"What do you mean?" she asked, flipping her hem back down and turning her attention to the ribbon. Expertly she stripped a thread from it. "Oh, you mean showing my leg." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Heavens, I didn't remember my modesty is much more important than helping a wounded man. Such unladylike behavior-but surely I haven't shocked you, Mr. Hunter." Her mocking smile faded as she saw the expression on his face. Why, he looked as if she had just done something dreadfully indecent, something that had shocked him.
Surely a quick glimpse of her leg couldn't have that effect on a man. She and her friends had walked down the streets of Sunrise wearing skirts that ended at the knees, and sometimes never received a second glance from the men who passed by them.
As she handed the knife back to him, his fingers curved slightly around the handle, and she felt a small shock at the sight of them. He had strong hands that showed signs of hard work. But how strangely sensitive they were. The hands of a murderer. Flushing, she tore her eyes away and turned her attention to the thread, grateful when Watts arrived with a paper of needles and a pair of scissors. She threaded the silk through the cleanest needle and soaked everything with whiskey. Carefully she pierced the first edge of ragged flesh with the needle, then the second, drawing them together with a neat ligature knot.
"Can't you do it a little faster?" Ben asked.
Calmly she took the second stitch. "I can do it so the scar will be practically invisible. See how it will fade into the frown line-"
"Yeah… real nice. But we don't have any need for a good-looking corpse. So hurry."
"There's no need to be so dramatic. He's not going to die, and you know it." Addie resisted the urge to say anything else. This was no time for an argument, no matter how tempting the prospect. As she was tying off the last knot, Ben wiped the last of the blood off the boy's forehead. "Kitchen surgery," Addie said, surveying her work with pride. "But he couldn't get better from a doctor."
"It'll do," Ben replied evenly.
She looked down at the cowboy's face then, pushing back a tendril of matted hair that had fallen on the temple. "Curly red hair. I'll bet he gets teased a lot for that."
Ben seemed to relax, his tension easing. "Who could resist?"
"And freckles too." Deep copper freckles that stood out in spite of the darkly tanned skin. The unconscious face was still round with the plumpness of youth. He didn't yet have the lean face of an adult. He looked so vulnerable and alone that her heart ached with compassion.
"Pink silk thread," Ben remarked, and Addie frowned a little.
"I hope it won't embarrass him."
"No, ma'am. He'll never want those stitches out. I guarantee he'll brag for days about where that pink silk came from." His mouth curled sardonically. "The envy of the bunkhouse."
"He's not much older than Cade," she said softly. "Poor boy." She felt sorry for someone so young having to live such a hard life. But it was a better life than many others would have. At least this boy would have the chance to keep his innocence. And these wounds would heal. She had tended veterans in the hospital who had once had young faces and innocent hearts. They had come back from the war crippled, blind, bitter. She had shared some of their bitterness, out of empathy, out of the emptiness of her own life. But that was in the future, she reminded herself. None of it had happened yet. Those veterans hadn't even been born yet. The war hadn't taken place.
As she looked down at the boy, she didn't know her eyes were dark with loneliness, her expression compassionate. Ben went still with surprise, his breath catching in his throat. Adeline Warner had always been a pretty girl, with too much spirit and not enough heart. Sassy, selfish, sharp-tongued-a girl like that was someone to avoid. But just now her face was soft and heart-stirring in a way it had never been before. What had happened to give her this new air of vulnerability? What magic had brought such mystifying sweetness to her face? Had it been there all the time? Was he just beginning to notice something everyone else had long been aware of?
Russell walked up behind Addie, looking over her handiwork. He seemed to be puzzled by what she had done. "Where did you learn to close up a wound like that?" he barked.
Ben watched as the question caused Addie's cheeks to color.
"It's not much different from regular needlework," she said with a half-smile. "Just messier. What about his side? Is it still bleeding?"
"Not much. The temporary dressing will do until we can get him back to the bunkhouse. "
"Good." Addie glanced down at herself and saw the blood on both her sleeves, causing the material to cling stickily to her arms. The sweet, warm smell of it drifted to her nostrils, combining with the heat of the sun to overcome her with a wave of nausea. As she looked away, she caught sight of the steer and couldn't help remembering the thudding crack of the rifle against its skull. Afraid she might throw up, Addie grimaced shakily and struggled to her feet without asking for help. "Excuse me," she whispered, and walked away, breathing deeply and clenching her fists. She stopped when she reached Jessie, leaning against the horse's side and resting her forehead against the saddle. Concentrating on the musky scent of leather, she stayed very still. After a minute had passed, the contents of her stomach began to settle down.
She heard Ben's quiet voice behind her. "Here." He had gotten a clean handkerchief and a canteen of water from somewhere. She turned her face to watch him blankly as he dampened the cloth. She even suffered his touch without protest as he reached out to wipe her face, her eyes closing as she felt the cool cloth slide over her cheeks and eyebrows.
"Why are you doing that? Is there something on my face? What is it?"
"Just dust. Hold out your hands."
She stared down at the brownish bloodstains in the crevices between her fingers. “Oh, I-"
"Spread your fingers." The corner of the handkerchief erased every last spot on her hands. Why was he being so considerate?
"Thank you."
He offered the canteen to her. "Water?"
Gratefully she nodded, taking it in both hands and tilting her head back as the liquid slid down her throat. After handing it back, she looked at him uncertainly. "Thank you," she repeated, a question in her eyes.
He smiled at her, causing her heart to miss a beat. "You smell like a dance-hall hostess."
She chuckled a little breathlessly. "I spilled as much of that whiskey on you as I did on me."
"I'll give you your due. Your work was good. Although I'd have bet two bits beforehand that you wouldn't have been able to do it. I'm beginning to wonder how many more surprises I should expect from you, Adeline."
"Addie." The correction came out before she could stop herself.
"Addie," he repeated huskily. "That what you were called in school?"
"Kind of."
"You okay now?"
"Yes."
"You should go back to the house. It's too hot out here for you. "