for the funeral. If she could do that alone, she felt sure she could do anything Martha asked of her.
While Rainey scrambled to do everything at once, Martha piled medical supplies and cotton for bandages on a tray. Rainey couldn't help but think that this ranch was well stocked and guessed there was no doctor near enough to send for or Martha would have already issued that order as well.
When Rainey ran to the well for water, she saw the horses pull up a few feet from the back door. Teagen and Tobin, covered in a layer of dust, swung down. Tobin grabbed Sage and held her tightly as she cried while Teagen removed the blankets from the body lying on the litter.
Rainey dropped an empty bucket as she recognized the Ranger's black hair.
Travis lay beneath dusty wool, his clothes looking as though they'd been soaked in blood.
She moved a step closer, unable to resist. Travis was so still, she didn't know if he was alive or dead. The smell of sweat and blood blended in the air, thick with death's promise.
Teagen's big hand moved the hair back from his brother's forehead. 'We got him here as fast as we could, but I'm afraid a fever's already set in. He's burning up one minute and shaking with chills the next.'
Sage shoved tears from her cheek and knelt in the dirt beside her brother. She took his hand in hers. 'You're home now, Travis. Everything is going to be all right.'
No one looked like they believed her words.
The brothers lifted Travis and carried him into the house.
Rainey followed.
'Put him in the library. I've already spread a blanket on the desk,' Martha ordered. 'The afternoon light is best there for doing what I have to do. We'll get him patched up and then decide if we take him upstairs, or bring down a bed.'
No one argued.
As they moved into the study, Rainey ran to get more water. She could do nothing for Travis, not with everyone around, but that didn't mean she couldn't help. With her hat pulled low, she stayed in the kitchen and kept busy. Each time Martha returned for water, or more bandages, Rainey had them ready. She even made coffee and set out mugs before Martha thought to ask. When Sage appeared with clothes soaked in blood, Rainey silently took them from her and put them in cold water to soak on the porch. The day wore on as dread seeped through the work like a heavy cloud settling to earth.
'How is he?' Rainey whispered to Sage, who stood in the middle of the room staring at her bloody hands.
'He's bad,' she finally managed to answer as tears streaked her face. 'He's real bad.'
Rainey took a clean towel and soaked it in warm water, then wiped the blood off of Sage's hands. 'He's alive,' she whispered. 'That's something.'
Sage looked at her as if she didn't understand Rainey's words. 'He's a Ranger with a busted leg right at his hip. Even if he lives, Martha says he'll limp. He may never ride. What kind of Ranger can he be?' She looked at Rainey as if daring her to find the lie in her words. 'What can he do?' Sage swallowed hard. 'He'll wish he was dead when he finds out how bad it is.'
Rainey stared at the floor. Part of her wanted to tell the girl that there was more to life than being a Ranger, but she wasn't sure, for Travis, there could be. 'I'm sorry,' she finally whispered.
Sage patted Rainey's arm as she wiped her eyes. 'You're a good boy. Thanks for your help.'
Rainey watched as the youngest McMurray straightened. She'd aged in the past few hours. Sage was less a girl and more a woman now. She would do what had to be done.
Long after dark, Rainey sat alone at the opening to the kitchen. Down the hall, she could hear the family talking about how long it had been since Travis moved. Martha turned in, saying she'd take the first shift of watching him in the morning. Teagen and Tobin looked dead on their feet, but still they waited. Sage, after pacing for hours, dozed in a chair by the door to the study.
Rainey knew she should go. The bunkhouse cook would be yelling at her to help before dawn. But she decided to stay. Just a few more minutes. Just until there was some change in the Ranger.
Travis's brothers finally said good night to Sage and climbed the stairs. They'd slept in the saddle for two nights and were ready to find a bed.
'Call us, Sage, if he wakes,' they both said several times.
Sage nodded as she stretched and moved to the ladder-back chair in the small library. 'I will,' she mumbled. 'I'll be fine here. You both get some rest.'
An hour later Rainey handed Sage a cup of tea. 'If you want'-Rainey forced her voice low-'I could sit with him a spell, and you could rest in that chair.' She pointed to where Sage had been sleeping earlier. 'I'll let you know if he so much as moves a finger.'
Sage hesitated, then nodded and stood, too exhausted to argue. 'Promise you'll wake me if he seems in pain?'
'Promise,' Rainey answered as she took the girl's place beside the makeshift bed they'd made for Travis on the library desk.
Before Rainey finished her own cup of tea, Sage was asleep just beyond the study door. The girl had spent her day crying until all her energy had flowed away. Rainey had held her own tears back. For her the work kept her going and her thoughts away from how near death Travis must be.
Without taking her attention from Travis, Rainey removed her hat and scratched her scalp. She didn't have to worry about falling asleep; she felt like she had fleas dancing in her hair to keep her fully awake. The damp curls tangled around her fingers as she wished for the hundredth time since she'd arrived that there was somewhere on this ranch where she could take a bath in peace. By pretending to be a boy, she couldn't make use of the main house's back porch every morning like the women did, and she wasn't about to join the men in the bunkhouse kitchen on Saturday night.
Rainey swore at herself for thinking about her own little problems while a man lay near death a foot away. Carefully she reached over and brushed his hair from his forehead. His hair was as straight as hers was curly. His forehead warm, too warm. She wet a rag and pressed it against his skin.
Travis McMurray was one good-looking man. Dark tanned skin, high cheekbones, delicious mouth. He looked nothing like the few pale, thin men she'd known who taught at the school or the weathered and tattooed men onboard the ship between New Orleans and Galveston. Travis was handsome, strong… born of the wind and open sky, she thought.
Rainey rolled her eyes. Maybe she should go back to thinking about fleas and bathing. What kind of woman was she to size up a dying man as if he were a hero in one of the novels she loved?
Only months ago she'd been a very proper lady. A teacher at a fine girls' school in Washington, D.C. She'd worn her hair in a tight bun, made sure her English was impeccable, always kept her gloves white. She'd once been afraid of what would happen if she made her father frown.
She smiled, betting he hadn't stopped frowning since he'd yelled for her to come down to work on Monday morning. Knowing him, he had yelled several times before he stormed up the stairs to her room and found her gone.
He'd almost broken her spirit when he decided there was only one thing to do with an old maid daughter who thought she should be paid. Marry her off so she could work the rest of her life for no pay. He was so sure she would follow his order, as she had all her life, that he hadn't even mentioned the match to her before putting the engagement announcement in the paper.
But I surprised him, Rainey thought. I ran from the hell of marrying an older man to the hell of trying to keep from starving in Texas. She looked down at her nails, broken and dirty. 'I showed Papa,' she mumbled, thinking of how her father had never even noticed how she hated fish-she fought back tears-or how heartbroken she'd been seeing her value in his eyes.
He'd called her plain all her life. Once, she'd heard him tell a neighbor that she would have been the runt of the litter if his wife had seen fit to give him more children. As it was, he was stuck with a mouse. Oh, he'd tried to make her brave. He'd made her live a life to the ticking of a clock. He'd forced her to be alone for hours when he thought her not listening. He'd taken the candle from her room when she'd been three so she'd learn to be brave in the dark. All she'd ever learned was to curl into a ball and wait for dawn.
In the end, after she'd been a good daughter for over twenty years, all he'd seen her as was a liability to be taken care of… a problem to be passed along to someone else. A tear drifted down her cheek, but Rainey refused to wipe it away.
