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breath-stopping instant her gaze held his. Then she glanced down again, veiling the look with the black fringe of her lashes.
    Jace exhaled the breath he’d been holding in. Lord, didn’t the girl realize the effect those eyes could have on a man? She seemed so artless, so damnably innocent.
    The lessons he’d like to teach her…
    Jace gave himself a mental slap. If he didn’t get his mind back above his belt line, he could find himself in serious trouble.
    Resting his arm across her knees, Clara wound the wrapping over his shoulder and around his arm, once, then twice more before she split the end and tied the tails in a knot. “There, it’s done.” She glanced up at her grandmother. “Now what?”
    “Now he needs to rest.” Mary rose from her chair. “I’ve got some tea brewing that will ease the pain. Help him inside, Clara. He can stretch out on that spare bed in my sewing room.”
    “Now wait a minute,” Jace protested. “I’ll be fine. There’s no reason to—”
    “I won’t have you getting up and keeling over on me,” Mary snapped. “The bed’s made, and you’re going to rest until you’re stronger. Come along now while I get the tea.”
    Jace gave in with a sigh. He respected Mary Gustavson too much to argue. Besides, he felt like hell.
    He waited while Clara braced herself beneath his good arm. Her body was warm and curvy against his side. Thankfully, he was in no condition to take advantage of her nearness. His shoulder throbbed, his vision swam in and out of focus and his knees felt like rubber.
    “Here we go.” She supported him with one arm and used her free hand to open the screen. Jace swore silently. He felt as helpless as a baby. If these two females wanted to turn him over to the law now, he’d have no chance of getting away.
    Leaning to balance his weight, she guided him across the floor to the little room that opened off the kitchen. The curtains were drawn, but in the dim light Jace could see the treadle sewing machine in one corner and the patchwork quilt on the narrow bed. Glancing at the door, he was relieved to notice that it had no lock.
    Mary followed them into the room holding a bluechina mug between her hands. She thrust it toward Jace as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Drink this before you lie down,” she said. “It will help you rest.”
    The molasses-colored liquid was barely cool enough to drink. Its taste was bitter, but Jace knew better than to argue or to ask what was in it. He emptied the mug in a few swallows, suppressing the urge to gag.
    “Give me your feet.” Clara worked Jace’s boots down over his heels and dropped them on the floor. It occurred to him to wonder whether his socks smelled, but it was only a fleeting thought. By now his eyelids were leaden weights. His body seemed to be sinking into the patchwork coverlet. The instincts that had kept him free for the past four months were screaming in his head, but he had no power to act on them.
    Clara leaned over him, her eyes dark smudges in the pale oval of her face. “Rest now,” she said. “I’ll be back tomorrow with the mares. You should be feeling better by then.”
    Remember…one favor . Jace struggled to speak, but his lips refused to form words. He only knew that the promise he’d extracted might turn out to be the one chance of saving him, like a hidden ace up a gambler’s sleeve.
    But now it might already be too late. He was losing his grip, sinking into a black fog.
    He kept his eyes on her face until the darkness pulled him under.
     
    Clara took the colt at an easy trot toward home. The sun was at high morning, the sky a blazing blue thatpromised a hot afternoon. But the weather was the last thing on Clara’s mind.
    She’d left Tanner asleep on Mary’s spare bed, his shoulder dressed and bandaged, his senses drugged by Mary’s potent jimsonweed tea. Knocking him out was the only way to make sure he’d stay put. His body was in shock and he’d lost enough blood to make