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He could see the blanket move. That was all.
“Do it again.”
Nate shifted his hand beneath the covers.
Jesse dug his left heel into the mattress, fighting the urge to pull away with a leg that wouldn’t listen. “Near the toes?”
“The heel.”
Jesse shut his eye.
Nate waited, then touched him again.
A faint prickling traveled along the outside of Jesse’s foot.
“There. Little toe.”
“Good.” Nate drew the blanket over his leg. “There’s feeling. More than yesterday.”
“Can I stand?”
“Not today.”
“Then don’t make such a fuss.”
Nate dragged a chair to the bedside. “You’re the only patient I’ve ever had who gets angry at good news.”
“You don’t know it’s good news yet.”
“It’s better than no feeling at all.”
Jesse couldn’t argue with that, so he studied the ceiling instead.
The clinic was bright with morning sunlight. Outside, wagon wheels rattled along the street. Somewhere a hammer struck wood in a steady rhythm. Men were already at work. His horse, Buck, would be in his stall waiting for somebody else to saddle him, and Jesse lay here trying to tell where his own foot ended.
“What’s happening at the ranch?” he asked.
“Bass has it in hand.”
“That’s what worries me.”
“Beau’s helping. Whit’s looking into the men at Miss Marcy’s. Nobody’s asking you to solve everything from this bed.”
Jesse lifted his right hand. The fingers bent, slowly, before the arm sank against the blanket.
“I’d settle for solving one thing.”
Nate didn’t rush to reassure him. Jesse was grateful for that much.
Carolina came in carrying a tray. “Broth and tea.”
“Coffee,” Jesse said.
“Tea.”
“Are you two determined to make a tyrant of me?”
“We’re trying to keep you alive,” she said, setting the tray down. “It’s proving more difficult than I expected.”
