the Old Testament, He speaks about a man sent from God who would save the people from their sins. In Matthew,” he pointed at the book, “Jesus is born. He was God’s Son.”
“So is the New Testament all about Jesus?”
“Yes, His life, His teachings, and those who followed Him.”
“Like the stories I remember my ma telling.”
“I imagine so.”
“What happened to this Jesus?” she said. “Ma took sick about the time I should have been paying attention, and I couldn’t tell whether she was serious or the fever made her talk strange.”
“His own people killed Him.”
“Why?” It made no sense that folks would kill someone who came to help. “Didn’t God send Him?”
“Yes, but they didn’t like what Jesus said. Those folks chose to keep living wrong rather than change.”
“Sounds like a number of men I know.” She stared at the Bible in his hands and eased her feet to the floor. Curiosity seemed to get the best of her. “Doc, how did you learn so much about God?”
He patted her shoulder and placed the Bible in her lap. “My father was a circuit ridin’ preacher, and a good one. He devoted his whole life to telling folks about the Lord. In fact, he didn’t take care of himself. Took sick when I was sixteen years old and died. I blamed God and decided I wanted to heal people’s bodies, not their souls. Funny thing, you can’t do one without the other.”
With those words, her respect for Doc grew another notch. “How long did it take for you to figure it all out?”
“Too long.” He laughed and stuck his thumbs in his suspenders. “Still don’t have all the answers. You go ahead and read. I’m going to check on our patient.”
She wanted to follow, but he’d let her know when Morgan awoke. Settling back into the rocker, she thought about Doc’s life—believing in God and practicing medicine in a town full of lawless men. He had a special kind of faith, the kind she desperately wanted. She wondered what God thought about outlaws and all the things she’d done. Most likely He didn’t have much use for her, but she’d like to give it a try. Maybe this Bible had a list of what she was supposed to do. And she could get started right away on doing good things for folks instead of being one of those who hurt them.
“Casey,” Doc called from the other room. “You’d best step in here.”
Chapter 6
A chill raced up Casey’s spine. She closed Doc’s Bible and again ran her fingers across the rough binding. Morgan might have died. She’d viewed dead men before, men she’d grown to care for, and she could do it again. Rising to her feet, she laid the Bible on the chair.
“Casey.” Doc’s tone was urgent.
“I’m coming.” She hated her reaction to Morgan, a man she barely knew. He even admitted to using her. But the bullets in his body spoke of something else. Only one other man had ever made her feel that way, and he was dead.
Her boots clicked across the wooden floor to Doc’s side. He smiled. “Morgan wants to talk to you.”
His eyes were open, but his pallor shook her senses as though she looked into the face of a dead man.
“You’re alive.” She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
His eyelids fluttered, but he managed a slight grin. “You crazy girl. How did you get me here?”
She wondered where he found the strength to speak. “Made a travois and tied you to it. I’ve done easier things, but I was too stubborn to let you die.”
He wet his lips. “I wanted . . . to.”
“Oh, I remember.” Her whole body relaxed. “You begged me to leave you.”
A twinge of pain swept across his face, and he gasped at its severity. “I . . . bet I did. I—I feel like I fell over a cliff and bounced all the way down.”
Casey touched her finger to his lips. “Please, you’re too weak to waste your time on words. Rest, and do what Doc says.”
“She’s right.” Doc’s gruffness layered every word. “I’m going to let Casey spoon-feed you some clear soup and have you take a dose of laudanum, but understand it’s gonna take time to get you back on your feet again. You’re one lucky—”
A pounding at the door stopped Doc’s orders in midair. Without a word, Casey hurried into the kitchen. Her body quivered as she snatched up her drying clothes and coffee