Page 22 of In Honor’s Defense

Nathaniel couldn’t seem to leave the room fast enough.

The moment he cleared the threshold, Damaris wilted against the bedpost. She clung to it with both hands, closed her eyes, and pressed her forehead against the wood. A quiet mewl of despair vibrated her throat.

I can’t do this, Lord. I lack the experience, the skill, and even the stomach for such a job. Please don’t ask it of me.

“The kid’s right.”

Damaris’s eyes popped open at the raspy voice, and she jerked away from the bedpost. “Mr. Davenport. I-I didn’t know you were awake.”

Had he witnessed her cowardly collapse? This hero of Texas? This legendary Horseman whose feats of bravery were chronicled in newspapers? Never had she wished for invisibility more.

“Dr. Jo won’t be here ’til tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. Not sure I’ll make it that long if we don’t get these holes plugged up.”

Releasing her hold on the bedpost, she moved along the edge of the mattress until she was even with his shoulders. Then she lowered herself to her knees on the rug beside him and gently clasped his hand.

His swollen eyes met hers.

She dropped her gaze. “I’m not sure I can do it.”

“Damaris.” Her name resonated with such strength when he said it. Even in his weakened condition.

She lifted her chin.

“You can.”

Not a shred of doubt colored his words, yet an entire mountain of misgiving pressed down on her head.

“I don’t know. . . .”

“I do.” Again with the penetrating gaze. The certainty. As if he saw something inside of her that she couldn’t see. Then his gaze shifted to the wall on the opposite side of the bed. “You did those, didn’t you?”

Her samplers? Damaris’s brow knit. What did needlework have to do with—

“You got all the skill you need.”

She shook her head. “Embroidering linen is one thing. Sewing . . .” She gestured to the bandage around his ribs. “This isn’t the same at all.”

“Needle. Thread. Knots. It’ll get the job done. Well enough to last until Dr. Jo gets here.”

Her hand trembled. He squeezed her fingers.

“Damaris.”

She met his gaze, her heart thumping, her head spinning.

“I believe in you.”

Amazing how such simple words could completely shift her world.

Clasping his hand tight, as if she could draw on his courage and his fortitude, she inhaled a breath and gave a small nod. “All right. I’ll do it.”

CHAPTER

TEN

Over the next several hours, Luke’s world shrank until it contained only three things—pain, prayer, and Damaris Baxter. She never left his side. Every time he managed to wrest his eyes open, he found her either dozing in a stiff wooden chair next to the bed or hovering above him. Fussing with his covers. Testing the temperature of his brow with a gentle touch of her cool fingers. Lifting his head so he could drink a few sips of water. Even when consciousness waned, he felt her near. Heard her soft voice urging him not to worry. Promising that everything was going to be fine. Help was on the way. He was strong. He could win this fight.

She became his anchor, something solid to cling to within the storm of torment. So much so that when he woke to find her gone, something akin to panic broke loose in his chest.