That thought reminded him that although his back was still sore, it didn't hurt quite as much as he would have expected it to. When he commented on that, Wing looked pleased and said, "I put some salve on there. That's what's making it feel better."
"Some ancient Chinese remedy?"
Wing's grin widened. "How'd you guess?"
Longarm scraped the last of the soup out of the bowl and drained the coffee cup. He felt pretty much human again, just extremely tired. His weariness was growing by the moment, and he felt his eyelids beginning to droop. "You best take this tray, Wing," he said. "I'm feeling a mite puny again."
"Get some rest," Wing told him as he took the tray. "You'll feel better tomorrow."
Longarm lay on his side, being careful not to put any pressure on his injured back. Wing turned down the wick on the bedside lamp, leaving only a small flame burning, then slipped out of the room. Longarm heard the door closing softly behind the cook.
Eyes closed, Longarm waited for sleep. As he was drifting on the edge of awareness, something brushed at his brain, a feather-light touch that he knew was trying to alert him to something important.
But before he could grasp it, it slipped away, and so did he.
Longarm spent the next three days recuperating. Plenty of sleep, Wing's good cooking, and the salve that the cook daubed on his back several times a day hastened Longarm's healing. By the afternoon of the third day, he felt restless, ready to be up and around and doing his job again.
The truce between the cowboys and the timber men was holding, at least according to Matt Kinsman, who had come into Longarm's room at midday to see how he was doing. The rancher still didn't have a good word to say about Aurora, but he grudgingly admitted that the loggers had been keeping to themselves.
"They're stayin' on their lease, and my boys are stayin' on Diamond K range," Kinsman had said. "I got Joe ridin' close herd on all of 'em, just to make sure none of the young hellions get any foolish ideas in their heads."
That was a good idea, thought Longarm, and he told Kinsman as much. The cattleman just grunted, his naturally combative nature chafing under this enforced peace even though he had agreed to it.
Longarm's warbag and other gear had been brought into the house from the bunkhouse, and when Molly came into the spare bedroom later that afternoon, she found him standing up and buttoning the hickory-colored shirt he had taken from his bag. He already had his pants and boots on.
"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, putting her hands on her hips, which were encased in snug denim trousers again today.
"Getting dressed so I can move around a mite," Longarm told her. "Fella like me gets cabin fever when he's cooped up for too long."
"You're in no shape-"
"Wing says that crease on my back has just about healed up," Longarm broke in, forestalling Molly's protest. "The bone and the muscles aren't near as sore as they were. No reason I can't get back to what brought me here in the first place."
"Only that you're liable to tear that wound open and bleed to death," said Molly bitterly.
Longarm grinned. "It ain't like I'm about to go out and wrassle a grizzley or anything. I'll be careful, Molly. No reason for you to worry about me."
She stepped closer to him, so close that he could almost feel the warmth coming from her, and said, "I haven't even talked you into making love to me yet, Custis. I don't want you going and dying."
Longarm cupped her chin and lifted her face so that he could look down into her eyes. "I don't intend dying any time soon," he said quietly. He moved his head closer, intending to brush his lips lightly across hers.
Instead, she grabbed him, her arms going around his neck and holding him tightly as she mashed her lips against his. She opened her mouth and her tongue slid boldly against his, exploring, probing, tantalizing. Longarm put his arms around her and felt the softness of her belly prodding urgently against his groin. Despite everything he had been through in the past week, enough of his strength had returned to him for his manhood to begin stiffening. Molly dropped one hand to it and began caressing and kneading the heavy length of him.
Longarm took his lips away from hers and said, "This ain't the time nor the place, Molly, but sometime..."
"You promise? Swear you'll do it." At that moment, she sounded more like a pleading little girl than the full-grown woman she really was.
Longarm nodded. "I swear."
She took a deep breath and disengaged herself from him. "All right. But I'll hold you to it, Custis. It was hard enough knowing that Mcentire woman had bedded you when I thought I might never get the chance."
"Wait just a minute," Longarm said with a frown. "I don't know what you're-"
"Don't bother trying to deny it," she said blithely. "A woman can always tell. The way she was panting over you and wanting to take you back to her place, it was obvious."
Once again, Longarm was a little sorry he hadn't been awake to see the confrontation between Molly and Aurora. On the other hand, maybe it was a good thing he hadn't. Billy Vail already accused him of having a swelled head; seeing two beautiful women squabbling over him would've likely just made it worse.
As he reached for his gunbelt, he said to Molly, "Your pa tells me there hasn't been any trouble since the other day."
"That's right," said Molly. "But it's been like waiting for a storm to break. You can tell something's going to happen. You just don't know when or how bad it's going to be."
Longarm knew what she meant. That was one reason he wanted to resume his investigation. He had to find out what was really going on around here before that storm broke.
Molly insisted on saddling the roan for him herself. Longarm halfway expected her to suggest that she go along with him, but she didn't, and he was thankful for that. Arguing with Molly could be downright tiring, and he needed all his strength right now.
Like Longarm, the roan was well rested and anxious to be doing something again. He had to hold the horse back a little as it pranced along the trail leading away from the Diamond K. Longarm knew what the situation was on the ranch; now he wanted to pay a visit to the logging camp and find out how things were going there.
He reached the main trail and swung south. The day was overcast but mild, with gray clouds that promised rain later on scudding through the sky. As Longarm neared the cutoff to the Mcentire camp, he paused and listened for the sound of axes coming from higher on the mountain. The ringing of metal against wood came faintly to his ear, telling him that Aurora's men were hard at work.
He heard something else too--the squeaking of wagon wheels. A team of horses appeared at a bend in the trail ahead of him, and behind them came the wagon they were pulling. A lone man was seated on the wagon, handling the reins of the team. Longarm recognized him as the cook from Aurora's camp. That bald head was unmistakable.
Some instinct made Longarm rein his horse off the trail and into the trees. He didn't know if the cook had seen him or not, but if not, Longarm wanted to keep it that way. The wheels of his brain were clicking over a lot more quickly than those of the slow-moving camp wagon.
If the cook had been to town for supplies, which was the logical explanation for him being out in the wagon, where was he going now? He had already passed the turnoff that led to the logging camp.
Longarm swung down from the saddle and led the roan even deeper into the trees and brush. Suddenly it seemed very important that the cook not spot him when the wagon passed by on the trail.
Standing very still, Longarm watched through the screening brush as the wagon rolled past. He could keep track of its progress by the sound of its wheels and the clopping of its mule team's hooves. Once it had gone by him, Longarm turned and started making his way through the thick woods, still leading the roan. He was moving almost as fast on foot as the wagon.
Several minutes later, Longarm heard a different sound. Hoofbeats, but moving at a lighter, faster gait than the plodding of the mules. Someone else was riding along the trail. The squeaking of the wagon wheels stopped, and Longarm knew the cook must have halted the vehicle to let the rider come to him. Longarm angled toward the trail again, anxious to see just who Aurora's cook was rendezvousing with.