Marrying Miss Marshal Read Free Page B

again, and good night.”
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    â€œMister.”
    The sound of gunshots rang in his ears, blood covered his hands. Pain speared his right shoulder. Had he been hit?
    â€œTenderfoot.”
    A boot nudged his ankle and drew Chas out of the nightmare. Memory.
    He blinked, trying to dispel the images of the woman he’d loved dying under his hands. He rolled off his injured shoulder—that’s what caused the throbbing pain—and shook his head to clear it, taking in his surroundings.
    Muted gray light threw Danna Carpenter into silhouette as she knelt over the embers of what had been their fire last night. The sight of her calmly going about her business quieted the raging maelstrom of emotion and memories bombarding him.
    At least she had her back turned so he could shake off the trembles his nightmare always left behind.
    He couldn’t help groaning as he pushed himself to his elbow. It took Danna’s help to get him sitting upright on the hard, cold earth, the dugan still covering his legs.
    â€œHere, this should help with the stiffness in your shoulder.”
    Before he realized what she was doing, she’d opened his coat and unbuttoned the first two buttons on his shirt, exposing his injured shoulder. She hesitated—must’ve seen his gunshot scar—but then a welcome heat began seeping through his skin. She’d warmed a folded square of wet cloth to make a compress.
    Her eyes met and held his as she pressed the hot bundle against his abused muscles. He couldn’t decipher her expression in the semidarkness, but a connection sparked between them. She was too close.
    As if she’d had the same thought, she backed away. He looked down to hide his confusion and immediately noticed his rumpled state. He was a mess. Needed a bath and a shave, and his clothes were covered in dust.
    â€œCoffee.” She pressed a tin into his hands and retreated again. “I’m not much of a cook. I think I scorched it.”
    A sip of the black sludge confirmed her words. He swallowed when what he wanted to do was spit it out. It did warm his insides.
    â€œThank you,” he said, voice rusty.
    â€œThought your pain might be bad after a night out in the cold. You were moaning in your sleep.”
    His back teeth clenched. He often thrashed around because of the nightmare, but he wasn’t about to admit to it—she’d probably ask questions, and he couldn’t afford the answers. Not when the answer was that he’d been responsible for the deaths of the two people he’d loved most in the world.
    â€œThanks,” he muttered again, forcing himself out of the bedroll and into the bracing morning air. Taking a moment to stretch the kinks out, Chas absently rubbeda particularly twinge-worthy knot in his lower back while he watched his unusual companion as she used her boot to kick dirt over the graying embers of the campfire.
    She looked up at him, this time with her hat pulled low over her brow. He couldn’t read her eyes.
    â€œIf we find your things quickly, we can make it back to Calvin by breakfast.”
    His rumbling stomach thought that that was a good idea.
    â€œYour shoulder might act up a bit when we’re jostling around on the horse’s back, so you’ll just have to tell me if you need to stop for a while.”
    He was ready to have some distance from this confusing woman and the draw he felt toward her.
    â€œI’m sure I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”
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    Nearly two hours after the tenderfoot’s declaration, Danna wasn’t so sure his wounded arm was holding up.
    She’d kept her mount to a plodding pace—both she and the animal wanted to move —but felt Chas O’Grady’s body grow progressively stiffer as the morning wore on. She imagined his pain must be getting worse, but he’d yet to say anything.
    The morning sun finally peeked over the canyon’s rim, but finding anything in the