Texas Proud (Vincente 2) by Constance O'Banyon Page A

she'd been a little girl and he'd coaxed medicine
down her throat. "What is it?"
    "Just something to take the edge off the pain so
you can sleep."
    Reluctantly she allowed him to lift her head and
spoon the liquid into her mouth. With a satisfied
nod, he eased her head back against the pillow.
"Do you want me to send for your sister?"
    "No!" She almost shouted the word, and then
quickly said in a softer tone, "I don't want Delia
to know what happened. Not until I'm able to go
home."
    Dr. Stanhope picked up his black bag and ambled for the door. "Suit yourself. I'll be back to see you in a day or two. I'll leave instructions with
Margretta on what to feed you. After today I expect you to eat plenty of red meat to build your
strength." He turned back to face her. "You don't
still believe Noble shot you, do you?"

    Already the medicine was taking effect and she
was feeling drowsy. "No."
    "Noble believes whoever shot you was aiming at
him and hit you by mistake."
    "Most likely," she said, yawning and drifting off
to sleep.
    Noble was waiting in the hallway when Dr. Stanhope emerged from the bedroom. His face was
etched with worry. "How is she?"
    "She'll be all right. It would have been a different story, though, if you'd waited to remove the
bullet until I got here. Gangrene could have set
in.,,
    "I was scared as hell, Doctor. I never want to go
through that again. I don't know how you do that
day after day."
    Dr. Stanhope chuckled. "So are you saying you
have a little more respect for my profession?"
    "I've always respected you. But more now that
I had to...well, it wasn't easy to stick a knife in
Rachel."
    "I can imagine. Sometimes she's downright formidable. She's a rule unto herself here in Madragon County. Her pa raised her like a son, and she
carries responsibilities many grown men would shirk. And yet everyone respects her. Hell, she
could've been married a dozen times if she'd so
chosen, and it isn't because she owns the Broken
Spur. She's grown into the real beauty of the family."

    Noble could have told the doctor just how beautiful Rachel was, but he only nodded grimly in
agreement, wondering why Rachel had never
married. His gaze met Dr. Stanhope's. "She must
not be moved too soon or she could break open
the wound."
    "I already told her that," said Dr. Stanhope,
gripping his bag and moving away.
    Noble leaned against the wall and crossed his
arms. "She's afraid of me. She thinks I shot her."
    The doctor paused. "She did at first, but not
now."
    "Will you remain here until she's well enough
to leave?"
    "Can't. But I'll be back tomorrow or the next
day. I'll just slip down to the kitchen and have
some of Margretta's coffee and delicious tortillas.
I'll need to instruct her on how to take care of our
patient."
    Noble walked down the stairs, out the front
door into the morning air. He raised his head upward, his gaze tracing the high, thin clouds. Rachel was going to be all right. But somewhere out
there was an unknown assailant who'd shot her.
    The prayer he'd tried to say at his father's grave, but couldn't, slipped from between his lips now.
"Thank you, God, for letting her live."

    Rachel awoke only once more that day. She witnessed a golden sunset, and heard the mournful
sound of the wind whispering through the trees
outside the double doors.
    Margretta entered with a happy smile and a
bowl of thin beef broth. After Rachel had pushed
the bowl away, the housekeeper gave her a spoonful of the foul-tasting medicine, and Rachel fell
asleep.
    Later that night, Noble threw a blanket on the
floor of the empty bedroom across the hallway
from Rachel. Although Margretta was sleeping in
the room with her, he wanted to be nearby so he
would hear if Rachel should need him during the
night. And he wanted to make certain that whoever shot her would not get that close again.
    He lay down on his back and clasped his hands
behind his head. The big house didn't seem quite
so empty