She bit her lip, as if it were hurting her each time the man winced in pain. She was like that, though. He knew that from his own dealings, too. It had been so long ago, it was almost like a dream to him now, but Jay knew he'd never forget the first kindness he could ever remember. His new ma had brought him home, given him a meal of which there was no limit – and a warm bath. He'd fallen asleep in the big washtub.
Mama had put him to bed in the softest bed he'd ever slept in, with covers that were clean and warm. And in the night, he'd awakened to hear her crying as she rubbed salve on his wounds by dim candlelight. At first, he'd thought he'd made her cry. When she'd explained to him she was only sorry she hadn't gotten to him sooner, before the bad men had hurt him, he'd – well, he'd felt like crying too. But he didn't. He never cried.
****
Ten years is a long time. Allie had managed to keep the tears back – barely. What was he supposed to say to that? It had been a long time for him too – with very few good moments to look back on. In fact, every time he thought of a "good moment" from the early days, Allison Taylor was somewhere in that memory. Before he could reply, she had turned her full attention to cleaning his damaged hand and trying to piece it back together.
"Dammit," Brandon muttered through clenched teeth.
"I'm sorry," Allie murmured. She carefully wrapped his thumb to hold it immobile. He gave a sharp gasp, turning his head toward the wall.
"Almost done." Allie's voice was thick with tears. As she turned to reach for the scissors, Jay hurried in to hand them to her. She quickly shook her head. "Go wash up good, first. Then, I'll need you."
He nodded and headed for the pump.
"Thanks, Allie."
She smiled at the relief in Brandon's tone.
"I wouldn't want to cry in front of the boy."
Allie took a cool cloth from the basin and drew it across his forehead gently. "I don't believe there was any danger of that, Brandon."
"You never…know." He turned to look up at her, his lips curving up slightly. "Thanks, anyhow. He…looked worried."
"I did it for both of you." She stood up, gathering the scattered medical supplies. "He'll be back."
Brandon gave her a quick wink. "I'll be ready. Think I've got my breath back now."
Allie shook her head at his bravado. "I'm going to brew you some willow bark tea."
"I don't—"
"I want you to drink it. I know you won't use the laudanum, but this is milder. And it'll ease you some; maybe let you sleep a little."
"Better drink it, mister," Jay said solemnly. He'd returned, standing just at the bedroom door. "It don't taste good, but it helps stop the hurtin'."
"Doesn't taste good," Allie corrected.
"I know. That's what I said."
Brandon turned laughing eyes on Allie. "Guess maybe you better brew it up. Sounds like the voice of experience."
Allie arched a brow that clearly stated she understood where the real 'voice of experience' was. Brandon had probably downed more willow bark tea in his twenty-five years than Jay would ever see in a lifetime. When he grinned at her, she knew his thoughts had gone down the same path.
"Jay, don't—"
Brandon cut her off smoothly. "Don't worry, Allie. Jay here'll keep me company while you go brew up the poison – I mean—" he winked at Jay, "—the tea."
Jay's laugh was infectious, and Allie turned away, heartened at the fledgling camaraderie between the two. Jay was wary of people, and with good cause, after his rough beginnings. Though Brandon had never talked to her about his own early years, she had the feeling Jay had nothing on him. Brandon would be good for Jay…for as long as he was here.
She walked into the kitchen, casting a glance back at the big bed where Brandon laid, Jay in the chair beside him.
What then? a tiny voice nagged. When Brandon leaves here, what then? She couldn't worry about it now. Now, she only had to be sure she gave Brandon a fighting chance when that time eventually came.
****
Brandon watched Allie walk away. There was a new pain in his heart that had nothing to do with what Arnie Smith and his men had done to him. This hurt was of his own making. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed Allie until he'd found her again. He'd thought of her, over the years, and wondered about her. Hell, he'd even come back for her, only to discover she wasn't there anymore at The Benevolent Christian Home for Infants and Waifs. She'd been 'adopted out' – or so he'd been told. Had that even been true?
"Can you show me how to draw a road agent's spin? Teach me to do it?"
Jay's cautious question brought Brandon back to the present. They both glanced toward the door, and Brandon smiled when Jay's dark eyes found his.
He held up his bandaged hand. "It might be awhile."
Jay's eyes widened momentarily, and Brandon knew he'd forgotten. The boy nodded.
"Why do you need to know that fancy stuff anyhow? You…plannin' to become a trick shooter?"
Jay shook his head shyly. "No." His knuckles tightened around the edge of the chair seat.
Brandon's grin faded. Jay was serious, not in a teasing frame of mind. "Why do you want to learn that, Jay?"
"I heard someone say…" He broke off, his teeth sinking into his lower lip. "It…doesn't matter." The words were spoken so softly that Brandon had trouble making them out.
"Jay."