His head cracked against a chair as he fell. With her heart frozen in shock, Nova lunged to his aid. As a child she'd witnessed a large bull killed instantly from lesser impact to the skull. If a one tonne beast couldn't survive a blow like that, then how could Jese survive?
Despite her eagerness to distrust him, and her avid dislike of his playboy nature, Nova didn't want the man dead. Placing two fingers apprehensively to his throat, Nova found a faint but steady pulse. Hope surged in her heart. She rolled him to his side and made sure his head fell back slightly, opening his airways. The feeble sound of oxygen being dragged into his lungs was music to her ears.
Nova hadn't witnessed her father drinking himself into this kind of stupor before. The fact that Jese had managed to make her father look saintly - in less than a week of knowing him - was a bad omen for their future together.
She ran her hands down his sides, adjusting his limbs and checking for breaks. Her brows puckered together in consternation. The flash of scarlet she'd seen as he'd fallen forward had once again caught her attention. Inspecting it now, she found blood had seeped through a rough bandage - staining his sleeve.
The bandage was too high to inspect by rolling up the sleeve, so Nova unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it off. Uncovering a bronzed and masculine shoulder. Momentarily distracted from the task at hand by his blinding perfection.
With an angry shake of her head, she focused on the badly wrapped bandages. Managing to undo them without causing any blood flow, Nova reached the final swab. A torn petticoat. And under it she found a bullet wound, with shrapnel still embedded there. Yet a new low. Nova wondered if the gunfight had anything to do with the petticoat.
Hooking her arms under his armpits she dragged him inside and laid him next to the puppy's crate. With one last check of the wound, Nova went to find clean bandages.
When she returned - a short time later - with bandages and medicines, she found the furry little bundle clumsily dragging itself out of its crate with its front two legs. Desperate to get to Jese.
"No, no, no," Nova scolded the puppy. She scooped it up and placed it carefully back in its crate. "You can't trust him!" She gave the forlorn creature a scratch between the ears. "He thinks he is the Grim Reaper." Jese's threats to get rid of the pup were still fresh on her mind.
#
Jese woke from a deep sleep. His face was covered by a furry warm pillow, which was the proud owner of a strong heartbeat. Moving a hand to his face, he gently moved the object aside. Finding himself eyeballing the young pup. Not flustered by his rude awakening, the puppy yawned and rearranged himself under the woollen blanket which covered him.
He felt the antelope fur below them, and the warm glow on his exposed skin from the open fire. Glancing about he noticed his shirt had been replaced by a slightly larger blue creation, while his previous shirt hung on the back of a chair.
Hearing nothing but the odd bang of pots and pans coming from the next room, he called out to his hostess, "Nova?"
He heard the scrape of a chair being pushed back, and then his fiancee walked through the door, the peppery smell of cooking celery wafted after her. Nova's eyes sought his face, before a relieved smile reached her lips. "You're awake."
Those glorious curls that had been free around her shoulders when he'd last seen her were now pulled back in a practical manner. There was a soft expression which lingered around her eyes. Compassion? Caring? Could that woman be capable of such emotions?
He grimaced. Biting back the pain, "You didn't get rid of me that easily."
Her thorns returned quickly. The soft note of compassion in her eyes replaced with that of cool disdain. "I don't need to get rid of you. You are doing a good enough job by yourself."
"Pardon?"
"I found your wound," she said. "I hope she was worth it."
"It isn't what you think."
"I don't even know what to think, so that doesn't narrow things down for me."
A yawn from under the blanket distracted them. Jese pulled back the blanket to reveal his bed mate. "Have you named him yet?" Jese asked.
"Pardon?"
He poked a finger at the puppy. "Have you given him a name?" Jese saw her face change. She raced forward like a protective mother bear. Trying to scoop the animal up.
Jese stopped her, catching one of her wrists in his hand. "Just leave him. He's happy." As her eyes locked with his he noticed a blush creeping across her cheeks. Glancing down at his hands he noticed that his thumb was stroking the inside of her wrist. He dropped her hand in shock. If he was supposed to be untouchable and distant, then his body hadn't got the message.
"I don't name animals, until I know they are healthy." She looked to be struggling with her composure. He felt a warm glow of pride. It was a fine moment, knowing that someone as heartless as her could be unnerved by his touch. To know that she wasn't as disinterested as she would have liked to be.
"He looks healthy enough."
"Unlike you. I guess you won't be telling me how you came to be on the receiving end of that bullet?"
There was a sparkle about her eyes. Lust? Anger? Attraction? Defiance? All of the above? Jese was momentarily dismayed that he hadn't been conscious while she'd tended to his shoulder. Did she blush like a schoolgirl as her fingers fumbled with his bandages? Or had she been full of matronly pity and compassion?
Rolling onto his back, Jese felt a sharp pain shooting through his arm. Biting back a gasp, Jese managed to speak. "Some outlaws held up the Tavern last night."
#
Well, Nova thought in admiration, at least he wasn't trying to lie to her. "Oh."
"You don't sound very convinced."
"Were you one of the outlaws?"
She noticed his jaw clenched in anger, and a glitter in his eyes. "You don't have to believe I'm a good man, Miss Radcliffe. But at least do me the honour of humouring me."
Nova was immediately caught off guard. How had he transferred her from victim to villain in seconds? "You needn't take it personally. I don't trust anyone."
"I wondered why a good looking woman would be single at four and twenty, now I know."
When did he find out her age, she wondered. Was it something that the marriage register told him when he applied for the certificate?
Jese watched the thoughts scudding across her face like clouds across a pale blue sky. He couldn't work out if those clouds would leave as rapidly as they arrived or if they would cause a violent storm.
He couldn't be so foolish in future. That he'd dropped a fact about her that he wasn't supposed to know, he was lucky that she hadn't started to put two and two together. Not much seemed to get past those almond shaped eyes without being scrutinised, picked apart and evaluated. And with her cynical nature everything was tainted slightly.
Wordlessly, his fiancee took a pot of water from a pretty three legged stool and hung it above the fire. The hiss of the flames touching those cold and damp sides filled the silence between them.
Jese would have preferred it if he hadn't needed to visit the Ranch that night, he'd rather be reclining in his hotel bed than be attempting to subtly interrogate her. But the aging saloon girl (using the word "girl" in the loosest way possible) hadn't arrived that afternoon to the Tavern. And the barkeep had been protectively silent when questioned, regardless of how much Jese had helped out the previous evening. But he could still hope to find his answers out from Nova, he only needed to be careful.
Jese was sure that him chasing cattle rustlers around the area wasn't something that she'd approve of. "I had a conversation with a saloon girl last night-"
"Of course you did," her voice full of sarcasm.
"I thought you might know her name."
Nova bristled. She didn't think she deserved the disrespect of having to hand out names of possible mistresses to her soon-to-be husband. That wasn't how a man treated his wife, it wasn't even how a man treated his whore. "Oh." Her tone held a threatening note.
"Blonde," he continued. Seemingly not noticing her irritation.
"Of course." So her wig had been what had captivated him, afterall.
"Aging. She had deep wrinkles, but I couldn't say how old she was. She might have just had a tough life."
There was only one older girl at the Tavern, but Nova was hoping that her silence would glean more information. It was all too intriguing. "That narrows it down."
"Quite a pathetic soul, likely to sell herself to the lowest bidder."
So he wanted to find someone to warm his bed! "Anne." She told him. "Anne Rollins." It was of no concern of Nova's who was keeping his bed warm. As long as he wasn't going to be demanding that kind of affection from her. The pot was now boiling merrily, she poured the hot water into her coffee contraption. After listening to the clockwork clicking like a grandfather clock she placed a mug under the spout. With two coffees prepared she held one out to Jese, ensuring that he could hold it aloft with his injured arm.
After a mouthful, Jese glanced up in shock. "This is heavenly. Where did you get that thing?"
"I made it out of my father's cast offs."
He gazed at her suspiciously then downed the mug in three gulps. The steam worked like coal in his gullet. Giving him the energy to stand up and tear himself away from this homely scene and his angrily adorable hostess.
He needed to keep himself in line, he decided. Falling in love with a woman, because of her heavenly coffee making abilities, wasn't an option.
He liked a woman who would fight - tooth and nail - for his safety. There was only one woman who he'd ever met that had those qualities. Anger and guilt overwhelmed him. Then an irrational sense of hurt towards Nova for not being that woman.
Jese found himself on his feet and striding towards the door.
"Leaving so soon?"
"I've got things I need to do," his voice conveyed the anger he was feeling inside. "But I expect to see you at the Centre Church at noon tomorrow."
"I'll try to remember," she told him. Her eyes flashing angrily.
"As you know, I've paid the bank already." He lifted his hat from where she'd tidily placed it. "I must warn you that I don't take well to dishonesty. Bye M'am."
The threat lingered in the air, even after the door was swung closed. She was tempted to rope her lousiest cow, and send it - the following day - in a gauzy head veil to the Centre Church. Nova suppressed the smile that jumped to her lips. She could picture him with his mouth gaping open, as the cow ambled down the aisle - cow pats marking the floor.