Diamonds and Dreams (64 page)

Betty Jane stared down at Saxon for a moment
before she dragged a jug from beneath the bed. She uncorked it and
poured a generous amount of its contents into the small bottle.

Saxon watched her every move, certain she’d
poison him. “Is it possible that yarbs are herbs?”

“Iffen
herbs
be wolfbane root and
snakeroot, then you figgered right.” She held the bottle to his
lips again. “Go on and drink it.”

“What will it do to me?” Damn! Where the
hell was he, and who were these people?

“Nothin’ you don’t need done, Betty Jane
replied. “It’s fer yore fever. Now drank it.”

“Ain’t no use in a-forcin’ him to do what he
ain’t gwine do,” George Franklin remarked. “That man’s a-wantin’
proof yore tonic ain’t gwine kill him.” He brushed more shavings
off his trousers, stood, and ambled toward his wife and the injured
man. Taking the bottle from Betty Jane, he tilted it to his mouth
and drank deeply.

“It ain’t fer you!” Betty Jane snatched the
bottle away from him and pushed it into Saxon’s hand.

“Go on and drink it,” George Franklin
advised. “She ain’t gwine let up till you do. The woman’s as
stubborn as a blue-nosed mule.”

Reassured by the fact the mountain man
wasn’t dead after drinking the potent liquid, Saxon downed the
remainder of the herb potion. His stomach promptly revolted as the
fiery brew hit it, and with clenched teeth he resisted the wave of
nausea that flooded his insides.

George Franklin chortled loudly, his long
beard bouncing on his concave chest. “Reckon you ain’t never tasted
yarbs and corn likker a-mixed together afore, have you, mister?
It’s them yarbs that make it bitter. The whiskey’s smooth as water
once yore used to it.”

“Turn over and let me git a look-see at yore
back agin,” Betty Jane ordered. When Saxon obeyed, she picked up a
few mushroom-like plants that burst open as she touched them to
Saxon’s skin. They spread brown powder over the claw wound.
“Wrapped up them bites on yer shoulder but left this here scratch
uncovered. It ain’t real deep, but these here puffballs’ll draw
outen the pizen.”

George Franklin watched the procedure with
detached interest. “You orter leave him to bleed, Betty Jane.
Blood’s the best coverin’ thur is.”

She ignored her husband. “About out o’
puff-balls, mister, but don’t you worry none. We can use cobwebs or
soot till I git out fer more puffballs.”

Saxon grimaced into the pillow. If he
survived his wounds, he had a sneaking suspicion the woman’s
doctoring would kill him. “Did I see a girl with red hair and
freckles, or was that my imagination?”

“Chickadee’s real,” Betty Jane said. “And
iffen it warn’t fer her, we’d be a-knockin’ together yore
coffin.”

“A mere girl killed that monster with one
bullet?”

“Tuk aim and farred,” George Franklin
said.

“Heared tell you stuck that bahr some,”
Betty Jane said. “But you didn’t never hit nary a good spot on
him.”

Her husband smirked at that. “Don’t take it
hard, mister. A outlander like yoresef don’t know much about bahrs.
Chickadee’s knowed fer her bahr killin’. Why, I reckon even some o’
us hill folk cain’t hold no candle to Chickadee McBride when it
comes to bahrs.”

Saxon winced with both pain and disbelief.
Was it really possible a
girl
had saved his life? Dammit,
what if she’d missed and killed
him
instead?

“What’s yore name, mister?” Betty Jane
asked. “And whar you from?”

“Saxon Blackwell. Boston, Massachusetts.” He
held out his hand for both people to shake.

“We’re George Franklin and Betty Jane
Beasley,” his host said. “And since it ’pears you ain’t no Fed’ral,
yore welcome to stay as long as you need to.”

Saxon smiled. “I’m grateful for all you’ve
done. The medicine, the bandage, and for bringing me to your
home.”

“We didn’t have nary a thang to do with
a-brangin’ you up here, Saxon,” Betty Jane said. “Chickadee brung
you.”

Saxon tried to remember what happened after
the attack, but could recall nothing. “I can’t imagine how she
managed to get me into her wagon, but I hope to have the
opportunity to thank her soon.”

“Wagon?” George Franklin grinned. “She ain’t
got no wagon. She packed you on her back.”

“A
girl
? Carrying a man of my
size?”

“Chickadee ain’t no reg’lar girl,” Betty
Jane announced. “She can outdo most menfolks around these here
parts. Got the strength o’ them bahrs she kills. Wouldn’t never
know it to look at her, though. Some say it’s her spirit that gives
her strength. But she’s a livin’ legend, shore and sartin.”

Her husband nodded. “She’s a mite wild
though. Cain’t be brung to taw neither. Me and Betty Jane’s tried
to larn her what manners we know, but that girl’s as hardheaded as
they come. It ain’t that she’s a bad-un though. Got the biggest
dang heart you ever come acrost, but she’s tough enough to raise
hell and then put a chunk under it.”

“Most all mountain girls is
strong-spirited,” Betty Jane explained. “But most of ’em got the
sense to back down when they need to. Chickadee don’t got that kind
o’ sense. When she gits somethin’ in her mind, ain’t nobody or
nothin’ that can stop her.”

Saxon was thoroughly intrigued. “Where is
she now?”

“Well, she brung you, tole us what happened,
and then lit out runnin,’” George Franklin said. “Said somethin’
about yore horse. Reckon she went after it.”

Saxon started to inquire further about the
outlandish mountain girl, but the door banged open as someone flung
it open.

In its frame, a white wolf at her heels,
stood Chickadee McBride.

Brides of Legend Series by Teresa
Medeiros

Shadows and
Lace

Lady of
Conquest

Borrowed Brides Series by Rebecca Hagan
Lee

Golden
Chances

Harvest
Moon

Something
Borrowed

Twice
Blessed

Diamonds and
Dreams
by Rebecca Paisley

The Barefoot
Bride
by Rebecca Paisley

Coming in 2014

A Hint of
Heather
by Rebecca Hagan Lee

Moonlight and Magic
by Rebecca
Paisley

Rainbows and Rapture
by Rebecca
Paisley

Midnight and Magnolias
by Rebecca
Paisley

Once a Mistress
by Rebecca Hagan
Lee

Always a Lady
by Rebecca Hagan Lee

Ever a Princess
by Rebecca Hagan
Lee

Whisper Always
by Rebecca Hagan
Lee

Past Promises
by Jill Marie Landis

Until Tomorrow
by Jill Marie
Landis

Jade
by Jill Marie Landis

The Orchid Hunter
by Jill Marie
Landis