Time stopped. He was not a virgin, but it had been a while, and his experience was with a few…uh…fast women, not gentle ladies. Bodie’s heart caught in his throat as his mind searched frantically for any other solution. There were no other women on the ranch, and he was not about to call one of his hands for this task. Mind over matter. You can do this. Doctors see naked ladies all the time.
He walked so determinedly into the bedroom, Mrs. Glines almost laughed. Bless his heart. She had removed the young woman’s clothing, unwrapped the bandaging and covered her in a sheet.
“Bodie, she’s been shot. She has a hole in the back, too, so the bullet went straight through, which is good. It is still bleeding, but it looks like it has slowed down a lot.”
“Shot?” It was almost as if he didn’t understand. Why would anyone shoot this beautiful young woman? For a moment it occurred to him that she might be an outlaw. He knew better than most not to judge a woman by her outward package. He had been fooled more than once on that account.
“Let’s get her into the tub.”
He picked her up, and she seemed even lighter than she was before. Mrs. Glines had removed the ivory decorative pin and several other pins that were still holding some of her hair back, and now it cascaded down her back and over her shoulders. It was wavy, not quite curly yet not straight. Again, he felt that strange urge to run his hands through it. That shocked him since he had never before felt that compulsion with anyone else’s hair, even those of similar color. Although he could not recall anyone with hair exactly that color, like the fall harvest at sundown. “Stop it.”
“What?” Mrs. Glines was behind him as he approached the tub.
“Uh…I was talking to myself.”
She smiled. “All right then, this is the tricky part. Just take off the sheet and put her in the tub.”
He looked at her as if she had two heads, and this time she did laugh. “You’re a grown man, Bodie. It needs to be done. Just do it.”
“Maybe we better put some bandaging on to protect the wound and then put a dry one on after.”
“You’re right. She has so much dirt on her, it could get into the wound.”
A reprieve! He nearly grinned, except Mrs. Glines rushed off and returned with fresh bandaging in less than a minute, skillfully rewrapping and securing it while Bodie tried not to look. The whole procedure was over in a blink.
That meant it was time. He gulped in a deep breath and couldn’t help noticing how much Mrs. Glines was enjoying his discomfort. She was right. He was a mature adult who built a ranching empire. Carefully, he unwound the sheet from the—oh, my Lord, glorious—woman, letting it drop to the floor. The housekeeper gave him a little nudge, and Bodie scooped the goddess into his arms, gently placing her in the copper tub in a sitting position, leaning her against the back of the tub.
“You’re going to have to hold her while I wash her.”
He just looked at the middle-aged woman, almost like a rabbit watching a hawk swooping down on him. Mrs. Glines shook her head, her dimples showing, and plopped onto the stool. “I can’t use this,” she said, picking up the lye soap almost accusingly. “I’ll hold her while you go down to my room and look on the vanity. Bring me the lemon verbena soap.”
She grasped the young woman’s shoulders as Bodie left the room like he was shot out of a cannon. It gave Mrs. Glines a chance to really study the woman for the first time. She was young, probably in her early 20s, maybe even a little younger. She was pretty, with alabaster skin, auburn hair and a pert little nose with a dusting of freckles. Perhaps the freckles were caused by her time out in the elements, or maybe she had them all the time. She was a little thing, not more than two or three inches over five feet. She looked solid, though, as if she were an active person, not one who sat around embroidering pillowcases.
It would be interesting when Bodie’s mother showed up. The cook/housekeeper had been with the rancher since the beginning, so she was more than familiar with the formidable Auralee Farnham and her machinations. He had told her to expect a debutante to arrive with his mother. The lady was pushy, condescending and more than annoying. Bodie bent over backwards trying to accommodate her, but she always found something to criticize. To his credit, he took it well and did not engage in shouting matches with his mother, as Elvira Glines would have been more than happy to do and was tempted to do on many an occasion. Bodie was a good man, strong and a leader, with the possible exception of where his mother was concerned. Would he have the strength and courage to oppose her and this new mate she was bringing?
She knew his father had died when he was only five or six, and his mother had never remarried. He must be grateful that she raised him all alone. There had to be limits, though, of gratitude and duty. Surely he would not make a commitment that would alter his entire life just to suit his mother. Shaking her head, Mrs. Glines held the young woman with one hand while she moved her long tresses out from behind her back and over her shoulder.
Just then Bodie returned with the lemon soap.
“You hold her, Bodie, and I’ll wash her.”
He knelt down behind the young woman and started to put his hands under her arms until he realized that would put them alarmingly close to her breasts. He yanked his hands back as Mrs. Glines sucked in her cheeks to keep from smiling. The rancher grasped the young woman’s shoulders, and the older woman began washing her. As she did, Bodie desperately tried to not feel the silky skin beneath his hands or any other part of the pretty young woman’s body.
Mrs. Glines went about her task quickly. Bodie knelt there mesmerized as she washed her beautiful hair twice and then rinsed it with the bath water. The woman groaned at one point but didn’t awaken.
“Now pour that clean water over her while I hold her. It’s too heavy for me.”
Bodie grabbed the bucket of warm water and carefully poured it over the naked woman’s head. Darn it, he was trying not to think of her as naked. Too late now, so when Mrs. Glines turned around to pick up the bath towel, to his shame, he stole a look at the nude woman’s breasts. They were not large, but they were perfect, just perfect, kind of perky, with the nipples taut from the cool air. Stop it!
“Lift her up.” Mrs. Glines held the towel, ready to wrap the young woman.
The lithe, supple little naked woman groaned again as Bodie set her on her feet and held her up so Mrs. Glines could wrap her in the towel.
“I don’t think we have any women’s clothing here, do we?”
Bodie shook his head.
“We could fit two of her in any of my things. Why don’t you go get one of your lightweight shirts and we’ll put her in that?”
He nodded and headed to his bedroom next door, returning a minute later with a light blue shirt that came to her knees when they put it on her. At least he could breathe again now that she was mostly covered. Mrs. Glines buttoned her up, and they each rolled up a sleeve until her hands appeared. Bodie was as gentle as he could be moving the sleeve over her damaged wrist, but that did elicit a groan. He noticed although her hands were small, her fingers were long and delicate looking. Several fingernails were chipped, but it looked as if she normally kept them looking nice. He almost scoffed. What did he know about ladies’ fingernails?
When they put her in bed, Bodie noticed blood was seeping through the shirt. He lifted it to see that her bullet wound was bleeding again and cursed. “We need to change this bandage again and try to get this bleeding stopped.”
Mrs. Glines “tsked” and rushed off, returning moments later with a bandage and long strips. The younger woman groaned again as they pressed the padded bandage on the wound and wrapped it with the strips. Then they stood back to look at the frail woman in the bed. She appeared so vulnerable.
“I think that is all we can do for now. I’ll go make some broth. She’s bound to wake up sooner or later.”
“I’ll sit with her until you return, and then I’ll be working in the barn. Let me know when the doc arrives if I don’t hear him.”
Mrs. Glines eyed him thoughtfully. He was awfully concerned with his guest. “I surely will, boss.”
The doc who arrived an hour later was a “she,” Dr. Eleanor Prudomme. She was a tall woman, probably two or three inches shy of six feet. Her face, while not beautiful, was pleasant. Her most startling feature were her almost aqua eyes. Typically, including today, she wore breeches, and they hugged her surprisingly shapely figure. Surprising because Dr. Prudomme did not exhibit many traditional feminine habits. She was not as popular or as busy as Doc Green, yet Bodie had heard good things about her and was not unhappy that she had responded to the call. He was a practical man and did not imagine any circumstances under which he would turn away qualified help if he was in need.
He paced outside the bedroom door as the doctor assessed his guest’s condition. At one point Mrs. Glines scurried out to fetch some hot water, and it was all Bodie could do to keep from rushing into the room. Then the doctor emerged and sent Bodie off for sticks or pieces of wood that could be used as splints. He was grateful to have something useful to do. It was against his nature to be an observer rather than a doer.
Finally, after nearly an hour, the doctor opened the door and motioned Bodie into the room. She wondered what the young woman meant to him but was not about to ask. Mrs. Glines was already there. He looked at the patient. Other than one arm, which was splinted, and stitches in her chin, she was covered and looked the same.
“You two have done an admirable job of cleaning the bullet wound. I have treated it with carbolic acid, sewed it up front and back, applied a salve and rewrapped it. The bleeding has stopped. She has various cuts, scratches and bruises and, of course, the broken wrist. I stitched up cuts on her left leg and on her chin, as you can see. I believe she has a concussion as well.”
“When will she wake up?”
The physician studied him for a moment, feeling his concern. “It is not a certainty that she will. I’m concerned that she has been unconscious for such a long time, but I am hopeful.” She looked into his worried eyes. “The longer she is unconscious, however, the less likely that she’ll awaken.”
“Ever?”
She nodded. He felt his heart sink.
“Still, she’s young and I believe the odds are in her favor. It’s a wait-and-see process.” She patted his hand. “And I can see you are not a patient man. I’ll come back tomorrow and apply a plaster cast to her wrist. She could awaken at any time, and if she does, she will most likely have a vicious headache. I’ll leave a tincture for that. If she develops a fever or is in any other distress before tomorrow morning, send for me.”
The doctor also instructed them to try to feed her broth and get some willow bark tea down her.
“You know, Mr. Farnham, my patient would not have lived another day out there in this July heat. You saved her life.”
“It’s Bodie, Doc, and I wasn’t even planning to be in the south pasture today. Changed my mind at the last minute.”
The doctor smiled as she finished washing her hands and dried them on a towel. “Or maybe God changed it for you.”
He looked at the woman in the bed. Her head barely made a dent in the pillow. “Yeah, maybe,” he said absently.
“I’ve done all I can for her right now.”
“Thank you.” Bodie was sincerely grateful for her treatment. “How much do I owe you?”
“Two dollars or two of Mrs. Glines’s cinnamon rolls,” the doctor smiled.
“I’ll get you three,” the cook beamed and headed out.
Bodie had heard the rumor that the doctor had a trust fund so didn’t worry about making a trade instead of paying cash.
“I don’t recognize the patient, and Mrs. Glines said you don’t either,” Dr. Prudomme said, although she knew he felt some connection with her.
“No. I have no idea what she was doing on my property or what happened to her, other than the fact that someone shot her.”
“You should contact the sheriff.”
“I will when I have time.”
“Would you like me to stop by and inform him when I get back to town?”
“That would be helpful. Thanks, Doc.”
The doctor smoothed out her brown suede riding pants, smiling. Not everyone accepted a female physician, especially one who dared to wear breeches, even in these modern times. For heaven sakes, it was nearing the end of the 19th century. Even many women were against females practicing medicine, as if it were too coarse a field for women’s delicate constitutions. Piffle! To Eleanor’s way of thinking, women made better doctors than many men because they tended to show so much more compassion and empathy to patients. They were willing to listen.
The doctor accompanied Mrs. Glines to the kitchen as Bodie watched the young woman in the bed breathe in and out. She looked beat up, all right, but much better than when he’d found her. Who was she? Was she in trouble? Or was she the trouble herself? Could she be wanted by the law? He had heard of female outlaws, like Belle Starr and Big Nose Kate. Maybe the sheriff would know something. He took one last look at the battered woman and shook his head. He adjusted the quilt covering her and moved a wisp of hair from her cheek. Time would tell.
Supper would not be ready for two or three hours, so Bodie headed out to the barn to saddle up. He knew Mrs. Glines would take good care of the patient. Meanwhile, he’d go back to where he found the woman and look for any clues of how or why she got there and go back to riding his fence line if he had time.
“Is she all right, boss?” Dex looked up from where he was brushing down his horse, a pinto he named Bonita.
Bodie stopped, considering how to answer. “I guess she’s as good as she can be right now. She was shot and has a concussion and a broken wrist. She’s still unconscious.”
“Who would do that to a woman?”
“I hope I don’t find him.” Bodie led Laredo out of his stall and began saddling the stallion. The woman and her circumstances were a mystery, that was for certain. This late in the day, he did not expect the sheriff to show. It was not like the injured woman would be going anywhere for a while. For some reason, that pleased him.
It was easy enough to follow her tracks once he reached the south pasture. It had rained yesterday and much of the land was still wet and muddy. He walked Laredo as he followed her path. She had traveled far, nearly three quarters of a mile, he judged, which amazed him considering her condition. Eventually, he remounted and kept trailing where the prairie grass was tamped down. After backtracking her trail for 15 or 20 minutes, he stared down at a ravine along the tracks of the Union Pacific Railroad. He crossed to the other side of the ravine, where he found no tracks, just a disturbed area of ground that could have been caused by her or by an animal. Could she have fallen or jumped off a train? It did not seem possible; he did not think she could survive such a fall, particularly if she had been shot before she fell. If she fell. It was a mystery, all right. He didn’t particularly like mysteries.
He tracked a ways up and down the ravine, looking for any of her possessions or other clues. Finding only a muddy blue shoe and a small brooch with red stones that could be rubies, but he doubted it, he put them in his saddle bag, mounted and headed back to the fence line. There he spent a couple of hours making repairs. The day’s events were almost enough to make him forget his mother’s upcoming invasion. Not quite, though. He knew that view of her imminent arrival might be unkind. He knew she loved him dearly. He also knew, however, that he would struggle, as always, to feel like the grown man he was when she descended upon him. Her energy force filled the room and threatened to flatten him if he didn’t keep up his guard. He shook his head, sighing. There had to be a way to get her to stop trying to manipulate him and control his life. Words had not worked so far. It was a balancing act to stand his ground but not hurt her. He owed her so much.
Finding a good place to stop, he rolled up the remaining barbed wire, covered it with a heavy cloth and placed it, his gloves, wire cutters and plyers back in his saddle bag, taking care not to disturb the items he had found in the ravine. He told himself he wasn’t anxious to see the lovely young woman lying in one of his guest rooms, knowing even as he had the thought that it was a lie.