Max’s hands were bound. Jane could see that his knuckles were bloody and swollen. She admired his pride for still holding them in tight fists. It must have pained him. She also noticed that his gun had been taken away.
Jane dragged her eyes away from Max’s bruised face to look at the men on either side of him. They had not emerged unscathed, but Max had not been able to return the damage proportionately. The larger of the pair, a man with a barrel chest and broad, sullen features, also had a cut lip, although his blood was already drying. The other was chewing on a matchstick and working his jaw from side to side. He did not have the narrow range of motion that Max did, but Jane could tell he was nursing a substantial blow.
“Please let him sit over here,” Jane said. “I want to tend to him.”
The two newcomers regarded her with a mixture of surprise and suspicion; however, they both looked to Gideon for their orders.
“You better do what she says,” Gideon told them. “My brother’s got himself a wife full of a sass and brass. Put him over there beside her.” He pointed out the men as they helped Max to the table. “Big fella’s Avery. The other one’s Dix. Dixon, but mostly he goes by Dix. This is Mrs. Longstreet.”
“Ma’am,” said Avery.
“Ma’am,” said Dixon.
Jane wished they had scowled at her. Their mannerly greetings and polite smiles were more disturbing. She wondered if anyone expected her to introduce Max.
“That’s Max,” Avery said to Gideon. He set one of his large hands on Max’s shoulder and pushed him into the chair that Dix held out for him. Once Max was down, they both pushed the chair close to the table.
Gideon said, “Did you get anything out of him besides his name?”
“No. He’s not much of a talker.”
“Well, we’ll see if that changes.” He looked at Jane. “What do you need to look after him?”
Jane told him, and Gideon sent Avery to collect it. “A basin of fresh water also. Please.”
Gideon jerked his head toward the sink, and Dix went to fetch it. “Did you take care of the horses?” he asked.
“Out of sight, just like you wanted,” said Dix. “Marcie’s finishing up. He should be along directly.”
“And the others?”
“The others? Oh, yeah. Everyone’s exactly where you want them.”
“Good. We’re settling in.”
Dix put a bowl of water in front of Jane. Avery returned from the washroom and placed the items she asked for beside the bowl. He handed her a washcloth.
“You two can go into the parlor for a spell. Warm yourselves at the fireplace while I get acquainted with my sister-in-law. I’ll send Marcie in when he gets here. Don’t get too comfortable. Everyone’s got to take a turn outside on lookout.” When they were gone, Gideon removed his coat and hung it on a peg beside the empty gun rack. He stuffed his gloves in a sleeve and placed his hat on another peg.
Jane watched him run his fingers through his hair in a gesture that was reminiscent of Morgan. It was unexpected, and Jane confronted her first moment of real despair since Gideon Welling had appeared. Searching for composure, she began to minister to Max’s wounds.
Gideon pulled out a chair at the end of the table opposite Jane, spun it around, and sat. “He’s lucky.”
“I doubt that he thinks the same.”
“Maybe not, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not dead. That’s makes him lucky.”
If those were Max’s choices, Jane was inclined to agree. She did not say so, choosing instead to concentrate on bathing his face. She gently touched his jaw and encouraged him to try to move it. He did, but with great care. “I’m so sorry, Max.”
“Why are you sorry?” asked Gideon. “If Morgan were to apologize to him, I could understand. But you? Seems a mite excessive.”
“I sent him out for eggs.”
“Well, then, you’re right to be sorry.”
“Which I still require.”
“What? Oh, you mean the eggs. Marcie can get them before he comes inside.”
