Reforming Seneca Jones by Beth White

Author:Beth White
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical romance, pony express, romance historical romance, romance and humor, christian historical romance, romance 1860s, romance action and adventure, nebraska prairie
Publisher: Beth White

***

Seneca came to in Doc Tucker’s little office, the pain in his right hand making him wish he could go back to the blessed darkness of oblivion. Then he heard Annie’s soft, drawling voice and wished he were dead and out of his misery. He kept his eyes shut.

“Is it broken?” she asked, referring, he assumed, to his hand.

“Appears to have messed up several fingers and cracked his knuckles,” Doc replied in what Seneca deemed to be entirely too jovial a tone.

“Poor boy,” Annie said, gently brushing the hair back from Seneca’s forehead. He decided he would endure worse pain than this for her sweet touch.

“These young bucks and their arguments,” Doc said gruffly. “Bring it all on themselves and waste my time. At least they didn’t get to guns this time.”

“G-guns?” Annie repeated. “They’ve fought with guns?”

“Well, not these particular two. But it happens all the time.”

Seneca decided it was time to make his presence known. He opened his eyes.

Doc grunted. “Well, if it ain’t Lazarus come back to life.” He examined Seneca’s pupils. “How you feelin’, boy?”

“Like I rammed my hand into a cast-iron wall,” Seneca muttered. He sat up, avoiding Annie’s eyes. He could tell she was watching him anxiously. How embarrassing to have fainted like a schoolgirl right in front of her. “But at least I can still ride.” He examined his misshapen hand, which Doc had wrapped with bandages and packed in ice.

A dubious expression on his craggy face, Doc sat back, took off his spectacles, and began to polish them. “I reckon you could, but it’s gonna hurt some ’til them bones knit. I pushed ’em back together best I could. I can give you a dose of laudanum—or a little trip over to the Lucky Lady for a fifth of whiskey would help.”

“No. I can stand it.” Seneca allowed himself to look at Annie. In her wide eyes he saw endless questions. “I don’t drink anymore.”

Doc shrugged and got to his feet with an arthritic grunt. “All right, but you ought to at least sit still for a while. Don’t want you keelin’ over in the street.” He looked at Annie, who had also risen as if to leave. “Can you keep an eye on him for me, Miss Fitzgerald? I got to walk back to the smithy to check on Seneca’s punchin’ bag.” With a twitch of his gray mustache that passed for a vinegary smile, Doc picked up his black bag, jammed his hat on his head, and hobbled out of the office.

Annie reluctantly sat down again. Seneca noticed that her bonnet was hanging down her back, and her russet hair had escaped from its snood to fall in coppery waves around her face. She stared at her gloveless hands clasped in her lap.

Seneca cleared his throat. “How’s Peewee?”

Big gray eyes lifted to soak him in remorse. “His face will never be the same,” she said tightly.

“Wasn’t too pretty to start with.” At his weak joke she bit her lip and looked down again.

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