Chapter 4
Ronan couldn’t remember the last time his body had ached so much, and the throbbing in his head felt like he had surely been hit with something hard. He groaned, eyes still closed, rolling to the side slightly before hissing out a sharp breath. There was something wrong with his ribs.
When he opened his eyes, he had no clue where he was.
His hand flew to the gun that should’ve been at his hip, only to find that his holster was missing. He tried to sit up, but he was met with a hand on his shoulder, shoving him back down.
“Please, the woman said, her voice soft as she looked at him with eyes that seemed to stop time itself. “You’re hurt, and you need to rest. The doctor has just left, and he says that you need to rest as much as possible.”
“Who are you?” Ronan snapped, looking past her to the two other people in the room. One was the man who had helped him, but the other was another woman with a crutch tucked beneath her arm.
“Cressida,” she said, her fingers flexing on his shoulder for a moment before she pulled away. He leaned back from her, not wanting her to reach for him again. “This is my sister, Etta, and Tobin is the one who brought you here. Can you tell me your name?”
“Ronan.” He scowled at her, shifting on the table, trying to get away from her. Why was he in this house? The last thing he remembered was Tobin helping him to the river.
“Please stop moving,” Cressida said, her tone strained as she took a step back, holding her hands up. “You’re going to hurt yourself more.”
Etta moved around the table, stumbling into the side and bashing her hip when she went to reach for a pitcher on the sideboard. Cressida spun, going to her sister, speaking to her in a voice so hushed Ronan couldn’t make out the words.
He glanced out the window, seeing the sprawling fields looking lush beneath the sun. The room he was in was wallpapered in a pale blue with flowers lacing over it. There was a doorway that led to the hallway and another that led to the kitchen.
Tobin pulled one of the wooden chairs closer to the table and sat down. “Good to see you awake. You’d have bled out if not for this woman.”
Ronan didn’t miss the warning tone to Tobin’s words, like Tobin was trying to tell him to watch the way he spoke or perhaps behaved.
Ronan glanced at Cressida as she looked back at him, dark circles beneath her grey-green eyes.
A strand of her chestnut hair fell from the knot at the nape of her neck.
“I put some salves on the bruises, ones made of peppermint. It should help with the pain. Your wounds have also been stitched, and I took care to make them as neat as possible so the scarring shouldn’t be too extensive,” Cressida said, still hovering beside her sister.
Tobin stood with a nod. “I’m going to go work on the barn.”
“Wait,” Etta said, heading out of the room.
Cressida pinched the bridge of her nose as her sister walked out of the room. She took a deep breath, turning and staring out the window like she needed a minute to gather herself. Ronan sat up, gritting his teeth against the pain.
Etta came back into the room with a stack of clothing in one hand, her crutch gripped tight with the other. “Here, Tobin. They were my father’s, and they might be a bit big on you, but at least they’re clean.”
Tobin took the clothing with a small smile. “Thank you.”
As Tobin disappeared from the room, Ronan looked between the two sisters.
He listened to the rest of the house, but other than the sound of shuffling clothing, there didn’t seem to be any noise.
Ronan glanced at Cressida’s left hand, but there was no ring, not even the line a ring would leave behind if the wearer had been in the sun often.
Their father was dead, and a quick glance at Etta’s hand left him thinking neither of the women was married.
It was risky to take two strange men in, and yet the woman in front of him had done that.
Cressida cleared her throat, tucking the loose strand back behind her ear. “I’ll help you up and get you a change of clothing, too. You look closer to my husband’s size. Some of his old clothing might fit you. We’ll settle you into the bedroom on this floor. You can recover in there.”
“I have a home not far from town.” Ronan didn’t like the thought of imposing on her and her sister, especially after he had already invaded her life.
And I doubt her husband will be happy with my being here.
He still thought there would be a ring on her finger, especially since she seemed to have a nice home. Perhaps she just didn’t like to wear one, though. He had known people back home who didn’t like the feel of them on their fingers while they were working.
“It’s a half an hour ride to town, and the doctor said you’re not cleared to move yet.” Cressida hovered near him like she wanted to reach out and help.
Ronan didn’t need her help, though. He was perfectly capable of getting off the table and getting to his feet on his own. He wobbled slightly, noticing for the first time that his clothing was in tatters. “Where’s my holster?”
Cressida opened the sideboard. “I put it in here for now. I would appreciate it if you left it there for the time you’re staying with us.”
His eyebrows pulled together. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Etta chuckled and shook her head. “I think I’m going to leave the two of you alone and go check on the chickens.”
“You shouldn’t be going out there,” Cressida said, though it seemed like Etta was determined to pretend she didn’t hear her.
As soon as Etta was out of the room, Cressida sighed and shook her head.
She said nothing for a moment, though her lips pressed together in a tight line.
Ronan didn’t know what to say. Whatever was going on between the sisters was none of his business.
He would stay there long enough to be able to ride to town, and then he would be gone.
“Come with me,” Cressida said, leading the way out of the room and to the hallway.
He followed her down the hall, walking slowly and favoring his wounded leg. He took in the walls lined with the same wallpaper, a blue rug on the floor that matched. There were oil sconces on the wall, a sitting room to the opposite side of the hall.
“This door,” Cressida said, stopping at the end of the hallway and turning to the left, reaching for a brass knob and twisting it. “It’s probably going to take close to a week before you’re able to leave, maybe more if you don’t get an adequate amount of rest.”
He glanced at the bed beneath the window, a chest of drawers against one wall with a mirror hanging above it. There was a washbasin set on top of the chest and a thick rug on the floor.
“Nice house,” he said, not sure what else to say to the woman standing beside him.
“It was a family member’s.” Cressida hovered in the doorway as he entered the room. “I’m going to fetch you some clothing, but you need your wounds cleaned again. I can help you with them, if you would like.”
He turned to look at her, stiff. “You don’t have to take care of me.”
The corner of her mouth twitched, something like recognition shining in her eyes. “I couldn’t very well let you die.”
“Thank you,” he said, clearing his throat. “I should have said that sooner. I know you don’t have to ensure my well-being, but I do appreciate it. And I would appreciate it if you helped with the wounds.”
Cressida nodded, turning from the room. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Ronan lowered himself to the edge of the bed, his entire body aching. His ribs hurt more than most, and when he ran his fingers along them, he hissed. It was certainly going to be some time before he could ride comfortably, but they didn’t feel broken, just bruised.
“I’m going to get the sheriff out here at some point, too, so you can give him a statement on what happened. Tobin already spoke to him when he was in town this morning, but if I know the sheriff as well as I think I do, he’s going to want to hear from you, too.”
“Okay.” Ronan looked down at his tattered clothing again, his heart stopping for a moment. He hadn’t checked for the pocket watch. “I had a watch…”
“It’s on the sideboard, in that little painted jar. I can go get it for you if you’d like.”
“Please,” Ronan said, his stomach turning at the thought of losing it. “If you don’t mind.”
Cressida put down the basket of cloth she had brought with her. “It’s not a bother at all. I still need to get a pitcher of water, too.”
She left the room again, and when she did, Ronan let out a deep breath. Maybe in a day or two, he would be well enough to leave, despite what the doctor had said. He didn’t want to waste her time, and he didn’t need someone looking over him.
His wounds would heal whether he was making his way to town or not. He would get what he needed there, and then he would make his way to the house waiting for him.
Cressida stepped back into the room, a pitcher of water in one hand and the pocket watch in the other. The long gold chain dangled from her hand. He reached out and took it from her as she neared the bed.
“Thank you,” he said, past a thickness in his throat.
“You’re welcome.” She turned and filled the basin with water before bringing it over and sitting on the bed beside him. Ronan put the pocket watch in his pocket, even though his shirt hung loose from his shoulders.
His entire body warmed at the thought of her hands on him. It had been a long time since a woman had so much as given him a sliver of her attention.
“Do you mind?” Cressida asked, dipping a rag into the water when he shook his head. It was warm when it touched his skin, her fingernails lightly grazing against him when she cleaned away the dried blood at the edges of one of the cuts.
He shivered beneath her touch, his gaze finding hers before flicking away. “Does your husband mind that I’m here?”
“I suppose he would if he were alive,” she said lightly. The corner of her mouth twitched, but it was in that sad sort of way, the one that showed up when someone was trying to use humor to cope with the tragedy that had been their lives.
She drifted a little too close to the watch, and he jerked back. Her eyebrows pulled together, lips pressing into a thin line, but she said nothing.
Ronan sighed. “I’m sorry. I just—”
“Don’t worry,” Cressida said, moving onto one of the other cuts. “It’s been a while since he passed, and I got to love him for a few years while he was alive.”
“I doubt anything about that would be easy.” Ronan hissed as she touched a particularly tender spot.
“It wasn’t.”
She dabbed at the same spot again, wincing when he shifted slightly.
“I know that having someone tend to your wounds can make you feel at odds about everything. Lord knows it was hard enough to take care of my sister when she was going through the worst of her injuries. Just know that I’ll be done soon, and with the cuts stitched and the others scabbed over, you should be fine in no time. ”
His throat went dry as he looked at her. He wanted to ask what happened to Etta, but it would be rude to pry.
Instead, he said nothing as Cressida finished checking over the wounds before standing.
“I’ve got good news,” she said, tossing the dirty rag into the basin.
“And what might that be?” he asked, shifting where he sat, not sure what to think about the note of amusement in her eyes.
“I think you’re going to live.” She smirked and gathered her supplies.
Despite himself, he chuckled.
“I suppose that is good news. Thank you for tending to me and giving me a place to recover. I’m sure the interruption in your life isn’t most welcome.”
“It’s not unwelcome.” She headed for the door, reaching for the knob, her supplies balanced on her hip. “I’ll be back with some clothes and to get the basin in a moment, and then I’ll leave you to rest.”
As the door eased shut behind her, all Ronan could do was hope that he could move on soon.
The last thing he needed was to get attached to a woman with a heart big enough to care for a stranger.