The Courting of Widow Shaw Read Free Page B

reason. And cared for. Even though she didn’t know where she was.
    “Glory?”
    It was the man’s urgent voice again, calling to her.
    Her lips were swollen, her mouth dry. “Water.” She breathed out, and the weak muted sound of her voice surprised her.
    A cool wet cloth was pressed to her lips. “Drink up the moisture for now,” the man said. Gloria obeyed, allowing the liquid to seep through her lips. It soothed her parched mouth and slid down a throat that was sore and hoarse. She tried opening her mouth just a little wider to take in more water, but she couldn’t do it, the pain nearly cracking her face in two.
    She begged her mind for answers. What had happened to her? Who was this man tending to her? A doctor? Was she in a hospital? The last thing she remembered was standing over the cookstove making Boone his evening meal. He’d been unusually unsettled, discouraged with the progress of his staked claim. He’d gone outside to have a smoke, as he often did when he’d had an unproductive day. He’d all but given up on his claim.
    Things hadn’t gone as planned in their marriage. Boone had been unhappy with the little money he’d made on his claim. He’d been so sure, so very certain he would hit a rich strike. Ore had been plentiful in Virginia City, the Comstock Lode making many men wealthy. Boone had wanted a part of that wealth for himself.
    Gloria searched her mind, hoping to recall whathad happened after that, but it was as though her mind refused to remember. Her head ached terribly. Maybe later, once the throbbing stopped, maybe then, she’d remember.
    “Do you want more water?”
    The man spoke softly, but she heard the rich deep tone of his voice. Again, she wondered about him. Who was he? And where had he taken her? What had occurred that had wiped all memory from her mind? Slowly, for it was the only way she could answer, she shook her head.
    She felt his presence on the bed, could hear him breathing, then pausing to inhale deeply. She heard a whoosh when he let his breath rush out. “I have salve for your wounds,” he said. “It will help you heal. Don’t be afraid. I have to touch you.”
    Glory nodded slightly, the best she could do. She couldn’t fight him if he had ill intentions, but somehow she didn’t believe that to be the case. She only wished that he had answered her question, one that took all of her effort to ask.
    Where was she?
    A strong but ever-so-gentle hand came to her face as he worked foul-smelling liniment into her cheek, her lips and her chin with light fingers. Gloria’s father had once used an Indian remedy on her as a child when she’d taken a terrible fall, hurting her knee. When she’d protested, he told her, the worse it smelled the faster she would heal.
    Gloria decided if that were true, she’d be good as new very soon. And as the salve soaked into her skin, she did feel a bit better, its healing effects already taking hold.
    “You have bruises on your chest that need tending,”the man stated with quiet regard. “It has to be done.”
    And then, after a long pause, he added, “I won’t hurt you.”
    Why she placed her faith in him, she couldn’t fathom. Except that she’d been with only one man in her lifetime. And this man, this stranger had already displayed more tenderness toward her than Boone had, the husband who’d pledged his life to her.
    Gloria wondered about Boone. Where was he? Was he hurt as well? And if not, why wasn’t he here, tending to her? Fitful imaginings stirred in her brain, too many disturbing questions to deal with now. She closed off her mind, emptying it of worrisome images.
    The man brought her covers down and as the air hit her chemise she realized she had been bathed. Moisture still clung to her, plastering the garment fully up against her body. The sour odor of the salve drifted up, flavoring the surrounding air.
    “Try to relax,” he said. “I’ll be quick.” And he rubbed the ointment into the skin just