Per tied the curtains open and then returned to her position holding Bridget’s shoulders down. She nodded at Karl and he stepped forward. He had to concentrate to keep his hands from shaking. It occurred to him at that moment that before Bridget had re-broken his arm, he never could have done this. His hand would not have cooperated. He took a deep breath and slowly, methodically, pushed the long tweezers into the wound. Bridget tried to squirm and failed in her attempt not to call out. Then, mercifully, she lost consciousness.
Even in her insensate state, the pale young patient groaned in pain and tried desperately to move, and she was surprisingly strong. It took all of Per’s strength to hold her still. Karl reined in his frustration at how long it took him to capture the bullet. At least it seemed way too long to him, but then he finally had the bloody thing secured in the tweezers and pulled it out. Such a small item to cause so much damage and pain. He retrieved the needle and thread then and dropped the bullet in the whiskey bowl, watching briefly as the blood on it spread through the whiskey. Bridget’s blood. He wanted to yell or break something. Grabbing the carbolic acid and a cloth, he returned to the patient.
He poured whiskey on the wound, trying to block out Bridget’s groans. After gently cleaning the seeping wound with carbolic acid, he began sewing. When he had worked at Burgen Shipping in Baltimore, he had sewn his share of sails, so he was adept at closing the wound artfully and quickly. Pleased with his neat row of stitches, he covered the wound with salve and bandaged it. He believed the scarring on her creamy skin would be minimal. After that, he moved the dressing-table chair next to the bed and dropped down into it. He was exhausted.
“A doctor couldn’t have done any better,” Per said as she stood, stretching her back to work out a kink.
Karl smiled. “Hard to go wrong with the General spouting orders.
Per could have shouted with joy at that moment. Bridget would recover, and this was the old Karl. Not just his sardonic comment, but the look in his eyes. The angry, pained expression was gone. His right hand worked. He barely limped. And the reason for it all was lying unconscious in that bed, with Karl by her side, a reversal of the previous month. Another of life’s ironies. Knowing Gus, he would feel guilty when he got home and realized Bridget had been shot. Men. They felt the need to take the blame for everything, didn’t they?
* * *
When Bridget awoke, her teeth felt fuzzy, her throat dry. And her head hurt. She tried to sit up and was disabused of that idea immediately when her side felt fiery. And then it all came back to her—the rustlers, getting shot, driving the cattle back. And Karl. She lifted the covers and looked at the bandaging. He had done it. He had gotten the bullet out and sewn her up. She could not see through the bandaging, of course, but she knew it. She would be feeling much worse now if he hadn’t. She was afraid to look at his handiwork but at that point did not care if she had a scar the size of Montana. She was healing; that’s all that mattered. And she was so proud of Karl. For someone who had sat around brooding for so long, he had accomplished something worthwhile, at least to her.
And then she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and slowly turned her head. An unshaven, tired-looking version of her ex-fiancé sat next to her, his head drooping in sleep, his jaw slack. She studied him for a few moments and then reached out and squeezed his hand, wincing as she stretched. His eyes flew open.
“Bridget. You’re awake.”
“How long has it been?” She didn’t feel like Rip Van Winkle.
“Three days. You had a fever the first two days and were kind of out of it.”
“I really don’t feel too bad considering.” She yawned. “Thank you, Karl, for all you did.”
“Bridget, I…” He struggled with how to tell her how sorry he was for his behavior, how thankful for her help and how he wanted to try to recapture the relationship they had forged through the mail.
“You’re awake!” Per breezed in carrying a tray with broth and a cup of tea.
Karl breathed a sigh of relief. He was saved! Coward.
“How do you feel?”
“Sore. And tired. But alive. And thankful.”
Karl stood and stepped out of the way as Per set the tray down on the nightstand. “I guess I’ll go get cleaned up.”
Per glanced over her shoulder. “Yes, you’re a mess.”
He grinned. “Thanks.”
“Karl?”
He turned back to Bridget. She looked somehow fragile. He, more than anyone, knew that wasn’t the case.
“Will you come back later? I probably should stay in bed today.”
Just those words “in bed” stirred something in him that had been dormant since the accident. “I’ll see you later. And you probably should stay in bed several days.” He walked out before either of the women could see the evidence of that male interest stirring in his trousers.
Per propped pillows behind her cousin and helped her sit, then handed her the broth and plopped into the chair Karl had vacated.
“How do you really feel?”
“Not that bad, honestly.” She took a spoonful of broth. “More tired than anything. This is good. You’ve become such a great cook.”
“It’s odd to me why everyone shouldn’t learn to cook. It’s such a useful skill.” She shook her head almost sadly. “I spent a lot of years being useless. What a waste.”
“You were never a waste.” And then a panicky thought occurred to her. “Gus made it back safely? What happened in town?”
“Yes, and of course he feels terrible about you getting shot. Blames himself.”
“He didn’t shoot me.”
“You know men.”
“Yeah.”
“The wounded outlaw was transported to Salem for trial. The dead man, Georgie Pike, is the brother of Hobie Pike, a real mean one. All three have wanted posters on them, the wounded man just for rustling, Georgie Pike for rustling and robbery and Hobie Pike for those offenses and murder.”
“Murder.”
“You and Gus will get a reward for the dead fellow and Georgie. The sheriff thinks Hobie will most likely want revenge.”
“Where’s my gun?”
Per opened the nightstand drawer. “Right here.”
Bridget smiled. “You’re a good woman.”
Per sighed. “Gus wants me to take the baby and go visit Lindy or Sophie.”
“That would be fun.” She handed her the empty broth bowl.
“This is my ranch too, and I’ll protect it with my life if I have to. Nobody hurts me and mine.”
Bridget smiled. “You’ve gotten fierce since you moved out here.”
Per laughed.
“Now you can use that fierceness to help me to the privy.”
* * *
In the two weeks since Bridget was shot, much had changed. The three healthy ranchers had a difficult time keeping the patient abed, but between them managed to succeed for nearly a week. By then, Bridget was cranky and frustrated and ready to throw a tantrum or injure someone.
Karl had sat with her every day, playing checkers and teaching her how to play chess, sharing stories of their childhoods as well as their hopes and aspirations, getting to know each other better than they had through the mail. And this was the Karl she had begun to give her heart to, the charming, warm, funny, caring man she first met by post. In the mornings he was back to doing ranch work, taking it slowly as he built the strength back up in his leg. With his ability to get back to work, and Bridget thought perhaps successfully performing her operation might have contributed, he had regained his confidence and pride.
Although no more cattle had been rustled, everyone was still on guard for Hobie Pike. On a trip to Vale, Gus had learned that the wounded rustler had been patched up and then hanged in Salem. Until Bridget was up and around, Gus had stayed near the house much more than usual. It warmed Bridget that he trusted her to keep Per and the baby safe when he wasn’t around. And Per was no quivering maiden. She carried a pistol herself and would not be averse to using it.
It was evening, after the four had enjoyed a supper of venison stew and cherry pie. Karl and Bridget sat on the porch, relishing the breeze as they drank coffee and listened to the crickets.
“That was a mighty fine meal you cooked,” Karl smiled.
“Well, Henry has a cold, as you know, so my cooking gave Per more time to fuss over him.”
While he didn’t say anything in response, she could feel his eyes boring into her. She looked over at him and was nearly paralyzed by the tenderness she saw.
“Bridget, I…you’re as fine a woman as I’ve ever known and I love you. I know I handled everything poorly. I guess I lost myself for a while. Do you think you could forgive me and consider becoming my wife after all?”
She hesitated, and he felt a fear he’d never known. He couldn’t blame her, of course, if she turned him down, after all he’d put her through.
“As proposals go, that one was not too bad, Mr. Burgen. As it happens, I love you, too, and I would be very happy to marry you.”
He jumped up, feeling a huge weight off his shoulders and nary a twinge in his leg, and pulled her to her feet, hugging her fiercely.
“Karl, I can’t breathe,” she choked out and he stepped back.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
Per, holding the sleeping baby, stepped outside then. “What’s going on?”
Bridget beamed. “We’re engaged.”
“Well, it’s about time.”
The wedding took place in Vale the following week, with Gus and Per as witnesses. Bridget wore a pale blue, lace-trimmed dress she had brought for the occasion, and Karl looked handsome in his black trousers, white shirt and bowtie, although Gus teased him about the neckwear. A few strangers sat in the little chapel watching the simple ceremony out of curiosity. One, a man with his arm in a sling, who hung back in the shadows, had a score to settle.
Bridget and Karl planned to stay overnight in the Vale Hotel, while Per, Gus and the baby traveled back to the ranch. They said their goodbyes in front of the mercantile, where Per had bought a few cooking supplies. As Gus and Karl loaded the supplies into the wagon, Per took Bridget aside. The bride poked Henry in the stomach and he giggled.
“He’s getting so big.”
“Don’t I know it. Listen, do you have any questions about…tonight?”
Bridget looked confused for a moment, then it dawned on her what her cousin was talking about. She snorted. “I grew up on a farm. I think I understand the concept.”
“Yes, well, the first time can hurt a little, but I promise you, it gets better. Much better.” She smiled almost lasciviously, and Bridget laughed.
“Honestly, Per, I can’t wait. I want to kiss him right here in the street.”
Per laughed. Bridget would be fine. And she couldn’t have found a better husband, at least now that Karl had worked through his injuries and all the pain and anguish they had caused him.
As they said their goodbyes, Bridget gave Per the small bouquet of yellow and purple wildflowers Karl had handed her before the ceremony. Karl’s thoughtfulness, such a small gesture, had brought tears to her eyes. It was the little things that really made all the difference in a relationship, she decided.
As she and her husband strolled up the boardwalk hand in hand, she thought about what would have happened if Karl hadn’t had the accident. They would have been married as soon as she arrived, and it wouldn’t have been the same. Oh, they would have gone on together fine, and their affection for each other would have grown, but now they were starting out on much firmer ground. They had grown closer by working through adversity and sharing their hopes and dreams, and she could not be happier. Karl was the man her heart had envisioned, and she hoped they would have a dozen babies. Well, maybe not a dozen. Perhaps 11. She grinned.
“What are you so pleased about?”
“Everything.”
“Oh? I thought maybe it was your new husband.” He smiled. He truly was the handsomest man she had ever known.
“Yes, that too, I suppose.”
“Oh, you suppose, do you?”
She laughed. Life was good.
“Shall we get some dinner before we…well, are you hungry?”
She wanted to laugh at his shyness in naming the event they were both looking forward to. “Yes, it’s suppertime and I am hungry. Then maybe we could bathe.”
Now he was uncomfortable walking. Did she have to mention getting naked? Oh, she didn’t say that exactly, but that’s what he pictured. He squeezed her hand. His precious Bridget. How close he had come to throwing her away. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The roast beef dinner was tasty and intimate. They talked about the ranch and the new foals as well as improvements they might make to the cabin. She had felt comfortable sharing the house with Per and Gus. They had never made her feel like a third wheel or an imposition, but it was more than time to go. They needed their privacy and she needed to begin her life with Karl. Mrs. Karl Burgen. Bridget Burgen. It sounded so dang good.
While their bath was being prepared in their room, Mr. and Mrs. Burgen decided to walk off their dinner. They meandered down to the livery to check on their horses and then walked back past the mercantile and bank. They had just reached the community center when Bridget stopped.
“Ouch! I’ve got a pebble or something in my shoe.”
Just as she bent down to remove the offending item, a shot rang out. Karl knocked his wife down, putting his body over hers as he pulled out his gun. He looked around and saw nothing. Then shouts rang out and the sheriff and a deputy came running, guns drawn.
“Did you see who it was?”
Karl looked around cautiously again then rose, helping Bridget up. Her pretty light blue gown was covered in dirt. “No, but I’ve got a good idea.”
“Pike.”
Karl nodded. He and Bridget exchanged a look. If she hadn’t gotten that pebble in her shoe… The shot went into the building at her head height, just where Bridget had been standing. He would have been a widower, less than an hour after his wedding. She bent down and took off the shoe, shaking the life-saving pebble out. Thank you, God.
“Are you all right?” Karl’s look was a combination of concern and fury.
“I’m fine. You?”
“Fine. Of course.”
She smiled. “Of course.”
“We’ll scour the town, but I’m not holding my breath,” the sheriff said. “He’s a slippery one. Best you head back to your hotel.” He started to walk away. “Oh, and congratulations.”
They both thanked him. Holding hands, they walked back to the hotel at a faster pace than they had started out.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
“For getting you into this. That bullet could have hit you as easily as me. If I hadn’t gotten into that shoot-out with the Pikes…”
“This has nothing to do with you. You did nothing wrong. The man was killed because he stole our cattle and tried to shoot his way out of trouble. That’s all there is to it.”
“Maybe we should go back to the ranch and warn Gus and Per.”
“Gus will take care of his family. You’re not getting out of our night in the hotel, Mrs. Burgen.”
She chuckled. “Whatever you say, Mr. Burgen.”
He had a feeling he’d better not get used to hearing her say that. He didn’t think he would hear it very often in the coming years from his independent wife.
Bridget was surprised when Karl allowed her privacy for her bath. She thought for sure he would stand there ogling her and planned to give him quite a show. She had no doubt he wanted her, so she didn’t let it bother her overly much. She bathed as quickly as she could so the water would still be warm for her husband. Her husband. It still sounded unreal. She smiled as she stepped out of the tub and began drying herself with the provided towel, luxuriating in its fluffiness. She and Karl had been through so much together, and they had only been married a couple of hours. What adventures did life hold for them?
The door opened then and Bridget squeaked, hurriedly wrapping the towel around her. She was relieved to see it was Karl and couldn’t miss the smoldering in his eyes, not to mention the movement in his pants. Another adventure was about to begin.
Karl stood frozen and struggled to speak. “I…find myself at a loss for words, Mrs. Burgen.”
She grinned. “The bath water is still warm, Mr. Burgen, and there’s a bucket of warmer water for rinsing. Might I assist you?”
“Yes,” he sputtered, “and it’s going to be the quickest bath known to man.”
He started stripping, dropping his clothes as he barreled toward the bathing tub. She had already seen him naked but not with his member standing at attention. It looked awfully big to her and she had a moment wondering how it would ever fit inside her. And then he splashed her as he practically dove into the tub. Before she could even turn around, he was briskly washing his limbs. She kneeled down behind him, leaned over and took the soap from his hand, running it slowly down his back on one side and up the other side, then in circles. She set the soap down and then rubbed it around with her hands before massaging his shoulders, the soapy surface of his body allowing her hands to slide sensuously over his body. She smiled as he moaned.
“The rinse?”
His voice was husky, which did something to her nerves. They began to tingle. The only thing she could think of was getting him to the bed, so she snatched up the bucket of warm water and dumped it on his head. He sputtered as it cascaded over him and then stood. God, he was magnificent. He had worked his way through the injuries and pain and become the man he was meant to be. She stood and handed him the other white terry towel and was convinced no man had ever dried himself faster. She didn’t remember how her towel came off or how they ended up in the bed, but there they were, thrashing around before he slowed everything down, which speeded her heart up to a crescendo.