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They scrambled into position, their faces more alight with excitement than worry. Boys will by boys, she thought with a rueful shake of her head.
“Now we’ll roll him over on the count of three.” She took a deep breath, then began to count. When she reached three, she and the boys rolled him onto his back. The man cringed in pain, but his eyes remained shut.
A patch of red drew Ravena’s attention to where his coat had fallen back from his shirt. She leaned closer to examine it. “I think he’s been wounded.” But how? A sliver of dread traveled up her spine. Had his injury been an unfortunate accident? Or had someone hurt him, and if so, was the offender still close by?
“He’s wounded,” Mark repeated with awe, sounding far too impressed.
“Go get Jacob from the barn, Mark,” she directed. The injured man didn’t need the boys gawking at him as she tried to clean the dirt from his face and revive him. “We’ll need Jacob to help us assist this man to the house. Luke, get some water.”
They took off at a dash, their childish voices full of wonder as they talked over each other. Ravena allowed herself a small smile at their antics. They might tire her out with their innocent mischief, especially since her grandfather’s passing, but they were good boys.
Taking a corner of her apron in hand, she gently began wiping the dirt from the stranger’s bearded face. He stirred, prompting her to console him. “We’re here to help. You’ve passed out in our field, but we’ll get you up to the house in a minute.” She’d probably need to send one of the boys for the doctor. “Can you hear me, sir? We’ll have you fixed up soon.”
When he didn’t respond, she resumed cleaning his face. She was concentrating on brushing the last of the dirt from his beard before she realized he’d gone completely still. Was he truly dead and gone this time? Jerking her gaze to his, Ravena found his eyes open. Brilliantly blue eyes—familiar eyes—which peered directly at her.
Her heart flew into her throat as she studied his face, now absent of dirt. There were age lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there the last time she’d seen him, as well as tiny red cuts where his beard didn’t cover his tanned skin. But the dark eyebrows, the arch of his jaw, the brown hair lying damp against his forehead were still as recognizable as they’d always been.
“Tex?” His name barely made it past her lips, but a faint smile creased his mouth at hearing it.
“Hello, Ravena,” he murmured in a hoarse voice, which only confirmed the truth.
For better or worse, Tex Beckett had just stumbled back into her life.
Chapter Two (#u30b3f714-b001-5a5b-8c5c-a8000a6df2ea)
Despite his feverish haze, Tex caught a full glimpse of Ravena’s face, furrowed in concern and shock. If possible, she looked even more beautiful than he remembered. The girl of nineteen he’d left behind was now a grown woman.
“Tex, what are you doing here?” Her compassionate tone of moments before had disappeared, replaced by one of firmness and cool indifference. He’d expected as much. Thankfully she hadn’t yet walked away, leaving him to fend for himself.
He swallowed past his parched throat and shut his eyes against the glaring sun. “Could I...get some water?” he asked, dodging her question for the moment.
“Yes, Luke is on his way back with some right now.”
Luke? Tex didn’t remember anyone named Luke living here. Perhaps it was a hired hand or maybe one of the many orphans Ravena’s grandfather had taken in through the years.
A young boy’s excited voice pierced his thoughts. “We got the water and Jacob’s coming.”
“Thank you, Mark,” Ravena replied.
At the mention of the needed water, Tex pried his eyes open to find Ravena leaning over him with a cup in her hand. Behind her, two boys, who must be Luke and Mark, stared wide-eyed at him. If he hadn’t felt so near death, he might have chuckled at the horrified fascination on the orphans’ young faces. He would’ve felt the same had a stranger collapsed in his family’s field when he was a boy.
“I’ll help you drink.” Ravena lifted his head a few inches above the dirt and brought the cup to Tex’s dry lips. Her cool fingers were a reprieve from the fever. After a few swallows, he turned his chin away to indicate he was finished.
His thirst abated, he realized his head and side felt awful. Still, there were questions that needed asking. “How many orphans do you have right now?” he questioned, trying to work up to what he really wanted to find out about her.
“Five.”
“And your husband...” He wasn’t under any illusion that Ravena hadn’t married in his absence. It was only a matter of how much time had passed before she’d met someone else to claim her heart as Tex once had.
Her brow scrunched in confusion. “My husband?”
“Miss Ravena ain’t married,” the taller of the two boys volunteered. The news brought Tex unexplainable relief as did the shade from Ravena’s shadow as she stood over him. It wasn’t as if he’d come here to win her back. He’d slammed that door shut and locked it tight the moment he’d robbed his first bank. Still it pleased him to know no one else had captured her fancy.
Ravena appeared to draw in a steadying breath. “It’s isn’t married, Mark. Not ain’t married.” She glanced at Tex. “And Mark is correct. I’m not married.”
“How’s your grandfather?” Tex managed to ask next, though the pain and the heat were making it harder and harder to think clearly.
“He died three months ago.” Her hair hid her expression as she bent to pick up a gun from off the grass, but her anguished tone told him what her face hadn’t.
Sorrow flooded through Tex at the news. Not just for the loss of an honorable, generous man but for Ravena as well. She’d lost her parents to illness as a young child and now to have both grandparents gone too. Tex remembered a little about her grandmother, but her grandfather had been more of a father to him than his own father. He’d greatly admired Ezra Reid, even when they hadn’t always seen eye to eye. Especially regarding Tex’s ability to properly care for Ravena eight years ago.
“Ah, here’s Jacob.” She took a step away from Tex, allowing the harsh sun to beat down on him again. “He’ll help us get you to the house.”
Between the assistance of Ravena and the dark-haired youth named Jacob, Tex managed to get to his feet. Dizziness made the field seem like it was tipping one way, then the other, and he had to pause before he could start walking. He hated being at the mercy of others, but he had little choice. If he saw a doctor, he’d most likely be arrested, so he’d chosen to manage his gunshot wound himself. He’d done the best he could, and yet, he knew his current illness meant his efforts hadn’t been as effective as he’d hoped. He needed rest and proper care if he wanted to heal.
“We’ll get your horse, mister,” Mark said, his eyes alight with childlike excitement.
“Thank you,” he ground out between clenched teeth. Walking was proving more difficult than riding, even though Ravena and Jacob had him propped between them.
After a few minutes, the younger boys grew tired of Tex’s laborious pace and moved ahead, leading his horse around them and toward the barn while Tex, Ravena and Jacob continued plodding along. Sweat slid down his temples and soaked the back of his shirt. It wasn’t the most attractive way to greet one’s former sweetheart. Ravena seemed to be repressing any further questions, which suited him just fine. If he didn’t pass out before they reached the house, he would consider his first thirty minutes back in her presence a wild success.
“You have some older orphans or a hired hand helping out?” he asked, as much out of curiosity as to keep his mind off the pain radiating from his wound with each step forward. The Reid farm was on the smaller side, but with her grandfather gone, Ravena would still need help.
To his surprise, she shook her head. “Not anymore. The man I hired quit this morning.”
He glanced over in time to catch the worry that flitted over her pretty features. No wonder the field he’d collapsed in hadn’t been fully plowed. “What will you do now?”
He was pushing into her private life, a life he had no business learning more about. But he couldn’t help it. He didn’t like the thought of her in trouble. Or maybe he didn’t like the way it pricked his conscience to know she was completely on her own now.
“I’ll hire someone else.” The determination in her voice might have fooled anyone else, but Tex still knew her well enough to recognize it masked deep fear.
“If there’s anything I can do, Ravena...” He could stick around a little while, once he was well. Take more time to throw Quincy off his trail, since Tex felt certain the rustler wouldn’t think to look for a notorious outlaw in this sleepy little hamlet.
She sucked her breath in sharply. “That won’t be necessary.”
“But, Miss Ravena,” Jacob started to say.
“Mr. Beckett won’t be staying.” Ravena refused to look at Tex as she spoke. “And besides, he isn’t in a position to help with much of anything right now.”
Tex nearly laughed out loud at hearing her call him Mr. Beckett. That respectable-sounding name fit an entirely different person—one who’d stayed put on the farm, married Ravena and raised half a dozen kids along with the orphan children.
No, that name didn’t fit him at all.
The three of them fell into a tense silence, injury and exhaustion robbing Tex of any further energy to speak. By the time they reached the house and he sat on the porch step, he felt more like a quivering mass of dizzying pain than an infamous, and temporarily retired, outlaw.
Ravena sent Jacob to the barn to see after the younger boys before she disappeared into the house, declaring she’d get Tex another drink of water. He leaned against the porch column, his gaze sweeping the familiar surroundings. He’d spent a good portion of each day at the Reids’ farm until he’d left home. Beyond the worn red barn, he noticed a structure he’d never seen before. It appeared to be the outer walls of a house.
Ravena returned and handed him a full cup, then took a seat on the opposite side of the step. She seemed determined to keep her distance.
“Is that a house back there?” Tex asked, pointing in the direction with the cup. He wasn’t sure what else it could be—but he also wasn’t sure why she needed another house.
She followed his gaze. “It will be, when it’s completed. Grandfather started it. It’s twice as large as this one so we...” She lowered chin. “I mean, I...would be able to provide a home for more orphans.”
Tex took a drink from the cup. He admired Ravena’s dedication in continuing her grandfather’s legacy. Any orphans she took in would find a good home at the farm. This place had certainly been his second home. Not only had he been welcomed day or night, but there’d always been someone to play with too.
“What are you doing here, Tex?” Her repeated question scattered his nostalgic thoughts.
“Thought it was time to see the ol’ place again,” he joked.
Her eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Be serious for once. You’re hurt and you’re sick. How did you get that wound in your side?”
He gulped down the rest of the water as he considered what to say. She’d made no mention of his being an outlaw, which he hoped confirmed his assumption that Ravena had no idea how he’d spent his time since he’d left here. “I was shot at,” he said opting for some measure of honesty, “and who did it doesn’t matter.”
“But you’re seriously injured.” Her gaze darted to his and then away. “If you’re hoping for a place to convalesce, it can’t be here, Tex. It just can’t. The farm and the children need all of my attention—I don’t have time to play nursemaid. Besides, you need a doctor—”
“No, I don’t. And you don’t need to concern yourself with my injury. The bullet went clean through. It’ll be fine.” At least he hoped it would once he found some place to stop and rest for a time.
Her cheeks flushed with anger as she shot to her feet. “I can see you’re just as stubborn as ever. You think you can just waltz in after nearly a decade of being gone and expect everything to be the same. Expect me to be the same.” She turned her back to him and marched toward the screen door. “I should leave you to rot right there. Because if you had any idea of the pain...”
Her words faded out, but Tex didn’t need her to finish to know what she’d meant to say.
Regret pulsed within him. He twisted around, ignoring the stab to his side. “Ravena, wait. It’s asking too much. I know.” He’d been a fool to think she’d take him in after all this time. And an even bigger fool to think that in coming here the past wouldn’t creep into his mind and heart, making him consider things best left ignored.
But if he could have just one night’s peace. One night without the fear of waking up to Quincy’s enraged face, the same face that had been haunting his dreams since fleeing Casper. “What if I stay one night? I’ll sleep in the barn. You won’t have to know I’m here.”
Would she agree? Her shoulders slumped forward and her chin dropped. “One night?” she echoed.
He had a sudden desire to stand and hold her in his arms, to bring her comfort. And yet, he’d forfeited that privilege a long time ago. “One night. That’s all. I’ll ride off tomorrow.” How he’d be able to ride and where he’d go, he didn’t know. But he wouldn’t knowingly inflict more pain on her. Or himself. Coming back here hadn’t been his most brilliant idea of late.
“Fine, you may stay one night.” She lifted her head, steely resolve radiating from her stiff posture. “And since it’s only one night and you’re injured, you might as well sleep in the house. You can have my room. I’ll go prepare it.”
He considered arguing that he could sleep on the sofa instead, but he didn’t want to raise her ire further. “Thank you.”
She opened the screen and moved purposely inside, apparently ignoring him. But right before the door slammed shut, he heard her whisper, “You’re welcome.”
* * *
Ravena sat up, one hand pressed to her nightgown, over her pounding heart. A loud thud overhead had snatched her from sleep. Perhaps Ginny was having another nightmare. Which meant Ravena would need to hurry upstairs to the girls’ room to console her before Fanny woke up too.
Throwing off her blankets, she rose from the sofa and lit a lamp to take with her. A peek into the girls’ room showed her that both Ginny and Fanny were deep in slumber. Nothing appeared amiss in the boys’ room either. Confused, Ravena paused outside her bedroom where Tex was sleeping. She’d bid him good-night after bringing him some of her grandfather’s clothes, including a nightshirt. After her grandfather’s funeral, she’d simply packed up his things and put them in the attic. Then she’d moved herself out of the girls’ room into the master bedroom, much to the delight of Fanny and Ginny who each had a bed of their own now.
She couldn’t hear any noise coming from Tex’s room either. Perhaps the noise had come from outside? Flipping her long braid over her shoulder, she started back down the hall when an audible groan penetrated through her bedroom door. She moved back to it and called, “Tex? Are you all right?”
There was no reply. A flicker of concern prompted her to turn the knob and stick her head inside the room. “Tex?”
He wasn’t in bed. Instead he lay sprawled on the floor, his bare feet sticking out of the borrowed trousers he wore beneath the long nightshirt. He was trembling from head to toe. Ravena inhaled a sharp gasp and rushed over.
“Tex?” She set the lamp aside and knelt next to him. “What happened?”
“Quincy,” he murmured. “Can’t find...”
Did he mean his horse? “Quincy’s just fine,” Ravena soothed. “We put him in the barn. He’s safe.”
Tex’s eyes flew open, and he gazed wildly around until seeing her. He latched onto her wrist with surprising strength. “It’s not safe, Ravena. He’ll come for it. I know...” His words became incoherent mumbles, his eyes falling shut once more.
She lifted her hand and placed it against his forehead. He was burning with fever. Panic sliced through her. Tex was more ill than he’d let on earlier. And likely wouldn’t be better by morning. Her concern ratcheted higher. “Tex, we need to get you back into bed.”
He wouldn’t be much help getting up in his fevered state, but she wasn’t a weakling either. Gripping him under his arms, she wrested his upper body as gently as possible off the floor and onto the bed. She propped his legs up next, then repositioned the pillow beneath his head.
“I need to get a better look at your wound, all right?” She didn’t really expect an answer, and yet, she felt compelled to explain why she needed to peek at his side, especially after his insistence that he’d be fine without her help. Tugging his nightshirt up, she wasn’t surprised to find a bloodied bandage underneath.
She peeled back just enough of the soiled cloth to get a look at his injury and promptly gagged at his mottled flesh. Turning away, she clapped a hand over her mouth. She knew a little about sickness, farm injuries and medicine from her grandmother. Olive Reid had learned the skills of midwifery and nursing from her mother and had doctored most of the townsfolk during her lifetime, at least until an actual doctor had set up practice.
Tex’s wound appeared to be more than a few days old, but it wasn’t healing properly. No wonder he was feverish and delirious. He needed real medical care. And yet, he’d practically panicked when she’d suggested going for a doctor. It was something Ravena still didn’t understand, but Tex wasn’t in a position to explain.
She straightened, her arms folded tightly against her middle. The lamp on the nearby table lit up Tex’s features. How could they be so familiar and yet so foreign? Even now, creased with pain and fever, they still had the power to turn her insides to warm mush.
“What do I do, Lord?” How many times had she breathed this same prayer over the last three months? But having Tex here was nearly as daunting as having no hired hand for spring planting and not enough room to bring four more orphans to live on the farm.
Looking down at him, she felt as if she stood before a precipice. She didn’t know if the right thing was to jump or turn and run the other way. Questions she’d stopped asking herself years ago rose painfully into her mind. Why hadn’t Tex come back for her that night? Had his feelings for her changed so abruptly? Had she trusted where she shouldn’t have? Had he loved her at all?
Even when his brother, Tate, had come over later that night and confessed that he and Tex had argued, she felt certain Tex would still return for her, once he’d had a chance to cool down. But the long hours became morning, and still there was no sign of him. Then a full day went by, then a week, then a month, and finally years. All without a single letter of explanation.
Now that Tex was here again, did she really want to know the answers to her questions? Could she bear to hear him say aloud that he’d changed his mind about her? The possibility made her heart thrum a ragged, aching beat beneath her nightgown. If he stayed, how would she keep the past from drawing away her focus? She had to remain strong in her dedication to provide a home for these orphans and those she would somehow bring to the farm as well.
She could send him away in the morning, ignoring the terrible state he was in. They had agreed on one night, and she didn’t owe him anything.
Or she could do the Christian thing. She could allow him to stay however long he needed to fully recover.
Ravena eyed his bandage again, her mouth pursed in hesitation. Perhaps there was some way to speed up his recovery, then she wouldn’t have to manage having him around for more than a few days. Grabbing the lamp, she padded out of the room and back downstairs to the parlor. She pulled one of her grandmother’s journals, filled with Olive’s medical notes and home remedies, from the shelf. She settled the book on her lap and began perusing the well-worn pages. There had to be something in here about dealing with bullet wounds and the illnesses they might produce.
The clock on the mantle struck two before Ravena found what she’d been looking for. She could mix up a special tea and a strong poultice from the herbs in the cellar, though her grandmother had noted that plenty of rest and little movement for the patient was also critical.
Shutting her mind to the latter advice, Ravena went to the kitchen, wrapped herself in a shawl and headed outside to the cellar, shivering in the cool predawn air. With the aid of the lamp, she located the needed herbs. In the kitchen, she stoked the fire and set the kettle on to boil. While she waited, she crushed the herbs in a bowl with her grandmother’s old pestle.
The sharp scent of the crushed leaves awakened her further and reminded her of similar nights spent doing this very task as she’d assisted her grandmother. And now she was doing it alone—doing everything alone. A negligent tear rolled down her face, which she brushed away. Tears wouldn’t solve her problems.
Once she had the tea and poultice ready, she placed everything on a tray, added a fresh roll of bandage, and carried the things up to her room. She was relieved to find Tex hadn’t tumbled off the bed again. Her next task would be difficult, making her grateful Tex wasn’t conscious. She had to remove his bandage, place the poultice against his wound, and tie a new cloth around his middle.
Uneasiness warred with her determination, and Ravena willed herself to take a steadying breath. She’d assisted her grandmother as Olive had attended to a number of men. This would be no different.
She managed to untie the old bandage without moving Tex too much, then she tossed the cloth on the floor to burn in the stove later. With that done, she placed the herb poultice against his side. Tex winced in his sleep, though Ravena wasn’t sure if it was from the heat, the herbs or the pain of her jostling.
“Almost done,” she murmured, as much to herself as to him.
She slid her arm and the bandage behind him before grabbing it with her other hand. Leaning forward, she made sure she had the cloth in the right position.
Holding him like this, in a half embrace, she felt beckoned to recall memories she’d buried long ago. Carefree days of strolling with Tex across the hills, walking hand in hand. Or kissing him as they stood beside the stream. Or speaking of their shared future. Those were the days when her world had been bright and happy, full of love and promise. She had Tex, her grandfather and the orphans.
