Chapter 3
Cressida watched as two men and a horse stepped through the trees, one of the men leaning heavily on the other. She watched as the injured man was lowered to the ground. The other one went to fetch some water from the river before returning.
“Wake up!” the man shouted, shaking the one on the ground.
She bit the inside of her cheek. Lord knew she had enough problems of her own, but she couldn’t very well let a man die on the side of the riverbank.
Hiking her skirt, she ran over, stopping a few feet away when she saw the guns on both men’s hips.
Though guns were a common sight, she was still uneasy about two strange men on the far edge of her land.
“Can you help?” the man asked, looking up at her from where he kneeled beside the injured man.
Now that she was closer, she could see that the man who limped was covered in little cuts, his clothing torn, bruises blossoming on his face and hands.
“What happened?” she asked, kneeling down beside the unconscious man. “Who are you?”
“Tobin. I don’t know his name.” Tobin shook the other man’s shoulders, trying to get him to wake up. He patted the man’s cheek before putting his fingers to his neck. “His pulse is still strong, but I think the blood loss went to his head.”
“I need to get this blood to stop. It…well, it doesn’t look good,” Cressida said, her fingers skimming over the man’s face. Beneath the blood, he was handsome, with dark hair that was a little too long and shaggy, his jaw strong and covered in a dark shadow of facial hair.
“He hit his head, too. Don’t know what might have happened to him before that.” Tobin took off his hat, running his hand through his hair. “There’s a town close by, isn’t there?”
“About another hour’s ride, but I don’t know if you can get him that far without staunching some of this bleeding.” Cressida took off her apron, forgoing the lavender in her pocket.
She tore the apron into long strips. She eased one of the strips beneath his thigh, tying it tight against the cut there to put some pressure on the wound.
“Lift his head gently,” Cressida said, moving so she could address the other cuts.
Tobin crouched down and lifted the man’s head, holding it in place while Cressida secured one of the strips around the cut on his forehead. She took care of a few more cuts that were actively bleeding before getting to her feet, her heart racing in her chest.
“With this much blood, you’re not going to be able to make it to town, but my house is just on the other side of the pasture there.
” She wiped her hands on her skirt, grateful she had worn a navy blue one so most of the bloodstains would be hidden.
“I can clean and sew some of the deeper wounds there.”
“You have experience with this sort of thing? Tobin asked, hefting the other man up. “Help me get him on the horse.”
Cressida helped support the weight of the injured man as they took him the couple of steps to the waiting horse. “A bit.”
The truth was that she had gotten good at caring for wounds after Etta’s accident. She wasn’t going to disclose that with a stranger, though.
She didn’t even know if she should be taking them to her home, but there was the worry that the injured man would die if some of the deeper cuts weren’t cleaned. Infection was a nasty thing, and the sooner the wounds were dealt with, the less likely he would be to develop one.
“On the count of three, we lift.” Tobin positioned the man to the side of the horse. “One, two, three.”
They lifted together, Tobin doing most of the work getting the man slung over the back of the horse.
Cressida was panting when she stepped back, a slight ache in her back. Lifting a man had only added to the strain on her body from the day’s work, but it was fine. She would be sure to put some peppermint salve on her back later, and it should ease the pain.
“This way,” Cressida said, leading the way through the meadow and to the gate.
With each step, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Bringing two strange men onto her property was a risk, especially when it was just her and Etta. She bit the inside of her cheek, an orange glow taking over the sky as the sun started to drop lower.
It was only going to be a matter of time before it was dark out, and she certainly couldn’t leave the injured man to bleed out.
She would take them to her house, patch him up, and then she would send them on their way to town. Tobin could take the man to see Dr. Bellwood in Blue Valley. Then her conscience would be clear, and she wouldn’t have men in her home for longer than absolutely necessary.
“So,” Cressida said, unsure what to say but feeling the need to make conversation regardless. “There are robbers in the woods? Should I be worried that they’re going to make their way to my property?”
“I wouldn’t think so.” Tobin took off his hat and ran his hand through his auburn hair. “Not much that robbers are going to want with someone established here. It’s far easier to rob travelers.”
Cressida nodded, but it didn’t make her feel any better. “Well, I suppose it’s a good thing that I sleep with the shotgun then.”
She didn’t really, but she wanted Tobin to know she wasn’t afraid to defend herself if she had to.
The men would be on their way in no time, but the reality was that she didn’t know them, and she certainly didn’t know if they were involved with the robbers or not.
This could all be an elaborate plan, and she wouldn’t be caught unprepared.
Though, casting a glance at the injured man, she doubted that anyone would allow themselves to be beaten for an impending robbery.
It’s not as if she and Etta had much worth taking either. After Edmund died, Cressida had sold anything of value to pay the cost of moving back to Blue Valley from Idaho.
The house rose on the horizon, and Cressida breathed a sigh of relief. They would be there soon. Her heart thrummed in her chest as she drew closer. She held the gate open and led them through the barn and up the path that led to the front of the house.
Etta was still on the porch with her quilting basket. Her mouth dropped open when she saw them. “Cressida, what is this?”
“This man was hurt in the woods,” Cressida said, leaving out the part about the robbers.
She didn’t want to cause Etta any more stress.
“Tobin, we’re going to get him down from the horse, and then we’re going to take him into the house.
We’re going to put him on the dining room table so I can properly assess his wounds.
Go in the door, and it’s the first door on the right. ”
Tobin nodded, his gaze lingering on Etta for a moment.
Cressida bristled, wondering what interest he could possibly have in her sister.
Etta’s injury wasn’t something for others to stare at.
Cressida cleared her throat, eyeing him, hoping it was enough to convey that the next time he looked at her sister would be the last.
Seeming to get the message, Tobin worked with her to get the man down from the horse, helping Cressida get the man into the house. It felt like the man weighed more than he did before, and lifting him onto the table had that sharp pain shooting through her back all over again.
There was no time to rest, though.
Cressida rolled up her sleeves and motioned to the hutch in the corner. “There’s a large basin in there. Go to the well we passed on the way up here and fill it, please.”
Etta came into the room, hobbling with her crutch beneath her arm. Sweat rolled down her forehead, and her cheeks were a little flushed. “What do you need me to do?”
“Cut these up,” Cressida said, opening the cabinet behind her and pulling out a swath of white cloth, handing it to Etta. “I need strips about two inches thick so I can wrap his wounds. Sit in that chair while I go get the sewing supplies.”
Cressida moved a chair in the corner for her sister, motioning to it before fleeing the room.
She hurried up the stairs and to her room, throwing open her wardrobe and reaching for the little sewing basket at the top.
It was the one she kept from when Etta was first hurt, and some of her wounds needed to be sewn up again after being torn open.
Her heart ached as she grabbed them now, but there was no time to waste.
She thudded back down the stairs, hustling into the dining room at the same time Tobin came back with the basin of water. He set it on the table beside the man’s head.
“Start removing the bandages,” Cressida said to Tobin. She set the sewing supplies beside the basin before reaching for the bandage around the man’s head.
As she pulled it away, the fabric stuck to the wound. She hissed out a breath through her teeth, gingerly trying to peel it away from his head without making anything worse. Finally, she got the cloth pulled away. The wound was still bleeding, but it didn’t look as bad as it had before.
She grabbed one of the strips of cloth from Etta, dabbing away the blood. “Tobin, cut away his clothing. Grab some cloth and start cleaning the wounds. I’ll work on sewing them up. Etta, keep cutting the fabric.”
She threaded a needle and got to work stitching the man’s wound shut.
As she moved from one wound to another, everything else faded to the back of her mind.
The only thing she could focus on was the man in front of her and making sure he survived long enough to get him off the table and on his way to town.
Once the last wound was closed, nearly twenty minutes later, she wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. After a moment, she pressed her fingers to the man’s neck, feeling for a pulse.
“He’s still alive and breathing.” She watched the rise and fall of his chest. It was shallow but steady. “But he’s going to need to see the doctor.”
Cressida’s gaze continued to roam over the man on the table, taking in the faint scars that laced his arms and torso.
She hadn’t had much time to look at them while she was stitching him up, but now that she had the time to study him, she wondered what had happened.
A person didn’t get covered in that many scars unless they had walked through the fires of Hell.
The pocket watch was interesting, though.
It had fallen out of the man’s pocket while cutting away his shirt to look at his deeply bruised ribs.
It was broken, but the gold shone like someone had taken care to clean it often.
Why anyone wouldn’t get it fixed but would put in the effort to clean it, she didn’t know.
It wasn’t her job to worry about it either. She had done what she said she would do. The man on the table was no longer her burden to bear.
Etta stood. “I’m going to go make some sandwiches for supper.”
It was getting dark out, but Cressida wasn’t sure she would be able to stomach any food after what she had just done.
“Thank you,” Cressida said, offering Etta a smile.
Etta limped from the room, making Cressida’s heart stop for a moment. If she could take the pain from Etta, she would do it in an instant. She would happily bear it as her own if it meant that Etta could live a normal life.
Tobin cleared his throat once they were alone, shifting his weight from one side to the other.
Cressida looked at him, and though he drew his shoulders in and seemed like he was trying to make himself look small, there was something in the way his eyes watched her that made her think it might be an act.
Why pretend to be someone you weren’t, she didn’t know, but she supposed most people put on a front in some way or another.
“Do you think he’s safe to move?” Tobin asked, looking down at the man. “He’s been unconscious for a long time. Jostling him could make things worse.”
Cressida bit the inside of her cheek. As much as she wanted the men gone, she was worried that the injured man hadn’t woken up yet. She was worried there was something wrong with his head.
She could send Tobin to fetch the doctor, but Dr. Bellwood’s home was hard to find if you didn’t know the area. Even harder in the dark when you couldn’t see the landmarks. And she certainly couldn’t leave Etta alone with two men.
As much as it pained her to realize it, the men would have to stay the night. In the morning, she could send Tobin after the doctor. She’d draw him a map before bed, and as soon as first light hit, she would send him on his way.
Cressida washed her hands in the basin full of fresh water.
Tobin had brought it in only a few minutes before.
She scrubbed the blood from beneath her nails and looked up at him.
“You’re going to have to go for the doctor in the morning.
His home is too hard to find in the dark. You’ll stay in the barn for the night.”
Tobin arched an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to the man on the table. “You’re sure about that?”
“One night.” Cressida swallowed hard, drying off her hands on a clean towel.
“Well then, after I come back with the doctor in the morning, I’ll repair the siding on your barn.” Tobin tucked his hands in his pockets, grabbed his hat from the chair he hung it on, and settled it on his head. “Thank you.”
Cressida was speechless as Tobin left the room. They had hardly been in the barn, and yet he’d noticed the floors.
Was her life so truly in tatters that a stranger would notice it upon one look?