Page 27 of In Honor’s Defense

“I’ve got you, Corporal.” Matthew Hanger used his own chest to support Luke’s neck as he helped his wife lift the tattered shirt over his head.

Damaris averted her eyes, feeling as if she were intruding on Luke’s privacy, even though she had been tending him for the last sixteen hours. She retreated a step. Then another. No one seemed to notice.

Her presence wasn’t required any longer. The realization created an ache in her chest, but she ignored the pitiful twinge. The Hangers had things well in hand. She should check on Nathaniel. See if she could help with the hot water and bandages. Dinner would need to be prepared as well. The Hangers were likely tired and hungry after traveling so long today. Especially Dr. Hanger, carrying a child. She’d need a bed. Nathaniel would have to trade his room for a pallet in the parlor.

Damaris padded toward the bedroom door, doing her best to focus on other work that needed to be done. But she couldn’t stop her gaze from seeking out the man on the bed. Nor her heart from wishing she had a reason to remain by his side.

CHAPTER

TWELVE

Luke felt more than saw Damaris slip out of the room. He caught the movement from the corner of his eye as he answered one of Dr. Jo’s questions. Damaris’s leaving had an odd effect on his chest, creating an ache in the one place the rustlers had managed to miss.

A sudden, searing pain in his midsection tore his thoughts from his hostess as Dr. Jo prodded his torso. When her fingers pressed against one particularly sore spot, he hissed.

“That one’s broken,” she said, her expression intent as she stared at her hands. “Two other ribs are probably fractured, and we might as well assume the rest are bruised.” She raised her head to meet his good eye, one brow arched. “Three deeply penetrating puncture wounds, several broken ribs, contusions to the right eye, a likely concussion, and one laceration far too close to the carotid artery for my peace of mind. Did you take on an entire gang by yourself?”

“Yeah, but it was a small gang. Only four members. I was holding my own until one of ’em knifed me in the side. Not very sporting of him.”

Dr. Jo rolled her eyes. “Imagine that. An outlaw not fighting fair. I’d swat you upside the head if you weren’t about to fall apart at the seams. Honestly, Preach, even you know better than to take on four criminals on your own.”

“Easy, Josie,” Matt said, his voice the same low murmur he used when dealing with a fractious horse. “I’m sure he had a good reason.”

“What reason could possibly justify nearly dying? Because that’s what would’ve happened if the Baxters hadn’t found him and nursed him as well as they did.”

“But they did find him. He’s alive, Josie. And we’re going to keep him that way. You and me. Together.”

Were those tears glimmering in the lady doc’s eyes? Luke blinked. He’d never seen her anything but stern and professional when dealing with a patient, no matter how dire the injury. Was it the baby making her emotional, or did she really care about him that much?

Josephine stared at her husband for a long moment, almost as if she’d forgotten Luke was in the room.

Just the babe, then. Made sense. He and the doc got along well enough, liked and respected each other, but they weren’t exactly close. He wasn’t close to any woman. Although, lately . . .

“All right.” Josephine straightened her shoulders and gave a firm nod to Matt before turning back to Luke. “Let’s see what’s under these bandages, shall we?”

Luke did his best to lie still during the examination, keenly aware of how close his knee was to Josephine’s swollen belly. If he let himself flinch, he might hit her stomach, and he’d rather endure hellfire than cause any harm to Matt’s wife and child.

“So, tell me about these outlaws you rousted,” Matt said as he slipped out from under Luke to crouch on the rag rug next to the head of the bed. “Rustlers, I’d wager.”

The captain was trying to distract him from the pain. He appreciated the effort, but the last thing he wanted to do was involve Matt in this mess. The man had a baby on the way, for Pete’s sake. But if Luke refused to answer, Matt would grow suspicious and dig even deeper. Best to give him just enough to convince him this wasn’t a Horseman matter.

“Yep.” Luke grunted the answer, still focused on keeping his legs as still as possible. “Meant to . . . follow ’em back to . . . the herd, but . . . a kid stumbled across their operation. They took him hostage. Couldn’t . . . let that stand.”

Matt stroked his mustache. “A kid named Baxter.”

Luke didn’t bother confirming. After all, it hadn’t really been a question.

The captain’s eyes narrowed. “You and the boy still in danger?”

“Doubt it.” Luke couldn’t meet his friend’s gaze. Matt always saw more than Luke meant to show. He’d never place Matt in a position where he’d be forced to choose between the Horseman bond and his wife. Right now, Josephine was too near her time for Matt to even contemplate leaving her to chase after some outlaw baggage. Best to downplay the danger. “I ’spect they’ll . . . lie low for a while. Prob’ly even head for greener pastures. A cow’s a cow. Might as well . . . rustle ’em where no one . . . knows yer face.”

The captain made no reply, just got that deep-thinking look he tended to get when he was working out a problem in his mind. And, of course, that was the moment Dr. Jo decided to spray some kind of liquid fire onto Luke’s side.

He stiffened and squeezed his eyes shut against the agonizing burn. A moan clawed at his throat, one he was too weak to corral inside.

Then, without warning, the bed dipped behind him, and a warm hand covered his. She didn’t say a word, but even without opening his eyes, he knew it was Damaris. He gripped her hand, probably harder than he should—her hand being so delicate and fine inside his rough, callused mitt—but she didn’t protest or pull away. She held tight, and somehow her touch made the pain bearable.

Conversation happened around him, but it swirled through the air above him like thick fog. Something about a steaming kettle. Instruments. Torn sheets. Nate tending horses. None of the pieces fit together, but then, he was too weary to figure them out. He picked out Damaris’s soft tones among the others and tried to focus on her voice, but then she stopped talking. Dr. Jo had taken over the conversation, talking about catgut and needles. Where was Damaris?