“I came up and distracted you to keep you from noticing. Hobart convinced Cheyenne she hadn’t been the one to take the shot. She was spying on Hawkins because she’d been hired to find Amelia Bishop—who’d been missing for a long time. Hobart expected she was dead, but her father is a powerful man and wanted answers. And Ralston was tied up, so he’s not who shot you.”

“One of Ralston’s outlaw band must’ve done it.”

“Must have. But two of them are dead, Ralston one of them, and they haven’t got a confession out of anyone yet. Maybe Cheyenne will pound one out of someone before her wedding.”

Wyatt had to be satisfied with that. For now.

Molly helped him eat the rest of the soup, and he ate a slice of bread and drank more water.

“I feel like I’ve got some energy from the food. My arm hurts like mad, and it’s useless, but the rest of me is feeling decent. In fact, I’m feeling mighty good.”

“Your fever has come up and gone down a few times. But you’ve never been this clearheaded nor shown any interest in eating.” With a pleased nod, she said, “You’re on the mend, Wyatt.”

“Can I come downstairs?” He cringed a little because it sounded like he was asking permission. This was his ranch. He ran it. No one told him what he could and could not do. Except maybe his doctor.

“Are you willing to wait until one of the men comes back? I think you should come down. You’re up to it, and it might do you some good to get out of bed for a while. But a fall down the stairs might be very serious, and you’ve only one arm to steady you.”

She smiled and batted her eyelashes at him as if, instead of giving orders, she was trying to sweet-talk him into it. He had the sense that she was mocking him, or at least being some odd kind of flirting girl, only sarcastic under it. But it didn’t stop him from doing what she wanted.

Truth was, with those pretty blue eyes batting at him, there weren’t many orders he wouldn’t take from this bossy woman.

And he didn’t want to fall down the stairs, either.

“I’ll wait.”

Molly stood and reached for the tray and the empty dishes.

Without really thinking, Wyatt reached out and caught hold of her wrist. She stopped and looked at him.

“What is it? Do you need something more? You’ve only to ask.”

“Thank you,” he said. “You saved me, Molly.”

A pink blush rose on her cheeks. “You’re a strong man, Wyatt. You were always going to make it.”