A Worthy Pursuit by Karen Witemeyer Page A

flinched when she dabbed some of the liquor on his other scrapes. Breathing in through his nose, he forced his body to relax as she finished.
    “All done.” Something in her voice brought his focus to her face. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I’m sorry I had to hurt you.” And she was. Genuinely.
    His gut twisted in response. He hoped to heaven he didn’t have to return the favor and hurt her as well. Stone frowned and turned his face away. What did he have to feel guilty about? She was the one who had stolen the kids, not him. If he ended up taking Lily away from her, it would all be above board with the full blessing of the law.
    So why was he starting to hope that her claim superseded Dorchester’s?
    The teacher capped the near-empty whiskey bottle and returned it to the box at her feet. “I don’t want to put any of Mr. Dobson’s greasy salve on your wounds until the doctor has a chance to examine them. However, it will be at least an hour before my caretaker returns from town, and I don’t want any dust or dirt to undo the cleaning we just did. So I thought we’d go ahead and bandage you up. It will help stem the bleeding as well.”
    Stone eyed the worst of the gashes. Most of the alcohol had already evaporated from his skin, but a new wetness oozed from the openings. It had a pinkish hue as new blood mixed with whatever other fluid was leaking from his body. “Seems like a sound notion.”
    She shifted on her stool. “If you’ll just . . . ah . . . hold these two dressings in place, I’ll . . . ah . . . wrap the bandage . . .”
    Stone shot a gaze at his nurse. Was the always-serene Miss Atherton actually flustered about something? Her cheeks were definitely turning pink. And her eyes were making a valiant effort to look everywhere except at his chest. Which, of course, meant that was exactly where she wanted to look. Was it the anticipation of touching him instead of just his wounds that had her suddenly ill at ease?
    He straightened a little, ignoring the painful pull of the skin around his injuries, and reached for the cotton pads she offered. Biting back a grin, Stone glanced down to fit the dressings over the center of each of the large gashes. By the time he raised his head, he had his expression fully stoic and under control. “Ready when you are, teach.”
    She startled a bit at his voice then rose off her stool to stand over him. “Of course.” She pressed the end of the bandage against his side, her fingers cool against his overheated skin. Slowly, she unrolled the cotton strip and passed it over thedressings. The back of her hand brushed against his, the touch sending odd little prickles down into his belly. Then she leaned close in order to reach the bandage behind him. Suddenly he was the one trying to look everywhere but at her. He stared at the ceiling as she continued binding his wounds. His breaths grew shallower with each pass she made. Even when he didn’t look at her, he could smell her. Clean. Like fresh-washed linen. Probably because of the laundry she’d been doing earlier in the day. But there was something else there, too. Something sweet he couldn’t quite name.
    “There. All done.” She stepped away, and Stone finally managed a full-sized breath.
    He had just mumbled his thanks when Stephen showed up in the bunkhouse doorway.
    “I brought the stuff you asked for, Mr. Hammond. Miss Lottie told me to bring her travel desk. Said it would have everything you needed inside.” He held up an oak stationery box that had a series of flowering vines carved into the sides.
    Stone waved him in. “Thanks, kid. Set it over here next to me.” He cast a sideways glance at the teacher, who was busily packing up her supplies. Should he thank her, too? He opened his mouth to do so, but she gathered up her medicine box, propped the basin on top, and retreated toward the door.
    “I’ll go check on Lily and the stew. Stephen, keep Mr. Hammond company, would