How To Lasso A Cowboy

Chapter Eight

ELIZABETH CONTINUALLY GLANCED at Marilee and the puppy on the way home. It kept her gaze from the lean man riding beside them.

For a moment back at the creek, she’d been caught in enchantment. She had forgotten everything except Seth Sinclair’s presence. His touch had been sweet, his nearness exciting.

And then he had turned away, making their differences stark and seemingly insurmountable.

Marilee chattered about the puppy. It was the ?rst time the girl had acted like a child.

Elizabeth dreaded reaching home. Please let Father be gone. She did not want Seth to ?nd him there. Nor her father to meet him.

But she realized Seth was not going to let her and Marilee drive alone. Not even on their-his-own land. Not after what had happened earlier.

As they approached the ranch, she turned to him to tell him his presence was no longer necessary. Her words were cut off by Howie darting out of the door and running toward her.

“Your pa’s been shot,” he said. “Thank the Lord you come back. I was afraid to leave him.”

Her stomach churned. Dear God, no.

She tied the reins and leapt down, then helped Marilee down. “Where is he?” she asked.

He cast a quick, wary glance at Seth.

“It’s all right,” she said. “He is a friend. Where is my father?” she asked.

“In his room.”

“How bad?”

“Bad, Miss McGuire.”

She raced for the house, only vaguely aware that Seth had dismounted and was following her. Marilee kept pace, clutching the puppy against her chest.

She went directly to her father’s room. He was on the bed. Blood stained his clothes and the bed.

“I tried to stop the bleeding,” Howie said.

“Fetch the doctor,” she said. “Hurry.”

She leaned down. Her father’s eyes were closed.

“Father?” she whispered.

He didn’t move. Bright red blood contrasted with the deeper color of congealed blood.

She tried to peel away his clothing. Howie had packed the wounds with cloth, trying to stanch the blood. Were the bullets still in any of the wounds?

Larger hands nudged her aside.

“Look after Marilee,” Seth Sinclair said curtly. “I’ll see to the wounds. God knows I’ve seen enough of them.”

She turned and saw Marilee huddled in the corner, the terror back in her face, panic re?ected in her eyes.

She couldn’t leave her father. Not now. She couldn’t leave him with someone who…

“I don’t hurt injured, unarmed men,” Seth said gently, as if he understood she would break at the slightest raise in his voice.

She still hesitated. “The doctor…”

“He might well die by the time the doctor gets here,” Seth said harshly. “He’s losing a lot of blood.”

She saw the pallor in her father’s face, heard the rapid breathing. She turned back to Marilee.

Then reached a decision. She stepped back. “What do you need?”

“Clean linen for bandaging. Needle and thread. Hot water.”

She watched as he ef?ciently removed her father’s shirt to reveal two bullet wounds. A third bullet had plowed a furrow along the side of his head. She approached Marilee and took her and the pup into her arms.

“Is he going to die?” Marilee said in a tooold voice.

“No, I think your brother will make him well,” she said. “Let’s get your puppy some milk,” Elizabeth said.

Marilee hung back, her gaze settling on Seth. Elizabeth turned back as well. Seth was using her father’s shirt to stanch the ?ood of blood.

“Go,” she said softly to Marilee. “The puppy will get sick if he’s not fed. Put some milk in a glove and make a small hole in one of the ?ngers. See if she will suck on it. Can you do that?”

Marilee hesitated.

Then the puppy helpfully whimpered, and Marilee turned toward the kitchen, where a little milk remained from the morning.

Elizabeth turned back to her father and the man leaning over him.

“How bad is it?”

“Two wounds are ?esh wounds. The third has a bullet still inside. He’s bleeding badly. We have to cauterize the wound but not until it’s cleaned and the bullet’s out.”

“Cauterize?”

His eyes met hers. “Yes.”

She leaned over the bed. “Papa. Talk to me. Papa.” She willed him to talk to her, to acknowledge her presence.

His eyes ?uttered open. “Princess?”

She could tell he was ?ghting to open them and keep them open.

“Papa. What happened?”

“Masked… rebel cry,” he said. “Came…out…of… nowhere. Sinclair.”

His glazed eyes moved to the man standing about him. “Who…?”

Elizabeth looked up at Seth. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes hardened, became ice cold.

“Have you had any training?” she asked.

He laughed bitterly. “More than four years of it, Miss McGuire. We often didn’t have a doctor. We did a lot of our own mending. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.”

He had left it there for her to make a decision.

A low moan came from her father. His eyes opened slightly. He obviously understood a little of what was being said.

“Papa, you’re losing blood. Someone has to get the bullet out and cauterize the wound. This… gentleman said he will try.”

Her father’s pain?lled face turned toward him, nodded slightly, then the eyes closed again.

“There used to be a medical box in the kitchen,” Sinclair said. “Is it still there?”

She was reminded once more that this had once been his home. She nodded.

“What about alcohol?”

She shook her head. She always threw it out when she found some in the ranch house.

She heard him swear quietly before continuing in a slightly louder voice, “There should be a pair of tongs and scalpel in the box. Bring the box and heat a knife. I’ll need two pans of hot water, soap, and clean cloth to bandage the wound.” He paused. “I think he’s unconscious again but he could wake up. It’s going to hurt like hell.” His eyes challenged her.

She leaned over the silent form again. “Papa?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, didn’t move. She hoped he would remain unconscious.

She went into the small area that served as a kitchen. She located the medical box, put kindling into the cookstove, and lit it. She found the scalpel in the medical box, and washed it with water from a pitcher. When the kindling began to ?ame, she shoved the steel of the knife inside, shivering as she did so. She poured water into a pan and put it on top of the stove.

It would take a few minutes for the water to heat. She had a moment to look in on Marilee. She must be frightened nearly to death and Elizabeth did not want her to wander into her father’s room while Seth was digging out a bullet.

Marilee sat on the bed, holding a glove. The puppy sucked at one of the ?ngers of the glove.

“She’s eating,” Marilee said solemnly.

“I see. She’s a survivor.”