“Don’t worry about my hair. We need to take care of that cut.” She fought the urge to tell him not to look at her. Men, with their stares, made her uncomfortable. She laughed. Men, period, made her uncomfortable.
He tugged off his shoes, then unbuckled his belt. “If you take advantage of me, I want my fifty dollars back.”
She smiled. No one had ever talked to her so boldly about such a thing. She liked the honesty between them.
He lowered his trousers. Blood dripped from the gash above his knee.
She was shocked he wore no long johns underneath his trousers. Any man in this country would have on his wools until spring. His shirttail covered his private parts, but his leg was bare.
“What are you staring at?” he asked. “Is it that bad?”
Em swallowed. “No. Your leg is just so hairy.”
“Well, I can’t help that. You’ve been doctoring hairy legs all day. Just pretend I’m a horse and get on with it.”
Em pulled a chair out and sat as she began wiping off blood. “When we get back to the house I think this will need a few stitches.”
“Will you do them?” he said in almost a whisper. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m hurt.”
“All right.” She didn’t want to ask him why. It was no concern of hers. If he did manage to get one of her sisters interested in him, then they’d probably never mention the day they’d spent together. For a moment, she let herself wonder which sister would even look twice at such a man, then decided neither of them would. He wasn’t the kind of man who’d fit on a ranch no matter how much he learned.
She pushed the gash closed and wrapped it as tight as she could. As she worked, he put his hand on her shoulder so that he stood steady. She endured the touch until she tied off the bandage, and then she said cold as ice, “I’m finished. Remove your hand, sir.”
He pulled away immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was only bracing. I meant you no harm.”
She looked up at him. “I’m aware of that. It’s the only reason you’re still alive. I don’t like to be touched.”
He pulled his trousers over the bandage. “I get the point. It won’t happen again.”
She stood and cleaned up the mess they’d made while he finished dressing. The silence seemed to stretch miles between them. He opened the door and waited for her to walk out, then slowly climbed on his horse and waited for her to do the same.
Em didn’t want to explain anything to this stranger. She didn’t want to talk about what had happened in the cabin. Her life was no concern of his, and his silence shouldn’t matter to her in the least. Maybe this cold way to end the day was for the best. The last thing she needed in this world was a greenhorn for a friend.
She mounted and began the journey home, this time letting the horses pick the way. Em told herself it was because the mounts were tired, but she knew they still had the heart to race home. She slowed because of the stranger by her side. She didn’t want to cause him any more pain than necessary.
Finally, she realized she might have caused pain with her words, but she couldn’t bring herself to take them back. As they reached the barn, she said, “Sumner will help me dress that cut. We’ve got a corner next to the tack room that’s clean. You don’t have to worry about the old guy saying a word about your injury; he barely talks to anyone, including me.”
Lewt’s words were no more than a whisper. “You said you would stitch it.”
She acted like she hadn’t heard.
He followed her in, handed the reins to the cowhand who’d already taken her horse, and followed her to the small area that looked like it might be used to store supplies for the bunkhouse and the cowhands. Far too much time would be lost if the hands had to ride into town every time they needed a blanket or shirt.
She talked with Sumner while he tugged off his ruined trousers, now soaked in blood. This time he sat on a bench, too tired to argue with her.
Em lit a lantern for better light, unwrapped the bandage, and cleaned the wound properly. By the time she finished, Sumner was by her side