Chapter 20
Mandie reached the mouth of the cave and whirled, searching frantically.
There. A fallen branch, just outside the opening, thick as her wrist. She snatched it up and spun back toward the fight.
Enoch and the cougar circled each other, the beast’s eyes glinting with feral rage. Blood matted its fur where Enoch’s knife had found its mark, and crimson stained the ripped sleeve on his forearm.
The animal lunged again, claws extended, and Enoch twisted away, slashing with his blade.
But the cougar’s reflexes were lightning fast. It swiped with a massive paw, catching Enoch’s shoulder and sending him staggering back.
Mandie didn’t hesitate. With a cry, she charged forward, the branch raised high. She brought it down with all her strength across the cougar’s hindquarters.
The animal yowled in pain and surprise, whirling to face this new threat.
Enoch seized the opening, driving his knife into its side. The cougar screeched and spun back to him.
Mandie swung again, catching it across the face. It reeled back, blood spattering the floor.
Enoch pressed the advantage, stabbing and slashing, driving the beast back. It swiped at him, but he dodged.
With a final, defiant snarl, the cougar turned and fled, disappearing into the rain.
Mandie stood frozen, chest heaving, the branch still raised.
Enoch sagged back against the cave wall, his knife clattering to the floor as he clutched at his left shoulder. Blood seeped through his fingers.
“Enoch!” She dropped the branch and rushed to him, her heart in her throat. She reached for his arm, trying to see how badly he was hurt. “Let me look.”
He shook his head, jaw clenched tight. “It’s not deep. Just a scratch.”
She gave him a sharp glare. “It’s more than a scratch. Please let me see.”
Reluctantly, he eased his hand away. His sleeve hung in tatters, revealing four parallel gashes scoring his upper arm, oozing blood.
Enoch’s chest still rose and fell as he fought to catch his breath. “I told you to run.”
She was standing so close, the warmth of his words brushed her face, but she kept her focus on his injuries. “And leave you alone with that beast? Not likely.” The bleeding seemed to already be slowing, but they needed to get him back to the house so she could clean up the entire arm.
She stepped back. “Think we can make it to the ranch?”
He glanced toward the cave opening. “I’d like to check on the cattle first. We’re close to that pasture.”
Frustration washed through her. “Enoch, you’re really hurt. I’m sure one of your brothers would gladly come later to check the herd.”
She laid a hand on his good arm and worked to soften her voice so this next part didn’t make him balk. “You take the brunt of every job on yourself. Let the rest of us help you for once.”
Resistance flashed in his gaze, as she’d expected. What had made this man think he had to carry the weight of the world just to make the load lighter for everyone around him? Did he think he deserved to be punished for something? If only she could ask him.
But now, when they were both soaked through and blood dripped down his arm, wasn’t the time. She settled for an added, “Please,” and gave his good arm a little squeeze.
His gaze softened. “All right.”
She could almost hear the, Just this once, he surely added in his mind. One battle at a time.
He reached down for his knife and stepped around her. “Let me go out first. Make sure he’s not still out there.”
She allowed him to lead, and as soon as he gave the all-clear sign, she followed him to the horses.
She started to offer Enoch help to mount, but he managed with little trouble. As though this was a daily experience, he climbed aboard his horse with his left arm clamped tight to his side.
She swung up onto Rosie’s back, gathering the reins in hands that still trembled. The rain had slackened to a cold drizzle, but the wind cut through her damp clothes like a knife.
The journey back to the ranch felt like an eternity with the trail turned to a slick ribbon of mud by the rain.
Rosie picked her way carefully, ears flicking back and forth at the rumble of thunder in the distance.
Mandie’s thighs ached from gripping the saddle, her split skirt plastered to her legs.
When they neared the house, Rosie loosed a whinny, which was answered by a horse in the barn. Willow probably, for she and her leggy filly were the only two in the structure these days.
Through the open barn doors, Robert poked his head out. He strode out to meet them as they reined in by the front porch, and his eyes widened when he saw Enoch’s arm.
“What happened?” Robert reached for Enoch’s reins as he dismounted.
“Cougar in a cave.” Enoch’s voice was tight. “It’s dealt with.”
Robert’s gaze flicked to Mandie, frowning at her bedraggled state and the blood on her hands from Enoch’s wound. She must look a fright. “You two all right?”
Mandie nodded, sliding down from Rosie’s back. Her legs nearly buckled, but she caught herself by gripping the saddle. “We will be. Enoch needs tending to.”
“I’ll see to the horses.” Robert led them toward the barn. “You get him inside.”
Mandie hurried to Enoch’s side as he climbed the porch steps, ready to offer support if needed.
But he moved under his own power, though his jaw clenched beneath his beard. He didn’t stop to remove his wet boots outside, which was good, for she would have insisted he leave them on. She could wipe up a little muddy water later.
Once he reached the kitchen, he shrugged out of his ruined shirt, revealing the angry red gashes on his shoulder and upper arm, a painful addition to the barely healed burns.
Stripped to the waist, the damage looked even worse. The slashes still seeped blood. Bruises were already forming, dark splotches that made her body ache in sympathy.
“Sit.” Mandie pointed to a chair, her tone brooking no argument. “I’ll get hot water and bandages.”
He obeyed without protest and sank onto the wooden seat. Exhaustion and pain lined his face, making him look older than his years.
She hurried to grab two bowls, filling one with water from the ever-present kettle on the stove, and then pulled the crate of bandaging supplies down from the shelf. Had it only been four days since she’d been here, doing nearly this exact thing?
He sat without a shirt, same as last time, though now he’d not bothered with a blanket over his good shoulder. The burns were indeed healing, but now they also had to make sure these claw marks didn’t fester.
His head slumped in his right hand, revealing the thickness of the ropy muscles across his shoulders and the top of his back.
She set the bowls and crate on the table, then moved to his side and gripped his palm to stretch his arm out so she could get a good look at all the lacerations.
The gashes were raw and jagged, still bleeding a little. Mandie moved an empty basin under his arm, then dipped a clean cloth in the warm water and squeezed liquid over the first cut. Enoch flinched but held still, his muscles taut under her fingers.
One by one, she did the same for each claw mark, pausing over one near the middle.
“This is going to need sewing up.” She lifted her focus to meet his gaze. In the light of the kitchen, his eyes were the color of a stormy sea. “I can do it, if you’ll let me.”
Something flickered in his expression, there and gone too fast for her to read. “Do it.” He bobbed his chin toward the crate. “Pour whiskey on them first. Cougar scratches fester easy.”
She glanced at the small amber bottle tucked under the bandages. That would sting nearly as bad as the stitches.
Keeping the basin under his arm, she splashed a liberal amount of the liquid over the gashes.
Enoch hissed through his teeth at the first touch but held himself still as she worked. She could feel the tension thrumming through him, the barely leashed power in his muscles. Like a wild thing, only half-tamed.
As she cleaned the wounds, she studied the scars marking his skin farther down his arm—old wounds, long healed. What other hurts had he endured in his life? Had these affected his body only? Or his heart too?
When the wounds were clean, she threaded a needle, her hands surprisingly steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling inside her. She’d never stitched a person before, only fabric. But the principle was the same, wasn’t it? In and out, neat and even.
She took a deep breath and bent over his arm, the needle poised. “Ready?”
“Get on with it.” The words were a low growl.
The first pierce of the needle made him flinch, a barely perceptible tightening of his jaw. But he held himself still as she worked, stitching the wound closed with tiny movements. Blood welled up, staining her fingers, but she dabbed it away and kept going.
In and out, a steady rhythm, until the gash was sealed with a line of neat stitches.
She tied off the thread and snipped the excess, then applied salve and reached for the bandages. As she wound the strips of cotton around his arm, her fingertips brushed the inside of his arm, feeling the heat of him, the thrum of his pulse.
Enoch watched her work, his gaze heavy on her bent head. She could feel the weight of it, the unspoken questions hanging in the air between them.
When the last bandage was secured, she straightened, meeting his eyes. “There. That should hold.”
“Thank you.” His voice was a low rumble, like distant thunder.
Mandie nodded. They were so close. She couldn’t help but watch from the corner of her eye as his bare chest rose and fell with each breath. Did she dare ask him what he’d been about to say in the cave?
She could still feel his arms around her as he’d held her close, the raw vulnerability in his voice when he’d said he didn’t know how to do this. Whatever this was.
She sank into the chair around the corner from his and placed her hands on the table to draw his focus to her. Before she could lose her courage, she spoke. “What did you mean in the cave when you said you didn’t know how to do this?”