Promises Prevail Page 3

  Clint thrust the hat into the man’s hands. “Do you want my protection or not?”

  Jonas nodded and reached for the hat.

  As soon as Jonas touched the brim, Clint spun on his heel. He didn’t trust Jenna to wait for him. The woman had a flare for getting into trouble. As if that thought gave birth to reality, Danny howled. Jenna screamed. And there was another god-awful crash.

  “Goddamn, Jenna!” he swore, coming through the door. “I told you to stay put.” She lay on the floor clutching her leg, her face a mask of agony, a new stack of pots around her.

  “Rebecca,” he called over his shoulder as he kicked debris out of his way so he could kneel beside her. “Can you get Doc for me? He should be over at Pearl’s. Tell him I need laudanum.”

  “I’ll go right away,” she called from the other room. He heard the outside door jingle and then slam. Maybe he ought to reconsider Rebecca. He did like a woman who knew how to obey. Unlike Jenna who’d been shaking her head since he’d mentioned Doc and laudanum. He was through arguing with her.

  “You’re taking it.” He couldn’t stand to see her in pain any longer than she had to be.

  “Can’t,” she whispered, her gaze skirting his.

  He touched her cheek, knowing what she feared. The anger in him fled. “I won’t let you have too much for too long, Sunshine.”

  He’d give her just enough to get them both through this.

  He stood, grabbed a towel off the counter and tossed it into a bowl. He grabbed the hot tea water off the burner and poured it onto the towel, soaking it. Steam rose around his face. He grabbed a pitcher of water off the counter and poured just enough to take the edge off.

  “This is going to hurt, Jenna, but it’s the quickest way to making you feel better.”

  He covered the hand that clutched her skirt, squeezed her fingers, then slid his hand under hers, gathering the skirt into his palm, drawing the material up over her thighs, revealing the threadbare pantaloons beneath and the dimples in her plump, luscious knees. Before she could stop him, he draped the hot cloth over the spasming muscles and raw nerves. At the same time, he pulled her up into his arms, taking her scream against his chest, rocking her as her nails dug into his collarbone under his shirt. With his free hand, he tucked the towel more securely, and then through its thick folds, started massaging the knotted muscles.

  “It’s okay, Sunshine.” At first she arched higher, clawed deeper, but then as the heat and the massage got through, she began to ease. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Her nails loosened their hold. Her breath soughed in and out of her lungs as she collapsed against him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “For what,” he asked, “I scratched you.”

  “No big deal.” He leaned back against the counter and lifted her fully into his lap. She looked at him like he was loco, then down at his neck where the mark of her nails lingered.

  “Is it better?” he asked, ignoring the look and focusing on her leg, feeling the lessening of tension in her muscles that said it was.

  “Yes.” She moved as if to get away.

  “Whoa there.” He pulled her back against him. “You know as soon as you use that leg it’s going to get unbearable again.” He suspected it was only a little less than that now.

  Her soft little hands clenched at her side. “I can’t stay like this.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s unseemly.”

  “No one can see.”

  “That doesn’t make it right.”

  “Amazingly enough, I’m not interested in ‘right’ at this moment.” He forcibly pressed her head back against his chest. Danny whined. He shot him a glare. “I’m more interested in keeping your pain down until Doc gets here.”

  “What if Doc sees us like this?”

  The door swung open and Doc strode in, crunching broken pottery under his boots, his hair, as always, on end, his light blue eyes sympathetic.

  “He’d think his nephew was a damned smart man for keeping the damage down to a minimum.”

  Over Jenna’s head, Doc’s gaze met Clint’s. The smile in his eyes said a damned lucky one, too. Doc had always liked Jenna.

  “You said it wouldn’t get any worse!” Jenna cried out. She pushed off Clint’s chest to glance at Doc. Clint allowed it. When she tugged at his hand on her thigh, he simply ignored her efforts and continued his massage.

  “Your leg won’t,” Doc retorted, glancing around the disaster area. “But I can’t say the same for your shop.”

  Jenna’s thighs tensed over his, and her breath sucked in. Another cramp was building. Clint tilted her face to his, not letting her duck his gaze. “Breathe with me on this one, Jenna. Don’t fight it. That only makes it worse.” He felt along her thigh, defining the extent of the muscle involved as he breathed with her, wishing he could take the pain for her. She didn’t deserve this. As she caught his rhythm, he began to massage.

  “That’s it, Sunshine. Let it flow through you. Let it go, and let Doc do his stuff.”

  Doc’s stuff was a reapplication of the hot cloth. When he would have taken over the massaging, Clint resisted. He tried to keep it nonchalant, but the laughter in Doc’s eyes let him know that the older man knew it was because he couldn’t bear another man’s hands on her. Jenna rested against his chest, her ear pressed to his heart, breathing as he did, trying to do as he asked. He could tell the peak of this spasm was nowhere near the peak of the last. When she collapsed against him, he shifted slightly, just enough that her full breast squashed into his chest. Damn, she was something.

  The soft pop of a cork out of a bottle brought her up straight. “No laudanum.”

  “You need to rest and those muscles need to relax,” Doc pointed out.

  “I’ll apply the warm towels and massage,” Jenna countered, pushing at Clint’s chest in the mistaken belief that he would let her go before he had to.

  “And how are you going to get to the towels?” he asked, continuing to work the damaged muscles.

  Her chin ducked down. “I’ll hop.”

  Clint could just see her hopping, losing her balance, and falling headfirst into the hot water. “No.”

  She clenched her hands in her lap. “I don’t want this.”

  “I do.”

  That shut her up as he’d intended, but didn’t diminish the stubbornness in her expression. He looked to Doc for help.

  Doc cocked a grizzled eyebrow at him in reply. Clint sighed. Apparently, since he’d started this argument, he was going to have to be the one to settle it.

  “You need this, Jenna.” Her chin set and though she was too shy to look him in the eye, he’d be a fool to underestimate her devotion to stubbornness.

  “I need to keep my shop open.”

  “If you get a good night’s sleep you might be right as rain in the morning, but if you keep pushing like this, you’re going to be down for a month.”

  It chafed that she looked to Doc for confirmation. He’d never lied to her.

  “He’s got a point,” Doc agreed.

  “All right, I’ll rest.”

  Clint could tell from the assessment in her gaze as she looked around the little kitchen that their definitions of rest were worlds apart.

  “All night,” he clarified.

  “I can’t do that!” she gasped.

  “Why the hell not? It’s not like you have a family to take care of.”

  Her chin set stubbornly. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Then I guess you’re going to have to go with my plan.”

  “You’re not my husband.”

  “No, I’m not. But I’m as close to a protector as you’ve got, and that gives me some play.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “I am of a different opinion.”

  “Why do you always have to win?” She surged against his hand, ran into the barrier of his strength, and lost.

  �
�Just ornery that way, I guess.”

  Danny growled, Doc laughed, and Clint caught her back against his chest.

  “That’s so unfair.”

  “Life is unfair.” He turned her carefully in his arms. “Where are the stairs to your room?”

  There was a pause where she clearly considered not telling him, but he caught her eye, and the rebellion died a quick death. With a jerk of her chin, she indicated the curtain in the right corner. The smug smile hovering around the corner of her mouth brought up his sense of challenge. Clearly, she thought she had him over a barrel. Why he had no idea, but he was reasonably sure it would occur to him soon enough.

  “Brace yourself.” He carefully put his hands under her legs, keeping the good one close to him, he stood, and the smug smile on her face disappeared into shock. And then panic. Her arms flew around his neck.

  “Don’t drop me.”

  “Didn’t have any intention of it.” There was something very satisfying about unsettling Jenna. She went all fluttery, and her defenses dropped to the floor.

  “I’m too heavy.”

  “No you’re not.” She wasn’t a featherweight like Cougar’s wife. She was definitely a lush tempting armful, but she felt good in his arms. “I’d say you’re just about right.”

  She clearly didn’t believe him. She held herself perfectly still in his arms and sucked her lip between her teeth. Her dimples were deep slashes in her cheeks and every sneak peek she took at his expression, looking for imminent signs of dropping, brought a spurt of genuine humor to his soul.

  Until he got to the curtain. As Doc held it aside for them, the smug smile was back on Jenna’s face, and it was easy to see why. The stairway was simply too narrow for him to carry her through.

  “Guess we’ll just have to do things my way,” she said in a very respectful tone that didn’t fool him for an instant.

  “Like hell.” He let her slide until her weight landed on her good leg. Before she could totally catch her balance, he put his shoulder into her stomach and hoisted her up and over.

  He was halfway up the narrow flight before she started complaining. Even her protests were soft, the old wooden steps squeaked much louder than her voice. There were only two doors at the top of the stairs. The one on the right was open. He picked that on a hunch. It played out. Doc’s heavier tread came up behind him, followed by the clacking of Danny’s nails.

  He looked around the little room. There was a plain quilt on the bed, a single window, four hooks on the wall—two of which had a dresses hanging on them—and a chest at the foot of the bed. It was spotless and tidy and spoke deeply of the lack of anything real in Jenna’s life that resonated with the emptiness that he felt inside. In some ways they were two peas in a pod. Happy on the outside. Empty on the inside. But at least now that her no-account husband was dead, Jenna had a chance to move on.

  He set her down in front of the bed. Holding her shoulders, he balanced her as she sat. Her hair was falling out of its bun and her face was red, whether from being upside down or embarrassment, he didn’t know. Didn’t figure it mattered. Her eyes flashed to his legs, and then skittered up to his arms before glancing off to study the floor.

  “You’re very strong.”

  He tugged his shirt back into place and shrugged. “Nah. You’re just not that heavy.”

  She looked down at herself as if checking to see that they were talking about the same person, shook her hair off her face and then folded her hands in her lap. “I’ll be okay now.”

  He wasn’t leaving her alone. “I’ll wait for Doc to make the decision.”

  He looked over his shoulder, fully expecting Doc to be there, but he wasn’t. The door across the hall creaked.

  “Oh no.” Jenna was on her feet and moving. Clint caught her against him, taking her weight before she got to the second step.

  A baby wailed.

  She stiffened.

  “You baby-sitting for someone?” he asked, enjoying the slide of her curves against him as he set her on the bed.

  Jenna bit her lip and shook her head. Doc came through the door, the bottle of laudanum sticking out of his pants pocket and a tiny, blanketed bundle over his shoulder.

  “Look who Danny found fussing in her…” he paused and looked to Jenna for confirmation. At her nod, he continued, “Her bed.” Doc patted the baby’s butt. “From the feel of things she needs changing.”

  “Oh no.” Jenna slid to the edge of the mattress. Clint stepped forward, blocking her with his body.

  “Whose baby is it, Jenna?”

  Her chin set in a stubborn line, and she didn’t meet his gaze. “Mine.”

  Doc didn’t even break stride at the ridiculous proclamation. “Then I’d be guessing she wants her momma.”

  “You can’t have children, Jenna.” Clint pointed out, stepping back as Doc elbowed him in the gut. Jenna reached for the fussing bundle. From the noise level, the baby was working up to a wail.

  Her voice as soft as down, Jenna curved her arms around the wiggling bundle. “Come here, sweetie.”

  Doc stepped back, his gaze locked on Jenna, who cradled the child like she was a miracle.

  “She can’t have children,” Clint pointed out again. Forget the fact that he’d have noticed if she’d been pregnant.

  Doc shrugged. “Sometimes God takes care of these things.”

  Jenna laid the now squalling infant on the bed. Amidst a bunch of cooing and softly worded nonsense, Jenna unwrapped the baby.

  “Is this why you left word you needed to see me, Jenna?” Doc asked.

  “Yes.” Jenna whispered. “Hush little baby.” She looked up at Doc, her big eyes dark with worry. “She has a horrible diaper rash and I don’t know how to fix it.”

  She held a sopping wet diaper out to the side clearly expecting Clint to take it. He did, dropping it immediately, stepping back quickly as it hit the floor with a wet splat. She glanced at him. “Could you get some fresh diapers from her room?”

  He wasn’t exactly sure what a diaper looked like, but from the sodden mess on the floor he was looking for squares of pale yellow cloth. When he got to the other room they were easy to find. They were folded neatly on the top of the chest of drawers. From the looks of things, she’d cut up one of her three dresses. The only one that was not wool. Her most comfortable. The one that made him think of her as a walking ray of sunshine. He picked up the stack and paused. If he needed any more proof that Jenna was serious about the baby, he had it.

  As he came back into the room, Doc was leaning over the little girl.

  “I’d say she’s about a week old. Still got her umbilical cord. Healthy from the sound of those lungs. Just needs a few things taken care of and she’ll be right as rain. Where’d you find her?”

  “She was left on my back step.”

  “No one around?” Doc asked, checking the baby’s eyes.

  “No.”

  Doc chucked the little one under her chin, “She’s a beauty, but it’s a cinch no one’s going to want her.”

  Clint tossed the diapers on the bed. His “Why the hell not?” coincided with Jenna’s “I want her”.

  Clint shot her a look. There was no way she could take care of a baby alone.

  Jenna leaned over and kissed the child. “She’s just the most beautiful little girl in the world.”

  Doc stepped back, and Clint got his first good look at the baby.

  It was quite a sight. And not for the faint of heart. Great shocks of black hair stood straight out from her tiny skull. Her face was red and blotchy, screwed up in another scream. Small pimples covered her everywhere and her tiny fists waved in desperation. Her little body was painfully thin, her ribs poking out from beneath her pale, red-brown skin, and her hip bones were prominent. More distressing was the bloody rash covering her privates.

  She was a tiny little mite, in a sad state of disrepair. Indian—which didn’t bode well for her future. Her scream hiccupped to a stop. She opened her bright blue eyes an
d looked at him for help, her lower lip trembling, puffing in and out between her gums. He knew it was only a factor of poor eyesight, but her hazy gaze seemed desolate.

  And well it should. A half-breed little girl of questionable background didn’t have a prayer in hell of finding a future. Not without something upping the ante. As he watched, Jenna stroked the little head, smoothing down the flyaway shocks of hair, smiling as they sprang back up. The little legs kicked and stretched, and her little arms seemed to reach out for him in a silent plea. As if the last of her hope disappeared with his lack of response, that tiny little face crumpled.

  “Ah hell.” He scooped her up. She was no bigger than a minute in his hands. A tiny, helpless, shivering dot with the deck stacked against her and nothing to stand between her and the big bad world out there. He eased her against his shoulder, using his hand like a blanket to warm her painfully thin body. She latched onto the collar of his shirt with her rosebud mouth and commenced sucking. Her shudders lapsed to shivers as she rested against his chest.

  From the bed, Jenna watched him warily. Behind him, Doc pointed out the obvious. “No one’s going to want a half-breed little girl in their midst.”

  Jenna’s hands clenched to fists. “They won’t have a choice.”

  “I’m afraid they will,” Doc countered in his gruff voice.

  Jenna set her chin and Clint caught a glimpse of the strength he knew she harbored. “She’s mine.”

  “Saying it doesn’t make it so unless you have the muscle to back it.” Doc shrugged and snapped a diaper out into a triangle on the bed. “And while the townfolk will go through the motions of finding her a home, when no one steps forward to claim her, the town fathers will ship her off to one of those orphanages east of here.”

  “No!” Jenna stroked the little girl’s back, her fingers catching on the ridge of Clint’s palm before dropping off. “I won’t let that happen.”

  Clint cupped the small bottom a little firmer in his hand. Those orphanages were hellholes, places of no hope. If the kids survived, they became slaves to factories. No future, no past, just an unrelenting hell of the present. For however long it lasted.

  Doc held his hands out for the little girl. Clint lifted her away, but as soon as her little body lost touch with his, she started to tense and puff. A quick glance down showed her lower lip flapping like a sheet in a wind. He resettled her and shrugged at Doc’s puzzled look. “She still needs a minute.”