Lorelei had returned.
twenty-two
The horses cantered toward Tanner, Lorelei in the lead. The moment she reached him, she leapt from her mount, worry clouding her face.
“What happened?” She touched the elbow of his injured arm, her wide eyes locked on his shoulder.
Her concern sent a stab of guilt through him. She wouldn’t be worried about him when she learned he’d shot her young charge.
He nodded toward the mule. “I’m all right, but we have to catch him. The animal has the rest of my rifles strapped to him. He’s injured too. Shot through the neck.”
“White Horse and I will catch him. Lorelei, take Tanner back and get him doctored.” Rosemary’s voice took on a tone of command, and she and White Horse started their horses toward the pack mule.
Would they be able to catch him without help? Maybe with the two of them working together. And the Collins sisters had grown up on a ranch, so Rosemary likely possessed better instincts with animals than he did.
And just now, the thought of collapsing onto his bedpallet and letting the fire in his shoulder rest held more appeal than Tanner was able to resist. Once he’d told Lorelei about Curly’s injury, she’d be focused on the calf.
Tanner would offer to help her, but maybe she would have mercy on him and wave him off. He was a selfish man, but just now, the pain had worn down the last few threads of his resolve.
Lorelei touched his elbow again. “Come back to the fort so I can clean and bandage your shoulder. How did it happen?”
Now was his chance to scare her off from worrying over him. He slid a look at her. “Rifle shot.” Then he turned toward the fort and started trudging.
She kept up with him, her horse trailing behind them. “I assumed that from the blasts we heard. Who was it? Were they trying to get the guns?”
He kept his focus straight ahead. “It was Purcey, the man who broke in the other night. He sent a Native woman into the trade room to distract me, then another man went around back to steal Curly. While I was trying to stop him, the others made off with a barrel of gunpowder and probably all the bullets. He would’ve got that box of rifles too, except the mule broke free when I shot him in the neck. I also shot Curly in the rump. I think he’ll survive, but he needs tending.”
It took what little self-control he had left not to look over and see her reaction, especially when a gasp slipped from her throat. He had no doubt of the horror in her expression. Nor did he have the desire to see the hurt in her eyes.
She didn’t speak. And as her silence lapsed on, it became easier to hide himself in the cocoon of numbness.
He knew this place well. He’d first discovered it as a boy, any time Cameron would come around and prove himself superior in whatever game they were playing. Then at sharpshooting, the one place Tanner’s father had shown any pride in him. Until Cameron’s marks formed a tighter circle in the target than Tanner’s.
Then when Pa brought Cameron on as managing partner over the Boston store, this cocoon had given him the strength to quit his job as clerk in that very store. He had no need to work his way up the chain now that Cameron stood at the top.
He’d retreated into this shell when Jessamine walked away, once she saw he wouldn’t be heir to his father’s empire.
And that last day when Tanner had revealed Cameron’s plans in court, it was this cocoon that had strengthened him to face his father’s anger. Tanner hadn’t been the turncoat ... his father had been. Turning against his son to favor the nephew who’d planned to steal the Mason fortune.
But his father had chosen Cameron long before then. He could see that now, looking back.
Just as Lorelei had chosen the calf long before any tender feelings might have developed toward Tanner. Even before she met Tanner. He couldn’t hold that against her.
She wasn’t his father. But neither was Tanner naïve enough to let himself be hurt the same way again.
He had to put space between him and Lorelei. Allow her room to tend to this calf she loved so well. He’d be the gentleman and offer help when she needed it, but he wouldn’t let his emotions get involved.
When they reached the gate in the fort walls, he turned to Lorelei. “I’m truly sorry Curly got hurt. I aimed only for the man’s leg, but a distraction when I pulled the trigger made my bullet stray.” He reached for the gate latch, trying not to see the glistening of pain in her expression. “I’ll hold him while you tend the wound.”
“Tanner.” Lorelei’s voice was soft. Gentle. Calling to him.
He wrapped the cocoon tighter around himself. “I’ll get a bucket of clean water.” Then he headed toward the trade room, leaving her behind.
Lorelei poured another cup of water over Curly’s wound to flush out the last of the blood and hair. The calf shifted, but White Horse tightened his hold.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to doctor the mule before I leave?” Rosie finished tying off the long-eared beast, then turned to Lorelei.
She shook her head and reached for the salve she used for injuries like this to keep them from festering. “White Horse is here to help.” She glanced up at the man, and he offered a solemn nod.
