Once Upon a Mail Order Bride - Linda Broday Page 0,29

of them was hard to suppress. He needed time.

Addie’s small palm slid inside Ridge’s hand, and surprise rippled through him that she’d evidently put his angry outburst behind her. He wished with all his heart that she hadn’t witnessed his rage, wished that his soul wasn’t stained beyond redemption. She should be scared spitless of him now, so why was she so calm? A delayed reaction? He sighed. Someone should’ve given him a book on women. It would sure help to know what she thought about things.

Hell!

“I’ll bury the dead man where no one will find him.” Jack took the reins of the horse from Ridge. “I saw the boy’s bruises. How bad are his injuries?”

“His leg took the brunt. Bodie said they hit him over and over, so he couldn’t run. He has trouble even walking now. Probably have a limp for a while.” Ridge’s anger flared up again.

“I’m glad you shot this bastard, and the other too. Hope his wound is painful.” Clay spat.

Ridge glanced down into Addie’s pretty green eyes. Her pert nod said she agreed with Clay. She was a funny combination of frightened and fierce. If she ever got the hang of shooting straight, she’d be a force to reckon with.

If she had the time for them to find out. There was no way to know just yet how bad this would go, and what kind of trouble he’d brought the people of Hope’s Crossing.

Eight

Unbuckling his spurs, Ridge stepped into the doctor’s three-bed hospital with Addie at his side. Though he tried to be quiet, his bootheels made the racket of a dozen hammers on the wooden floor. Bodie lay on one of two beds, battered and bruised, his eyes closed. The kid didn’t stir at the noise.

Dr. Mary appeared through a curtained doorway. “Now let’s take a look at you.” She motioned him toward a table. “Hop up.”

He glared. “I’m not a trained dog.”

“You can all stand to be trained, Ridge Steele, don’t think you can’t,” snapped the doctor. “I’m tired of patching you men up and sending you back out there, only to see my good work undone. I’ve had to start a new bullet necklace thanks to you all.” She removed his shirt and prodded the wound.

“Ow! Gives you something to do besides complain,” he shot back. “Where did you learn your bedside manner? Embalming school?”

“Shush! I know how to hurt you.”

Addie put a hand over her mouth, her eyes dancing, evidently enjoying the sparring. Ridge winked at her.

“How’s the kid?” he asked Dr. Mary.

“Poor thing’s exhausted, and his leg will need rest. It’s badly bruised and may have a small fracture but should be okay if he keeps off of it until it heals.” She narrowed her eyes at him and puffed on the cigar tucked in the corner of her mouth. “I hope that dead man you toted in was the one who did it.”

“He was one of them. I also shot the second one but not sure how bad. He got away.”

“Hmph! Maybe he’ll show up in town, and I’ll get a shot at him myself. I’d like to make him pay for what he did to that poor, half-grown boy. I’m keeping Bodie overnight, and you can pick him up tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” Ridge glanced at Addie sitting beside him. “I’m going to hire him to stay with my wife during the day while I work. He seems like a decent kid. Just needs a break.” If Ridge’s hunch was right, Bodie would fit right in with the folks in Hope’s Crossing. Every one of them could use a good helping of luck. And a hand up.

* * *

Addie and Ridge took supper that evening at the Blue Goose Café. Ridge was quiet and in a strange mood during the meal. He still seemed furious with himself over the shoot-out with the bounty hunters. They’d given him no choice, but even so, having to kill one of them had obviously affected him deeply. She’d seen his anguish, heard his angry words, and didn’t stand in judgment. She couldn’t find it in herself to be angry at the words he’d flung at her. From all appearances, Ridge seemed to be living life as best he could in an impossible situation—even when trouble found him.

Once they’d eaten, they walked to the church where folks had gathered for the town meeting. Addie took a seat near the back, wondering what decisions they’d make. The setting sun required the lighting of lamps, and they