Debra Cowan - Whirlwind Reunion

Matt concentrated, but couldn’t identify the jagged streaks. “Could you hold it farther away?”

She stepped back a few feet, keeping her hands beneath the cloth to support it. Distance didn’t help.

“I don’t recognize the likeness. Maybe Russ or one of the other men will.”

Disappointment chased across her features.

“It was a good idea.” Matt didn’t know why he was reassuring her.

Pleasure flashed in her eyes then was gone. “I can’t take credit for it.”

“Don’t know why not.” She had possibly given him a bonafide lead, using a technique he had never heard of. “The idea to take the impression of my wounds was your idea, not your teacher’s.”

She shrugged, turning away to return the cloth to its place atop the cabinet.

It didn’t escape him that Annalise had been able to help both with the weapon and with his injuries because she had left Whirlwind. Left him. And he didn’t like it one damn bit.

For the last three days, the walls had been slowly closing in on her. Annalise was painfully conscious of Matt and had been since she had bandaged his wounds after making the impression.

As she walked out of Haskell’s General Store after lunch, she admitted her pulse hadn’t settled down since. Faced with his wide, hair-dusted chest, she wasn’t sure how she had managed to keep a steady hand. His body was more tautly muscled than it had been when they had been betrothed, the plane of his stomach even more well-hewn. Looking at him, touching him, made her mouth go dry.

It was beyond vexing. It scared the daylights out of her. Why couldn’t she view him as just another patient? After what he’d done, how could she feel anything for him?

Sometimes, when she was too close to him, her skin stung with sensation. Andrew’s presence helped dull the awareness as did J.T.’s and Cora’s. But at night, it was just Annalise and Matt in quarters too close for her liking. She was upstairs and he was down, yet it didn’t seem to matter. Nothing could stop the memory of those work-roughened hands moving slowly over her bare skin or the hot press of his mouth on her breasts.

His presence, their history, the low-thrumming tension wore on her. As she had done the last three days, she forced her thoughts to something else. Neither she nor Matt had yet been able to identify the weapon used on him.

After comparing the marks on the impression with those left by pitchforks, rakes and even a circular saw blade, she still had nothing to tell Matt, his family or the sheriff. The weapon in question also didn’t match any blade pattern she’d checked on knives at Haskell’s or in his Montgomery Ward catalogue.

Davis Lee, Russ, Jericho and Bram Ross had returned to Whirlwind frustrated and empty-handed. The men had found nothing to identify Matt’s attackers or to indicate where they had gone. Matt had shown Russ and the others the impression she had made, but none of them could identify the pattern or the weapon either.

She walked past Cal Doyle’s law office then stepped inside her clinic.

And found four women gathered around her patient, who was sitting up. Catherine Blue and two of her sisters-in-law, Deborah and Jordan. And a lone blonde named Willow. Annalise remembered her from the night she and Matt had run into each other outside the Fontaine. The woman worked for Russ and Lydia at the hotel.

Surrounded by females, Matt was saying something that made them laugh. The smile on his face faded when he saw Annalise.

Even so, her heart thudded hard. She eyed him dispassionately. The last thing she wanted was for Matt Baldwin to know how much he still got under her skin. At first glance, he looked fit enough, but she saw strain around his eyes.

“Hi, Annalise.” Catherine, a trained nurse who had quickly become a friend, walked toward her.

“Hi, Doc.” The other three women chorused.

She greeted everyone, smiling at Catherine as the others took turns reading the latest edition of The Prairie Caller to Matt. Whirlwind’s newspaper had the news about Josie being ordered to bed for the duration of her pregnancy. There was also the announcement of the arrival of a man known only as Cosgrove, the manager for the Eight of Hearts Ranch, owned by new resident, Theodore Julius.

Squashing a sudden burst of irritation, Annalise caught sight of a pie on the bedside table next to Matt’s bed. She glanced at Catherine. “Cora’s been here?”

The raven-haired woman nodded. “Also May Haskell as well as Chesterene Eckert and Zoe Keeler.”

No wonder Matt looked tired, she thought crossly. “How’s Evie?”

At the mention of her one-month-old daughter, Catherine glowed. “She’s doing well, for as little sleep as she’s getting.”

“Is she colicky?” Annalise asked with a frown.

“No.” The other woman laughed. “Her father seems to think he has to hold her every minute he’s with her. When Jericho finally puts her to bed, she doesn’t stay asleep long.”

Despite the sharp pang of loss in her chest, Annalise smiled at the image of the former Texas Ranger being so enamored of the infant. She used to wonder what kind of father Matt would’ve been to their son, but it hurt too much to consider.

Hearing his deep chuckle, she shifted her attention back to him just as Catherine asked, “Have you seen good results with the honey you’ve been using on his wounds?”

“Yes, and there’s been no inflammation. Everything’s healing nicely.”

As she and the other woman talked, Annalise’s irritation with Matt grew. She had told him not to tire himself out, yet here he was, sitting up, laughing and flirting. Of course he hadn’t followed her orders. What had she expected?

Though he looked as if his energy was flagging, she knew he would never admit it. He would tire easily until he was fully recovered, but if his wounds still looked as good as they had yesterday, she planned to tell him he was free to leave. He was ready and so was she.

When her conversation with Catherine lulled, Annalise turned to the other women. “Ladies, I need to examine Mr. Baldwin, so maybe you could continue your visit later?”

“Yes, of course,” Deborah Blue said.

Willow shared a look with Matt that spoke clearly of sexual knowledge between them. “I’ll see you after awhile.”

Annalise knew from the blonde herself that she was a former prostitute. It appeared Matt knew the same from firsthand experience.

A few minutes later, Annalise was alone with him. “I guess you ignored my suggestion that you rest.”

“You didn’t suggest.” No charming smile for her. “You ordered.”

She didn’t respond, instead gathering fresh bandages and the crock of honey from the glass-fronted cabinet then moving behind his cot.

As she examined his dressing, he said, “Is this really why you ran them off?”

“I didn’t run them off. You look half-spent and I need to change your dressing. Why else would I ask them to leave?”

The smug knowing look he threw over his shoulder had her bristling. Before she thought better of it, she snapped, “Yes, I wanted you all to myself. Haven’t had nearly enough of that.”

“Ouch!” He flinched as she pulled at his dressing a little too hard.

“Do you want some help lying down?”

“If you’re changing my bandages, I’d like to sit up.”

“All right.”

As she peeled off the old strips of cloth, she wrestled with her aggravation. She wasn’t vexed because she was jealous, which was what Matt thought, the arrogant cuss. She just didn’t like him disregarding her medical advice.

During the last few days, it had been obvious he had moved on from their past. She wasn’t letting on that his actions from seven years ago still hurt her. She wanted to avoid any reference to their history. So her only conversations with him thus far had consisted of advice, treatment and asking what he might want for his meals.