Anger boiled inside her. She stood and stepped outside her sleeping area to meet him. She pulled the curtain shut behind her, hoping their voices wouldn’t wake Gil.
She leveled a glare on her father. "How could you? Your men beat my husband nearly to death.”
His eyes flicked to the curtain, then back to her face. He crossed his arms over his chest, his stance wide and unyielding. "It had to be done, Jess. You know that."
Fury flashed at the edges of her vision. "No, I don't know that!" She had to stay quiet. Poor Gil didn’t need her waking him. She breathed hard and forced her voice low. "He didn't deserve this. Any of it."
“He tried to steal from me. He had to be punished.” Father’s voice remained calm, almost lifeless.
She had to grip her apron to keep from reaching up and shaking him. She’d never wanted to hurt anyone like she wanted to hurt him now.
She couldn’t. It would put Gil in far too much danger. She forced her body to stay still, though her breath came in short gasps. "I need a man sent to town." She managed to keep her tone low and controlled. "For more medicines. I'll make a list. And a doctor. Gil needs a real doctor, even if you have to send to Helena for one."
Her father regarded her, his expression emotionless, almost as if she hadn’t spoken. It was impossible to read. She’d seen it before, and she hated it.
But she lifted her chin. She wouldn’t show how angry she was. “He can't be moved, so the doctor will have to come here.And we're not leaving tomorrow. We’re not leaving until Gil is better."
Her father stood a moment more. Not speaking. Then, with a curt nod, he turned and walked out.
When the curtain swished back into place, she allowed herself to breathe again. Her shoulders sagged, and the rush of air she took in made her lightheaded. She turned to her sleeping area and tied the fabric barrier back again.
Would her father summon a doctor? He guarded their privacy so fiercely, rarely permitting outsiders in.
But surely he would send for the medicines for herhusband.
Wouldn’t he?
Exhaustion pressed so hard on her limbs that she barely dragged herself back to Gil’s side. Maybe stitching that gash on his face should wait until he awoke. No sense in ruining precious sleep, though she might have already interrupted his rest with her loud words.
She should probably eat something herself, but her middle churned at the idea. Should she force something down? Maybe in a little while.
First, she needed to have that list ready when Father sent someone for it. She’d run out of paper, though, and had forgotten to pick some up when they were in town last. Would Gil mind if she tore a page from the back of his notebook? She would be careful not to look at anything he’d written.
The book lay on top of his pack, easy to grab and pluck out a single blank page. But when she picked it up, a pencil tucked inside made the cover fall open.
Her breath caught as her gaze fell on the open sheet.
There, sketched in exquisite detail, was her own likeness. She stood by the cookstove, her face turned slightly, captured in a pensive moment. The shading, the lines, the way he'd shown the light falling across her features—it was a work of art, crafted withundeniable talent and a depth of perception that… Well, he was remarkable. Histalentwas remarkable.
Her fingers hovered over the page, not daring to touch the graphite strokes. The drawing let her see herself through Gil's eyes, and the intimacy of it made her throat burn. He had noticed her, studied her, in a way no one ever had before.
She swallowed hard and forced herself to close the notebook, her heart thudding against her ribs. The walls she was working so hard to rebuild around her heart, the ones she needed in order to keep herself safe, were teetering. How could he knock them down so easily, even in sleep?
With shaking hands, she tore a blank page out and tucked his notebook away again. She couldn't afford to dwell on the implications of that sketch, not now. Gil needed her to be strong, to focus on his recovery.
She had to push aside all these tangled emotions, which would overwhelm her if she let them.
CHAPTER 19
Miles Coulter ran his fingers along the smooth edge of the metal blade as he stood in Canvas Creek’s general store, studying an unusual pickax. The handle had been formed of two parts, with a lever in the middle, which would require less effort to strike and give a harder blow than a man would be able to manage on his own. This tool would surely make cutting into a stone wall a great deal easier, allowing men to get more work done in a single day…or knock off early to spend time with a gal.
Ugh. He’d spent too much time around romance lately, what with all his smitten brothers and their pretty little brides, and young’uns, to boot.
He returned his focus to the tool. It could use a few minor adjustments to optimize its output, but he could easily make those. If he extended the top part of the handle a little longer, it should strengthen the power of each blow. He’d have to be careful not to go too long, though, or the pickax would become unwieldy.
"You've been staring at that thing for an hour.” His brother Jude propped a shoulder against a nearby shelf.
"I started drawing it last night, but I can’t get the scale right." He needed Gil’s talent. His big brother could sketch the thing in perfect details. Of course, if Gil were here, they wouldn’t beherein the first place. Miles slid a glance to where the clerk was helping a customer. “Do you think they’d mind if I measure it?”
