A Heart's Blessing - Linda Ford Page 0,18

door.

Miss Morton stayed put. Not in the room but close enough she could see and hear everything.

Ryder smiled at her as he closed the door to her, wishing he could assure her everything would be fine. Except he had no way of knowing if it would be so. He turned back to assist Burnsie as they removed the preacher’s torn and bloodied coat. The preacher didn’t protest.

“’Tis a mercy he’s unconscious,” Burnsie said.

“Might be a mercy but makes me wonder how badly injured his head is,” Ryder answered.

They continued removing clothing until they were down to his union suit and stopped there. But blood soaked the shoulders of that as well.

“I’ll run to the store and fetch something,” Burnsie said, and left the room.

Ryder heard him speak to Miss Morton and then the men waiting in the dining room.

Blood still oozed from several places. Ryder took the preacher’s hankie from his clothes and pressed it to the worst spot. Thinking the white shirt was beyond saving, he pressed a corner of that to another spot.

The preacher groaned and tossed his head then fell silent and still again.

A few minutes later, Burnsie returned, and the two of them managed to get the blood-soaked garment off the preacher and tossed all the clothes to the side.

Miss Morton knocked. “There’s water and cloths here. I will help clean him up.”

Ryder sprang to the door and took the basin. “How did you—?” How could she manage a basin of water without spilling it as she limped back and forth?

“I recruited help.” She indicated one of the town’s women in the kitchen.

Miss Morton hobbled into the room.

Ryder shoved a chair close, guessing it would waste valuable time to argue with her.

Delcie did not intend to stand by while the preacher needed help. Even if her ankle shot arrows up her leg. Laura would be uncomfortable around so many men. She’d be best taking care of the children. She looked at the preacher, stripped to his unmentionables, the covers pushed back to his chest. His swollen face was almost unrecognizable, blood covering most of his features. Mr. Remington had cloths pressed to two wounds in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Her heart sank at how battered he was. “The poor man. Who would do such a thing?”

“Scoundrels.” Burnsie’s tone indicated his level of disgust. “There oughta be a hotter hell for those who attacks a preacher.”

Ryder continued to put pressure on the worst of the cuts. “Looks like he might have been attacked by a knife.”

Her heart sank. No doubt he has lost a lot of blood. Too much? She could only pray it wasn’t so.

“Pistol whipped, I’d say,” Burnsie said.

The two of them lifted their heads at the same time and stared at each other as the truth hit them.

“What is it?” Delcie continued to clean up the man’s face and shoulders.

“It’s both,” Ryder said. “Either two men attacked him, or one with a very hateful spirit.”

“May God have mercy on ’em,” Burnsie said. “’Cause no man hereabouts will.”

Delcie knew she should urge forgiveness or mercy but could find room for neither in her heart at the moment. She soon had the preacher’s face clean and turned her attention to his head.

Burnsie held the thinning hair back as she gently dabbed at the bruises.

Seeing how badly the preacher had been beaten caught at the back of her throat. He looked close to death. “If only there was something we could do.”

“The good Lord will have to do His work,” Burnsie said. “Ain’t nothin’ we can do except let him rest.”

“He can certainly stay here. It was one of the reasons we added this little room.”

“And here I figgered it was so young Miss Jenny and her new husband could have some privacy.” Burnsie’s chuckle was dry.

“Well, that too.” Jenny and Finn had spent a few days there while Finn fixed up a house on the ranch he’d purchased. She still marveled that Finn had gone from being a mountain man who lived alone most of the year to a happily married man. It was lovely to see both him and Jenny so happy.

“I’ll help,” Mr. Remington said.

“No need.” Once Hilda came back, they could manage.

“Have you forgotten your injured ankle?”

“I’ve tried, but it won’t let me.”

He grinned. “Besides, are you comfortable looking after a man?”

Delcie’s cheeks burned so hot she wondered they didn’t ignite. “I suppose we could use a hand now and then.” Her cheeks grew even warmer when Mr. Remington laughed.

“I’ll get clean