Dangerous Heart by Tracey Bateman Page B

one. “Hang on, Clem. Please, hang on. There’s a doctor.”
    â€œDon’t.” He’d barely gotten the strength to speak. “He won’t help. I don’t blame him. I’m good as dead, Ginger. I’m sorry about the ranch. Take care of Buddy.”
    â€œHang on, Clem,” she’d sobbed. “I’ll be back.”
    â€œNo. Don’t. Get out of here fast.”
    But Ginger hadn’t listened. She’d never leave him. Soaked in her brother’s blood, she ran toward the doctor. “Help me, please.”
    The man’s brown eyes had lifted silently to hers. Dazed. “What?”
    Fear had hit her squarely the second she saw the pain and anger in his face. “My—my brother. We got caught in that fight. The dirty outlaws shot my brother!”
    â€œI don’t think so, girlie,” the Marshal had said with a sneer. “He’s one of ’em. And looks like you are, too.”
    Her brother groaned. Ginger clenched her fist as the panic turned to desperation. She grabbed the doctor’s shoulders and shook. “That woman’s dead, but my brother isn’t. I need help!”
    Agony clouded his eyes. “That woman is my wife,” he’d murmured.
    But Ginger hadn’t cared who she was. The only thing that mattered was Clem. He had to make it. “Hurry!” she called to Grant. “He’s dying! Don’t let my brother die!” But it was no use.
    And now Buddy lay sick. Another brother at Grant’s mercy. She knew Grant was doing everything in his power, but the situation itself brought the memories and the pain as though it were yesterday. When she looked down at Buddy, with his dark brown hair than fell over his ears in unruly waves, it was as though she were looking at Clem himself. Even the scraggly whiskers along his jaw mirrored Clem’s. Would he get the chance to become a man? Her sweet Buddy. He couldn’t die. He just couldn’t. In the darkness of the tent, Ginger prayed harder than she’d ever prayed before.
    Â 
    Grant woke with a start to the sound of footsteps creeping close. His hand went instinctively to the revolver at his side.
    â€œGrant?” a woman’s voice whispered into the night. “Are you in there? It’s Toni.”
    Anticipating possible trouble from the outlaws, Grant was fully dressed, including his boots. He was on his feet before he answered, “I’m awake.”
    As he stepped outside, he was greeted by Toni’s worried face. “Ginger’s missing.”
    â€œWhat do you mean missing?” he asked, his stomach dropping. “As in someone took her, or as in she wandered off alone again?”
    â€œI honestly don’t know. But it’s very late, and she’s not back yet.”
    â€œDo you know when she left?”
    â€œOver two hours ago. She said she had to…well, you know…” Toni ducked her head as he drew the obvious conclusion.
    â€œYou waited two hours to come tell me? Didn’t you realize she wasn’t coming back?”
    â€œI’m sorry, Grant.” Her voice trembled with agony and self-condemnation. “I guess I fell asleep, because when I woke up the fire had gone completely out, and it was cold inside our tent.”
    Grant slapped his hat on his head. He’d love to shake Ginger. He shot a glance at Toni. “You’ve done all you can. Go back to your tent. I’ll look for her.”
    Relief crossed her features. “Thank you. I probably should have gone to Sam or Blake, but either of them would have been too hard on her.”
    â€œWhat makes you think I won’t be?”
    A soft smile tilted her lips. “Because you care for her.”
    Grant frowned at her words. “I do care for her—like I do all of the members of the wagon train. If she’s run off, I’ll have to report back to Blake. She’s walking a fine line as it is. I can’t