“I ken it. She did a wonderful job. I barely feel the stitching she had to do. Aye, I have moments where I could scratch the skin right off my legs, it itches so fiercely. Fortunately, it is so well wrapped I cannae do that.”
“Good. Rest now so we dinnae wake up Will with our chatter. Want me to rub cream into your hand before I leave?”
“Sure.”
“Is it hurting?”
“Nay. It just aches a bit, probably because I was exercising it some.”
He massaged the cream into Robbie’s hand and Geordie wondered if he just imagined that it actually felt better beneath his fingers, felt less tense, less withered. He prayed he was not letting hope make him imagine it.
As he finished massaging the cream into Robbie’s hand he began to wonder why Bennet had not returned. He could not believe the man had simply given up on his accusation or that he would not still try to make some crime out of Will’s being shot. Perhaps he had finally figured out that the only crime committed had been his idiocy in fighting with Belle and trying to yank away a loaded gun. As he paused to wipe off his hands, he caught the scent of food and was sharply reminded that he had not had any breakfast. Concern for Robbie had woken him up early and he had come downstairs, to find that his brother wanted to play a game of cards.
“Sleep for a wee bit now, Robbie,” he said, and hurried off toward the kitchen to share a hearty breakfast with Belle.
* * *
“If ye fill two plates I can take some food into the infirmary for the lads,” Geordie said as they finished their breakfast.
Belle nodded as she finished and swallowed what was in her mouth. “That would be good. Thank you. You will have to help both of them to sit up. Will should not be here for long unless an infection sets in. That bullet came out easily and he is sewn up tight. Slept well, too, and that is always a good sign. As long as Bennet doesn’t force him to work too soon, he should heal up well.”
“Do you think Bennet might do that?”
“It is very possible. He is one of only a handful of employers who does not give his workers at least part of the Lord’s Day off, not even half a day so that they can go to church. Because of that I may well keep Will longer than I would if I knew he was going home, where people would care for him.”
There was a banging on her front door and Belle sighed. “That’ll be the sheriff.”
“The fool really dragged the law into this? Or is he still after the cow he tries to say ye stole?”
“He usually does keep the nonsense going for a while. He is very much like a dog with a bone. I am surprised he gave it a rest for the night.” She stood up, quickly rinsed off her hands, and wiped them off as she walked to her front door.
Geordie moved to stand in the kitchen doorway and watch her answer the door. Bennet stood there scowling. Beside him was a slightly shorter, much thinner man with thick, dark red hair that badly needed a trim and who looked as if he had just been dragged out of bed. He wore a star pinned to the front of his jacket. It was difficult to read the expression on his thin, finely carved face, but Geordie would be willing to wager that the man was not happy. Fearing he might have to give Belle some help, he hurriedly moved to bank the fire.
“Hello, Sheriff Woods,” Belle said. “I am sorry you have been dragged out here yet again. What is he claiming I have done now?”
“Just whining about how you shot one of his men. Wounded the boy. Says you tried to stop him from looking inside your barn. Although I was curious about what he had done to make you feel compelled to shoot.”
“Well, William was shot, in the leg. No doubt about that. I have tended to it. I also did not do it, and we were not headed to my barn but standing here at the front door having an argument. It happened because Bennet grabbed my rifle and was trying to wrestle it out of my hands.”
“It was your hand on the trigger,” accused Bennet.
“Actually, my hand was caught in the trigger guard.”
“Belle didn’t shoot me,” said a slightly weak voice.
Belle turned and frowned at Will. “You were told to stay off that foot.”
“I did. I hopped.”
Geordie nearly grinned when she growled softly, then said, “I told you not to put any weight on that leg. It would have been very easy for you to wobble or stumble and hop on the wrong leg. Now get back in that bed.” She glared at him until he did as she ordered.
“There, you saw the wound, Douglas. She shot him. Arrest her.”
“She didn’t!” yelled Will from inside the infirmary.
“Get in bed, Will!” She heard him muttering, the sound fading as he did what she asked, and then she looked at the sheriff. “So what happens next, Sheriff Woods?”
“Well, since the one who got shot is set in his mind that you didn’t do it, nothing happens.”
