At Love's Command by Karen Witemeyer

Author:Karen Witemeyer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Romance;Western stories;FIC042110;FIC042030;FIC027050
ISBN: 9781493425099
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2020-04-08T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

TWENTY

Matt made quick work of his bath. One, because he didn’t trust Josephine not to march straight into the bathhouse and demand to see his injuries. And two, because Charlie kept shooting him disgruntled looks, and being naked in a tub didn’t exactly throw much weight behind Matt’s “don’t mess with me, whelp” glare. The scowl he used to keep new recruits in line worked much better when he was dressed, armed, and standing toe-to-toe with the kid who needed to be taken down a notch.

Steeling himself for the pain he was about to inflict, Matt lathered the washrag. The wound three inches above his knee already throbbed from the long ride and stung from the soap in the water. But when he scrubbed the rag over it, fire ignited in his leg. Matt didn’t so much as blink, though. Just finished as fast as possible, then propped his ankles on the end of the tub to raise the wound out of the water while he dunked his head and cleaned the rest of the sweat and dirt from his skin.

When he emerged, Wallace was standing at the end of the tub, frowning at the red, oozing spot on Matt’s thigh. “Ouch. That looks like more than a crease, Captain. An inch of your hide is missing. She’s probably going to have to stitch it.”

An unappealing prospect. Not because of the pain involved, but because of the embarrassment inherent in such an exercise. Matt grimaced. Josie was a doctor. A professional. But she was still a woman, and a man just didn’t go around exposing his thighs in front of ladies. Especially one he was attracted to. He shot a sidelong glance at Charlie, who had taken off his shirt and was washing his chest and arms at a small tub atop a table. Maybe having a chaperone was a good idea, after all.

“Are you decent in there?” Josephine’s voice slipped under the curtain separating the bathing room from the rest of the barbershop.

Matt’s legs retracted like a recoiling rifle and splashed back into the water. Wallace grinned in a good-natured tease, but Charlie’s guffaw rubbed like salt in Matt’s wound.

“Better give him another minute, sis,” Charlie called. “He’s not quite fit for mixed company.”

“I’m not company,” she grumbled, and Matt could easily picture the disgruntled look on her face. “I’m his doctor.”

Thankfully, she didn’t press the issue and remained on her side of the curtain.

Matt wasn’t taking any chances, though. He lurched out of the tub, uncaring that water sloshed everywhere, and grabbed the towel Wallace handed him. He rubbed the water from his skin and hair with quick strokes, then grabbed a set of clean clothes from his saddlebag. He tugged on his cotton flannel drawers, ignoring the pink stain that seeped into the fabric over his left thigh, and pulled a serviceable gray shirt over his head. He did up the buttons, then reached for his trousers, only to realize he couldn’t put those on if Josie was going to examine his leg.

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