reason to hope.
What was taking the doc so damn long? Dillon tossed the hat onto the sofa cushion next to him and took up pacing the short length of the inn’s lobby. Her color hadn’t been right. First pale, then gray. That couldn’t be good.
The doc’ll know what to do. The thought comforted him, but he still couldn’t calm down. Couldn’t make himself sit on that narrow dainty sofa and wait for the doc to come down those stairs.
“You must have marched a good mile since I’ve been standing here,” Mrs. Miller commented from behind the front desk. “Sit down, you’re making me nervous.”
“Sorry, ma’am.” He blushed.
The cushions were too small and too hard. Dillon tried sitting there without fidgeting. His worries kept shooting right back to her. It sure had been something to be near her. He couldn’t say why he felt the way he did about Katelyn Green.
He only knew that every time she was near, his gaze riveted to her like a rock rolling off a cliff’s edge, falling fast and far, helpless, to the ground below. There wasn’t one thing to stop it.
He could only hope the impact wouldn’t tear him apart.
A pair of women, dressed in traveling clothes, descended into the lobby, giving Mrs. Miller orders for a ride to the train station.
That got him to thinking, and he popped to his feet again. Was Katelyn planning to head out on a train? Was there any chance he could convince her to stay? How much time did he have? Was she going to be all right? What if the long day traveling had harmed her?
“Hennessey?”
Doc’s voice broke through his worries. Dillon made a beeline across the lobby, toward a man with concern surrounding him like a cloud. “Is she all right?”
“She should be.”
Relief shook him to the marrow of his bones. Left him weak. Left him dizzy. Left him feeling a far sight too vulnerable. All that mattered to him was her well-being.
“It’s a good thing I stopped by.” The doc went on. “She’s not well, I won’t lie about it. She had a hard time of it, if I can figure out the truth in all she wouldn’t tell me. Her health is fragile, and we have to be careful. She’s not recovering the way she should.”
“Hell, Doc. You said she was going to be all right.” His chest exploded as if a bullet had ripped through his flesh and bone, leaving him in agony.
“She is, but she needs care. She needs rest.”
“Then that’s what she will have.” He was still hurting. He felt as if the wound remained, that his chest was ripped wide open and raw. “I’ll take care of her.”
He’d keep her here for a few weeks if he had to until he could move her to his house, where she’d be warm and snug.
“I’ll be back to check on her. In the meanwhile, she’s to be kept in bed.”
Dillon thanked the man for his time and expertise. He was sure grateful to him, and determined, he snatched his hat from the sofa and took the stairs two at a time.
He opened the door a crack to peek in, see if she was sleeping. The shade was drawn and the curtains closed to block out the stubborn cold draft.
A small pool of lamplight spilled over Katelyn’s still form lying beneath the quilts. Her knees were propped up with pillows beneath them, raising her legs higher than her head.
She didn’t move. Was she sleeping? He couldn’t tell if she was even breathing.
He dared to step in and close the door slowly so the hinges wouldn’t rasp, and he turned the knob carefully so the click wouldn’t disturb her.
Oh, she was something. An angel sent to save him from his loneliness. Or, so he hoped.
Could he be that lucky?
The train whistle called through the town, a sharp series that announced its intentions to leave soon. As Dillon towered over her, staring down at the perfect line of her nose and her lush mouth made softer in sleep, he wondered. If he tried his best, if he risked everything he had, could he keep her?
Or, if he gave her every piece of his heart, would she leave on that train anyway, as soon as she was able?
How did a man risk everything, the very core of him, knowing he could lose?
He sank to his knees, overwhelmed. She slept, unaware of his torment, unaware of the emotion hot and tender and aching all at the same time, filling up his chest like the first flow of water into a new well. Bubbling upward, unstoppable.
This frail female, so delicate he could see the blue veins beneath her porcelain skin. So fine, she felt like rich silk when he brushed a fingertip down the back of her hand. So dear, her heart-shaped face made him hurt just to look at her. What could make her want him? Could she ever?
He had no notion. And that made him afraid for the first time in his life. He drew up the chair and watched over her while she slept.
Hurting, just to look at her.
Katelyn battled her way through the watery weight of the drug the doc had given her to the surface where a faint, distant light flickered in the dark room. Her vision cleared and she drew a deep breath, exhausted simply from waking up.
Hennessey. He was the first thing she saw. The only. A hard, shadowed man dwarfing the chair, the hearth at his stocking feet, where the flames leaped and danced as if happy to have the privilege of giving him light and warmth. This man silhouetted by the fire, his head slightly bent, a book held open like a Bible in his big hands.
“Oh, dear, you’re awake.” A lady’s voice, maternal and soothing, sounded from the darkness. There was a shuffle, and a matronly woman, her soft face framed by short brown curls, settled on the edge of the mattress.
“Your color’s improved. What a blessing.” Friendly, the woman held a cup and offered her a folded paper with white powder in the center. “Let’s get this medicine down you. It’s just the thing you need to be feeling better.”
Katelyn remembered the doctor’s visit. He’d been speaking about her physical recovery, of course. She understood that. There was no consolation. Not even the bitter-tasting powder and the warm, honey-sweetened tea could take away what truly hurt.
She accepted that. She knew this sorrow in her heart would always remain.
“Hey, pretty lady.” Hennessey, the book shut in his hand, strolled over to the foot of her bed. “It’s good to see you looking better. Can I get you anything? Do you need anything?”
“No.” She couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Mrs. Miller has been here. She says it’s not appropriate for me to be here alone with you.”
“She’s right.”
“See, Mr. Hennessey?” Mrs. Miller piped in from the corner, where there was a chink of porcelain and a rush of pouring water. “I told you so. You have to pardon him, ma’am. Some men have lived too long on the range to recognize decent, civilized behavior.”
“I admit it.” He looked invincible and not apologetic for his social shortcomings. “I made you a promise I intend to keep.”
Katelyn closed her eyes. Hennessey was a problem, and she was not strong enough to find a solution to him. Maybe she’d been wrong to run as she had, knowing she was not well enough for an arduous journey in a blizzard. She could not panic again and make the situation worse.
She would regain her strength, and then she would handle him. What could he do in the meantime? Nothing. She was not a horse to be bartered. She was not property to own. She was her own woman, and she did not need him.
A warm, wet cloth bathed her brow in an awkward dab and pat that told her it wasn’t motherly Mrs. Miller holding the cloth. Hennessey. It was him, a man with his own agenda. But what did he want?
She peeked at him through her eyelashes. She had a brief flash of his face, gentle and strong, before her
