Whirlwind Reunion. Debra Cowan
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being close to Whirlwind when he’d been ambushed.
He tried to turn on his side and agony seared his back. Hissing out a breath, he went still.
“Matt?” Russ moved next to the bed, going to his haunches so Matt could see him.
The rattle of a wheelchair affirmed that Pa was there, too. The older man rolled to Russ’s side. “Son?”
Matt’s mouth was dry, his head throbbing. “Where am I?”
“In Whirlwind,” his brother answered. “At Annalise’s clinic.”
Annalise? Hell. So, he hadn’t dreamed her. She really was here. “Why didn’t you take me to Catherine’s?” he rasped.
“Annalise was closer.”
A hell of a lot closer than he wanted her, that was for sure. He was surprised she hadn’t turned him away. “What time is it?”
“Late afternoon,” Russ answered. “You’ve been out since we brought you here about two this morning.”
His back felt raw, torn. “What happened to me?”
“We’re hoping you can tell us.” J.T. angled his chair out of the way so Russ could help Matt sit up.
He bit off a curse at the pain arrowing through him. Sweat broke across his forehead as he braced his hands on his knees and panted with the effort to breathe through the misery. “Thanks.”
His brother sat beside him in case he needed support, for which Matt was grateful.
“Ah, you’re awake,” said a smoky feminine voice. Her voice.
As Annalise walked into the room, his muscles tightened, sending a lash of agony through him. He looked up, taking in her practical gray daydress and the thick mahogany braid hanging down her back.
Her skirts made a soft swishing noise against the wood floor. “I brought you some water and something to eat.”
“No whiskey?”
“Water’s better for you right now.”
Maybe so, but it wouldn’t take the edge off.
She eased around J.T. and his wheelchair then set a real glass and a china plate on the small bedside table. After she removed the lamp and the crock, Russ moved the table within easy reach for Matt.
He hoped he could manage to eat under his own steam because he didn’t plan on staying here.
Annalise stepped to the head of the bed. “I sent Andrew Donnelly for Davis Lee.”
Evidently, Annalise had renewed her acquaintance with Catherine Blue’s kid brother in the two months she’d been here.
Russ glanced at Matt. “Are you up for some questions?”
“Yeah.” He took another bite of the bread and ham Annalise had brought, realizing how hungry he was. And how weak. “I was ambushed.”
“By Reuben and Pat Landis?” his brother asked.
“I don’t know. Couldn’t see their faces.” Mindful of the pain in his back, he carefully lifted his glass for a drink. “Why’d you ask about those two?”
“Davis Lee got word yesterday that they had escaped from the jail in Abilene.”
As Matt talked with his brother and father, Annalise moved behind him into the space between the bed and the wall. When she touched his shoulder, he flinched.
“Sorry. I want to make sure your back isn’t bleeding again.” Her voice was cool, detached. And close. Too close.
Matt tried not to tense up because it hurt like the devil when he did, but he couldn’t help it. Trying to focus, he fixed his attention on his brother and father. “Who found me?”
“Russ and Ef.” J.T. situated his chair a few feet away. “You were a couple of miles from here. Tony Santos sent his boy, Miguel, out to the Triple B before dawn this morning and I came on to town. Russ spent last night here with you.”
Matt nodded, going still when Annalise slid a hand into the back of his hair and probed gently. Her breast grazed his shoulder.
Before he could ask what the hell she was doing, she said, “You have a knot on your head here. Do you know what you were hit with?”
“No.” He cleared his throat, sensation stirring in his belly. If he weren’t in pain, he knew he’d be feeling that same slow curl of heat below his belt.
Her hand moved from his head. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“No,” he ground out. Did she have to touch him so much? Or stand so close? He wanted her to step away.
J.T.’s sharp blue gaze went from her to Matt and he smiled. “Annalise has been taking real good care of you.”
Matt took a drink of water so he wouldn’t have to respond. The clinic’s front door opened and Sheriff Davis Lee Holt strode in with young Andrew Donnelly, their boots thudding against the pine floor.
Finished eating, Matt greeted the dark-haired lawman, a longtime friend, and the stocky teen who lived with his sister and her husband past the edge of town.
After asking if Matt was going to be all right, Davis Lee turned his attention to the ambush. “Did you happen to see who jumped you?”
“No.”
A dark look crossed the sheriff’s face. “I was hoping you had.”
“Russ told me Reuben and Pat Landis escaped jail yesterday.” Matt’s back throbbed like blue blazes, the discomfort made more intense by the occasional soft stroke of Annalise’s fingers on his skin.
“They still owe you for shooting off Reuben’s earlobe, I reckon.”
“Probably, though they’ve got more than that coming to them.” The brothers and their five siblings had been thieving from here to the Panhandle for months. “How much longer are we gonna have to chase those SOBs? I thought we’d finally stopped them.”
The lawman shook his head, looking as grim as Matt felt. “Tell me what happened.”
“Someone came straight at me on his horse, knocked us both out of our saddles.” He paused, feeling light-headed. “I punched him and another person hit me from behind with something. That’s all I remember.”
“So you don’t know what they did to your back?” Annalise asked in a quiet distant voice.
Matt wished he could forget she was so close, but he couldn’t. Her clean, light scent had stolen into his lungs and settled there. “No, I don’t know what they did.”
Davis Lee walked behind the cot to see Matt’s back, and cursed. “What could’ve ripped you up so badly?”
“What does it look like?” Matt asked.
Russ shook his head, still propping his brother up. “Annalise, Ef and I tried to figure it out when I brought you in, but we couldn’t.”
“Is my back torn to shreds? That’s what it feels like.”
Davis Lee leaned closer. “These almost look like stab wounds, but they’re not very deep. If they used a knife, why didn’t they just stab you to death?”
“When we catch them, I’ll be sure and ask,” Matt said dryly, fighting the weakness and pain that was draining the energy from him. “Somebody tell me what it looks like back there.”
“There are long lacerations,” Annalise responded. “Uneven, like someone plowed furrows down your back.”
She explained about the shallowness and pattern of the wounds. They didn’t compare with the blade of any knife she’d ever seen.
“And you have no idea what they could’ve used, Matt?”