He nodded, grimacing as he braced his weight on his left arm.
She dipped a damp rag into the bowl of clean water she’d left on the bedside table. “Sheriff, would you like to stay for supper?”
“I can’t, Miz Donnelly, but thank you. Maybe another time?”
“Of course.” She reached over to gently wipe Jericho’s face with the damp rag.
He grabbed her wrist with his left hand. “I can do it.”
Her gaze jerked to his and she released the rag. “Of course.” Her voice sounded shaky and she curled her fingers into the pleats of her apron. “I’ll go start supper.”
“I won’t stay long, Nurse,” the sheriff said.
She walked out, her skin burning from Jericho’s touch, her nerves as raw as if he’d hooked an arm around her throat. It took a minute to steady herself, and as she stoked up the fire in the stove for cornbread, she tried to dismiss the stamp of his touch on her skin. Had that jolt to her bloodstream been fear? Or something else?
The sheriff could stay all night as far as she was concerned. She was in no hurry to be alone with Jericho Blue.
Chapter Three
D avis Lee raised an eyebrow and gave him a steely-eyed look. “What was that about?”
“What?” Jericho said. He shouldn’t have touched her. Her skin was every bit as silky soft as it looked. She smelled like spring rain with a hint of lemon verbena, while he probably smelled like he hadn’t bathed in months. At least his drawers were clean.
“You were harsh. All she did was try to cool you down.”
“I can still do some things by myself,” he muttered, unsettled by the quick surge of blood he’d felt when she reached for him.
“So it was just pride?” The doubt in his cousin’s eyes echoed inside Jericho.
“Yes.” The plain fact was that every instinct he had honed over the last thirteen years as a Ranger screamed at him to keep as far away from Catherine Donnelly as he could. But even if he’d been able to move, he wasn’t going anywhere.
Andrew Donnelly was the boy he’d seen at the ambush. Maybe the one who’d shot and killed Hays. And Jericho had known by the flare of wariness in his eyes, clear blue like his sister’s, that the lad had recognized him, too.
Did his pretty nurse know that baby brother was riding with the McDougals? Was she protecting him? Was she involved, too?
Davis Lee leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. “I suppose you’re watching that door like a hawk because you don’t want her coming back in here to tend you some more?”
“Actually, I don’t want her coming back in here.” Jericho jerked his gaze to his cousin, relying on his ears to keep him apprised of her movements. “What do you know about her?”
“Not that much.” His cousin grinned. “She’s pretty.”
Jericho’s thigh throbbed and he grimaced. “How long has she been here?”
“Not quite a month. Her mother suffered from consumption, and toward the end, she sent for Catherine to come to Whirlwind and care for the boy.”
“Sent where for her? Where was she?”
Davis Lee frowned. “What’s got you all het up?”
“Where?”
“New York City. With some nuns.”
“Nuns?” His leg burned like blue fire and he felt more than half-spent. Still, he forced himself to concentrate. Besides their age, he and Davis Lee shared an interest in the law. And justice. His cousin’s instincts, except for one unfortunate incident, had never failed him. “Do you believe that?”
“I suppose.” Davis Lee paused thoughtfully. “Evelyn, her mother, talked about her a lot. Said she and her husband left Catherine with the nuns when they came to America from Ireland.”
“Why wouldn’t they bring their daughter to Texas with them?”
“Evelyn said she didn’t believe they’d survive here. At least with the nuns, Catherine would be fed, clothed and educated.”
“What about later?” Jericho was intrigued in spite of himself. “When the family had become established here?”
“I’m not sure. Evelyn never said.” He flashed another grin. “If you’re not interested, then where’s all this goin’?”
“Her brother was at the ambush.”
“What?” Davis Lee’s dark brows snapped together and he threw a quick look toward the kitchen.
Jericho heard the squeak of the stove door, the hollow tap of Catherine’s shoes on the wooden floor.
“Are you sure?” The other man lowered his voice.
“I’m not likely to mistake it.”
“You didn’t see the boy afterward? Here maybe? You weren’t very alert.”
“He was there. And when he came in a while ago, he recognized me, too.”
Davis Lee shook his head. “My posse has chased the McDougal gang several times and I’ve never seen the kid. Why would he be involved with those bastards?”
“I mean to find out.”
“You’re positive he was there? That he didn’t ride up on the scene afterward?”
Jericho kept his voice low, as well. “He had a shotgun. It was long for him, but he had control of it. He may have been the one who killed Hays.”
Davis Lee frowned. “Did you track him here?”
“After I lost the gang, I followed a set of tracks from the ambush. They led here, and Catherine—Miz Donnelly—answered the door.”
“Did you tell her? What did she say?”
“I keeled over before I could say anything about the boy. She’d probably protect him, anyway.”
“If he was with them—”
“He was.”
“She may have no idea.” Davis Lee shook his head. “Andrew went missing the day before and she was out looking for him. I’d say she was near panic.”
“Maybe because she knew exactly where he was.”
Davis Lee still looked doubtful.
Jericho shifted in the bed, trying to relieve the sharp pressure in his thigh. Weakness washed through him, but he fought it. “You believe her story about the nuns and New York City?”
“Yeah. Her mother was a good woman.” Davis Lee dragged a hand down his face. “And Catherine seems like a good woman, too.”
“Why? Because you think she’s pretty?”
“Don’t you?”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“You were shot in the leg, not the eye,” the other man pointed out wryly. “What do you want to do about Andrew? Want me to get him in here?”
Jericho felt himself sinking beneath a wave of pain. “Any news about the McDougals?”
“No. Nothing since the ambush. They’re holed up somewhere.”
“That’s my guess, too. And that kid probably knows where. I want to watch him for a while. His sister, too.”
“Are you telling me everything?” his cousin demanded.