«Oh, Lord!» Jessica grabbed Wolfe’s travel bag and rummaged quickly inside. «He has some in here. They were one of our wedding presents, like the repeating rifles.»

«Sounds like my kind of wedding.»

Jessica looked up into a pair of tired, yet amused gray eyes. Wordlessly, she held out her hands. There was a full box of cartridges in each. Then her breath came in with a harsh sound as she saw the blood sliding out from beneath the cuff of the stranger’s jacket.

«You’re wounded!»

«I’ll live, thanks to you and your husband. I can’t shoot worth a damn right-handed and I’d run my horse into the ground trying to get free of those Indians.»

Reflexively, Jessica and the man ducked as bullets thudded against the stage. An arrow pierced one of the side curtains and buried its lethal point in the opposite side of the stage where Mrs. O’Conner huddled. The sight of the arrow set her to screaming again.

The stranger ignored the pregnant girl. He scooped both boxes of cartridges into one big hand and turned to a front window. His shrill whistle pierced the sound of screaming. He shoved his arm out the ruined curtain and held the boxes up as close to the roof of the stage as he could. The cartridges were taken from his hands instantly.

The stage lurched and staggered, slamming the man against his wounded arm. With a stifled curse he lowered himself to the seat, reached across his body awkwardly, and drew his six-shooter with his right hand.

Mrs. O’Conner kept screaming.

Jessica leaned past the broad-shouldered stranger and shook Mrs. O’Conner. When that had no effect, Jessica slapped her just hard enough to get her attention. The screams stopped as abruptly as they had begun.

«There, there,» Jessica said, hugging the terrified girl and stroking her disheveled hair. «Screaming doesn’t do a bit of good. It only makes your throat raw. We’ll be all right. There’s no finer rifleman alive than my husband.»

«I’ll second that,» the stranger said without looking away from the window. «He sat up there cool as a gentleman at a turkey shoot. And what he aimed at, he hit.»

Mrs. O’Conner cringed when Wolfe opened fire once more, but she didn’t scream again. She simply wrapped her arms protectively over her womb and trembled while the coach shook and bounced her around. Jessica smiled encouragingly before she turned back to the stranger.

«Let me help you, sir.»

«It’s been a long time since anyone called me sir,» he said, smiling oddly. «My name isRafe.»

«Mr.Rafe,» she began.

«JustRafe.»

He squeezed off a shot, then hissed through his teeth as the stagecoach lurched and banged against his wounded arm.

«Save your bullets,» Jessica said as she began undoing buttons onRafe’s jacket. «Wolfe has enough for a time. Let me see to your wound.»

«Wolfe? Is that your husband?»

She nodded.

«Lucky man.»

Startled, Jessica looked up.Rafe was watching her with clear gray eyes. There was appreciation in his glance, but nothing impolite. She smiled uncertainly and went back to work removingRafe’s jacket.

«Luck is a matter of opinion,» Jessica said. «Can you get your jacket off your right shoulder?»

Shots came from overhead. A few shots came in reply from the Indians, but they sounded distant.Rafe looked out the window, holstered his gun, and shrugged out of his heavy jacket. Jessica realized anew how big the man was. Were it not for the humor in his gray eyes, he would have been a rather fearsome presence.

«They’re still coming, but not for long,» Rafe said. «Your husband’s pure hell with that rifle. Besides, their horses can’t take much more. They ran me a good long ways before I cut the stage road.»

With his good arm, Rafe braced both Jessica and himself in the wildly jolting stage while she examined his wound. Her lips tightened as she saw the amount of blood covering his gray wool shirt. Saying nothing, she ripped more of the cloth away from the wound. After a better look atRafe’s muscular arm, she let out a sigh of relief.

«It’s not as bad as I feared,» Jessica said as she pulled up the hem of her dress. «The bullet missed the bone. You lost a chunk of skin and some muscle, but you have plenty of both to spare. Do you have a knife?»

Rafetook a long knife from a sheath at his belt and held it out to her, haft first. «Watch out. I shave with it.»

She grasped the knife carefully, glanced quickly at the golden-bronze stubble covering his face, and smiled an almost hidden smile. «Do you? When?»

He chuckled, then shook his head and said wistfully, «You remind me of my sister. She was a sassy little thing, too. At least, she used to be. I haven’t seen her in years. Too many of them. Wanderlust is as bad as gold fever for keeping a man away from his family.»

Jessica sliced off strips of petticoat with remarkable speed. The knife was indeed razor sharp. It made quick work of the fine, ice-blue silk petticoat whose color matched the wool of her dress. As she began bindingRafe’s arm, rifle fire broke out again.

Rafecocked his head, listening. No return fire came. «Sounds like they’re giving up.»

«Praise God,» Jessica said fervently. «Wolfe was so exposed up there.»

«You were hardly out of the line of fire, ma’am. The stagecoach isn’t thick enough to stop bullets at close range.»

«I hadn’t thought about that,» she admitted. «I was too worried about Wolfe.»

«Like I said, he’s a lucky man.»

«Maybe one day he’ll think so, too,» Jessica said under her breath. She ripped the trailing end of the silk down the middle and tied off the bandage. «There. That should help the bleeding. At the next stage stop, I’ll wash the wound with soap and clean water.»

«That isn’t necessary.»

«Yes, it is,» she said as she helpedRafe back into his jacket. «A man calledSemmelweis discovered that the horrible infections of childbed fever could be prevented if the doctor simply washed his hands before he treated each patient. If one infection can be prevented by washing, it stands to reason that others can, too.»

«Are you a nurse?» Rafe asked, easing his arm into the coat with her help. «You have very good hands, gentle and quick.»

Jessica smiled. «Thank you, but I have no formal training. My guardian raised me to be able to handle the common emergencies of a country estate — broken bones, fevers, gashes, and such. I’ve also had experience with pregnancy and childbirth.»

Enough to know that I want no part of either, Jessica added silently as she turned away to check on the girl, who was still huggingherself.IfI learned nothing else from my mother, I learned that.

«Are you all right, Mrs. O’Conner?» Jessica asked.

Numbly, the girl nodded.

«And the babe?» Jessica said bluntly, putting her hands inside the girl’s coat and pressing lightly against the womb. «Is it well, too?»

The girl stared, shaken out of her apathy by the gentle, unexpected explorations of the other woman’s hands.

«Is there any pain?» Jessica asked.

Mrs. O’Conner shook her head.

A soundless sigh of relief came from Jessica. The girl’s torso was supple and resilient rather than rigid with untimely contractions. Smiling reassuringly, Jessica arranged the girl’s coat snugly again and sat next to her on the bench seat, givingRafe the opposite seat all to himself.

«Tell me if that changes,» Jessica said.

The girl nodded, then smiled hesitantly. «Thank you, ma’am. I’m sorry if I insulted your husband. It’s just…» Her voice died and she crossed herself with a trembling hand. «I’m so frightened of Indians. Itsh — shames me.»

«Don’t worry yourself about it,» Jessica said. A feeling of sudden, overwhelming tiredness claimed her as the urgency of the moment passed, leaving her drained. «I understand nightmares and daytime fears better than most.»

The girl looked at Jessica’s hands, saw their trembling, and made a startled sound. «You’re afraid, too!»

«Of course I am. I’m not too stupid to know when I might be mauled or murdered. I’ve simply learned how to hide my fear.»

Jessica shoved her hands beneath her cloak, pulled the heavy folds tightly around her, and closed her eyes, fighting for control. It had been much easier when there had been something to do besides sit around like a chicken trussed for the spit.

Finally the sounds of gunfire faded, became sporadic, and stopped completely. The pace of the stagecoach didn’t slow. One of the jolts was so great that a rear wheel lifted completely off the ground, sending Jessica and Mrs. O’Conner tumbling across the narrow aisle intoRafe. Jessica’s head cracked against the side of the stage, stunning her for a moment.

Rafecaught Jessica with his right arm and braced her across his chest as the coach slammed back down onto all four wheels.

«I’m terribly sorry, sir,» Mrs. O’Conner said, flushing as she righted herself and sat across the aisle once more.

«No problem,» Rafe said. «Ma’am? Are you all right?»

Dazed, Jessica shook her head, trying to clear it. Sounds seemed to come at her from all sides, battering her, making it impossible to think or speak. Darkness spun around her, closer and closer.

Struggling despite the certainty that she couldn’t win, Jessica fought the dark tide that was closing over her. Her last thought before she went under was a sick certainty that this was how her mother had felt each time the earl had dragged her into the marriage bed despite her screams and flailing fists, forcing her to accept the seed that one day would tear her apart.

Mrs. O’Conner made a horrified sound and went to her knees in the narrow aisle in front of Jessica. «Mrs.Lonetree?»