Page 13 of At Love’s Command

And there it was—the answering smile. Josephine’s mouth curved upward, and Matt’s grip on his dinner plate tightened so much, the ceramic threatened to crack. Her reaction shouldn’t bother him. All women reacted to Wallace that way. His good looks. His sense of humor. His affable personality. It shouldn’t bother Matt.

But it did.

“After you eat, I’ll bring you something for the pain. It’ll help you sleep too.” She tugged down the sheet to examine the skin around Wallace’s bandage.

Matt forced himself to let go of the plate before he cracked it for real, and balanced it on his knees.

“I already slept half the day away, Doc. I could stand to be awake for a while.”

She took his wrist and fit her fingers to the edge to find his pulse, then felt his head with the back of her hand. “I’ll prepare a willow bark powder for you and set it on the table with a glass of water. You can stay awake as long as you like, but when the pain starts to wear on you, I want you to take the medicine and get some sleep.” She helped him sit up and propped several pillows behind his back. She moved the tray that carried his soup from the floor where Mrs. Carrington had left it to the bed to bridge his lap.

After spreading a large cloth napkin over Wallace’s torso, she finally turned her attention to Matt. Unfortunately, the solicitous smile bestowed on her patient stiffened into stern lines.

“You’re in command, Captain.” Her gaze captured his, making it clear that, in truth, he was second in command. “If he starts to tire, give him the powder whether he wants to take it or not. Pull rank if you have to.”

“Understood.” He held her gaze, and something passed between them—an undercurrent of awareness and growing respect. Maybe even cautious trust. She jerked her gaze away before he could analyze it further, but his gut didn’t need his head to comprehend all the ins and outs.

Josephine Burkett intrigued him. Plain and simple. Intrigued him and appealed to him in a way no woman had in a long, long time. Crossing paths and wits with her over the next few days would be a nice change from guarding cattle and hunting rustlers. But he’d make sure nothing more came of it. He’d already lost one family. He wouldn’t risk that kind of devastation a second time. The Horsemen were all the family he needed. No matter how much the lady doc appealed to him, when Wallace was well enough to travel, she’d be nothing more than a pleasant memory to keep him company on long nights in the saddle.

“I’ll be back with the powder after you’ve had a chance to eat. I’ll clear the dishes away then and will return to check on you one final time before I retire for the night.” She spoke to Wallace, but Matt caught an occasional side glance darting his way. “Mrs. Carrington will send word to my night nurse, Alice Gaither, so you will probably see an older lady roaming the halls later this evening. She’s more of a chaperone than an actual nurse,” she explained, another glance darting Matt’s way, “but she can bring you water, food, or a clean chamber pot should you need it. She can also fetch me if your pain worsens or if signs of a fever appear.”

Fetch her? Matt straightened in his chair. “Where will you be?”

She turned his way, a smile—this time for him—twitching the corners of her lips. “Upstairs. I never leave the premises when I have patients in the infirmary, but the ladies of Purgatory Springs insist I have a night nurse in the clinic whenever those patients are of the male variety. To protect my reputation. Of course, any man ill enough to require an overnight stay poses no actual threat to my virtue, but perception can sometimes carry more weight than reality.”

“Especially if there is a second man who is not ill in your infirmary.” Matt frowned. He hadn’t considered the consequences to her when he’d insisted on being allowed to stay with Wallace.

She nodded. “Precisely.” She stepped away from the bed and crossed to the doorway. Then she turned back to her patient. “I’ll leave the two of you to enjoy your meal. If you need assistance with the soup, just ring the bell.” She pointed to the small handbell on the back corner of the bedside table. “Sometimes it’s difficult to navigate everyday tasks when you’re not accustomed to using your non-dominant hand. There’s no shame in asking for help.”

Wallace winked at her. “I’m sure I’ll manage, though the thought of having a woman as lovely as yourself feeding me does tempt me to act the invalid.”

Matt rolled his eyes.

“Well, I’m here if you need me.”

Wallace grinned. “Thanks, Doc.”

Her gaze briefly passed over Matt as she crossed to the door, but she said nothing. Just made her exit and left Matt feeling . . . neglected. Which was ridiculous. He was perfectly healthy. In no need of medical care or nursing. Yet every time she’d touched Wallace or smiled at him or offered her help, it made Matt’s hide itch as if someone had wrapped him in a flea-infested blanket.

Which was why he secretly enjoyed watching the kid struggle to keep soup in his spoon as he attempted to eat. Guilt kicked in after a moment, though, and Matt set his half-finished plate on the table and leaned forward in his chair.

“Want some help?”

Wallace shook his head. “No, thanks, Captain. I’ll get it. Just need a couple practice runs.”

“All right.”

Matt sat back and made a show of tucking into his own food. Heaven knew he wouldn’t want his men watching him make a muck of feeding himself. But if the kid didn’t get the hang of things soon, Matt would have to find a way to intervene without dashing his pride. Wallace needed nourishment to regain his strength, and Matt would see he got it, one way or another.

After struggling through about half his bowl of soup, Wallace set the spoon aside and leaned back against the wall at his back. Tired or frustrated? Maybe both.

Matt cut a slice of beef from his own plate, stabbed it with his fork, and held it out to his former trumpeter. “Want something to sink your teeth into?” With the food already speared, all the kid had to do was stick it in his mouth.

Wallace’s eyes brightened. “Sure.” He took the fork with his left hand and herded the roast squarely between his teeth. “Mmm. That’s good.” He leaned forward a bit and scanned the rest of Matt’s plate. “Don’t suppose you could spare some of that corn bread?”

Matt handed over a chunk, putting it directly in Wallace’s hand. While his friend chewed, Matt took another gander at the soup bowl. It wasn’t so much the soup that was the problem. It was transferring the liquid with an unsteady spoon that created the difficulty. Maybe instead of changing the food, he should change the transport.

Matt took the coffee cup Dalton’s daughter had delivered along with his plate of beef, and drained the contents in a long gulping swallow. His gullet complained at the deluge of hot joe, but he ignored the discomfort. “Here,” he said as he reached for the bowl on the tray. “Let me see that soup.”