatedly,” she said wearily.Her gaze turned toward Rafe.“He even went so far as to give me an example.”
“The captain can carry his point to the extreme,” he commented dryly, unaware of the wince on Rafe’s face at the use of the military title.
Shea noticed it, though.He was the best officer I ever saw.How much had it cost Rafe Tyler to lose that uniform?Particularly to lose it in disgrace?
Dear heaven, why did she hurt so much for him?
She turned away from him.She didn’t want him to see her face; already he was all too astute at reading it.She had to do something, to take her mind from the hard, lean man who suddenly seemed so vulnerable.He would hate that, hate her for even thinking it.
The cub moved and whimpered.She leaned down and picked it up, cuddling it in her arms.“It’s all right,” she whispered.At least the bear tolerated her care.“We’ll take good care of you.”
Rafe shifted on the cot and watched her.Shea.He didn’t want to think of her as a Randall now.Only Shea.
As she looked down at the baby bear, her mouth was softened by a smile, her blue-gray eyes alive with concern.She had not changed clothes and didn’t seem to care about the stains of blood from both him and the bear.
Shea had said “we” when she’d crooned to the bear.Wesounded good.Right.Even natural.
Maybe she wasn’t Randall’s daughter, he thought.But it really didn’t make any difference.There could never be awe.
He closed his eyes, wishing for the oblivion of sleep, yet fearing the nightmares it sometimes brought.He didn’t want her to hear them, to see the drenching sweat he sometimes woke to.Sometimes he dreamed of the branding.Sometimes the punishment box at the prison.But whichever, the dreams were always as real as the actual event.
The crooning from across the room turned into a lullaby, softly sung, filtering into his consciousness, lighting the darkness there.He allowed himself to relax, to listen.
When was the last time he’d heard a woman sing like that?
When he was seven?Before his mother was raped and killed by the Comanche.
The song was faintly familiar.Sweet and sad and lingering.Poignant in the love it invoked.Comforting in the soft, reassuring words.A promise of happiness.How long since he’d been truly happy?
He didn’t want to think about it.He just wanted to absorb these sounds, the quiet, if temporary, pleasure they gave him.He wanted to go to sleep with them.
He knew he wouldn’t have a nightmare tonight.For the first time in years he knew.
Chapter 16
Sam McClary watched as the miner below gently swished water in the pan and then dug through the residue.He picked something up, held it up to the setting sun, grunted, and placed it in a pouch he took from his pocket.
It was something, McClary thought disgustedly, but probably damned little.He’d discovered the remaining miners in these hills worked very long hours for precious little gold.They weren’t really worth his bother, except for a certain side benefit: Rafferty Tyler.
He wanted to see Tyler hang.The superior “hero” who had humiliated and chastised him years ago in front of an entire troop.Rafe Tyler should have hanged years ago and would have, had it not been for that chicken-livered Randall, who interceded.
