All the more reason to leave. All the more reason never to come back, just like Flynn had instructed.

“Let’s go.” Jericho motioned to the two lawmen and then reached for his mount’s lead line. He forced his feet to move to the northeast on the road that led toward Kenosha Pass and Denver, even though his entire body protested and tugged him south to the route that would take him toward Healing Springs Ranch.

The urge to ride out to Ivy again was overwhelming, tightening his muscles and pinching his stomach. His footsteps slowed, and he nearly stopped.

What good would it do? Even if he managed to get past her brothers, he was afraid that with one look he wouldn’t be able to make himself ride away for good like he needed to. He’d only end up making her promises that ultimately he’d regret.

No, they were both better off if he just left now without complicating things.

Setting his face toward the northern mountains with the large areas of blackened, charred forest, somehow he made it down the street to Steele’s house. As he halted, he patted his coat pocket.

He had one last thing to do. Once done, it would sever his ties with Ivy forever.

Chapter
25

Ivy hovered in and out of consciousness, always fighting the pain and heat. The torture was worse when the doctor came to administer the bromine. She couldn’t keep from screaming at the burning in her wound, as if the fires from the very depths of hell were licking at her flesh.

Her family hovered near, there every time she awoke. Sometimes Wyatt or Flynn sat by her bed. Sometimes Greta or Linnea or Savannah. But usually whenever she woke, Brody was bathing her overheated skin and forcing her to sip bitter-tasting herbal brews.

After all Brody had gone through during the war, she guessed he had the most experience in handling a wounded and sick patient. Even so, she could see the fear etched into his face getting worse day by day.

The person she most wanted to come visit hadn’t. Jericho. Surely she’d remember if he’d been here. But she hadn’t seen his face once.

His name beckoned to her, drawing her to wakefulness. The soft light of dawn permeated the room. The windows were open as wide as they could get, and the coolness of the high-country night lingered in the air so that she shivered.

At her movement, Brody stirred and lifted himself from where he’d been bent over, head on his arms on the edge of the bed. His black hair was mussed and his face haggard with dark circles under his eyes, just like the Brody she’d known before Savannah had chased away his nightmares and helped him find healing.

“Go on and get to bed, Brody,” she whispered. “You look worse than a corpse in a coffin.”