To Love an Outlaw (Into the West #1) (A Wattpad Reading List Choice)

Chapter 11

 Sonny closed his eyes momentarily. If he was truthful with himself, he'd admit he hadn't finagled himself onto her ranch solely for her protection; although, after meeting the sheriff, he had felt the widow needed his "expertise." No, if he was brutally honest, he'd also admit he was attracted to her and wanted to be in her presence as much as possible. And that was an unfamiliar feeling for the usually taciturn gunslinger, that need of another person in his existence. But he found he didn't totally repudiate the thought; in fact, he actually rather accepted the discovery.

 Upon opening his eyes yet again to the rising sun, Sonny's attention centered once more on Miz Callie West, and he frowned. That was his blood marring her Sunday best, smeared down the front of the buttery yellow confection that had had him sneaking sideways looks at her during the sermon. He hated to think he was the cause of ruining such a pretty dress. He guessed she preferred boys' clothes; what active person wouldn't? But she'd looked like a fresh, new sunflower in that dress yesterday, standing tall and proud. And now he'd gone and sullied her appearance. 

 Grunting irritably at himself, Sonny was surprised to see the widow immediately open her eyes at the sound. Add interrupting her much-needed sleep to his recent transgressions.

 "Mr. McQuade! You're up!" Miz West stood hurriedly, reaching out to touch his forehead for signs of a fever.

 Sonny glanced down his body; yep, he certainly was, but that wasn't what she was talking about, and shame on him for thinking that crudely. He chalked it up to the pain and the wound, and the proximity of the lovely widow leaning over him, breasts practically in his face.

 "Your fever is gone. That didn't last too long. How do you feel?"

 His blue eyes, much more clear today, met hers directly. Miz West was talking way too fast, and too brightly, than her usual manner. Keenly aware of the woman as he already was, the gunfighter wondered what caused her nervousness around him. His state of undress? Perhaps, but instinctively Sonny knew it was something else. She'd had no qualms cutting his shirt away yesterday to get to the wound. Of course, he'd been covered in blood then, too...

"Much better, Ma'am. I think the fall off the horse hurt my pride more than anything, though. That's still smarting." He attempted a smile, but received nothing more than a quick tilt of her lipsin response.

  "You were shot, Mr. McQuade. I don't know of anyone who could remain seated after taking a hit like that. Who would do such a thing? Indians?"

 He immediately shook his head, and regretted the dizziness it caused, though he felt obliged to negate that conjecture.

 "No. Indians don't ride much alone, Ma'am, which I think you're aware. No, this was a marauder of a different sort." He had his own belief on who his assailant had been. But suppositions were just that, without any proof. Besides which, he now had a more current, pressing problem than figuring out who had tried to kill him. He needed to relieve himself. How did you tell a woman you're interested in that you needed to take a piss? And urgently.

  "Well, I suppose that's true. But no one else around here knows much about you, so why would they just randomly shoot you? I know! It's probably someone from your past—"

 "Ma'am, I need some privacy!"

 Callie stopped in mid-sentence; stared at the gunfighter, who met her eyes in abject misery for having to bring the subject up at all. But the faint pink tinge to his neck was nothing compared to the flush that bloomed over the widow's countenance as soon as she grasped his meaning.

 "Oh. Oh! I'm so sorry! Yes, of course, I'll just...the, um, thing, um, is under the—"

  "Fine, Ma'am. I got it."