Whirlwind Reunion. Debra Cowan

      “Oh, no!” Josie protested. “You don’t need to clean up!”

      Annalise smiled. “Putting down clean sheets will allow me to judge better tomorrow if the bleeding has slowed.”

      He scooped up his wife. In short order, Annalise had the bed stripped and a clean sheet on the moss-stuffed mattress.

      Once her patient was settled, she took her leave. Davis Lee walked out with her.

      “You don’t need to see me home,” she said when they paused on his porch. “Not since I live so close to you.”

      He nodded, glancing over his shoulder then pulling the door shut quietly. He shoved a hand through his dark hair and she could see his hand was shaking. “This can’t be any better for her than it is for the baby. Is she gonna be okay, Annalise? Even if she loses the baby?”

      Annalise didn’t need the wash of moonlight over his rugged features to see the man was terrified of losing his wife.

      “I told her—” He broke off hoarsely. “It was too soon to try after the last one.”

      Annalise’s throat tightened painfully. She laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure she is fine and I know you are, too. You’re taking good care of her, Davis Lee.”

      He searched her face then a resolve came over him. “She won’t be getting out of that bed. You can count on it.”

      She smiled. “Any more questions?”

      “Not right now.”

      “If she has further pain or thinks she’s bleeding more profusely, send for me right away.”

      “All right.”

      “Count on seeing me tomorrow.”

      He hugged her. “Thanks again. I’m glad you’re back.”

      “Me, too.” She stepped off his porch, angling toward her house. Josie was lucky to have a husband like Davis Lee. To have anyone. Except for a midwife she had only just met, Annalise had been alone when she’d suffered her miscarriage seven years ago.

      Once inside her house, she removed her blood-streaked apron, unable to dodge the memories any longer. She had known she would have to relive them at some point and they flew at her like arrows. If her loss hadn’t been raked up by a possible miscarriage, it would’ve been triggered by a troubled pregnancy or stillbirth.

      Moving as though in a daze, she washed her hands, then the dishes she’d left in a hurry when Davis Lee had fetched her.

      With tears blurring her vision, she changed into her night clothes, brushed out her hair and plaited it then lay down. The images wouldn’t stop. Neither would the guilt. Memories of the pain, the blood, the resulting infection. She’d been lucky to survive.

      She finally dozed off, waking with a start when someone pounded heavily on her front door.

      Afraid it was Davis Lee again, she sprang out of bed. She grabbed her cotton wrapper from the back of her vanity chair and pulled it on, tying it snugly as she rushed down the stairs. She snatched up her medical bag then opened the door. And froze. “Russ?”

      The big man’s back was to her and he was carrying someone. He looked over his shoulder, features taut. Urgent. “He needs help.”

      Ef Gerard, Whirlwind’s blacksmith, stood in the darker shadows holding the man’s feet.

      She flung the door wide. “Bring him in. Follow me.”

      Hurrying, she led them to the back room and the patient cot in the near corner. After placing her bag on the floor, she lit an oil lamp while Russ and Ef carefully laid the man face-down on the mattress then stepped away.

      “His back’s the worst of it,” Russ said.

      Holding the light high, she walked over to the patient. She searched for injuries, her gaze skimming over sock feet and powerful thighs in denims filmed with red dust. Blood caked the back of his white shirt. It had splattered on the sleeves, too. His face was also bloody. Swollen and—

      Her heart stopped. It was Matt!

      Chapter Two

      Annalise froze for a second. Matt. He needed help. Though stunned, she remembered her training and managed to gather her wits. Pushing the lamp into his brother’s hand, she bent down to feel for her patient’s carotid pulse. It was strong.

      A closer look in the wavering light showed his ripped and bloodied shirt was stuck to his back. Rising, she pushed aside the curtain separating the clinic’s two beds and went to the glass-fronted cabinet for a pair of scissors.

      “What happened?” she asked Russ. “Who did this?”

      “I don’t know. Matt hasn’t been conscious for us to ask.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I hope he can tell us when he wakes up. Why won’t he wake up?”

      “Maybe because he’s lost a lot of blood.” Annalise eased down onto the edge of the bed, snipping the hem of the shirt then ripping it up the middle. “Or maybe he was knocked out.”

      Russ shifted behind her, throwing shadows against the wall. “How bad is it?”

      “The wounds need to be cleaned before I can tell.” She carefully peeled back Matt’s shirt and swallowed hard at the sight of his torn, mangled flesh.

      Russ and Ef both made a sound of shock. Annalise folded the fabric out of her way, revealing the strong broad lines of his back, the fluid muscles of his shoulders and upper arms. His smooth bronze skin was now ripped and gaping. The wounds didn’t extend past his lean waist, the worst of them on and between his shoulder blades. Who had done this?

      Emotion surged inside her, a mix of compassion and regret. She realized her hands were shaking.

      Steeling herself, she managed to control the tremor in her voice. “Where did you find him?”

      “A couple of miles east of Whirlwind.” Russ handed the lamp to Ef and moved to the foot of the cot. “His mare was nearby.”

      She returned to the cabinet which also held bandages, powders, instruments, various salves and antiseptic treatments, including carbolic acid. “Can one of you fetch me a bowl of water?”

      While the blacksmith did that, Annalise took the carbolic acid and a couple of clean squares of linen from the cabinet. The rush of footsteps had her looking over her shoulder.

      Lydia Baldwin hurried through the door. “Russ?”

      “Sugar.” He pulled his beautiful raven-haired wife into his side as her gaze went to the man on the cot.

      “Oh no,” she breathed. “How is he?”

      “He’s alive.” In the smoky amber light, Russ looked pale, bleak. “Don’t know much else yet.”

      The brunette placed a soothing hand on his chest. “I saw you and Ef ride in so I came on over.”

      He brushed a kiss across her hair.

      Swallowing past a lump in her throat, Annalise moved back across the room. “What made you go look for him?” she asked Russ.

      “He was late getting home from his trip to Graham. He made half the trip yesterday and stayed the night in Albany. He said he’d be back in Whirlwind by supper tonight. When he wasn’t, and when there was no telegram saying he’d be delayed, I knew something had happened to him.”

      Ef returned with a basin of cool water and, at her direction, placed it on the small table beside the bed.

      Russ said tightly, “I’m afraid I know who did it, too.”

      Annalise recalled part of the conversation she’d had with Cora the night of Russ’s wedding celebration. “An angry husband?”

      She