Short-Straw Bride by Karen Witemeyer Page A

Crockett twisted his face into a look of mock disgust, then broke into a smile. “Go on.” He pushed Travis toward the drawers that held clean trousers and shirts. “She probably won’t wake for a couple hours. You got plenty of time to make yourself pretty.”
    Travis whipped off his sweat-stained shirt and hurled it directly at Crockett’s head. The joker ducked, and the sound of his quiet laughter followed Travis down the hall.

    The next time Meredith woke, the sun was well on its way across the sky. Travis had been dozing in the chair when her quiet moan stirred him. He shifted closer to the bed. Would she be more clearheaded this time?
    â€œDon’t move too fast,” he warned as she rolled to her side and propped an elbow beneath her. “It’ll make your head ache worse.” He stilled her with a hand to her shoulder.
    â€œTravis?” She blinked and struggled to fully open her eyes.
    â€œI’m here, Meredith.”
    She smiled at him then, and the gesture did something funny to his insides. Not wanting to examine the phenomenon too closely, he cleared his throat and reached for the glass of water he’d brought in with him after cleaning up.
    â€œAre you thirsty?”
    Her eyes instantly lost their peaceful glow. She bit her bottom lip and gave her head a tiny shake. “You have to leave,” she said in a wobbly voice.
    â€œLeave? Why?” First she’d begged him to stay, and now she wanted him to go. Travis blew out a breath and ran his hand through his hair. The woman’s confusion must be addling his own mind.
    Her face flushed crimson, and her gaze dropped to somewhere below his chin. “I have to attend to . . . to personal business.” Her voice dipped so low at the end, he had to strain to hear her. Once he deciphered the words, however, an uncomfortable heat crept up his neck.
    â€œOh.”
    What in blue blazes was he supposed to do now? She could barely move about in the bed with the pain from her wound. How was she supposed to manage standing and walking about the room? What if she grew dizzy and fell?
    Travis clenched his teeth. He’d get her up, but by Jove, she was going to have to find a way to accomplish the rest on her own. Heaven help her.
    Without further discussion, Travis dragged the chamber pot from beneath the bed and set it beside the footboard so that Meredith could hang onto the carved bedpost for balance. He scanned the room for anything else that might be of help, and his eyes lit on the small bag Neill had retrieved from Meredith’s horse last night. Without asking permission, Travis strode over to the bag and rummaged through it. Finding a white cotton nightgown, he draped it across the end of the bed, then dropped the bag on the floor nearby. That way she could reach it should she feel the need.
    By the time he turned back to Meredith, the woman had already pushed herself up to a sitting position and had her legs dangling over the side of the mattress. Deep lines furrowed her brow, and her left hand gingerly cupped the side of her head, but her chin was set and her back straight.
    The woman had grit. If he hadn’t learned that truth last night, watching her power through her pain this morning would’ve proved it.
    Travis rushed to her side and wrapped an arm around her middle. Something pink and lacy winked at him from within the sheets. Recognizing the corset, he loosened his hold on Meredith in order to grab the frilly thing and flip it down to the far corner of the bed. Maybe if she found it with her other belongings, he’d get lucky and her confused mind would assume she’d taken it off herself.
    Cinching his arm back around her ribs, Travis took her weight on himself and slowly raised her to her feet. “Easy now,” he said. “I’ll help you get to the end of the bed.”
    She leaned into his side as they moved slowly toward their goal, her left arm