Page 29 of A Calder at Heart

“I grew up listening to that saw,” Kristin said. “It’s loud if you’re close, but the sound barely carries as far as the main road. As for horses, we have them on the Dollarhide Ranch. Cattle, too. They’ve always done fine.” She sighed. “Maybe I should have lied and told you that the noise makes livestock crazy. That would give you one more reason not to buy the place—or maybe to buy it and shut the mill down. I’m sure that was what Webb had in mind.”

“Either way, I appreciate your honesty,” he said. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

She stifled a yawn. “Sorry, I’m getting sleepy. I guess I should’ve drunk that coffee Webb brought me. It was so sweet that I poured it out.”

“You’ve got to get some rest,” he said. “Go on in the other room. I’ll be fine.”

“You know better than to suggest that. You’re still weak, and having no way to take your blood pressure, I can only guess how low it might be. And I’ll need to check your wound. If anything were to go wrong, I’d never forgive myself.”

“Then I have another suggestion. If you don’t like it, feel free to slap my face. This bed is wide enough for two people. If I shift over a few inches, there’ll be room for you to stretch out next to me. I swear my intentions are honorable—and even if they weren’t, I’m in no condition to carry them out.”

Logan had expected a ladylike rebuke. Instead she laughed. “Believe me, it wouldn’t be the first time. In a hospital tent, with shells exploding outside and wounded soldiers to tend, if you get a chance to close your eyes for a few minutes, you’ll lie down anywhere, next to anybody.”

He shifted toward the edge to give her room and smoothed the quilt while she walked around the bed and kicked off her boots. “So I shouldn’t feel flattered,” he joked.

“Hush. I’ll turn off the lamp.”

In the darkness, she slipped off her brother’s twill jacket. Clad in her shift and riding skirt, she lay down on top of the quilt with her back toward him and the coverlet pulled over her body. “Don’t worry, I don’t snore,” she said.

“I wouldn’t care if you did. You saved my life, Kristin. I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t found me. I want you to know how much I appreciate it.”

“I told you, it’s my job,” she muttered. “Now go to sleep.”

Logan slid lower in the bed and lay still, listening to the gentle cadence of her breathing. Even chastely separated by the quilt that covered him, he felt the urge to pull her close and spoon her warm body against his. He held himself in check. He wanted her to stay. He wanted her to trust him.

He’d almost forgotten how it felt to lie next to a woman. Unlike some of his friends, he’d been true to his wife while he was overseas. He’d wanted nothing more than to come home and spend his nights making love to her. He’d wanted to wake up to their laughing children and share an early breakfast with his aging parents. Coming home to find them all dead had been a hundred times worse than anything he’d endured in the war. It had crushed the life out of his soul, leaving him empty.

So why, when he had nothing left to lose, was he dragging his feet at the prospect of a new challenge? Building his ranch on the land he’d found wouldn’t be easy. He’d be dealing with a troublesome neighbor, a controlling relative, and a blood feud that was not of his making. He’d also be facing bad weather, treacherous fate, and a lot of damned hard work. But he’d taken on worse. The ranch was the only dream he had left. If he took the coward’s way out, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

Decision made, Logan closed his eyes. Lulled by the sound of Kristin’s breathing, he allowed himself to drift.

Time passed—Logan had no idea what hour it was when he was awakened by the sound of Kristin whimpering and gasping beside him. Her body jerked as if struggling against some invisible enemy. She was dreaming, he realized, most likely the same kind of hellish war dream that made a torment of his own nights.

“Kristin?” he whispered, hoping to wake her gently. When she continued to moan and tremble, he reached out with his uninjured right arm and pulled her against him. “It’s all right,” he murmured against the damp tangle of her hair. “It’s only a dream. You’re safe.”

She clung to him, as if seeking refuge, her head nestled in the hollow of his throat. Beneath his hand, her skin was warm through the rumpled shift, her breasts pressing his ribs through the quilt. He cradled her close, savoring her nearness and the faint heat of arousal that shimmered through his body. Her tremors had eased. She was weeping softly, breathing in low, gasping sobs. “It’s all right,” he whispered, resisting the urge to bend his head and kiss her. “Don’t be afraid, Kristin. You’re safe with me.”

As she settled back into restful sleep, he knew that it was time to let her go. Moving carefully, he slipped his arm away and tucked the coverlet around her. Exhausted, she slumbered on. Logan lay back against the pillow and closed his eyes, lulled by the memory of her warmth and the soft cadence of her breathing.

* * *

Kristin woke at dawn with a dim memory of her nightmare. She couldn’t recall how it had ended, except that it was over. Beside her, Logan still slept. His breathing was deep and even. His color, what she could see in the thin light, looked healthy. When she touched his wrist, his pulse was strong, his skin cool. All good.

She eased off the bed without waking him and pulled on her boots and the jacket Blake had lent her. For now, she would let him sleep. When he was awake, maybe Webb could have one of the men help him out of bed and see to his needs.

Feeling grubby and sticky with sweat, she found the bathroom and washed her face and hands before going downstairs to the kitchen. She craved a bath and some clean clothes, but that could wait until she got home—which she hoped would happen today. If not, she might have to swallow her pride and accept some of Webb’s late wife’s castoffs.

Downstairs in the kitchen, the middle-aged cook, who was married to one of the older ranch hands, greeted her with a smile. “So you’re the doctor. Goodness, you’re so young and pretty, I never would have guessed it. Are you hungry?”

“Starved, actually. And that coffee smells wonderful.”

“Here.” The woman filled a steaming mug and passed it to her. “I’ll fix you a plate to go with it. Mr. Calder is eating in the dining room with his son. I know he’d be happy to have you join them.”

“Actually, I’m such a mess, I’d rather eat in here with you. Is that all right?”

“Sure. Have a seat at the table. How’s our patient upstairs?”

Kristin took a seat. “He was sleeping when I left him. He seems better, but I’m hoping he’ll stay in bed today. After he’s awake, I’ll take him a tray.”

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