Midnight Star (Star Quartet 2)

She click-clicked Yvette into a gallop. A little fall from your back won’t hurt me, my girl, she silently assured her mare. She forced herself to let out a terrified scream, then dropped the reins. The mare lengthened her stride, and Chauncey slid around in the saddle. He had seen her! He was pushing his stallion into a gallop, leaning close to the horse’s neck. Soon I shall heave myself out of the saddle and execute a very graceful roll on the grass.

There were few trees on the eastern slope of Rincon Hill, and Chauncey, swiveling back around, did not see the broad-branched pine tree until it was too late. Her shriek was very real. The branch struck her hard against her head and she was hurled violently from the saddle, striking the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Delaney’s yell of warning died in his throat. He knew, of course, that she had ridden here to see him, but none of that mattered now. He felt fear course through him at the sight of her motionless body on the rocky ground.

He leapt off his stallion’s back and rushed to her. He felt for the pulse in her throat. It was thready. He lightly slapped her cheeks. “Miss Jameson! Come, wake up!”

Chauncey’s eyes fluttered open and she stared blankly up at him. “Damn,” she said very softly, and tried to sit up. She moaned, raising her hand to her temple, and fell back. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said calmly. “You struck your head, and must lie still. Do you hurt anyplace else?”

Chauncey felt a well of blackness drawing her down. She moistened her lips with her tongue, but could manage no more words.

“Elizabeth,” Delaney said, fear curdling his guts. Suddenly he was aware that he was kneeling between her wide-spread legs. She had bent her knees when she had tried to rise, and their position was that of a man preparing to make love to his woman. He backed away, sweat breaking out on his forehead, and forced himself to straighten her legs and pull the frothy white petticoats over her beautifully laced drawers. “Jesus,” he muttered. “I don’t believe this! Elizabeth, hold still. Don’t try to move. I’ll be right back with help.”

Delaney rose, knowing it would be dangerous to move her himself. He spotted Joe Thatcher slouched on the seat of his beer wagon, and frantically waved him down.

“Accident, huh?” Joe asked laconically, jumping down from his wagon. “Damn, Mr. Saxton, it’s that rich lady from England.”

“Yes,” Delaney said, his voice clipped. “I’m going to lift her into the wagon, Joe. I’ll try to hold her steady. Drive us to my house. It’s closest.”

Joe spat a wad of tobacco, unfastened the hinges on the back of his wagon, and lowered it. “Here we are, Mr. Saxton. It ain’t none too clean, but—”

“It’s fine.” He saw that she was conscious, but her eyes were tightly closed. “Hold on, Elizabeth. I’ve got to pick you up. Everything will be all right, I promise you.”

He slipped his hands beneath her shoulders and thighs and slowly hefted her into his arms. She moaned softly, and he winced at the sound. He laid her atop some quite smelly old blankets in the wagon and jumped in beside her.

“Drive slowly, Joe. I don’t know how badly she’s hurt.”

Joe spat again and whipped up his horse. Delaney held her shoulders steady, trying to keep her from bouncing about when the wagon hit the inevitable ruts.

It

seemed an eternity to him before Joe pulled up in front of his house.

Delaney quickly stuffed a dollar into Joe’s hand and shouted at the top of his lungs, “Lucas!”

The front door flew open, and Lucas rushed out. He took in the situation in a glance. “Shit,” he said succinctly.

“Yes,” Delaney said. “She got knocked off her horse by a tree branch. I’m going to carry her upstairs. Go get Doc Morris. And after that, Lucas,” Delaney shouted after him, “Brutus and the lady’s mare are wandering about on Rincon Hill!”

Lucas moved more quickly than Delaney had ever seen, his peg leg in stiff gait. Lin met Delaney in the entryway, her black almond eyes wide. She muttered something in Chinese, but Delaney didn’t pause. He carried her quickly up the stairs, kicked open the door to his bedroom, and strode to his bed.

“Elizabeth,” he said softly as he laid her gently on her back. He lightly stroked his hand over her pale cheek. Dirt covered the ugly swelling over her right temple. He repeated her name again, and Chauncey, hearing the sound vaguely, forced her eyes to open. “I hurt,” she whispered, biting her lower lip.

“Where besides your head?”

“My ribs, I think.”

He gently pulled off her dashing riding hat and smoothed her hair away from her face. “The doctor will be here very soon. No, don’t try to move.”

“It isn’t fair,” she muttered, trying to stifle a groan of pain.

“I know. I’ll have that tree cut down immediately.”

“Don’t you dare try to make me laugh!”

“I’m sorry.”