"Okay, boss," he said agreeably. "What's next on the agenda? Is she off that pot yet? I'm not about to spy on a lady when she needs privacy."

  "Hum, of course not. Let me see. Oh, she's getting undressed and into one of Stone's nightshirts. Why, it looks almost brand-new."

  "He probably sleeps naked. Me, I don't understand why some humans get dressed all over again to go to bed."

  "Michael!"

  "Oh, come on, Angie. Don't tell me with all the eons you've watched humans, you never saw some of the women slip off their heavy nightgowns on hot nights. Wallow in some nice cool, fresh sheets."

  "It gets awfully hot sometimes on earth in the summers."

  Michael slipped her another wink.

  The bedroom door opened and Tess stirred, slowly returning to wakefulness. A dream. Such a funny dream she had been having, and she hadn't even been reading before she fell asleep. Had she? Sometimes her bedtime reading habit triggered weird, unexplainable dreams during the night. This one, though. The Marlboro Man had climbed right off that magazine page and....

  The door squeaked as it opened wider, and her eyes popped. A small, round man entered the room, carrying a black bag.

  Oh, no! It wasn't a dream!

  She stared around the room. Flower's room. She glanced down at her swollen ankle, pillowed at the foot of the bed. The angry, dark blotches confirmed the pain.

  "Well, now, miss," the man said as he set his bag on a bedside table. "I'm Doc Calder. Stone tells me you've hurt your ankle. Let's get a little light in here, so I can see better."

  The doctor lifted the glass chimney on a kerosene lantern sitting in a sconce on the wall and picked up a match from the tray on the table. He turned the wick up slightly, then scraped the match. After replacing the chimney, he looked down at her, but she kept her eyes centered on the lantern.

  "Wonderful thing, kerosene," he said. "And I heard there's some guy back east who can make light appear in a glass bulb. Ain't that gonna be something? Wonder what he'll call it?"

  "Electricity," she murmured.

  "See, you've heard of it, too. Funny name, that one, though. 'Lectricity." He slowly shook his head.

  "Her ankle, Doc."

  She peered past the doctor to see Stone standing in the doorway, his shoulder leaning against the doorjamb. Immediately she realized the too-large nightshirt had fallen from her shoulder, barely held in place by her breast. Good grief. She was covered a heck of a lot more than in her bikini, but for some reason a hot flush stole up her cheeks. Grabbing the collar of the nightshirt, she jerked it back into place.

  She could have sworn that Stone's lower lip immediately shot out into a pout.

  The doctor bent over her ankle, hiding Stone from her sight. He tsked and muttered almost to himself, gently prodding her swollen flesh with tender fingers.

  "Can you move it?" Doc Calder asked.

  "I can, but it hurts too much," she replied.

  "Well, it looks broken to me. But sometimes a bad sprain will swell up and blacken just like this, too. I'm going to have to move it around and see if I can tell if there's a broken bone in there. I'd better put you out before I do that."

  "No!"

  "Now, miss, I've got some ether with me. You'll never know a thing."

  "No," she repeated, unwilling to hurt the doctor's feelings by admitting to him that she was afraid of letting someone with far less training than an anesthesiologist in her time administer an anesthetic to her. "I... just give me something to relax me. Maybe some laudanum. I don't want to be put to sleep."

  "If you say so. But I'm afraid you're going to wish you'd listened to me before this is over."

  Stone watched Tess swallow the laudanum, grimacing at the bitter taste. While the doctor busied himself laying out what he would need from his black bag, she settled back against the pillows. She glanced at him, and he was once again drawn into those green depths.

  Where in the world had such a pure, sea-green color come from? The fathomless depths remained clear, though—not darkening as the ocean did as it deepened. The whites reminded him of frothy wave crests, and thick, lush lashes surrounded them. The lashes blinked closed, and Stone tore his gaze away from her face.

  His eyes wandering down her body caused a tightening in his groin. Auburn tresses curled around a smooth neck, tumbling in disarray over her breasts, and he could almost imagine that the second his eyes touched her breasts, her nipples puckered and pointed upwards—or had those tips been there all along?

  He rolled his tongue inside his mouth. He could just about taste those nipples. Would she buck wildly under him if he ever got the chance to savor them? Would she throw that long, smooth neck back and toss those shiny curls in ecstasy?

  She clutched the sheet over that flat stomach, but he could make out the mound of curls beneath the sheet and gown. Were they the same color as her hair? He could almost feel them brushing his mouth, and he swept his tongue around his lips. He shifted sideways in the doorway, cocking his leg out to hide his straining fly.

  The doctor pulled the sheet and gown farther back from Tess's injured ankle, and Stone's gaze fell on her leg. There hadn't been anything left to the imagination in those tight pants she'd had on, and he already knew her legs were long and shapely. The doctor nonchalantly draped the sheet and gown on her upper thigh, well above her knee.

  Good God! He'd better get the hell out of here!

  "Stone, she's going to need something to hang on to while I do this," Doc Calder said over his shoulder. "Come over here."

  Stone stopped in mid-turn and glared back into the room. "I'm not good at stuff like this, Doc. I'll send Flower in."

  "That child's not strong enough. Get over here, man."

  Hesitantly, he made his way to the bed. Tess's lashes were still pillowed on her cheeks, her breathing light.

  "She's asleep, Doc."

  "No," Tess murmured. "Just drifting. The laudanum made the pain better." She opened her eyes partway and smiled lazily at Stone. "It works better than the whiskey."

  He groaned under his breath and pulled a seat over to the bedside. Gingerly, he sat down, then reached out a hand. "Doc says you're going to need something to hang on to."

  She nodded sleepily at him and trustingly placed her hand in his, threading her fingers through his larger ones.

  "Hold on," Doc muttered.

  Tess gasped and bit back a scream. Stone watched tears fill her eyes and felt her nails digging into his palm.

  Doc moved the ankle again, and Tess whimpered and closed her eyes, biting her lower lip.

  "It's broken," Doc said. "I can hear the bones scrape. I'm going to have to set them back into place. Sure you won't change your mind about that ether?"

  Tess shook her head, and Stone realized that she was unable to speak because of the pain.

  "Hold her, Stone."

  He moved from the seat to the bed, opening his arms willingly. Damn, this was going to hurt her!

  The doctor grasped her ankle again, and Tess screamed and buried her face against his chest to muffle the shriek. She flung her arms around his neck and clung tightly. The doctor gave a satisfied mutter, and Tess eased her hold on him.

  Stone continued to hold her slender body close, reluctant to release her. He ran his hands up and down her back, caressing and soothing, as he had wanted to do on the hillside. When she tried to pull her head away, he curled one hand in her silky tresses and laid his cheek against the top of her head.

  "Shhhh, Tess," he whispered. "Doc's almost done."

  "Michael, what's wrong with you? You look like you're going to faint."

  "Is he done yet? Gad, I can't stand this."

  "He still has to put on the cast. Michael, you better sit down. Heavens, it's not you he's hurting—it's Tess."

  "I know. But I can't stand to see anyone in pain." He swayed and started to sit but missed the edge of the cloud. Frantically beating his wings, he realized he was falling.

  "Easy, Michael," Angela called over the side. "Think flying. Don't flap."

  He landed with his rear on the edge of the cloud, then quickly tumbled backwards when he looked down at Tess. Clasping a hand over his eyes, he moaned. "Tell me when he's done, okay?"

  Angela patted him on the shoulder. "There, there, Michael. Everything will be all right."

  Seven

  "Sorry you had to come all the way out here, Doc."

  "Don't worry about it, Chisum. I get tired of patching up drunks every Saturday night. Half the time they puke all over my surgery while I'm digging out bullets or stitching them up. Then Mandy has to clean it up. Won't hurt them none to take care of themselves one night and let my wife have a good night's sleep. Maybe next week they'll think before they pull those damned guns or knives."

  "Not much hope of that, unless the sheriff starts enforcing the law against weapons in the saloons. Whiskey does funny things to a man's mind."

  "Yeah. Well, thanks for the bed last night. Glad I didn't have to drive back to town, though I suppose Perseus would've taken me right to the stable if I'd've fallen asleep."

  "Sure you won't stay for breakfast?"

  "No, thanks. But you be sure Miss Foster eats right while that ankle heals. Lots of milk to help the bones, and meat and vegetables and fruit. She's too danged pretty to wind up with a limp. And from the looks of those legs of hers, she sure likes to walk. Say, Stone, you never did tell me how she ended up at your place."

  He didn't know about the walking part, Stone mused to himself. He hadn't allowed himself to more than barely touch her injured ankle, even if his fingertips had tingled at the thought of seeing whether her thigh was as silky as it looked. Maybe some of the shapeliness of her legs was due to muscle, but it sure would be a pity if those luscious legs were marred by a limp.

  Milk they had a plenty, thanks to the cow. And the garden yielded a glut this time of year—tomatoes and cucumbers, beans and peas. He would check and see if the sweet corn was ready to pull. He wondered how soon the apples on the Widow Brown's trees would be ripe.

  "Chisum? Hey, Stone! Where'd you go?"

  "Huh? What are you talking about, Doc? I'm standing right here!"

  Doc shook his head and lifted the reins. "I'll be back in a few days to check on Miss Foster. In the meantime, keep her off that foot. When I come back, we'll see about maybe getting her up on crutches. I don't believe in letting my patients lie around too long. Seems they heal better if they're up and about as soon as possible."

  "I'll take care of her, Doc."

  "I'll bet you will," Doc murmured as he clucked at his horse and it trotted down the road.

  Stone still stood with his fingers tucked into his back pockets, staring toward the garden. Suddenly he jerked his hands free and walked over to the edge of the plot. He bent down and picked some of the flowers and lifted the bouquet of sweet peas to his nose as he crossed the yard to the cabin. No wonder Flower liked to plant so many of them each spring and set jars full around inside. He had never really noticed the clear scent before. A drop of dew clung to his nose when he lowered the bouquet, and he absently swiped it away.

  "Oh, Pa," Flower said as he came into the kitchen. "Aren't they pretty? But you've never helped me pick my flowers before."

  He thrust the sweet peas into Flower's hand. "Those flowers on the windowsill are gettin' wilted. Thought you might want some fresh ones."

  "You've got enough sweet peas here for more than one bouquet. I'll take some in on Tess's breakfast tray." Flower dipped water from a bucket into a jar and a water glass, then split the flowers and arranged them.

  "Whatever," he muttered after a second. "How is she this morning?"

  "Sort of grouchy," Flower admitted. "She couldn't believe we got up this early."

  "Early? It's almost sunrise. What's she think we do—sleep 'til noon around here? It's hard enough to find time to get everything done as it is."

  "She mumbled something about not even having to be at work until nine-thirty. She must have a job somewhere, but I've never heard of a store that opens that late. The stores in Clover Valley are always already open even when we get there at eight o'clock in the morning."

  "Flower." Tess's voice floated through the open bedroom door. "I hate to bother you, but could you come here a minute?"

  His daughter started to put down the knife she had picked up to slice the smoked ham, but he turned toward the bedroom.

  "Go ahead with breakfast. Flower. I'll go see what she wants."

  "Here. Take this with you, so it doesn't spill over on the tray."

  Flower shoved the water glass into his hand and turned back to the counter. For an instant he stood looking from the glass back to his daughter, then shrugged irritably and walked into the bedroom.

  "I was wondering if you could help me..." Tess's words froze on her lips as she looked up at the tall figure standing in the doorway, a water glass of flowers in his hand. She hurriedly jerked the sheet up over her shoulders. "You could at least knock first!"

  "I'm not in the habit of knocking on doors in my own house." Stone strode over and plopped the glass on the bedside table. "Flower sent these in," he growled.

  "Thank her for me, will you?" she said. "They're beautiful. Sweet peas, aren't they? Granny grew sweet peas. And morning glories and four o'clocks—and... lots of other flowers."

  "What did you need? Flower's cooking breakfast."

  "Uh... I guess it could have waited. I'm sorry to be such a bother."

  "Just tell me what the hell you wanted."

  Tess stared up at the grim face above her. He had been so tender last night. Holding and stroking her—lending his rock-hard strength to cling to. Allowing her to curl her fingers in his own until she drifted off to sleep.

  He must have made an attempt to tame his brown locks with water this morning. Too bad. The waves in his hair softened that planed countenance when they weren't slicked back. No touch of gray marred the temples, but she bet he would age well, even when it did.

  His cheeks were freshly shaven. Good grief, how early did he get up each morning, if he bathed and shaved long before sunrise?

  "What are you thinking about?" Stone asked quietly.

  "How much better you look with your hair dry," she replied honestly. "And I was trying to decide if it was the sweet peas I smelled or your aftershave."

  "It's Sunday." He shrugged. "Even if we don't get to church every Sunday, sometimes neighbors drop by to visit."

  "Any special neighbor?" she asked, quirking her eyebrow.

  "The Widow Brown drops by sometimes. There's not really anyone else too close. Once in a while, one or two of Rain's and Flower's Cherokee relatives wander in."

  Widow Brown, huh? "How old's the Widow Brown?" she asked before she could stop herself.

  "How old? I don't know. About my age, I guess. Her husband was a little older than me. Why?"

  "No reason," she denied. "It just seems awfully rugged country for a woman to have to live alone."

  "We help each other out when we can. Now, what did you need help with? I've got to get to my chores."

  "Uh... oh, the pillow," she said. "It fell off the bottom of the bed, and my ankle feels better when it's propped on it. I couldn't reach it."

  Stone moved to the foot of the bed and bent down for the pillow. Gently he lifted the cast and slid the goose down-stuffed pillow beneath it. Five pink toes with rose-tinted nails wiggled before his eyes.

  "That feels much better. Thanks so much," Tess said.

  "This little piggy..." He reached out a finger toward her toes.

  "Don't you dare!" She gasped. "I'm ticklish!"

  He jerked his hand back. Good lord, what was he doing? He hadn't even realized he had moved his arm—and he hadn't thought of that crazy little rhyme in years.

  Glancing at Tess, he got caught in the sparkling depths of her green eyes as she gazed back at him.

  "Ticklish, huh? Better behave yourself and follow all the doctor's orders then. And remember, I'm the boss around here."

  "You're quite the tyrant, aren't you?" Tess giggled. "I can tell that Rain and Flower shake in their moccasins whenever you're around."

  He laughed softly with her for a moment before he draped the sheet over her tempting toes. "I've got to get busy or those animals will think I've forgotten them," he said as he turned to the door. "Flower will have your breakfast in a few minutes."

  Whistling softly to himself, he strode through the kitchen and out the door, his step lighter than usual as he headed out into a day filled with work. In the yard, he paused for a moment to watch the sun creep over the distant hilltops. Usually it never crossed his mind to take a long enough break to watch the gray-tinged distance change to muted pink, then fiery red with golden streaks, announcing another day.

  He had never taken time to bring a fresh bouquet to Flower either. Now he glanced around the yard and noted the wild rose bushes Flower had dug up in the hills and transplanted here and there. A couple of them looked sort of wilted. Well, he guessed he could find a minute somewhere to haul water from the well for them. After all, Flower had enough to do.

  "Michael, you aren't supposed to use your powers like that!" Angela chastised, though not too strongly.

  "It was sort of cute, though, wasn't it, Angie? You know, I never realized that a woman's toes could be pretty. Most of the male human spirits I got to know were breast men."

  "Michael!" She curled her own toes tight, burying them in the fluffy cloud. "I really wish you'd quit talking about things like that!"

  "Angie," he said with an irritated sigh, "just because I've never been human doesn't mean I can't appreciate human beauty. And you're the one who said Tess and Stone were falling in love. All I did was give him a little shove in the right direction, so he could show her with that little teasing that he was starting to loosen up with her. Men need a little push now and then."