Page 6

Nate waited. Jesse’s breath caught. His hand shifted under the sheet, crawling toward his thigh. He strained to lift it.

Nothing happened.

“Won’t … work right,” Jesse breathed out.

Nate put the spoon down and took his hand. “I see it.”

Jesse held his eyes. There was blame in that look, and a raw fear.

Nate bit back the easy lies. No promises of riding next week. No assurances that nothing would change. A soft lie was still a lie.

“You took a bad hurt,” Nate said. “Healing takes time.”

Jesse’s jaw went hard.

“I know that isn’t what you want.”

“Walk?”

The word seemed to drain him.

Nate inhaled slowly. “Not tonight.”

Jesse’s good eye widened, whites showing all around.

“Tonight isn’t forever.” Nate tightened his grip on Jesse’s hand. “Hear me? Not tonight doesn’t mean not ever.”

Jesse watched him until the laudanum pulled him under. His eyelid drooped.

“Not … useless,” he slurred.

Nate leaned in close. “You never were.”

The words felt thin against Jesse’s fear.

He said them anyway.

Jesse’s eye closed.

Nate didn’t move from the bedside until Jesse’s breathing deepened into sleep, and for a long time after.

The sickroom door creaked open, and the front room went quiet. Every face turned toward Nate where he stood in the hall, lamplight hollowing the shadows beneath his eyes.

Carolina’s arm tightened around Izzy’s shoulders. Emily’s hand pressed over her stomach as Bass shifted behind her chair. Georgia sat motionless beside Simon, her own palm resting low on her abdomen. Near the window, Beau and Adaya broke apart from their hushed conversation.

Walter stood braced by the door like a sentry. Tater twisted his hat between his hands near the medicine shelves.

Sheriff Whit Hartman and Marshal Sam Davis watched, waiting.

Nate’s gaze found Carolina first. “He’s sleeping.”

Her shoulders sank with the breath she let out.

Bass leaned into the space between them. “What did he mean?”

Nate stepped fully into the room and closed the door at his back. “He said, piano. Then he said, ‘Don’t sell.’”

No one said Mr. Morris’s name, but every Pickett understood. Simon’s jaw tightened; Nate could see the swift turning of facts behind his eyes—numbers, deeds, threats.