Wild Is My Heart Read Free Page B

the familiar tightening in his loins, Colt deliberately turned his eyes away from those tempting forbidden fruits and concentrated instead on her wound.
    Lifting the blood-encrusted kerchief he had used to stanch the blood, Colt saw at a glance that the bullet was still embedded in her chest. He’d hoped it had gone cleanly through, leaving a neat hole, but that hadn’t been the case. The bullet had to come out, and mere was no one to do it but him.
    “What are you doing?” Sanchez had just reentered the room with a stack of towels, soap, whiskey, and a basin. “You’ve removed Senorita Sam’s clothes.” His voice held a strong hint of reproach and his face was filled with indignation.
    “Christ, Sanchez, I can’t take the bullet out with her clothes in the way. Either do it yourself or let me do what has to be done.”
    Muttering in Spanish beneath his bream, Sanchez shambled out of the room, returning moments later with a kettle of boiling water. Colt retrieved a long, slim knife from his boot, dropped it in the basin, and poured the boiling water over it. He let it sit a few minutes and men carefully removed it and plunged his hands into the water, scrubbing vigorously with the bar of lye soap. He had seen too many men die of infection in the war to discount cleanliness when it came to open wounds. He didn’t want to touch Sam’s pristine flesh with filthy hands and dirty fingernails. Then, to Sanchez’s surprise, he poured whiskey over the knife, his hands, and the wound in Sam’s chest. She jerked violently but did not awaken.
    “What can I do, Senor?”
    “She’s goin’ to start thrashin’ around when I probe for the bullet,” Colt said. “You can help by holdin’ her down.”
    “Si,” Sanchez nodded grimly. “Senorita Sam is very brave, she will live.”
    “She’s also very foolish,” Colt muttered darkly. “If you’re ready, I’ll begin.”
    His hand steady on the knife, Colt started the delicate operation as he probed ruthlessly into Sam’s tender flesh. Deep in unconsciousness, Sam felt the pain and reacted violently. But Sanchez was ready, his gnarled hands somehow finding the strength to hold her narrow shoulders pinned to the bed. Her head thrashed from side to side, and she screamed once, twice, then went still.
    “Is she dead?” Sanchez asked fearfully.
    “No, but she’s in shock,” Colt noted, wiping at the beads of sweat gathered on his forehead.
    “Have you found the bullet, Senor?”
    “No, dammit. Can you wipe away some of this sweat, Sanchez? I can barely see what I’m doin’.”
    No longer needed for the previous task Colt had set for him, Sanchez complied.
    “There it is, I found it!” Colt shouted, elated as the tip of his knife scraped against the metal ball. “It’s lodged against the breastbone.”
    Carefully, his hands shaking with the strain, Colt pried the bullet out of the wound. When it was visible to the eye, he used his fingers to lift it free, dropping it in the basin.
    “It’s done.” Colt sagged wearily, staring at the gaping hole in Sam’s chest.
    She looked so innocent lying there. Innocent and vulnerable. He had probably saved her life, yet duty dictated he must turn her over to the sheriff in Karlsburg once she was well enough to travel. Perhaps it would have been kinder to let her the. Well, it was done. He had only to finish up and watch carefully for infection. The next thirty-six hours would be crucial.
    Reaching for the whiskey, Colt poured a liberal dose into the wound, then took up needle and thread and made a few clumsy stitches to hold the edges together. He finished by preparing a thick bandage and holding it in place with strips of cloth wound about Sam’s chest.
    “Bring more water, Sanchez,” Colt directed tiredly. “I need to get her cleaned up.”
    “Where did you learn to do that, Senor?” Sanchez asked, gesturing toward Sam’s neatly bandaged chest.
    “When you’ve bummed around as long as I have you learn many