Matt made quick work of his bath. One, because he didn’t trust Josephine not to march straight into the bathhouse and demand to see his injuries. And two, because Charlie kept shooting him disgruntled looks, and being naked in a tub didn’t exactly throw much weight behind Matt’s “don’t mess with me, whelp” glare. The scowl he used to keep new recruits in line worked much better when he was dressed, armed, and standing toe-to-toe with the kid who needed to be taken down a notch.
Steeling himself for the pain he was about to inflict, Matt lathered the washrag. The wound three inches above his knee already throbbed from the long ride and stung from the soap in the water. But when he scrubbed the rag over it, fire ignited in his leg. Matt didn’t so much as blink, though. Just finished as fast as possible, then propped his ankles on the end of the tub to raise the wound out of the water while he dunked his head and cleaned the rest of the sweat and dirt from his skin.
When he emerged, Wallace was standing at the end of the tub, frowning at the red, oozing spot on Matt’s thigh. “Ouch. That looks like more than a crease, Captain. An inch of your hide is missing. She’s probably going to have to stitch it.”
An unappealing prospect. Not because of the pain involved, but because of the embarrassment inherent in such an exercise. Matt grimaced. Josie was a doctor. A professional. But she was still a woman, and a man just didn’t go around exposing his thighs in front of ladies. Especially one he was attracted to. He shot a sidelong glance at Charlie, who had taken off his shirt and was washing his chest and arms at a small tub atop a table. Maybe having a chaperone was a good idea, after all.
“Are you decent in there?” Josephine’s voice slipped under the curtain separating the bathing room from the rest of the barbershop.
Matt’s legs retracted like a recoiling rifle and splashed back into the water. Wallace grinned in a good-natured tease, but Charlie’s guffaw rubbed like salt in Matt’s wound.
“Better give him another minute, sis,” Charlie called. “He’s not quite fit for mixed company.”
“I’m not company,” she grumbled, and Matt could easily picture the disgruntled look on her face. “I’m his doctor.”
Thankfully, she didn’t press the issue and remained on her side of the curtain.
Matt wasn’t taking any chances, though. He lurched out of the tub, uncaring that water sloshed everywhere, and grabbed the towel Wallace handed him. He rubbed the water from his skin and hair with quick strokes, then grabbed a set of clean clothes from his saddlebag. He tugged on his cotton flannel drawers, ignoring the pink stain that seeped into the fabric over his left thigh, and pulled a serviceable gray shirt over his head. He did up the buttons, then reached for his trousers, only to realize he couldn’t put those on if Josie was going to examine his leg.
If ever there was a time to think of her as the paunchy, balding Dr. Joe he’d first imagined her to be, this was it. Thankfully, his shirttails added additional cover, but he decided a leather shield would offer more protection and plopped his saddlebag into his lap as he sat on the stool beside the tub.
“All right, Josie. It’s safe to come in.”
She pushed the curtain aside and strode in, a picture of cool efficiency, as if marching through a male-occupied bathing chamber was something she did on a regular basis. Her face registered no curiosity or shock. She simply drew up a second stool for herself and sat down. Her attention was purely focused on his wound, not him, as she opened her medical bag and set it on the floor. Feeling distinctly less awkward than he had a moment ago, Matt relaxed.
Until she touched him.
The muscles in his leg twitched at the coolness of her fingers against his bath-heated skin. His heart hammered in his chest. Not even the sting of the fabric scraping across his wound offered sufficient distraction as she folded back the hem of his drawers to expose the injury on the outer edge of his thigh. She took hold of his knee and arranged his leg to maximize her view of the torn flesh. His pulse didn’t seem to recognize the complete absence of amorous intent on her part. Her touching his bare leg in any capacity was enough to set his heart thumping. The fact that she was doing so in a medical, probing-until-it-hurt type of way only dulled his ardor a smidgen.
“Looks like you cleaned the exposed tissue fairly well,” she said as she leaned sideways to collect a blue jar from her bag. She unscrewed the lid, and a sickly sweet smell escaped, making his nose twitch. “I’m going to treat it with this carbolated gauze,” she explained as she pulled a short length of white material from the jar, “then I’ll stitch you up. Two or three sutures should do the trick.”
She rubbed the moist gauze across his wound, and he fought the urge to hiss in reaction. Charlie, having finished his wash, was hovering close enough for Matt to hear his breathing. Matt might not mind letting his guard down around Josie and Wallace, but his pride refused to allow any weakness to show around a man he didn’t trust.
Josie raised a brow as if she’d read his thoughts, but she made no comment. She replaced the jar of medicated gauze in her bag and pulled out a disc-shaped canister with the word Catgut printed in blue around the red cross at the center. She unspooled a length of thread and snipped off the end. After pushing it through a needle’s eye, she inhaled, then set the sharp end against his flesh.
For the first time since she’d entered the chamber, she met his eyes. “Ready?”
He held her gaze and gave a slow nod.
Her face softened in apology for the briefest moment before she turned back to her task and poked the needle through his flesh.
A tiny grunt escaped him, but Wallace was doing his best to engage Charlie in conversation, so Matt didn’t think either of them heard it. As the tug of the suture pulled through his skin, he fought the urge to wince.
“You don’t have to prove anything to me, you know,” Josie whispered. “You can groan and contort your face as much as you want.” She knotted the thread, then glanced up at him, a tiny smile bending the corner of her mouth. “As long as you don’t move your leg, of course. Wouldn’t want you to throw off my suturing. I have a reputation to uphold.”
He grinned as she cut off the end of the thread. “I’ll be still as a post,” he vowed in an equally low voice. “Can’t have my woman’s reputation marred.” An ironic statement, considering their current location, but true nonetheless.
Her eyes met his again, her needle poised at the edge of his thigh for a second stitch. “Is that what I am?” Her breath seemed to catch at the edge of her throat. “Your woman?”
Matt swallowed, his heart pounding like Phineas’s galloping hooves. Was that what he’d said? Something must’ve gotten tangled up in his head between my doctor and a woman and emerged as my woman. Yet as he peered into Josie’s face, he could no longer downplay his interest as mere attraction or friendly respect. His feelings ran deeper.
Matt’s chest squeezed, and before he could call a halt, the truth popped out of his mouth. “I’d like you to be.”
She said nothing, but a light came into her green eyes that suggested she might not be completely opposed to the idea.
Then she looked down and stabbed him with her needle.
Matt allowed a small groan to escape him this time. Not so much from the pain, but more as a release. Proving his toughness no longer seemed so vital. Josie had no need for it, and her brother . . . Matt looked over to where Charlie leaned against the edge of the tub, arms crossed, a glowering stare aimed at Matt’s head. Matt still couldn’t say he liked him, but Charlie might be family someday, and alienating him probably wouldn’t win Matt any points with the woman he hoped to make his wife. Perhaps letting his guard down would.
His wife. Was he really contemplating marriage? After losing his family, he’d vowed to be a solitary man, like his uncle. Shielded from the searing pain of losing people he loved. The army had offered the perfect escape. A man with no family was actually an asset. An unattached soldier could protect the families of others with fearless abandon because his own death, should it come, carried no consequences. No wife or children depended on him for their livelihood. It had been the perfect path. Until Wounded Knee.
And until a bossy doctor with ten-dollar words and gemstones for eyes elbowed her way past his fortified walls to set up shop in his heart. For the first time in his life, his desire to charge forward and lay claim to a woman outranked his instinct to defend and retreat. The strategic shift terrified as much as it exhilarated him.
A muffled whistle from outside filtered through the bathhouse walls.
“Train must be here,” Wallace said, dropping his foot from where it had been propped on the tub’s edge next to Charlie.
“I’m nearly finished.” Josie tied off the second suture, then quickly added a third stitch to Matt’s hide. She blew a piece of hair off her forehead, then sat back. “Stand up, please. Legs apart. I need to apply a bandage.”
Matt felt his neck warm, but he did as she instructed, catching the saddlebag as it tumbled from his lap. Like an experienced field surgeon, she had a dressing in place and a gauze bandage wrapped around his leg before he could count to twenty. Had he been counting. In truth, he’d been trying to figure out how to hold the saddlebag without looking like an idiot. Not that it mattered. She didn’t give the bag so much as a second glance. Once she had the ends of the bandage tucked away, she pushed to her feet and asked to see his arm.
Matt complied, rolling up his right sleeve to expose the crease left from an outlaw’s bullet.
She cupped his elbow in her hand and lifted his arm close to her face. “No stitches for this one,” she declared. “I’ll just dab on some salve, and we’ll be ready to go.”
The sound of the outside door opening stole Matt’s attention from the feel of Josie’s fingers on his arm. Before he could voice his concern over being found half-dressed in a bathing chamber with a woman, Wallace and Charlie placed themselves between Josie and the door, blocking the view of whoever might have purchased a bath.
“Passengers have disembarked, Captain.” Preach’s voice bounced off the rafters, cutting past the tension in the room. “They’ll be calling the all aboard soon.”
“Be there in two,” Matt called. He pulled his arm from Josie’s light hold, causing her to smear some of her salve down his wrist. “Time for you to skedaddle, darlin’.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and twisted her around so that her back was to him. “I’ll meet you outside.”
Wallace bent to retrieve her doctor’s bag and handed it to her. Josie frowned at being rushed, but she accepted the bag and moved toward the exit, her attention diverting to Charlie’s hands as she came abreast of him. Giving her brother a little shove, she herded him toward the door with her.
“While I’ve got the salve out, I might as well see to those sore spots on your hands. Come on.”
Charlie grumbled but let her shoo him out of the bathhouse. Wallace followed, leaving Matt a blessed moment of privacy to pull on his trousers, socks, and boots. He tucked in his shirttails, stretched his suspenders over his shoulders, draped his saddlebag over his left arm, and rejoined his men.
As soon as the sunshine hit his eyes, a light brown object hit his hands.
“Got you a new hat, boss.” Jonah nodded toward Phineas, whose saddle was void of both items Matt had been forced to borrow.
Preach led the horse forward. “One of the stable boys took that nasty stuff off our hands. Said he’d clean it up and give it to his brother. Didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Not at all.” Matt fit the new hat to his head. It was stiff compared to his old one, but the size was right, and the cavalry-style shape was exactly what he preferred. He tipped the brim toward Jonah. “Thanks, Brooks.”
Jonah nodded.
“Oh! My carpetbag,” Josie exclaimed. “I left it by the bench at the boardinghouse. The train tickets are in it.”
Before she could rush away, Preach stepped forward. “No worries, Doc. I picked it up. Tied it onto the back of Sandy’s saddle for ya.”
Sure enough, the palomino sported a red-and-gold-patterned lump atop his rump.
She smiled. “Oh, wonderful! Thank you, Mr. Davenport.”
Preach dipped his chin. “My pleasure, ma’am.”
“All right. If we’ve got everything, then,” Matt said, feeling a little grumpy over Preach playing Josie’s hero, “let’s get to the depot and load the horses.”
Each man took charge of a lead line, and they moved as a group toward the depot. As they skirted around the platform to gain access to the freight cars, Charlie suddenly grabbed Matt’s shoulder.
“Wait.”
Matt turned, the sharpness in Charlie’s voice sending a jolt of alarm through him. “What is it?”
“Those two men.” Charlie pointed to a pair of brawny fellows at the edge of the platform who were talking to the rail hand in charge of livestock. The same hand who had unloaded the Horsemen’s mounts the day before. “They’re from Taggart’s gang.”
“Are you sure?” Preach demanded in a low voice.
“Yes.”
One of the two men turned, and all doubt fled Matt’s mind. He recognized that red beard. And by the way the man’s brows rose, he recognized Matt as well.
“We’ve got to ride!” Matt immediately moved to Josie’s side and boosted her up onto Phineas’s back before mounting behind her. “Now!”