McKettricks 03 - Secondhand Bride by Linda Lael Miller

Author:Linda Lael Miller
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Westerns, Fiction, Romance, Western, Historical, General
ISBN: 9780743422758
Publisher: Pocket
Published: 2004-12-31T05:00:00+00:00

33

Chloe was on her way to the hotel, for breakfast with Becky, when she spotted Angus, Kade, and Rafe McKettrick standing on the board sidewalk in front of Doc Boylen’s office, and a frisson of alarm fizzed in the pit of her stomach. Holding her skirts so she wouldn’t trip on the hem, she crossed the road at a rapid pace.

Kade was the first to notice her, and the look of despondent fury in his eyes practically stopped her heart, never mind her feet. By process of elimination, and some fierce, dark instinct, she knew that Jeb was the object of their vigil.

Kade touched the brim of his hat in a habitual motion. “Morning, Miss Chloe,” he said. The grave note in his voice skewered her on a shaft of fear.

“Where’s Jeb?” she demanded, terrified of the answer.

Rafe, who had been pacing, stopped to look down at her. “Inside,” he said. “Doc’s operating on him right now.”

Chloe’s knees sagged, and she might have dropped, right there in the dirty street, if Kade hadn’t been so quick to reach her side and take a firm hold on her arm. “What—?”

Kade squired her as far as the bench under Doc’s shingle. She shook her head, dizzy.

“Jeb was shot last night, on the road home,” Kade told her quietly.

She put her hands over her face, but only momentarily. Angus sat down beside her on the bench, took her hand between his callused ones.

“Doc says he’ll make it, Chloe,” he assured her, but his face was ravaged by a sleepless night, and his skin was gray. The ache she saw in his eyes matched the one tearing at her insides. “He wasn’t killed. That’s the important thing.”

Chloe’s empty stomach flung itself at the back of her throat, making her glad she hadn’t eaten. In her mind’s eye, she saw Jeb sitting across from her at supper the night before, talking about hunting down murderers. He’d been so coldly certain that he couldn’t be on the receiving end of a bad man’s bullet, and now he was lying on a surgeon’s table, shot. He hadn’t had to go looking for trouble—this time, it had found him on its own.

Angus patted her hand. “Get her some water,” he said.

Kade fetched a canteen from one of the horses’ backs, unscrewed the lid, handed it to her. She drank deeply.

“Was he—did you talk to him?” she managed, handing back the canteen with a nod of thanks.

“Doc’s got him drugged up,” Angus answered gruffly. “Ether, for the surgery.”

“I just hope to God he’s sober,” Rafe fretted. Chloe’s gaze shot in his direction like an arrow.

“Do you mean to tell me the doctor is drunk?” she marveled, in horror. She started to her feet, meaning to intercede, but Angus held so fast to her hand that she had to sit down again.

“Hell, Rafe,” Kade said, “that was a stupid thing to say.”

“Well,” Rafe retorted, “you’ll pardon me if I’m a little worried about my brother!”

“That’s enough,” Angus said, with raspy ease.

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