Big Sky Homecoming. Linda Ford
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his mind. So much so he threatened to mentally overwhelm her. She couldn’t pull away from his gaze, couldn’t talk reason to herself.
He smiled somewhat crookedly as if his mouth hurt. “I’m glad you’re here.” His hand fell to his chest and his eyes closed.
“Duke, wake up. Don’t you dare fall asleep.” Ma had taught her well. If he slept, he could easily slip into unconsciousness and from there to—
He was not going to Heaven today. Not if she had anything to say about it.
* * *
Cool fingers brushed his cheek. The touch pushed back the thick fog that threatened to enclose him.
“Duke, wake up. Stay awake.”
The voice seemed concerned. He tried to think about how to reassure the person. Who was it? Rose Bell. He smiled and fought his way to the surface.
“What are you doing here?” His tongue staggered under the weight of the words.
“Open your eyes.”
“Okay.” Easier said than done.
“Duke, open them.”
She sounded as though she cared. He must be dreaming. “I am.”
She chuckled. The sound tumbled through his brain. More evidence this was only a dream. “And yet they are still closed. Come on, I need to see your eyes.”
“They’re blue.” His voice sounded thick even to his own befuddled brain.
She chuckled again.
He had to see if this was a dream or if she was actually there, so he raised his eyebrows in an attempt to force his eyelids up. The simple movement hurt. “Ow.” His eyes opened and he stared into a beautiful, concerned face. “Hi.”
Her smile fled. Or had he only dreamed it in the first place?
“You’ve got a nasty gash on your forehead.”
“I can feel it clear to my toes.” He watched emotions flit across her face as she leaned closer to look at his head. First, concern and then worry. Worry? Rose Bell worried about Duke Caldwell? It didn’t seem possible. Her gaze returned to his and he caught a flash of something he almost believed to be tenderness. For him? Hardly. The Bells were known for helping the sick and injured. That’s all it was.
A tiny grin tugged at her lips and amusement filled her eyes. “Your handsome face will be forever marred.”
“I can live with that.”
“You’re fortunate to be alive.” Her eyes snapped with anger. “Why are you riding a wild horse around the country? Don’t you know you might have been killed?”
He was caught in the green flare from her eyes. “Seems you should be happy about that. You haven’t exactly thrown out the welcome mat to me.”
Her expression slowly hardened, grew impassive.
He missed being able to read her emotions.
She sat back and pulled her hands to her lap. “That doesn’t mean I want to see you dead.”
“Good to know.” His eyelids drifted closed.
“Duke, don’t you dare go to sleep.”
He answered without opening his eyes. “Doesn’t seem like I’m going to get a chance with you constantly calling my name.”
He heard footsteps and then a worried voice. “Here it is. Is he alive?”
Duke opened his eyes to see Billy hand Rose a sack. “I’m okay, Billy. Don’t you worry. It will take more than a skittish horse to kill me.”
Rose pursed her lips. Her disapproval of his horse was evident.
Billy patted Duke’s arm. “I prayed and prayed and prayed ever since you got hurt. God helped me.”
Duke’s mind cleared enough for him to remember trying to find his way home. “How did I get here? And what are you doing here?” he asked Rose.
“Billy came to the farm to get my help.”
It took a moment to digest this information. “You came?”
She pulled back. “I’d never refuse to help anyone in trouble.”
He held her gaze. “Anyone? Even a Caldwell?”
She nodded. “Even you.”
“Ouch. You make it sound as though that’s the worst possible thing ever.”
Her expression softened again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” She opened the sack and pulled out bandages and a tiny jar. “I’m going to fix your cut as best I can.” She considered it. “I suppose I could sew it up.”
He laughed but cut it off as pain ripped through his head. “Never mind sewing anything unless it involves fabric.”
The gust of air she released told him she was happy not to have that option. And yet she’d offered. What a strange woman she was.
She pulled the stool closer and gently stroked his hair back from his forehead.
He closed his eyes as a thousand sensations of pleasure and delight flooded his skin and tingled in his fingertips. This feeling was new. And not unwelcome. In fact—
“Ouch.”
“Sorry. But I need to pull the edges as close together as I can.”
“Don’t hurt him.” Billy sounded about ready to cry.
“It’s okay,” Duke assured him. “It hardly hurts at all. I just wasn’t prepared.”
“I should have warned you. Now I’m going to put a dressing in place to hold it.” She bent over him, her scent bringing to mind summer pastures filled with wildflowers. Her touch was gentle yet firm. Not unlike the lady herself.
“There. That will keep it for now.”
“Thanks.” His voice came from a long distance.
“Duke, you must stay awake.”
Why must I? “You’ll stay?” He pulled the words from the fog.
“Until I’m sure you’re okay.”
So long as she was there, he’d be safe. And he let the fog drift closer.
A faint breeze, a sense of aloneness, forced his eyes open. “Rose?”
She stood by the sofa. “Billy, stay with him while I clean up these things. And keep him awake.”
Billy perched on the stool that Rose had vacated and patted Duke’s hand. “You’ll be okay now. Rose fixed you up good. I knowed she would. That’s why I got her to help.”
Duke grunted a time or two to indicate he listened as Billy rattled on and on, but he barely heard a word the man said. His thoughts had followed Rose to the kitchen. Would she leave without saying goodbye? The thought of being alone except for the frightened Billy sent his pulse into a fury.
From the depths of his heart he prayed. God, please convince her to stay.
Rose stood in the middle of the kitchen, her hand pressed to her throat. What was there about this place, this situation, about Duke, that unraveled her thoughts until she could hardly remember who she was?
She went to the stove and lifted the kettle. It was full of water. A cup of tea would set her to rights. She pushed wood into the stove and stirred up the fire. While she waited for the kettle to boil, she searched for tea. Every cupboard she opened increased the tightness in her head. Would she be accused of snooping?