The Outlaws: Jess Read Free

together and gave him a
belligerent glare.
    Jess sighed. He was so damn weary; he
shouldn't have to deal with this. Uncapping the laudanum, he held
it to the woman's lips. When she refused to drink, he pinched her
nostrils until her mouth opened, then he poured a generous dose
down her throat.
    She shuddered, gagged, and swallowed.
Satisfied, Jess sat back on his haunches and laid out his
instruments on a white cloth he'd brought forth from the depths of
his bag. Then he poured carbolic acid over the lot. By the time he
built up the fire to provide sufficient light for the surgery and
turned back to his patient, she had fallen under the spell of the
laudanum.
    "Good," Jess said to himself as he reached
for the scalpel. He didn't want to hurt her any more than he had
to.
    Jess studied the wound before probing for the
bullet. The bullet had entered two inches below her shoulder, just
above her right breast, missing the lung by a hairbreadth. His
concentration was so intense that beads of sweat dotted his
forehead and ran into his eyes. His hand was steady as the scalpel
bit into flesh and hit lead. Jess's relief was profound as he eased
the bullet out. The rush of blood that followed worried him and he
exerted pressure until the bleeding slowed to a trickle.
    When he poured carbolic acid into the wound,
a scream ripped from her throat. He gentled her as best he could,
gave her another dose of laudanum, and waited until she quieted to
close the wound. His hands were shaking as he held a needle to the
light and looped fine silk thread through the eye. But they
steadied when he turned back to his patient. He had done this
countless times in the past, but this was the first time he'd dug a
bullet from a woman's tender flesh.
    With neat, precise stitches, Jess closed the
wound and bandaged it with strips of gauze. Then he sat back to
inspect his work. There was a good chance the woman would live if
she was strong enough to fight the fever that would soon follow,
and the infection that came on stealthily and sucked the life from
unsuspecting souls.
    There was little Jess could do now but make
the woman comfortable. He placed his bedroll near the fire,
carefully lifted her onto one blanket and covered her with another.
Then he sat beside her on the hard ground to wait and watch. Though
Jess tried to remain wakeful, his weary body betrayed him and he
dozed off. He awoke with a start when the woman cried out and began
to thrash around.
    "Zach! I hurt."
    Her voice was hoarse, her face contorted.
Jess was beside her instantly, bathing her face and holding his
canteen to her lips.
    "Here, drink."
    She took a sip, gagged, then fell back into a
stupor. Jess fed more kindling to the fire, then returned to his
vigil beside her, pondering the unusual circumstances that might
have led a beautiful woman to become a bounty hunter. And the woman
was beautiful. Beautiful and shapely. He should have known she was
a female the moment he saw those long feminine legs encased in
tight trousers. And the voice. Low and throaty, too soft to belong
to a male.
    Damn! A female bounty hunter. What in God's
good name would force a woman into so dangerous a profession? What
were her parents thinking? Or her husband? Who was Zach? Obviously
someone she loved. If Zach was here now he'd pound some sense into
the man. What kind of man would allow a fragile woman to chase
after vicious outlaws? The longer he thought about it the angrier
he became. She could have been killed. If he hadn't been a skilled
doctor, she'd most likely be lying dead in a pool of her own
blood.
    Unable to keep his eyes open, Jess drifted
off to sleep. He awoke to daylight, abruptly aware of luminous
green eyes staring at him.
    "You're awake."
     
    Meg Lincoln had been awake a good ten
minutes, her thoughts in a turmoil. The man she recalled from her
vague memory of last night was sitting beside her, his arms resting
on his bent knees, his head bowed. He was sleeping. She could see
little except