Promises: Promises Prevail Part 55

"Yes." In a fair imitation of Clint he arched his right brow, "You are unhurt?"

She wasn't sure. As she did a mental inventory the cacophony of noise filling the clearing pushed through the perimeters of her mind. She became vividly aware of men hollering, and a dog snarling. A high-pitched scream was suddenly cut short, followed by three gunshots in rapid succession.

"Is she okay?" Clint called, sounding strained, but alive. So very alive.

Gray lifted his brows in inquiry. She swallowed and nodded, more and more sure the body she was lying on was dead.

"Yes," Gray called.

"Keep her there."

Jenna did not like that note in Clint's voice. She tugged her wrist. Gray didn't let go, just shook his head when she tried again.

"Pa said to keep you here."

She froze. "You called Clint pa."

"What else would I call my father?"

"And me, mother."

He shrugged again. "What else would I call my mother?"The bruising made his smile lopsided, but it was the first one she'd ever seen on his face and it was beautiful.

So beautiful that she forgave him for for holding her for Clint.

The clearing dropped to quiet.

Two seconds later, Clint dropped to his knees beside her. His expression was pure fury. "What in h.e.l.l did you think you were doing?" He rubbed at her face with his sleeve. "I've never seen such pure foolishness in all my born days."

She pushed his hand away. He swept her resistance aside with a curse and renewed his efforts.

"Clint?"

"What?"

"Please tell me I'm not lying on a dead man." The horror of it was beginning to get to her.

His "son of a b.i.t.c.h" told her all she needed to know.

He scooped her up and just as quickly turned her over as her stomach heaved. He held her head and supported her as he swore at her, calling her foolish, impulsive, rash, and yelling at her for messing up their plan, yelling at her for almost getting herself killed and quite a few other things that she thankfully missed due to retching.

When the last of her heaves faded to lurching hiccoughs, Clint scooped her up and carried her over to the rocks, as far away from Mark's body as they couldthe rocks, as far away from Mark's body as they could get. She wiped at her mouth with her sleeve.

"Here." A canteen was shoved in her face. She took it gratefully, smiling up into Cougar's stern face as she first rinsed out her mouth and then took a long drink of the cool water.

"You were right," she said. "I did have it in me."

"I'm rarely wrong." A hint of a smile crinkled the corners of his fascinating eyes.

"Do not encourage her." Clint glared at them both as he ran his hands over her body, unmindful of their audience as he lifted her dress to check her legs, her hip, her back. When his hand slid over her b.u.t.tock she shrieked and pulled away. Clint's response was a curt, "Don't push me, Jenna."

He hauled her against his chest, swearing when she flinched away from his gentlest touch. Over his shoulder she saw the wicked twinkle in Cougar's eyes and his smile spread from a hint to full-blown.

"If I were you Clint, I'd watch what you say. The little lady has a hair trigger temper."

Clint wasn't impressed.

"The little lady is going to have a sore a.s.s."

He probed down her thigh, and she moaned as pain flared. Now that the excitement was over, her body was making her aware of every bruise. She looped her armsaround his neck and buried her face in his throat, breathing deeply of his wonderful scent.

"I already do."

"You've got no one but yourself to blame," he growled, fingering the knot in her thigh and ma.s.saging it, his touch incredibly light in direct contrast to his biting words.

"If I start unb.u.t.toning my blouse, will you stop yelling?"

The jerk of Clint's body could have been laughter or irritation. Before she could find out, Asa came up, holding Danny's ruff. She didn't look too closely at the stain around the big dog's mouth.

"Now there's a woman knows how to sweet-talk a man."

This hadn't been his fight, but he'd come, backing her husband, risking his life. She only had one thing to say to him. "Thank you."

He shrugged. "McKinnelys stick together."

"You're a MacIntyre."

"He wore us down with that d.a.m.ned perverse sense of humor of his," Cougar admitted in a disgusted tone.

"We claimed him out of sheer self-preservation."

Asa smiled and tipped his hat, leaving it a little lower over his brow as he said dryly, "I was flat-outhonored."

Clint grunted. "Did you get the others?"

"They're all wrapped up nice and tidy. Mark doesn't run with a bright group." He motioned to the center of the clearing where two men were lying face-down in the dirt, their hands tied behind their backs. The other bodies weren't tied and didn't move.

"Who got Mark?" Asa asked.

"Gray." Clint shot the boy a concerned glance. "He saved Jenna's life."

None of the men said anything for a moment. Then Cougar spoke up.

"Good job." Gray nodded, his expression tight.

Clint ran his hand over the welt on her hip. Jenna couldn't help wincing.

Asa's eyes narrowed. "She doesn't look in any shape to ride."

"She's not." Clint pushed the hair off her cheek, his eyes searching every inch of her face.

"You two want to wait for us to come back with a wagon?" Cougar asked.

Before Clint could weigh in, Jenna shook her head.

She didn't want to stay here. "I want to go home."

"Baby, you're too busted up."

"I got here, I can get home." She was not stayinghere.

"Speaking of which, how did you find us?" Asa asked.

"Danny."

"I thought you had better sense." Clint glared at the dog.

Danny merely sat and c.o.c.ked his head, the dog equivalent of a shrug.

"I for one am glad that he came. Took out one of the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds who had the drop on me." Asa patted Danny's big head. "Think I'll have Old Sam whip him up a steak when I go back to get the wagon."

"I'm not staying here," Jenna repeated. If she could have she would have folded her arms across her chest.

"I'm going home."

Clint sighed. "You're so weak now, you're shaking.

You'll never sit a horse."

She was. In the aftermath of the violence, she felt totally drained, buffeted by so many emotions that she couldn't make sense of any but one. "I'm going home."

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it, Jenna." Clint tucked her tighter against him. "You are in no shape to ride."

"Fine. She could tell he was working up to yelling at her again so she headed him off. Then get my pillow and let me ride in front of you.""What?"

"I used a pillow to get up here. I can use one to get back."

"A pillow?"

"The saddle hurt, so I used a pillow," she muttered into his shoulder. The look he sent her questioned her sanity. "It worked fine until the pillow slipped. Bucky didn't like that-"

Around her there was the stifled sound of laughter.

Against her, Clint's muscles tightened to hard ridges of disbelief.

"You rode one of my testiest cow ponies on a pillow?"

"Yes."

"And he waited to balk until you got here?"

"Yes."

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h, somebody upstairs must hate me."

He dropped his forehead against hers.

"Maybe the good Lord wanted to make sure you'd be able to find me when I got bucked off."

"That must be it," He said in a resigned tone.

He touched her forehead, her cheek, her lip, all the places she knew she had marks and then pulled her hard against him, asking in a weary voice, "What am I going to do with you Jenna McKinnely?"She only had one answer for him.

"You could try loving me."

Chapter Twenty-Five.

You could try loving me.

Clint leaned his shoulder against the door, popped the bottle in Bri's mouth, and watched the soft glow of moonlight play over Jenna's gentle face as she slept.

How could she not know he loved her? Since the day he'd first seen her, he'd been a goner. He'd fought it, tried to rise above his selfish need, but there hadn't been any true hope that he'd escape. He was too far from a saint, and she was just too much temptation with her shy smile, sweet softness, and hot, giving nature. Son of a b.i.t.c.h, he loved her.

As he watched, she turned, reaching out to his side of the bed before frowning and rolling back. He'd have to take her back to see Doc tomorrow. That'd require some sort of clever excuse as Jenna would balk at another examination, but d.a.m.n it, she worried him. She'd been listless ever since that night. Not eating well, not smiling, and generally withdrawn. Part of it was her wounds- any movement at all the first day was agony-but even when that let up, her listlessness didn't. Son of a b.i.t.c.h, he wasn't going to lose her.The baby kicked her feet and turned away from the bottle.

"What's the matter, b.u.t.ton? Suck too much wind?"

he whispered, taking the bottle from her mouth. She gave him one milky little smile, no doubt delighted with her ability to disturb the adult world, and then proceeded to pout.

"Oh no, you don't. No waking up Mommy."

He shifted her to his shoulder. She'd doubled in size since the first time he'd seen her, but she was still the tiniest bit of humanity, her back barely stretching his palm and for all her spirit, felt as fragile as the china tea cups Dorothy pulled out on special occasions. With the tip of one finger, he rubbed her back, feeling the delicate ladder of her baby spine. And frowned. Maybe he'd have Doc look at her again tomorrow, too. He didn't care what the women said about her being fine. She needed more meat on her bones.

He sighed. Jenna would have something to say about that, no doubt. She was always riding his case about worrying too much, but he'd gone from nothing to everything and those kinds of changes had a man thinking in terms of the cost of losing. Especially with the scare Jenna and Gray had just given him. He frowned as Jenna turned and the blanket fell off her shoulder revealing the head to toe nightgown she'd taken towearing.

He sighed and kissed the top of Bri's head. Jenna's taking to wearing smothering nightclothes was his fault, too. Every time he'd seen her cuts and bruises over the last four days, he'd lost his temper. He couldn't help it. It scared the s.h.i.t out of him that that sick son of a b.i.t.c.h had gotten his hands on Jenna. And it would take at least five lifetimes to forget the sight of her facing down the barrel of a gun, uncaring of her own safety as she defended her son.

"Your mother has a bit of a wildcat in her, b.u.t.ton,"

he whispered, a smile working past his worry. Bri bobbed her head on his shoulder, belched, and tangled her fist in his hair. "If you're lucky, some of it will wear off on you."

"I don't think that will be a concern," Gray said, touching his sister's cheek. "She has quite a temper."

"Couldn't sleep?" Clint turned, not surprised to find the boy up, or Danny by his side. The two had taken to each other and patrolled the halls nightly.