Chapter 19

 

When Callie and Jax reached Conway, Jax headed straight for The Pavilion, one of the better hotels at the far end of Main Street. He rode around to the back, then slid out of the saddle. He stood for a moment, leaning against the horse, carefully holding his left shoulder with the broken shaft of the arrow away from any contact.

Callie was afraid to move. She sat still, waiting for him to regain his composure and stand back, to allow her some room to dismount. He looked up at her, catching her worried frown.

“Hold on a…minute, Callie,” he muttered. He wrapped the reins around the hitching post and stepped aside, leaning heavily against the wooden railing as Callie climbed down from the horse and came to stand beside him, uncertainly.

“Señor Jax!”

Callie turned quickly, to see a young Mexican boy standing a few feet away from them, a wide, white smile splitting his dark face.

He hurried to where Jax stood, the smile evaporating. “Madre Maria,” the boy breathed, seeing the broken stem of the arrow jutting from Jax’s shoulder. “So much blood…all over.”

“Carlos,” Jax murmured. “Take—Take my horse and put him at Johnson’s Livery. Take good care, then bring my…saddlebags back here. Tell…Miss Olivia I said—said I need you…then, you—you come on up.”

“Sí, Señor Jax.” The boy nodded vigorously. “I will return soon.”

Jax reached for Callie. She moved close to him, heedless of the blood. Jax needed her for support. He needed her. She carefully moved into his one-armed embrace, and they slowly made their way inside the back of the hotel.

A short blonde woman stood watching from a few feet inside the kitchen, her sour look lightening as recognition transformed her features with a surprisingly pretty smile.

“Jaxson McCall—” she began, then hurried to where Callie and Jax stood. She looked him over in a quick, appraising glance. “Oh, you are hurt bad, aren’t you, Jax? Let me—”

“Livvy, no one can know—I’m here.” His voice was harsh with urgency. “Just—don’t—say anything. To anyone.”

“Yeah, okay. Sure, hon. We’ve been through this a time or two before, ain’t we? Marshalin’ business an’ all.” She moved to the key board on the wall, selecting one of the remaining keys and handing it to Callie. “I’ll send up some water and towels here in a bit, love.”

Jax nodded. “Let Carlos come up when he gets here, Liv. He’s…got my saddlebags.”

“Sure.” Her brows drew together in concern. “Can you all make it up the stairs?”

Jax didn’t look at her. “We’ll make it.”

The poison and the steadily rising fever were forces to be reckoned with. Climbing the stairs was an ordeal in itself, for both of them. Callie feared they’d tumble backward with each halting step. Jax was unsteady on his feet, stopping twice on the stairway. Callie was alarmed also at the heavy blood loss, and the toll it was taking on his body. He struggled to grip the banister, his right arm draped heavily around her shoulders. Callie could hear Livvy in the kitchen calling out orders for towels and boiled water, and she wondered just what she would be expected to do with the items once they were brought up. She knew nothing of healing. If she had, perhaps she could have saved her mother.

They made their way haltingly to the end of the long hallway. Callie tried to support Jax as she set her valise on the floor. He leaned against the doorjamb for a moment as she put the key in the lock. She swung the door open and helped Jax over to the bed, then picked up her valise and shut the door, locking it behind her.

Jax was already sprawled across the bed, boots and all, when she turned back to him. He was breathing hard, trying to maintain his self-control. He pressed his lips together tightly and closed his eyes. Blood had dried along the six-inch remnant of the arrow shaft in his shoulder, soaking into the wood. Like a red river, it saturated his shirt and coat, running downward to be absorbed in the waistband of his Levis.

Callie bit her lip. She was the cause of this. She’d nearly been the cause of Jax’s death twice now; once in Fort Smith when they’d been shot at through the hotel window and now, this. Not to mention the cracked ribs he’d gotten from Wolf Blocker. And, although he’d told Captain Tolbert the arrow was meant for him, she knew better. He’d wheeled the horse and spun, blocking her, shielding her completely as the arrow took him in the shoulder. Crooked Elk had aimed for her neck.

She shivered. Her stepfather really meant to have her killed. She looked at Jax again, her expression softening as she remembered… everything. The way he’d laughed at her in the Fort Smith hotel room; how his eyes smoldered in anger—and in passion; his handsome features rising up above her, as he came into her—

The half-breed’s woman. No. The half-breed’s wife. Mrs. Jaxson McCall.

Callie shook her head sadly. She could never truly be Jax’s wife. Dunstan Treadwell wouldn’t allow it. And she couldn’t stay here. To do so would be signing Jaxson’s death warrant.

Her thoughts swung to Wolf Blocker and his bunch. Four men in Blocker’s gang, Jaxson had said, but it could be more. And even if Jax defeated them, she was not naïve enough to believe that her stepfather would give up. He certainly hadn’t ever given up before. He’d wooed her mother quite convincingly and oh, so arduously.

Jaxson would never be safe as long as she was with him. He would try to protect her, she knew, no matter the cost to himself. Even should death be the price. And it surely would, if his care was left to her. She didn’t know how to tend a wound as serious as this one.

They’d never spoken of their future, and now it looked as if there wouldn’t be one for them. Even when Callie had offered him the ruby jewelry, he hadn’t talked about what they might do, how they might share their lives together. He’d never told her—she swallowed hard—told her he’d loved her. The thing she yearned to hear from him more than any other thing he could ever say.

Even though he possessed everything she had to give, her love-starved heart, her virgin’s body, her thirsting soul—he’d never indicated that she meant more to him than a very good friend.

Except for that one moment last night, when he’d asked her to marry him.

Her breath caught at the memory.

“Laugh with me, love with me, have babies with me—”

And she, like a fool, had believed he meant it. Because, she realized, she’d wanted to believe it.

But, he’d done it because he’d had no choice. She knew that now. Captain Tolbert had told him they’d be married or she would stay there at the fort—a prisoner still, but with a different captor. Jaxson McCall hadn’t wanted that. He was being well-paid to bring her back to Washington, and he’d grown used to her warming his bed at night.

No matter what, she had to face the fact that she was in love with Jax. It really didn’t even matter, now, what his intentions were toward her, she thought. She couldn’t endanger him any longer. And she couldn’t return to Washington with him, either. That left only one choice, a choice she could hardly bring herself to consider.

She had to leave him.

Her heart clenched painfully in her chest. There really was no other option. She had to get out of his life to protect him. And, to protect herself. Not just her heart, but her very life.

It scared her to think of being without him. He had become important to her in so many ways, and she realized, with a jolt, that she had come to depend on him for everything…including her own basic need for security. It had felt so good to tell him who she really was—not Sarah Smith, as she’d pretended all those weary days she’d traveled westward from Washington, but Callie Buchanan.

Callie Buchanan, who had defied her stepfather; who, in fact, had tried to murder him, and run. Callie Buchanan, who had managed, through her own ingenuity and common sense, to travel to Fort Smith, even though she’d never been outside of Washington before during the course of her sheltered life. And now, Callie Buchanan, whose stepfather’s bid for power and money must cost her her life.

But not Jaxson’s life.

She raised her eyes to the wounded man on the bed, and saw that he was awake and watching her.

****

Jax lay as still as he could. It hurt to breathe. He turned his head slowly, and was able to see the broken end of the Apache arrow shaft rising up out of his flesh. He must have drifted off for a few minutes. The poison was working fast. His eyes slitted against the light, and he became aware that he wasn’t alone.

Callie sat warily at the other side of the bed in the chair. As their gazes locked, he could see that she was sorry for what she was about to do.

He would never ask her for help. Her dark eyes narrowed in determination, and in her expression, he read what she planned to do. Leave. But he drew her to him even now, unwilling to believe what he saw in her expression.

He gritted his teeth. She was leaving him. It was written plainly on her face and in the stiff way she sat.

“What’re you…waiting for, Cal?” he murmured.

****

She jumped, startled as much by his direct question as the way he lay watching her. As if he knew every move she would make. Every thought she had—

She shook her head to clear her mind, and for a moment, he thought she meant to stay. But her eyes held the intent he knew she’d had all along. She was going.

“Now’s your chance,” he said hoarsely. “Your chance to…go.”

“You’re—letting me go?” she asked quietly, and as the question fell between them, she realized it had a deeper meaning. I’ll never let you go, girl. But he was. And there was something else. She sounded—disappointed, hurt, even to her own ears.

“I’m hardly…in any shape to keep you, wife,” he said, after a moment. “Do me a favor, Cal, will you?” He closed his eyes.

Her heart almost stopped at the raggedness of his voice, and in that moment, she knew that whatever he asked of her, she’d do. Even if it meant staying here with him indefinitely as—whatever he wanted her to be. Wife—or prisoner.

She moistened her lips. “You know I will, Jax. What is it?”

“On your way out of town—stop by Doc Naylor’s office and ask him to come by.” He stopped and drew a deep breath. “Tell him—tell him I’ve…got money.”

He spoke with a bitterness that Callie didn’t understand. “Do you know him?” she asked softly. Maybe if the doctor knew Jax, she could at least feel as if he would take good care to see that he recovered. The doctor would know how to treat the wound; what to do for his fever—

There was something unreadable in Jax’s eyes—and Callie could’ve sworn she saw unguarded vulnerability there for an instant before it was replaced with the mocking aloofness she’d seen earlier.

“You—might say that. We spent some time together. A long time ago.”

Callie felt even better at that admission. Surely, Doctor Naylor would come for an old friend. She nodded, steadying her voice before she spoke. “All right. I’ll do that for you.”

****

Jax closed his eyes. He was exhausted. Every breath was an effort, and he hurt so damn badly— He couldn’t believe Callie was really going. He’d miss her—the soft warmth of her body next to him as they slept, the mischievous laughter in her caramel eyes, the way she had tasted when he’d kissed her, the smooth warmth of her skin under him as they made love…

He opened his eyes again. The light filtering through the curtained window assailed him. The poison was potent. It could be anything, and he wondered if he’d be strong enough to live through it. The sensitivity to light, the distortion of his senses, and the pounding headache were all indicators that perhaps Crooked Elk had used more than one kind. Jax wondered what combination the Apache had put together. Something creative, he was sure, and lethal, knowing the arrow had been meant for Callie. Maybe he should tell her…the others were still out there. He’d led her to believe Crooked Elk was trying to settle an old score with him…but she was still in danger. He couldn’t talk right now… He’d have plenty of time to think about it after Callie left. Right now, he wanted to look at her, so that he could remember.

“Jax—” Callie turned back to him as she stood poised, her hand on the doorknob.

Jax told himself he couldn’t trust what he thought he saw in Callie’s expression. He thought he had seen need—for him—written across Callie’s face. That, he knew, was ludicrous.

When he spoke, his voice was infinitely tender. “Go on, Callie,” he whispered. “Damn you, just get out.”

He closed his eyes, too weary to keep them open any longer, and finally he heard the door click shut after what seemed like a very long time.

****

Callie made her way down the back stairway and out the door without incident. She blinked back the hovering tears and hurried down the dusty street, clutching her bag. It was for the best, she thought bitterly. Now, if she could only tell herself that long enough to actually believe it…

As she stood looking up and down the street for the doctor’s shingle, she caught sight of Carlos headed her way. His dark features brightened at the sight of her. He waved, and hurried to where she stood, Jax’s saddlebag across his shoulder.

“Hola, Señorita.”

“Hello, Carlos.”

“I carry your bag for you, no?” He reached to take her bag, and they moved forward a few steps out of the middle of the boardwalk. “How is Señor Jax? Who is—”

“Carlos, do you know where Doctor Naylor’s office is?”

“Sí,” he replied warily.

“Just point me in the right direction, and—”

Carlos stopped and turned to face her, his expression serious. “Can you not care for him, Señorita? It must be very bad if he would send for el doctor.”

Callie patted his shoulder in reassurance. “You needn’t worry—the doctor will see to him.”

Carlos’s expression became disbelieving. “He will not come, Señorita! And Señor Jax knows this.”

“Nonsense. Jaxson told me they…that they knew each other long ago.”

“Who is with Señor Jax, Señorita?”

“Why, no one, Carlos. I—”

“You left him alone?”

“I had to! Don’t you see? I have to get the doctor.”

“You are going farther than Doctor Naylor’s office, I think,” the boy said, his hand tightening around Jax’s saddlebag as he stepped away from her. “Here Señorita. Take your bag.” His eyes raked her scornfully. “I would never leave my friend.”

Callie moistened her lips. Carlos looked at her steadily, making her feel small.

“The doctor’s office is across the street,” Carlos told her quietly. He pointed to a small sign. “Right over there. Buenas dias, Señorita.” He bent his dark head, but not before giving her a sharp look that cut her to the quick. He had dismissed her as efficiently as any wealthy Don of the Spanish nobility, giving his opinion of her by his actions, his tone. And, he was on his way to the hotel in a long loping run. Callie remembered she hadn’t told him the room number. She started to call after him, but he was too far away.

Squaring her shoulders, she walked toward the doctor’s office. As she entered the building, a bell jingled on the doorknob.

A tall man sat behind a massive oak desk, his feet propped on its edge, a medical journal open across his lap. He wore a short frock coat over a white linen shirt. As he glanced up, he met Callie’s dark eyes with a piercing gray gaze.

Now that she was actually here, Callie felt hesitant. She’d been trying to ignore the undercurrents she’d felt both in her conversation with Jax as well as with Carlos. They’d both seemed doubtful that Doctor Naylor would help. “Hello.” She nodded nervously and took a step forward. “Dr. Naylor?”

He inclined his head slightly, watching her.

“I’m-I’m Callista Buchanan.” She extended her hand.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, almost disinterestedly, ignoring her hand.

Callie didn’t quite know how to proceed. She had never met a professional who behaved so peculiarly. She took another step forward and gave him a faltering smile. “Dr. Naylor, a—a mutual friend—of ours has been hurt, and I was hoping perhaps you might see about him.”

“And, pray tell, who would that be, my dear?”

“Jaxson McCall.” Callie rushed on, not giving Dr. Naylor a chance to say anything. “He was wounded, you see, by an Apache arrow. Half of it is still—”

“Spare me the details.”

“Doctor—”

“I don’t treat Indians.”

Callie felt the breath rush out of her. Surely, she had not heard him correctly. He went back to his reading, and for the second time in the past fifteen minutes, Callie recognized that she was being dismissed.

“You were his friend!”

Doctor Naylor raised glittering gray eyes to her hot gaze. “You never heard that from Jaxson McCall!”

“He said you knew each other from—from long ago! Don’t you remember?”

“Ma’am, I do not treat Indians. Or Mexicans.”

Callie stood in disbelief. That would certainly explain Carlos’s behavior when she’d mentioned Dr. Naylor. And she was also beginning to understand Jaxson’s odd reticence concerning the good doctor as well. She closed the distance between the door and the doctor’s desk.

“He said to tell you…he has money.”

To her astonishment, the doctor laughed, and laid down the journal, raising his fog-gray eyes to hers. “He must be pretty desperate, to send you over here for me, Miss Buchanan.” He shook his head, chuckling once more.

“Why do you say that?” she asked sharply, realizing that what he said was true. Jaxson had seemed very uneasy when he’d mentioned the doctor.

“Because he knows I won’t come.”

Callie’s expression turned hard. She raked him with loathing in her eyes. “You aren’t much of a doctor, are you? He needs you! How can you let him lie up there and suffer? Possibly die—”

“Probably,” he corrected, lowering his feet to the floor. “Arrows can prove to be pretty deadly—in the right place.”

“You bastard.”

He swiftly came up out of his chair. “If you were a man, I’d—”

Callie wanted to laugh, but she was too angry. Her eyes narrowed. “Sir, if you were a man, we wouldn’t be having this conversation!” She gave him a haughty, unflinching stare as he banged his hands on the desk and leaned forward, nose-to-nose with her.

“May I remind you, you are in my office, Madame?”

“Certainly. And while we’re at it, let me remind you of something you obviously have forgotten. ‘First, do no harm—’ Sound familiar? Probably not. It’s the Hippocratic Oath you were supposed to have taken when you became a doctor, you fraud!”

She had one last thing she could offer. Without looking away from his furious silver glare, she reached into her bag and felt for the jewel case. Her fingers closed around it firmly as she brought it out of her bag. “If you won’t come for money, or decency, or your own self respect as a doctor,” she pressed the case into his hand, “come for this. These jewels could pay your yearly wages a hundred times over, Doctor. They mean nothing to me if Jaxson McCall dies. Please come.”

Callie whirled and sailed through the door, slamming it behind her with a satisfying bang. Fear and anger pushed her back down the dusty street. Without realizing what she was doing, she found herself standing in front of the hotel. Halfway up the stairs, she began to question her sanity.

But when she opened the door to the room she’d left a half-hour earlier, peace settled over her spirit. This was the right thing. No matter what came of it, she could not leave Jaxson in the state he was in.

Carlos sat beside Jax, one of Jax’s pistols cocked and aimed at her heart as she opened the door. A happy grin lit the boy’s features, only to be replaced quickly by stoic indifference. He carefully eased his finger off the trigger, and let the hammer down slowly. Callie could not mistake the relief in his coal-black eyes.

“You were right, Carlos,” Callie said, shutting the door behind her. “You were right about…everything.”

Carlos nodded sagely. “He is not a good doctor, that one.”

“No. He is not even a good man.” Callie set her bag down. She crossed the room and laid her hand across Jax’s forehead. He felt even hotter than before, if that was possible. She couldn’t just stand by and let him suffer and die. She wouldn’t. If he hadn’t been protecting her, he’d never have been injured in the first place.

Jax slitted his eyes open at her cool touch across his flesh. “Callie?” His voice was a harsh whisper.

“I’m here.”

“You…came back?”

Callie nodded, unable to speak for a moment. How could she have ever left him? He seemed to have gotten so much worse in the short time she’d been gone. “Yes. I—I came back.”

A smile touched his mouth, and when he opened his eyes to look at her again, they glimmered with a knowing look. “He wouldn’t come, would he?”

Callie looked down. “No,” she answered quietly. “He said—he said you knew he wouldn’t.”

“Did he…tell you why, Callie?”

Callie met his dark gaze, holding it a moment before she answered. “He doesn’t treat Indians—or Mexicans.”

“That’s right,” Jax murmured. “Or…brothers.”