The Valentine Legacy (Legacy 3)

It was the longest hour James had ever spent in his life. Jessie was crying, but she didn’t make a sound; she just lay there, her eyes tightly closed, her hands in fists at her sides. When Dr. Hoolahan shaved the hair away from the wound, it was James who flinched. Jessie didn’t move. Dancy tossed the long strands of wet hair to the floor. She’d been more than lucky. If the man shooting at her had managed just a whisker more to the left, she’d be dead.

All because she’d saved Sweet Susie. He planned to kill her himself for taking such a risk.

When Dancy had finished wrapping the bandage around Jessie’s head, she looked so pathetic, James had to smile. He listened to Dancy speak to her, asking her how many fingers he was holding up, asking her when her birthday was, asking her to name all the horses she’d raced in the past week. After each of her answers, he looked up at James for confirmation. James wondered how the devil he was supposed to know if her answers were right. He just nodded.

“Very well,” Dr. Hoolahan said at last. “Let’s give her some laudanum so she can sleep.”

When she was on the verge of sleep, Jessie said, “James, there were two men. One was named Billy. Their horses were both chestnuts, at least ten years old. One had a white star on his forehead, and the other one had a blaze that ran all the way from his forehead to his muzzle.”

He didn’t ask her to describe the men. He doubted she could. She spoke more about the two horses until her speech began to slur.

“Good enough, Jessie. Go to sleep now. We’ll speak in the morning.”

But he didn’t leave until she was breathing deeply. He pulled the blankets up to her chin, snuffed out the candles, and quietly closed the bedchamber door.

Allen Belmonde, Dr. Hoolahan, Thomas, Oslow, and Old Bess were all waiting for him in the parlor. Old Bess looked as though she wanted to hit Allen Belmonde with her iron skillet.

“Did she tell you what happened?” Allen Belmonde said. “Did she admit that she stole Sweet Susie?”

“She stupidly rescued your mare from two thieves. She couldn’t describe the men, but she did describe the horses they were riding. They were common, both chestnuts, one swaybacked, the other short backed and muscular. In other words, he had quarter-horse blood.”

“She’ll remember more,” Oslow said, “once her poor head heals.”

“Damned girl,” Belmonde said. “I can’t believe she’d take on two men. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“You can thank her properly tomorrow,” James said, “after I’ve beaten her.”

Thomas cleared his throat. “I’ve sent word over to the Warfield farm. Oh dear, I believe I hear Mr. Oliver. In a rare snit, he is.”

Oliver Warfield stomped into the Wyndham parlor, which looked less shabby in the soft candlelight. He knew enough of what had happened to be terrified. “Where’s my little girl? Damn you, James, where is she? Take me to her this instant so I can take a strip off her for being so witless. I can’t believe she’d save your damned mare, Allen. Who the hell cares?”

“Your daughter will be all right, Oliver,” James said. “If you don’t believe me, ask Dr. Hoolahan.”

Dancy Hoolahan cleared his throat and took one mincing step toward Oliver Warfield and said in his deep, soothing voice, “She’s sleeping now, Oliver. Stop your fretting. A bullet grazed her head, but it just ripped her scalp. No permanent damage done.”

“Well, if it isn’t Belmonde’s fault, then it’s yours, James. Damn you, why didn’t you guard Sweet Susie more carefully? My little girl could have been killed, and it’s because you’re incompetent.”

Allen Belmonde added his two cents. “Oliver’s right. It’s all your fault, Wyndham. I entrust my Sweet Susie to you, and just look at what happens. Damned if you shouldn’t go to jail. Maybe you hired those men to steal her yourself.”

“You idiot! Don’t you dare make threats and ridiculous accusations, Allen Belmonde! James would never steal anything. Well, except a race, of course, and any good jockey would try to do that.”

Everyone whipped around to see Jessie Warfield weaving in the parlor doorway. She had a black wool blanket wrapped around her. Her red hair was tangled down her back and around her face, puffing out over the thick white bandage Dr. Hoolahan had wrapped around her head. James’s nightshirt, fine white linen, sewn for him by his mama, covered her knees, but just barely.

6

“WHAT THE HELL are you doing out of bed?” James was yelling at her even as he nearly ran to catch her, knowing she was bound to collapse at any moment. But she didn’t. She leaned against the door.

“I had to, well, see to private things,” she said. “Then I opened the bedchamber door and heard all of you yelling.” She looked toward Allen Belmonde, who appeared to be nailed to the carpet just beside the sagging pale pink settee. James nearly laughed aloud at her expression. She looked meaner than he did after a night of too much drinking. She started to take a step toward him but quickly changed her mind. She did, however, raise her fist and shake it. “Don’t you dare threaten James, Allen. Marathon is the best stud farm in Maryland—except for Papa’s and mine. Even if I hadn’t chanced to come along, James would have found her. He wouldn’t have rested until he had. If you believe otherwise, then you’re stupid. I told Alice not to marry you, and yet she did and just look at how unhappy you’ve made her. And now you’re accusing James of stealing your bloody mare.”

“Thank you, Jessie,” James said, feeling both bewildered and amused. “Now that you’ve had your say, it’s back to bed with you.”

“James,” Oliver Warfield said, stepping between him and his daughter, “Jessie is an unmarried girl. She can’t be here in your house without a chaperon. Damnation, I’ll have to stay here as well. Do you have another bedchamber?”

“I’ll bet it needs fixing, Papa,” Jessie said, sagging now against the door frame. “Mine does, and it’s the best one. The wallpaper is green and faded except for the parts that have gotten wet. Those strips are puffing out, ready to peel off the wall.”

“Thank you, Jessie,” James said again, this time feeling only the urge to smack her.

“This talk of wallpaper is preposterous. I’ll have no more of it. I’m taking Sweet Susie away from here right now,” Allen Belmonde said. “I won’t take any more chances with her safety.”