“As long as he’s alive and I can continue to bedevil him, not at all. In fact, I’m looking forward to what might happen next. Being out here with nothing to do, folks like a little commotion. It breaks up the monotony.”
Regan smiled. “Okay. Let me sleep awhile and I’ll share all the gory details.”
“Holding you to that. Come on with me, and we’ll get you bedded down.”
“You live alone?”
She nodded. “Never married. Men tend to avoid a woman known for having her own mind.”
A wide grin crossed Regan’s face. “The two of us will do well together.”
“I think you might be right. Between your Winchester and my Remington, we’ll scare most men around here to death.”
Regan was still chuckling over that as she settled her cheek against the crisp fresh pillow casing and closed her eyes.
Colt unsaddled his horse and turned the stallion out into the pasture. Carrying the heavy gear to the tack room ramped up the pain in his shoulder but he managed it and entered the house. He was thankful for Whit’s aid but knew the wound needed to be cleaned properly and wrapped with a fresh bandage. He dropped down onto the sofa in the parlor and drew in a few deep breaths.
“You hurt?”
He looked up to see his grandfather Benjamin standing in the doorway. “Got shot.”
Ben’s eyes widened and he hurried over to him. “Where? Let me see.”
“Shoulder. I’m fine. Whit got the bullet out. I need to clean it again though.”
“Here. Let me help.”
Colt hated being fussed over but had enough sense to know he needed the assistance. Trying to put his shirt back on without help while under the watching eyes of the hellion responsible had caused more pain than he’d shown.
Ben eased the shirt off his shoulder. Colt glanced down and was not surprised upon seeing the blood-soaked bandage. It would probably bleed for a short while longer.
“Who did this to you?” Ben asked, sounding concerned and angry.
Colt chuckled bitterly. “The woman I’m supposed to be marrying.”
Ben froze and stared. “Miss Carmichael? She’s here?”
“Yes, along with her fancy, silver-plated Winchester rifle.”
Confusion filled Ben’s face. “What the hell she shoot you for? Let me get a basin of water so we can clean this up, and you tell me what happened.”
“Hot water,” Colton called at his back. The shoulder would be stiff and sore enough without adding the risk of infection. Thanks to his late mother, Isabelle, and her insistence upon pampering herself with as many modern amenities as could be shipped to the wilds of Wyoming Territory, there was a boiler connected to the house. Adele had enjoyed the luxury as well. Her sweet face looked down at him from the large portrait hanging on the wall above the fireplace. He’d loved her so. She’d been gone now six years, and his guilt remained as fresh as it had been the day she slipped into death after Anna’s birth. Had he been at her side instead of off tending a miner’s broken arm, they might not have lost her. He looked away from the portrait, buried the somber memory, and awaited his grandfather’s return.
Once the wound was cleaned and a fresh bandage applied, Colt told his grandfather the story and how the encounter with the Carmichael woman in the sheriff’s office ended with her berating him.
Ben shook his head. “Doesn’t sound like she’s the one for you. She may be more trouble than she’s worth.”
Colt was sure of only one thing. “Her shooting me is going to keep folks around here chuckling for decades.”
“True,” Ben said, his face set with disapproval. “Where’s she now?”
“I had Whit take her to Minnie’s. She can stay there until I figure out what I want to do.”
“Minnie doesn’t want you remarrying.”
“I know, but Anna needs a mother. Her only influences as she grows older will be Minnie and Spring. Neither are ideal.”
“Spring just needs a husband and some babies.”