Would she and her grandfather let him stay? Even a night or two in a real house, without being on the run, would surely help him heal faster.
Tex swiped at his brow with his sleeve. The temperature felt as if it kept soaring. Or maybe that was his fever. He’d contracted one at some point during the train ride to Idaho. In another hour or so, he’d probably be shivering with cold. And then there was the near-constant dizziness.
Trying to block out his intense discomfort, he turned his mind to Ravena once more. Would she be as beautiful as he remembered? It wasn’t hard for him to conjure up the image of her dark, wavy hair, deep brown eyes and the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Tex had met plenty of women since leaving home, and yet, none of them affected him the way Ravena had. None of them had seen past his causal, lighthearted, adventure-seeking demeanor to the real man beneath, either.
The Reids’ farm came into view, causing Tex’s heart to flip painfully in his chest. He’d never allowed himself to believe he would ever come back. If he hadn’t deserved Ravena years ago, he certainly didn’t now. Fortunately, she and her grandfather, Ezra, weren’t likely to know about his unlawful profession. And he wanted to keep it that way.
At the edge of one of the fields, which he absently noted was only a quarter of the way plowed, he climbed off his horse. If he thought facing Tate would be hard, facing Ravena was sure to be a thousand times more difficult.
Something akin to the fear he’d felt when the sheriff in Casper had recognized him twisted in Tex’s stomach now. Could he face Ravena after all these years? What if she had learned he was an outlaw after all? His breath whooshed harder and faster through his lungs as the dizziness intensified. Tex tried to focus on leading his horse and staying upright. But after a few moments, the edges of his vision began to curdle like two-day-old milk and he found himself falling. The last thing to register in his mind was the feel of warm dirt against his face.
* * *
“Miss Ravena, Miss Ravena.” Mark’s frantic cry could be heard clear back to the kitchen.
What now? she wondered, wiping flour from her hands onto her apron. If their snake had gotten loose somewhere it wasn’t supposed to... “I’ll be right back, Ginny. Keep forming those biscuits, please.”
The ten-year-old girl nodded, her red hair framing her pale face. She typically said little, even though she’d been with them for nearly a year now, but she was a quick learner and an efficient helper in the kitchen.
Ravena met Mark and his brother in the hallway. “What’s going on?”
Hands on his knobby knees, Mark leaned over, trying to catch his breath. Luke copied his brother’s stance. “There’s somethin’ you gotta see, Miss Ravena.”
She forced a patient smile. “Ginny and I are making biscuits for supper. If it’s another snake...”
“Not a snake,” Mark said, panting. “It’s a person.”
“A person?”
Luke slipped his hand in hers and tugged her toward the front door. “He’s dead, out in the field.”
Ravena stopped short, horror coursing through her. “Dead? Are you sure?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mark gave a solemn nod as he rushed to push open the screen door. “He’s lying in the dirt, not moving. Luke even poked him with a stick and he still ain’t moved.”
“Hasn’t moved,” she murmured. Were the boys serious? She almost wished it were a snake that had them overly excited.
“You gotta come see, Miss Ravena,” Luke said, his eyes wide. “Besides, his horse is just standing there.”
If what they were saying was true, she couldn’t very well leave a...a dead person in her field. Though what exactly she’d do with him, she didn’t know. First Mr. Grady and now this. But she refused to be beaten down by this day.
Taking the rifle from its pegs above the front door, she followed the boys outside and across the yard. She cast a glance at the barn where she knew Jacob was working and six-year-old Fanny would be playing with the new litter of kittens. Should she ask Jacob to tag along? But she dismissed the thought. She had the gun and it wasn’t as if she’d never seen an expired person before.
Still, she gave a quick prayer for protection and a little added bravery as she trailed the boys to the fields. If she weren’t on such a morbid errand, she might have paused to take in the view—one she never grew tired of. The farm sat on a hillside bench, overlooking the valley, the river and the mountains beyond. A stream ran along the edge of the property and boasted several nice-sized shade trees.
“There’s his horse,” Mark said, pointing.
Sure enough, a lone horse munched on the grass at the edge of one of the fields. The one Mr. Grady had left only partially plowed. Ravena shaded her eyes with her hand and was able to make out a figure lying facedown in the dirt.
Her heart sped up as she strode toward the body. The gentleman was tall and dressed like a cowboy or a farmhand, though even with the small amount of dust and dirt on his clothes, she could tell his were new. Ravena crouched beside him and set the gun within easy reach. There didn’t seem to be any obvious reason for the man’s demise. No limbs twisted at odd angles, no visible head injuries, no blood that she could see. And yet something had caused him to crumble in her field.
She watched the back of his coat for movement and felt immense relief when she saw it rise and fall with breath. A sick or injured man was a far cry better than a dead one.
“He’s still alive,” she announced in a half whisper, though she didn’t know why she felt the need to speak quietly.
“How come he don’t...doesn’t...move then?” Mark asked from where he and Luke stood behind her.
“I believe he’s unconscious.” She glanced past the man, in the direction he appeared to have been riding before his collapse, and frowned. Why would a stranger take the shortcut between her place and the old Beckett farm instead of using the road?
Luke placed his hand on her shoulder in an oddly comforting gesture. “What are we going to do, Miss Ravena?”
She studied the man again. “We are going to gently roll him over and see if we can get him to come around. Hopefully long enough to tell us who he is.”
Placing her hands along his arm and side, she nodded toward his legs. “Boys, you push from there.”
They scrambled into position, their faces more alight with excitement than worry. Boys will by boys, she thought with a rueful shake of her head.
“Now we’ll roll him over on the count of three.” She took a deep breath, then began to count. When she reached three, she and the boys rolled him onto his back. The man cringed in pain, but his eyes remained shut.
A patch of red drew Ravena’s attention to where his coat had fallen back from his shirt. She leaned closer to examine it. “I think he’s been wounded.” But how? A sliver of dread traveled up her spine. Had his injury been an unfortunate accident? Or had someone hurt him, and if so, was the offender still close by?
“He’s wounded,” Mark repeated with awe, sounding far too impressed.
“Go get Jacob from the barn, Mark,” she directed. The injured man didn’t need the boys gawking at him as she tried to clean the dirt from his face and revive him. “We’ll need Jacob to help us assist this man to the house. Luke, get some water.”
They took off at a dash, their childish voices full of wonder as they talked over each other. Ravena allowed herself a small smile at their antics. They might tire her out with their innocent mischief, especially since her grandfather’s passing, but they were good boys.
Taking a corner of her apron in hand, she gently began wiping the dirt from the stranger’s bearded face. He stirred, prompting