Page 36 of At Love’s Command

She glanced around the railcar. Passengers were staring at her strangely, as if they’d never seen a doctor treat a patient before. Then she caught a whisper. Something about the impropriety of ladies sprawling upon the floor of a public conveyance. Another about outlandish women claiming to be doctors. Another, more disturbing one about witches and exorcisms.

For pity’s sake. Did small minds have nothing better to do?

Then she felt the warmth of Matthew’s hand cupping her jaw. She turned away from the disturbing whispers and focused her attention on the man at her side.

“Lay on my shoulder, Josie. Rest.”

“What about your plans?”

He smiled, lines crinkling around his hazel eyes. “We’ve got the big things hammered out. The rest will keep. Come on.” He urged her closer. “Try and grab a few winks.”

I’ll watch over you. He didn’t say it aloud, but everything emanating from him breathed the promise into her.

He offered escape from her exhaustion, her worry and frustration, and suddenly the desire to carry her own load no longer appealed. With one more long look into his eyes, she handed over the last threads of trust she’d been clinging to and leaned into him.

Her head found his shoulder. Her eyes slid closed. And in less time than she would have thought possible, she slid into sleep.

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

Matt had a crick in his neck and an ache in his lower back, but he’d never felt better in his life. Josie’s head lay nestled against his chest, having slipped from his shoulder somewhere between Seco and Sabinal. His arm curled around her shoulders to hold her securely against him, and his thumb idly stroked her sleeve.

Preach had rejoined the other Horsemen after the majority of the passengers debarked in Hondo, leaving Matt to enjoy Josie’s company alone. Free of knowing looks and teasing eyebrow waggles from his second-in-command.

Holding Josie was about the sweetest torture he’d ever known. Having her so close, so unguarded, so soft against him had quickly become addicting. He’d studied her. Every nuance. Every detail. The moment her breathing deepened and her muscles fully relaxed into sleep. The way her fingers twitched when she dreamed. The softness of her hair against his neck. The slightly floral scent of the hotel soap on her skin. The way she felt snuggled up against his side.

For a man used to the company of other men, holding a woman was a new experience. One he liked. A lot. But only because the woman was Josie. She did things to him. Fired his blood. Softened his demeanor. Made him want to be a better man. She called to a place buried deep inside him that felt like family—felt like love. Not that he knew much about the subject, being raised by his uncle after the Comanche killed his parents. Elijah Hanger had been a gruff man, not given to sentiment. He knew his way around a horse, though. Taught his nephew everything from grooming to riding to tending injuries and focused a young boy’s grief into a serviceable skill and a soul-deep passion.

Matthew twisted his head to take one final, leisurely look at Josie before waking her. The Chatfield stop was coming up, and he was pretty sure she’d want to clear the sleep from her brain before the train pulled into the station. Even so, he hesitated. She looked so peaceful. No worry for her brother creasing her brow. No shadows of exhaustion dimming her eyes. Just smooth skin, dark brown lashes fanning upon her cheeks, freckles peeking through and dancing over the bridge of her nose. Beautiful. The kind of beautiful that put thoughts in his head that had no business being there. Thoughts about holding her like this for the rest of his days.

Well, maybe not like this, he admitted as the train rounded a curve and a new twinge shot up his back. A house would be better. Their house. No strangers looking on. No interfering friends on hand. No rescue mission to distract from the simple pleasure of holding her. Just the two of them. Together. Vows spoken. Bed waiting. An entire night of—

“Chatfield Station!” The conductor’s voice boomed through the railcar as he made his rounds and readied passengers for the next stop.

Josie didn’t even flinch. He’d known she was tired, but this was exhaustion.

“Sorry, Josie,” he whispered as he gently lifted her into a more upright position. He caressed the side of her face and murmured her name close to her ear. “Josie? Time to wake up, sweetheart. We’re coming into Chatfield.”

Her lashes lifted slowly. She blinked. Looked around. Focused on him. “Matthew?”

Man, but he could get used to hearing his name in her sleep-roughened voice. Waking up to that every morning would be heaven. His gaze traveled over her face, settling on her mouth. The urge to steal a taste was strong. But his honor was stronger.

Dragging his focus back to her eyes, he said, “We’re almost to Chatfield Station.”

“Oh.” The word exited on a sigh as soft as her eyes, which were still glazed with the residue of sleep.

Or was something else making her expression dreamy? His pulse kicked a little harder in his veins.

“Oh!” She stiffened and pulled away from him, as if the memory of why she was here and what she was doing had flooded her brain all at once. A touch of pink colored her cheeks as she glanced at the arm he’d casually draped over the back of the seat after her jerk forward had sent it plunging off her shoulders. “Sorry. I, ah, don’t usually nap in the afternoon. Leaves me terribly groggy.”

Matt grinned. Seeing her rattled was rather enjoyable. It gave a man the idea that he didn’t have to be perfect to walk by her side. A mighty fine thought for a man all too aware of his imperfections.

She set about smoothing her skirt and checking her hair, as if worried she’d come undone during her slumber.

“You look fine,” he assured her, deciding it best not to tell her that she had a faint line across her cheek from where it had pressed against a wrinkle in his shirt. It made him smile, though.

She caught his smile and started to return it before something out the window behind him snagged her attention. Probably the outskirts of town, judging by the way the train was slowing. Whatever she saw drained the last of the softness from her features and brought forth the determination he’d grown accustomed to seeing her exhibit whenever she had a job in front of her.