Desert Angel Read Online Free Page A

fingers.
    “Melanie?” Jim put the blanket over her and opened the canteen of water. Dribbling a few drops on her parched lips, he watched as it ran down the side of her face.
    “Come on, Melanie, try to drink some water.” Again there was no response, and knowing it was useless, he closed the canteen.
    Melanie moaned when he raised her to a sitting position and wrapped the blanket around her. There was no place on her battered body that wasn’t sunburned or lacerated by the cactus thorns. As he remounted the horse with her draped over his thighs, Jim was glad that she was unconscious. The pain would have been unbearable for her had she been awake.
    By the time he’d made the short trip back to the house, Melanie was muttering hoarsely and trying to push away his restraining arms. Woods met him at the front door, grabbing the reins to the horse and holding the animal still, as Jim carefully climbed from the saddle.
    “Hank took off for town right after you headed out.” Woods looked at the battered bundle in Jim’s arms and shook his head in regret. No one, even an uppity Easterner like Melanie, deserved the abuse she had taken. “I got some water on the fire. I’ll bring it up and then take care of your horse.”
    “Thanks, Woods.” Jim entered the house and carried Melanie up the stairs to her frilly pink and white bedroom.
    Everywhere he looked his gaze clashed with pink or white ribbons and bows, lacy flounces and fancy embellishments. As he laid her on the bed, he wondered why he’d never noticed that the room was decorated more for a young girl than for a woman Melanie’s age. If he had bothered to notice, he realized sadly, the bedroom would have given him clear evidence of her refusal to leave her childhood behind.
    The clopping sound of Woods coming up the stairs broke through Jim’s contemplation of the bedroom. He hurried out to the hallway and took the heavy buckets from the old man. Carrying them into the room, he mixed equal amounts of hot and cold water into a bowl, located tweezers, a soothing lotion, and a bar of scented soap.
    A search through the bureau drawers produced a soft cotton nightdress, and clean sheets that Jim tore into more convenient size to use as washing cloths. When everything was assembled, he could no longer delay the formidable task that awaited him.
    With the removal of each tattered garment, he grew more appalled. Her feet, legs, hands, and arms were slivered with embedded thorns. The tender skin of her arms, neck, and face was severely burned, and even though her dress had provided some protection, her back and abdomen hadn’t completely escaped the penetrating rays of the sun. He found himself praying that she wouldn’t return to consciousness before he was finished.
    He averted his eyes from the mound of her belly as he covered her with a clean sheet, refusing to allow himself to think about the baby. As gently as possible, he dabbed at the flesh pulled tightly over her face, stopping frequently to dribble some water between her cracked, shriveled lips. In spite of the severe burn, there were no blisters, her body had too little fluid to make the welts. Dampening several rags, he layered them over her face and head, attempting to bring down her temperature.
    Freeing one of her arms from beneath the sheet, Jim sponged away the dried blood, carefully removing as many thorns as possible. Most of them were deeply embedded and would require further attention later on, but for now his main concern was to examine the extent of her injuries and to make her as comfortable as possible.
    Placing damp strips of cloth on her arm, he returned to her face, dribbling water into her mouth and reapplying the rags to her head. Time had no meaning as he worked unceasingly, cleaning one spot, then returning to previous areas to redampen the rags. Always, he took long minutes to dribble water between her parched lips.
    Melanie mumbled incoherently, twisting restlessly on the bed and even