Open Country by Kaki Warner

brother.”
    Little? From what Hank could see, he was heavier than this man by at least forty pounds and probably even taller. “I feel like hell.”
    His brother pulled out a pocket watch, checked the time, then snapped it closed. “I got word Jessica’s on her way, so I can’t stay long.”
    “Jessica?”
    “My wife. Her Ladyship. English, tall, red hair, crazy hats. Familiar?”
    “No.”
    His brother’s scowl deepened. “Give it time. It’ll all come back. It better,” he added, looking hard at the woman.
    Hank decided he didn’t much like his brother and he especially didn’t like the way he taunted the woman. The woman. Who was she? He glanced from one to the other, which set his head pounding again, sending dagger thrusts of pain down his neck and across his shoulders. To change the subject, he asked, “How old am I?” A stupid question. Seemed he was full of stupid questions.
    “Three years younger than me. Going on thirty-three.”
    “Are there more like you? More brothers?”
    “None like me, of course. There’s another brother, but he ran off.”
    Hank wasn’t surprised. “Did I like you?”
    The question startled a grin from his brother and reawakened the mischief in his blue eyes. “More than was manly, I suspect.”
    “Well, I don’t now. So get out.”
    Instead of being insulted, his brother laughed. “See, you’re better already.” His grin fading into a scowl, he turned to the woman, who stood watching with wide eyes and a grim tightness to her mouth. “He looks hungry,” he said. “Why don’t you get him something to eat?” It was more of an order than a request.
    As soon as she’d left, Hank said, “Who is she?”
    His brother’s gaze shifted away. “She saved your arm. Probably your life.”
    Hank frowned, not satisfied with that answer. But before he could question him, his brother headed out the door.
     
     
    “WHERE’S MURRAY?” BRADY ASKED WHEN HE WALKED INTO the kitchen and found his brother’s supposed wife stirring something on the stove.
    “Gone.” She nodded over her shoulder at a piece of paper on the table. “He left a note. Said to take any medical supplies I need and lock the door when I leave.”
    “Christ,” Brady muttered, scanning the note. This complicated everything. Tossing the paper back onto the table, he went to peer over the woman’s shoulder. Watery soup. “He prefers steak,” he told her.
    “He’s too ill for steak. For now he’ll get broth.”
    “He won’t like it.” Wandering aimlessly around the kitchen, Brady wondered what he should do now. He still didn’t trust this woman. But she did seem to know her way around a sick room, so she might yet be useful. And she needed money, so he had that to keep her in line. He stopped and glared at her back. “You didn’t tell him you were married. Why?”
    Setting the spoon aside, she wiped her palms down her skirts and turned to face him. “I’ve been thinking.”
    There’s trouble. The woman was smart. No telling what mischief she had conjured this time. Crossing his arms over his chest, he waited.
    “It appears your brother might recover, so I thought—”
    “Might?” Brady cut in.
    She made a dismissive gesture. “There’s always the risk of infection after surgery. Or a seizure after a head injury. Or, well, any number of complications. It might be touch and go for a while, but as I said, he’s strong. And a survivor.”
    Hank was that. Which was why seeing him laid so low had been such a shock to Brady. He’d already lost one brother, and another was missing. He couldn’t tolerate losing this one too.
    “So I thought,” she went on, “it might be best if we had the marriage annulled.”
    Brady’s thought exactly, but finding the doctor had left put a kink in his plans. Who would tend Hank now? And if he managed to get his brother back to the ranch, he couldn’t expect Doc O’Grady to make the twenty-five-mile trek from Val Rosa every day to check on him.