***
“Wake up Turnip,” Darcy’s voice was a cool balm to Blake’s fevered brow. He felt her voice echo through him like a symphony’s strident note.
“Darcy?” Blake struggled to open his eyes. He was too warm, and a bead of sweat trickled down his temple, tickling toward his ear.
“I guess you’re finally waking up.” The smile in Darcy’s voice was evident as Blake finally opened his eyes.
“You’re all right,” Blake smiled, floating between wakefulness and sleep. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
“You doubted me?” Darcy laughed as Blake’s eyes closed again and the sound of dripping water filled him before something cool and damp touched his forehead. Blake’s eyes opened again and this time they focused on the young woman bent over him. “You’re real.”
“Of course I’m real. What do you think I am a manikin?”
“An angel,” Blake grinned.
“As if.” Darcy rolled her dark eye with derision.
Blake fumbled for Darcy’s hand finally taking it in his. She was pail and dark circles marred her bright eyes, but it was really her.
“You look like an angel to me,” Blake continued squeezing her hand softly. “I’m just glad you’re alive. I was afraid…” his eyes met hers, and he blinked slowly as she smoothed his hair from his face.
“You mean you doubted me Turnip?” Darcy’s bright smile was tempered with sorrow. “I’m tougher than I look you know. Besides all you did was re-open the old wound, not actually shoot me.”
“I can see that now.”
“Now it’s your turn to get better. You were shot. Took a bullet at close range in the thigh. Doc says it chipped the bone.”
“How bad?”
Darcy took the cool cloth from his brow, turning and dipping it into a bowl and ringing it out. Once the cloth rested on his head she looked at him again. “The injury isn’t life threatening, but the chip might cause you problems and,” she bit her lower lip. “And you have an infection.”
Blake nodded as the picture came together. “Where are we?”
“Laramie. Your folks are here.”
“What? Why?” Blake pushed himself up on his elbows in agitation.
“We’ve been taking care of you together,” Darcy said, with a shrug of her shoulders. “Besides, they thought you should have the best doctor available.”
Blake dropped back to the bed exhausted. “How’s my mother taking it all?”
“I think if Pierce weren’t already dead, she’d be hunting him down right now.” Darcy’s light laugh softened the blow, but Blake groaned anyway.
“I don’t suppose I can just go back to sleep and avoid what comes next can I?”
“Nope, you’re in the thick of it now Turnip,” Darcy tittered at his dark scowl. “The new police commissioner will be in soon, and he’ll want your whole story. They haven’t arrested me yet because of my own injury.”
Blake closed his eyes the pain of shame washing over him and dragging him down. “Darcy, I am so sorry.” He looked up capturing her eyes with his own. “You know I’d never hurt you. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Darcy stared down at Blake as sad smile tugging at her lips. Gently she pulled the cloth from his forehead and traced her fingers over his brow. “You did what you had to do. Don’t apologize for that. If you hadn’t done it we would be in a lonely grave somewhere on the high planes with no one to mourn over us but the coyotes.”
“But...”
Darcy’s hand pressed gently against his lips and he clutched at it. “We both did what we had to Blake,” her eyes flickered with a dark light. “I don’t blame you. Just get better. We’ll worry about everything else after that.”
Blake nodded, pulling her hand back to his lips and placing a soft kiss on her palm. “Thank you.”
Chapter 23
Darcy had barely closed the door before it opened again and Reese Middleton stepped in. “Good to see you awake,” the man grinned. “You gave us a bit of a scare.”
“How bad it is Reese?” Blake pushed himself to a sitting position, flinching at the pain shooting through his leg.
“It’s hard to tell. The wound itself is healing well and you seem to be fighting the fever. We’re keeping hot salt water compresses on the wound, but we can’t tell the extent of the damage to the bone.”
Reese moved to the bed taking up the chair that Darcy had been sitting on only moments ago and taking Blake’s wrist in his hand. “How are you feeling?” he asked as he pulled a pocket watch from his vest.
“Tired,” Blake admitted honestly.
“Good that means you’ll be able to rest.”
“How are Ma and Pa taking this whole mess?”
“Better than you might have expected. Clay keeps Meg from hovering, he knows you have the trial ahead yet and then what ever happens to Darcy.”
Blake slouched a little deeper in his blankets. He had been avoiding that aspect of the case. Darcy, for all the help she had given had been a part of the gang. She may not have normally participated in a robbery, or selling liquor, but she was still Pierce’s woman and people still assumed guilt by association.
“I’ll need to see Beckett soon,” he said, looking up to meet his uncle’s gaze. “Can you arrange it?”
“I’ll get word to him,” Reese agreed. “For now drink this, and I’ll be in with your dinner soon.”
Blake took the little cup from his uncle and downed the bitter drink in one gulp.
“Try to sleep. That’s the best thing for you right now.”
Blake nodded, slipping back into the bed and pulling the blankets tight as he tried to ignore the ache in his leg. “Thanks.”
It was nearly a week before Blake was able to move around the rented rooms with the use of a sturdy crutch. He had both reveled in and endured his mother’s fussing over him.
As Blake grew stronger, Darcy became more reserved and when Beckett arrived to
