to heat water for the hot baths they both needed. “This way.”
He rose, took a step, and cringed.
“Is it your leg?” she asked.
“My knee. Hurt it when the horse threw me.”
She raised an eyebrow and he responded with, “The horse reared when a big cat ran into the road chasing a deer.”
“They tend to do that. Lean on me,” she offered.
“I’m too heavy for you, ma’am.”
“I’m stronger than I look, so let’s try. Otherwise, you’ll have to sleep here on the floor.”
“I’d do fine in front of the fire. I have a bedroll.”
She gritted out, “Just come on, please. You can be a gentleman after I’ve had some sleep.”
He seemed amused by that. “Yes, ma’am.”
With her supporting him, they slowly made their way to her spare room. Inside, he dropped onto the bed and offered his thanks.
“You’re welcome.” She opened a nearby trunk and withdrew blankets and quilts. Still wearing her buffalo coat, she made a fire in the grate. “Should warm up eventually. There’s a washroom through that door. Tub, too, but I’ve been gone a couple of days, so there’s no hot water for now. What’s your name?”
“Garrett McCray.”
“I’m Spring Lee.”
“Related to Dr. Colton Lee?” he asked.
“Why?”
“I’m a reporter. Here to do an article about him for my father’s newspaper.”
Her brother had mentioned a reporter was on the way. “Colt’s married to my sister-in-law.”
As if confused by her response, he studied her for a moment, before asking, “Dr. Lee is your brother?”
“Smart and a gentleman. Rare as the white buffalo. I’ll bring your bags and bedroll. You should get out of those wet clothes.”
She exited.
Garrett stared at the empty space she left behind. Did she live here alone? Did her brother and his wife reside nearby? Had her confusing responses been deliberate? His numerous questions about her would have to wait. Her advice about his wet clothes was sound. The last thing he needed was to be laid low by illness, so doing his best to keep his weight off his injured knee, he shed the blankets and his coat. Seeing no place to hang them, he laid them in front of the fire, then hobbled to the room’s lone chair to remove his boots. Raising his leg hurt. It only took a few more attempts to realize that between the pain and the boots’ tight fit, removal was impossible. The boots were new and so tight and uncomfortable that during the ride to Paradise he’d wanted to snatch them off and toss them into the nearest stream. Now his feet were probably so blistered and swollen, he’d need a surgeon to cut them free.
She returned. After placing his belongings beside the chair, she asked, “How’s the knee?”
“It’s been better. Can’t seem to remove my boots.” He hated admitting that.
“Can you raise your leg?”
He nodded.
She took off her big coat and let it drop to the floor. Back home women didn’t wear men’s shirts, denims, or gun belts, so he forced himself not to stare.
“Show me.”
He hadn’t any idea why she’d asked, but she didn’t appear to be in the mood for a discussion, so he raised his leg as requested.
“Hold on to the chair.”
He grasped the arms, she turned her back to him, and took his booted foot in hand. He forced himself not to stare again. This time at her behind.
“Yell, if you have to.”
And before he could ask what that meant, she pulled with a strength that was surprising, and the boot came free. The pain put a catch in his breath, but he didn’t yell. Not in front of her.
“Now the other one.”
She repeated the process with the same expertise and once it was done, he melted with relief. “Thank you.”
“Boots new?” she asked.
“Yes. Bought them a few days ago. Storekeeper said they’d be tight.”
“Where are you from?”
“Washington.”
“Territory?”
“No. District of Columbia.”
Her thoughts on that information were kept unspoken. “I’ve water boiling on the stove for bark tea. It should help with the pain. Once it stops snowing and Odell clears the road, we’ll ride over to my brother’s place and see if he’s back.”
“He’s not here?”
“I’m not sure. He left a few days ago to help with a measles outbreak over in Rock Springs.”
“When will the road be cleared?” He wondered who Odell might be and hoped the doctor had returned.
She shrugged. “Depends on how long it takes the storm to blow through. I’ll be back with the tea.”
She picked up his wet coat and hers. His eyes followed her strong stride until she