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  Doc Pendergrass, Etta, and Olivia followed him out. “Just make sure she eats and doesn’t try to do too much too soon,” Doc told him. “She won’t feel like getting out of bed for another week or so at least, but rest is the best thing for her.”

  “Betsy will take good care of her,” Lucas said, mindful of the people listening. He was filled with satisfaction. The circumstances weren’t what he would have liked, and there were some bad storms ahead, but for now Dee would be right where he wanted her—under his roof.

  He handled the buckboard carefully on the trip to the ranch, taking twice as long as it would to ride it on a horse, but he tried not to jostle Dee in case her shoulder was more painful than he realized. It was nerve-racking trying to see every rough spot in the road, listening for even a change in her breathing. When at last the ranch house came in sight he heaved a relieved sigh.

  He reined in the horse at the porch and stepped over the seat into the wagon bed, going down on one knee beside Dee. “Run inside and turn back the covers on the bed,” he told Betsy. “Her bedroom is upstairs, the second door on the right.”

  Betsy jumped down and scurried to do his bidding. She was only seventeen and thoroughly intimidated by Lucas, though he’d tried to put her at ease. But there was something about him that made some women nervous, so he put it out of his mind.

  Dee was awake, though there was still that disturbing lack of expression in her eyes. It was as if she saw and understood but just couldn’t muster the strength to care about anything. “Tell me if I hurt you,” he said as he slid her on the quilts to the edge of the wagon bed so he could lift her without jostling her any more than necessary. He jumped down and gathered her in his arms, holding her close against his chest. He had carried her before and knew how much lighter she was now. His heart gave a big thud as a remnant of fear lashed him. The loss of blood had come so close to killing her that he didn’t think he’d ever recover.

  Betsy was standing beside the bed when he carried Dee in. He placed his precious burden down and unwrapped her from the quilt, then settled the covers over her. “Do you want anything to eat?” he asked. “Or to drink?”

  “Water,” she said.

  Lucas glanced at Betsy, who scurried to the water pitcher sitting nearby.

  “Whatever you want, just tell Betsy,” he said, stroking her cheek. “Sleep as much as you want. All you have to do now is get well.”

  He dropped his hand and turned to leave, but she said, “Lucas,” and he turned back.

  “The cattle,” she whispered. “My garden—”

  Even now she was worried about that damn garden! He controlled his spurt of anger to give her the assurance she needed. “They didn’t get in it. You stampeded them all the way back to the Bar B.”

  A slight smile spread over her colorless lips. Betsy brought the glass of water, and he moved so she could support Dee’s head and let her sip. By the time Dee signaled that she had had enough and Betsy let her head rest on the pillow again Dee’s eyes were closing with fatigue. Lucas quietly left the room.

  He would have only a few weeks until she regained her strength and he’d have to tell her about the water. He meant to make the most of his period of grace to strengthen the bonds between them while he could. As soon as she was well enough to do without Betsy she would be all his.

  * * *

  It was the custom in the Millican family to spend the evening together after dinner, reading or sewing or just talking. Even when Olivia was a little girl she had been included in that intimate time, her parents always making her feel that her childish contributions to the conversation were as important as theirs. After losing their other children Wilson and Honora had doubly appreciated the preciousness of their daughter and had devoted themselves to making her life as perfect as they possibly could. The harmony of those after-dinner hours had always been a part of her life that Olivia loved, and she feared that she was about to ruin it. Luis had offered to be with her when she told them, but she had declined. If there was any unpleasantness, she didn’t want him to hear it. It was ridiculous to protect him, but part of her reasoning was based on diplomacy. It would be easier for him to get along with her parents at a later date if there weren’t any memories of harsh words between them.

  Strangely enough, there didn’t seem to be any gossip. Honora and Beatrice had both been discreet about her behavior when she had learned Luis had been hurt. Etta and Dr. Pendergrass had evidently not said anything either about the way she had flown to Luis’s bedside. Olivia almost wished there had been gossip so she wouldn’t have to introduce the subject so abruptly.

  There didn’t seem to be any other way to do it, however, so she took a deep breath and said, “Mother, Papa, I have something to tell you.” Her mother turned to look at her expectantly, and Wilson put his paper down. “I’ve fallen in love, and I’m going to be married.”

  Their eyes rounded with surprise, then Honora clapped her hands and jumped up. “That’s wonderful,” she cried, laughing excitedly. “I just knew Mr. Cochran would propose, though I did wonder when—”

  “Mother, no,” Olivia interrupted. “It isn’t Lucas.”

  Both their faces had been wreathed in smiles, but now their expressions went blank with surprise. “Not Lucas?” Wilson asked with a perplexed frown. “But he’s the only one who’s been courting you, except for Bellamy, and of course you’d never have anything to do with him. Everyone in town thought—”

  “Everyone but the two people involved,” Olivia replied gently. “Lucas is a friend, but we’ve never been in love.”

  “But if it isn’t Mr. Cochran, then who is it?” Honora recovered from her surprise and was fairly quivering with curiosity.

  “Luis Fronteras.”

  Again their faces went blank. Honora sank into her chair. “Who?” she asked in bewilderment. The name was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. And it sounded . . . foreign.

  “Luis Fronteras. He worked for Mr. Bellamy. He’s the man who helped Dee until the Double C men could get there.”

  “A gunman?” Wilson was incredulous. “You say you’re going to marry a Mexican gunman? Olivia, that’s ridiculous. Why, you don’t even know him.”

  “A Mexican!” Honora’s eyes rounded with shock.

  “On the contrary, I know him well.” Olivia met their gazes. “I’ve been riding with him every Sunday. And I love him.”

  Wilson folded his paper and tossed it aside. “That’s impossible. You have absolutely nothing in common with a man like that. Why, he’ll never settle down and provide you with a home.”

  “Perhaps where I live won’t be like this,” Olivia admitted. “But this isn’t an impulsive decision. I’ve thought about it for a couple of months. I could marry a man who could give me a big house and a lot of clothes, but I wouldn’t be one tenth as happy with him as I would be in a tent with Luis. I want to have a family with him, and I trust him to take care of me and our children. What does it matter if he isn’t rich?”

  “You’ll find it matters a great deal when you have to do without.” Wilson shook his head. “We’ve always done our best to shelter you, so you don’t have any real idea of the kind of life you’re proposing to lead. Darling, you deserve much more than he can give you. You couldn’t survive.”

  “Of course I can. Don’t you see, he loves me. And I love him. That’s what I need, what I’ve always wanted more than anything else. Not to marry a rich man, but to marry a man I love.”

  “Absolutely not,” Wilson said sternly. “I forbid it. You’re just infatuated with him and have no idea what you’re talking about. I realize he’s a romantic sort of figure, especially after the way he helped Dee, but you need stability to have a good marriage, not a gun sharp who’ll always be looking over his shoulder.”

  “Oh, Papa,” Olivia said sadly. “I’m not asking your permission. I love you and Mother very much, and I want you to be at my wedding, but I’ll have it whether you’re there or not. I know you’re concerned for my