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 Scarred Cowboy
Waylon Family Ranch (Rugged Mountain Ink)

Khloe Summers

Summer to Winter Publishing

 Copyright © 2023 Summer to Winter Publishing

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not
intended by the author.

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mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by: RebecaCvrs

Editor: Link Phoenix

www.authorkhloesummers.com
 Chapter One
Boone

There’s something about a woman in black that does it for me. I’m talking head to toe darkness. A
short black dress, long dark hair, black nail polish, a natural face, and a line of freckles that dot her
nose.
Brushing a hand down over my beard, I turn toward the man to the left of the table. He’s a young
bus boy, maybe sixteen, with buzzed red hair and braces. “That’s Ella Winters, right?”
He nods and twists in the direction of the door. “That’s her. Rodeo queen, two years running. You
know her?” The kid's eyes light up like she’s the Queen of England, not a small-town rodeo.
I swallow hard, glancing down at the paper placemat on the table. Maybe I’ve misjudged my
choice in restaurants. Then again, I’m not sure what other choices we had. It was this, the pizza shop,
or the bar.
The kid disappears from my peripheral vision, and I stand to greet the woman in black who’s
making her way toward me. It’s my first attempt at impressing her, and though it goes smoothly,
everything after that falls apart pretty quick. She’s smiling, but no one’s talked for a few beats too
long.
“We should go. I can take you to another place. This is—”
“Are you kidding?” A grin as wide as the Colorado River lights her face. “I love this place. They
have the best peach pie! I’ve been thinking about it all day!”
She’s gorgeous, and she’s down to Earth. This is doomed from the start. No woman like her
would ever be interested in me… nor should she be.
“So,” she tucks into the booth and stares at me to join her, “I hear you were in the military. What
did you do?” She pauses, taking a sip of water from the glass on the table, leaving behind a dark red
lipstick stain. Her tone is so innocent it nearly punches me in the gut.
Fuck.
This is a problem. I only agreed to go out on this date to get Waylon and Troy off my back.
Technically speaking, I’m not ready to date, and I’m sure as hell not ready to feel anything. It’s
already bad enough she’s hot. She can’t have an innocent little voice, too. I’ll crack.
“Yeah. That’s me… military,” I grumble, rolling my eyes toward the older waitress chatting with
her friends in the corner. I realize this is a small-town and we’re on small-town time, but for the love
of God, can we get moving? I’m guessing I have thirty to forty minutes before I’m professing my love
and acting like an idiot in front of this woman. Maybe I can blame it on being messed up from years in
the sand box.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” she says, twisting her finger around a lock of her hair as she
studies the menu. Her skin is tight and creamy, and her breasts bubble up out of her dress, presenting
themselves on the table like the first course.
I look away and will myself to focus on her face. But as she moves her lips again, all I can see is
the plump, kissable mouth that’s parted as she reads over the specials.
I clear my throat as panic surges through my limbs. I’m not ready for conversations and small talk.
I thought this would be a quick date, and nothing real. Can’t this just be a dinner?
I thought I’d get the guys off my case and get back to what really matters… the renovations on
the cabin and the case of beer in the fridge that’s getting too heavy for the shelf. Now, I’m sweating
like a long-tailed cat in a rocking chair store, and I can’t think straight.
 “What do you do?” I manage, slugging back the sweet tea the waitress set on the table back when
she was doing her job.
Ella grins. “I’m a psychic.”
My face must do something telling because she grins wider and laughs.
“Let me guess? You don’t believe in psychics, and you think the whole thing is some hocus pocus
designed to trick the innocent into throwing their money away.”
I tip my head to the side and try to keep a straight face. I should be able to. I spent years learning
how to manage my body language around people who couldn’t speak English. Hiding my emotions
was part of the job description. “No. It’s not that… It’s just... I’m surprised, is all. I guess I took you
for a…” When my pause results in no words, she laughs.
“A preschool teacher? I know. I get that all the time. I think it’s my colorful wardrobe.” She looks
up at the waitress, who’s now standing at our table. “I’ll have the chicken fried steak, french fries,
and a coke. No, wait, a strawberry shake.” She smiles as she says, “Scratch that. Just the coke. I want
to save room for that peach pie later.”
A smart-ass mouth and she’ll have the peach pie with me. My chest tightens. I really need to get
the hell out of here if I don’t want to get pulled in by her amazingness.
“I’ll take the same.” I hand the woman our menus and turn my attention back toward Ella, who’s
now tapping her pretty black nails against the sugar packets at the end of the table. “How does one go
from Rodeo Queen to psychic? Seems like a conflict of interest. Did you know you were going to
win?”
Her cheeks pink and her dark gaze draws up toward me. “I was hoping you wouldn’t know about
the rodeo thing.”
“Why?”
She shrugs her delicate shoulders and goes back to twisting her hair. “I don’t know. It’s
embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing to be the queen of the biggest event in town… but not the town psychic?”
When her eyes widen, I figure I’ve said the wrong thing.
Her brows narrow, and that innocence in her tone leaves as she says, “Why would being a
psychic be embarrassing?”
“It’s not. I’m sorry.” I hold back a grin. “I’ve lived a very sheltered life and I—”
“You have trouble with your knees, right?”
I stare at her, wondering for a second how she knows my knees are in pain. I haven’t told anyone,
and this is the first we’ve met.
“That’s an easy one. I’m tall. Tall men have problems with their knees. I’ve also recently been in
combat. That comes with the territory.”
“Yeah, but you fell on something. You were trying to protect them… weren’t you?” She stares
straight through me. Dark emerald green eyes scan my soul like two hungry eagles who have no
mercy.
My chest tightens and sweat begins to drip. “Aren’t you supposed to get permission before you go
rattling things off like that?”
Her grin is crooked. “Technically,” she shrugs, “but people like you always need a push.”
My heart slams against my chest and I flashback to the moment my knees hit the ground outside of
the little market near Fallujah. There were civilians everywhere, including two children who got
caught in the blast zone. Dust flew everywhere, screaming ensued, and the sound of the bombs rang in
my ears for what seemed like an eternity. We were the target of the bombing, but no care was taken
for the civilians. I may have some difficulty picking things up from the ground now, but many in that
market weren’t so lucky.
My throat closes and my pulse shoots up. I was wrong to think, that for even a second, I was ready
for even a casual dinner, let alone one with a party-trick seer. “I should go.” I stand from the booth
and toss down whatever I have. “This should cover dinner. Please let me know you’ve made it home
okay.”
“Wait,” she says, standing from the table. Her hand lands on my shoulder. From this angle, she’s
even more beautiful. Beautiful and young, which is harder to hide two feet from her face. “I was out
of line. I’m sorry. I get so much shit for not being ‘real’ that I… sometimes… get defensive, and I do
anything to prove myself. I was out of line. Will you finish dinner with me?”
I stare at her, my heart slamming against my chest. So, she’s beautiful and innocent, yet has a smart
enough mouth to keep me entertained and still knows when to apologize for her actions. I should
definitely keep walking. I’m only going to complicate this night even further if I stay.
“Everything okay?” the waitress says, settling our plates on the table.
I keep my gaze on Ella. “If I stay, I’m not sure I’m going to be the civilized man you’re hoping
for.”
She grins and slides back into the booth. “I think we both just learned I’m not the least bit
civilized, so we’re on the same field.”
I hold back a grin. “Okay, but you’ve got to turn off that… spy shit.”
She holds up three fingers as though she’s a cute little, round eyed, girl scout, giving me her honor,
though we both know it’s a lie. “I’ll do my best.”
I groan low in my throat and slide back into the booth, staring down at the meal steaming up in
front of me. It’s been a while since I’ve been out like this. It’s kind of nice to have someone else
cooking for a change. Truthfully, I haven’t had ‘real food’ in months. I’ve been living off soup and
saltines for the most part.
“I guess I owe you something about me,” she says, taking a bite of her steak with a soft moan.
I adjust in my seat, ignoring the sounds of pleasure as best I can. “Okay, let’s have it then, and it
needs to be something equally as private as your vision about me.”
Her eyes squint and she looks toward me with unease. “Are you sure? My most private thing is
very private. I mean, most of my stories are town knowledge because I have this blog and I write
about my life and everything in between. I can’t think of anything people don’t already know about
me.” Her cheeks turn pink. “Except for one thing.”
I shake my head, taking another bite of steak. “That’s what I want to know then. The one thing no
one else does.”
Her eyes widen. “You’re sure?”
I have a feeling this isn’t going to be as shocking as she thinks it will. I’ve seen my share of crazy.
I’m forty-two years old. I can’t imagine what she’d say that would shock me. “I’m sure.”
She swallows hard and sips her coke before speaking. “Okay. Well… I…” she bites her bottom
lip and looks away before turning back and leaning in toward me. Her voice is low, nearly a whisper
as she says, “I have this thing where I… I like to…” She bites her lips again.
Fuck. Whatever she’s about to say has me on edge.
“I’m a virgin,” she whispers, “but… I’m also really into the thought of this thing called primal
play.”
I freeze. I wasn’t expecting that. I swallow hard and lean back in the booth, trying not to look
shocked. I asked for a deep secret, and I got one. The hot psychic is a virgin. A young, kinky virgin.
 Of course she is. That makes complete sense.
My cock attempts to rise, but I stop it.
“What’s primal play?” I ask before I think about its consequences.
Ella relaxes, popping a french fry into her mouth. “Oh, it’s different for everyone, but I like the
aspects of how animalistic it is. Some people like to be chased and wrestled. Others like the hair
pulling and the nipping. For some it’s a growl.” She shrugs and smiles. “And now, you know that I’m
strange, too. You’re welcome.”
I contemplate asking how she knows she likes these things if she hasn’t tried them, but I refrain for
the sake of my threatening dick. I haven’t had Ella Winters, but all I have to do is think about it, and
there’s not a doubt in my mind that I’d love every second of it.
 Chapter Two
Ella

What the hell am I saying? I could’ve made up anything. I could’ve lied. I could’ve said I
jumped from a plane or that I stole a candy bar from the general store when I was ten. I could’ve told
him about the time my mom found me smearing expensive lipstick on my face at the pharmacy when I
was six. The owner made her pay for the makeup and I got a lecture all the way home. No one knows
that, and it’s endearing. Instead, I choose to share the most sexual secrets I have, to a man I barely
know.
Seems about right.
Boone looks toward me like a deer in headlights. He’s a big, tall man with a scruffy beard and
big, strong biceps. His hair is shoulder length and tucked behind his ears. He reminds me of Keanu
Reeves in one of those John Wick movies, except on steroids. His eyes are dark, and he seems to
have a permanent scowl sewed to his face. The one thing I know for sure about the man is he’s a
loner, and he has been since he got back from his tour. I’m sure meeting a psychic rodeo queen was
enough information for one night. Add in a virgin who’s into animalistic sex and, well… I’ve just
given this newly appointed cowboy a whole education on civilian life that I’m not sure he was ready
for.
With my ribs aching, I stare toward him, my face scrunched. “Are you okay?” I pause and sigh.
“You’re embarrassed. I shouldn’t have—”
“You were honest and open. I like that.” He sips his sweet tea and stares off behind me
somewhere.
I can’t help but laugh. “You most certainly are not okay.”
“Is that your psychic energy coming back again, or is this a guess?”
I squint. “Sorry. It’s impossible to stop. It’s been something that’s passed on between the women
in my family since my great grandmother. So… here I am, four generations of psychics later.”
“So, when you said you could shut it off,” he nods, “you can’t?”
“Not consistently. It’s like trying to put a kink in a hose attached to a fire hydrant. I can slow it
down momentarily, but never stop it entirely.”
He slides a french fry into his mouth. “So, you know everything then? You can see what’s going to
happen minute to minute?”
I shake my head. “Not really. I read energy and you’re… traumatic event… it’s pretty heavy on
you. I could see it right away. It plays out like a movie when I look at people.”
He shifts in the booth, uncomfortable with what I’ve told him… which isn’t uncommon. This is
my life. I’ve lost boyfriends and some family over it. People either love me or hate me.
“You can’t see anything else about me? Is the bombing on a loop that’s all around me, or can
you see past it?”
“I only see the movie once, but I usually have to process it before I can move on.”
“Wow. That’s… interesting. What about the future? Are you limited to only someone’s tragedies?”
“The future is harder to tell. I usually need a really quiet space and direct questions, but it’s not as
clear as the past.”
He looks at me with downturned brows as he chews another bite of his steak. He believes me, but
he can’t figure how I’m doing it. He needs the how.
“I wish I knew how all this worked. My mom had a bunch of neurological work done with the
University of Colorado when she was young. They made a little test subject out of her.” I bite into a
fry. “The best they could come up with after a few MRI’s was that the parietal cortex of her brain lit
brighter than normal folks. They came to the conclusion that it was hereditary and here I am.”
He nods slowly, studying me. He likes the rationale of it all, the science. “That makes sense. It’s
like those people who have an overactive hippocampus. They’re subject to increased risk of
hallucinations and delusions. That might be something that you should look into.” He laughs. “Just
kidding, of course.”
“Yeah.” I hold back a smile, not wanting to encourage him. “Anyway, it’s made a good career for
me and I’m even opening a shop downtown.”
“You have enough clients in this small town for a psychic shop?”
“Don’t say it so sarcastically!” I snarl playfully. “And yes, I’ll give readings and sell all the
metaphysical things like crystals and candles that help bring people closer to their center. I just have
to open first.”
“You can’t use your abilities to see when you’re going to be open?”
The way he says abilities, it sounds sarcastic again. “I can’t see anything about myself,” I
continue. “It’s so annoying. I could’ve avoided so much heartache.”
“How so?”
“You really don’t follow my blog, do you?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t do anything with the computer or the phones. I work, I go home, and
then I work some more.”
“Well, my pathetic dating life is a depressing story that has captivated the area for a while now.” I
smile like I’m posing for a cover shoot. “It’s a compelling read to know why a psychic can’t find
love. It’s kind of in line with our talk about seeing the future. I pick up on the energies given off by
people. So, a young gentleman suitor who wants to go out on a date has a much different energy than
he does once he’s settled into a relationship.”
Boone smiles and nods. I’m going to have to speed this up, as I get further away from the
science, if I don’t want to lose my audience.
“Basically, the future is a multiverse of possibilities when it comes to energies. Some things
are almost certain to happen while others are a lot more… loose. So… my dating life is more of a
study into the future multiverse than a quest for romantic conquest.”
Boone chuckles under his breath. “I have to say, you’re definitely the most intriguing person
I’ve met in a long time.”
“Thank you. But one thing I know that’s in both of our futures that can’t be changed, is that we
have to eat peach pie right now.” I flag the waitress and hold up two fingers as though she’ll know
exactly what I want. She will. I’m in here all the time and peach pie and I were separated at birth.
“Can I talk about more things I see about you?” I bite the inside of my cheek as I stare at him.
“Once visions start popping, it’s hard to stop them.”
“No more comments on war,” he says, his face straight.
“Okay. No more of that.” I take in the scent of pine and cedar on his skin, and study the soft
wrinkles by his eyes and the calluses on his hands. He’s defined by his work, but that’s not enough.
“You’ve never been married, but you’re lonely.” I swallow hard. “You wish you’d have found
someone years ago because you’re worried that starting a family this late in life will be exhausting.”
He leans back as the waitress settles two slices of warm peach pie in front of us with whipped
cream on top and two clean spoons.
My mouth waters.
 “Okay,” he says, slicing into the pie, “but that could be any guy my age who’s put his career first.”
“You haven’t dated much, except for one woman… that was with you before you went on tour.
You cared about her, but you both wanted different things.”
He slides the peach pie into his mouth, leaving behind the whipped cream. “That was oddly
accurate. Except I did try dating again shortly after I got back from a second tour. That woman wanted
to move to New York, and I’m a country boy. So, I couldn’t do that, and definitely not for a woman
who prized shoes and purses over everything else.”
I nod. “Okay. So, I was close.”
“What about you? Why are you all alone?”
No one has ever described me as ‘all alone’ before. It stings.
“I’m not all alone. I’m alone… which is fine.”
“Now, I’m psychic,” he smiles widely for the first time all night, “because I know that’s a lie.”
“Okay, so alone sucks… but I’m fine. I mean, guys my age are really fucking stupid, and I’d never
considered older guys before. No offense.”
Another grin lifts his face. “I used to be a guy your age.”
“Yeah, how’d that go for you?”
He shrugs. “Don’t remember much of it. I was too busy working.”
“Guys my age aren’t like that anymore. They don’t subscribe to the hard work thing, or the
gentleman thing. I mean, I like to think I’m pretty tough. I have my own place, I fix things, I throw back
whiskey, and I drive a truck.” I lick the whipped cream off the back of my spoon. “You’d think I was a
catch. So, imagine my surprise when I’ve told the boys I’ve dated that I’ve got this annoying neighbor
who won’t leave me alone… and nothing.”
Boone shifts his weight in his seat and rolls his shoulders slightly.
“You see, I’ve been trying to fix the gate on my property for months and it just won’t stay shut.
So, my neighbor sees a broken gate as an open invitation and wanders in whenever he pleases.”
Boone straightens and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing dark ink tattoos. My throat goes
dry. I didn’t think he could get hotter.
“What do you mean? What does he do when he wanders in?”
I try to read this new stance he’s taken, but suddenly, there’s a block that I can’t see through.
“I think most people would call him a peeping Tom. It isn’t constant, but I don’t want him out
there… ever.”
Boone’s jaw locks as he stares toward me. “What the fuck? You mean he’s watching you? And
you’ve told this to people, and no one has done anything about it?”
“I’ve gotten curtains and whatever, but last week the guy freaked me out worse than usual. I was
in the garden and when I looked up, he was there, staring not thirty feet from me.”
Boone shovels the rest of the pie into his mouth. “Well, we’re going to take care of this.”
I narrow my gaze. “What? Like now?”
“Like now.” His voice has twisted and a new version of him has taken over. It’s a protective
version that’s overwhelmingly archaic. Archaic in a way that’s insanely sexy. A version I can’t read
at all.
“While it’s annoying, I don’t want to go too far. I’m like every person in Rugged Mountain, so
I’ve got a gun. I just don’t think it’s come to that. He’s creepy and I need help, but I don’t need him
killed.”
Boone’s gaze dials in on mine. He leans in toward me. “I won’t be able to sleep tonight worrying
that you’ve told me this, and I didn’t do what I could’ve to help. You’re doing me a favor by letting
me fix the gate.”
“Really, though, it’s amazing enough that you want to help. That’s all I want in a man. I made this
problem by not finishing the gate when I should have.” I eat the last bite of peach pie, savoring the
tangy sweetness as I try to quell the urges thumping between my legs. I’ve never felt anything so
organic before. We’ve only just met, but there’s an exchange happening on a level I can’t fully
understand. It’s like our bodies are speaking, creating chemistry and symmetry where there had been
none before.
“You didn’t create this problem. This asshole did,” he grumbles. “You ready?” There’s urgency in
his tone as he holds his hand out toward me. His gaze looks extra dark in this light, and his biceps
bulge as he impatiently waits for me to stand. Usually, at this point, I’d have read someone’s
intentions. But, for the first time in my life, a man’s possible paths are completely blank to me. I don’t
know what he’s thinking, I don’t know what he’s feeling, and this wall he’s put up… is turning me on.
For the first time in my life, I finally get to earn someone’s trust. I get to break down all their walls
myself. I can be surprised by a touch. I can be taken off guard by a kiss.
A kiss.
I stare at Boone, glancing from his lips to his dark gaze. For the love of all that’s holy, I hope
this man kisses me tonight.
 Chapter Three
Boone

“Can you hand me a few screws from that top box?”

Ella fumbles through the toolbox on the back of my truck, shining her light down as she searches.
She’s bent over, her round ass facing toward me as she looks. “Sorry. I can’t see very well in the
dark.”
I’m tempted to make a joke about her psychic abilities and why they aren’t drawing her toward
the screw, but I figure I’ll get a lecture about emotions and vibrations that I’m not ready for.
“Ah.” She stands, disappointing my inner fifteen-year-old, who’s desperate to see more of her
skin. “Found some!” She hops from the bed of the truck and strides toward me, proud of her find.
They’re too long and not at all what I was looking for, but she’s so proud of herself, I can’t hurt her
feelings. Besides, extra-long screws in a gate will only keep that asshole from kicking it in. They still
won’t keep him from climbing over it, though.
“Perfect.” I grab the screws from her, our hands brushing against one another as we work. “So,
where is this guy tonight?” I ask, working the drill as she shines the light on the latch.
“I think he’s at the bar.” She laughs. “No psychic powers needed there. I just know that’s where he
spends most of his nights.”
I nod, taking the other screw from her hand. She’s cold. Fuck. I’m an idiot. Of course, she’s cold.
It’s forty-five degrees out and her legs and arms are exposed to the elements. I slide off my flannel
and wrap it over her shoulders. “Sorry, I didn’t think of that sooner. I’m bad at all this.”
“You’re fixing my gate after ten in the evening. I don’t think you’re bad at this.” She grins, tucking
a strand of hair behind her ear. “I could go start you some coffee. At the very least, I should warm you
up a little before you leave.”
I glance toward her, still drilling the final screw into place. Lord knows coffee wouldn’t be what
I went inside for. My mind is on everything but coffee, and I’m not proud of any of it. It’s on her lips,
her hips, her thighs, and how cute she looked up in that truck digging around in my toolbox. For a
second, my mind wanders to an image of me behind her, thrusting into her tight little pussy as she
moans.
Fuck.
Maybe I’d fit right into her animal play. I’m a god-damn monster.
“Coffee sounds good,” I lie, latching the gate closed. “You should let me set some redneck traps
in the morning. That way, you’d really keep this guy away. Right now, he could climb right over that
gate if he wanted to.”
She grins as we walk side by side up the steps toward the cabin door. “Redneck traps?”
“Sorry. That’s what my dad always called nails in a board. You’d be surprised what a few sharp
objects will stop.”
“What about the wildlife? I don’t want a bear getting hurt because of something I put out.”
“A bear’s gonna walk right past that thing. Trust me, they’re way smarter than people.”
She laughs and makes her way into the little kitchen to the left side of the cabin. “Make yourself at
home. I’ll get the coffee started. Do you like french vanilla?”
“Sure. Anything’s good. Do you need help?” I kick off my boots and wander her small cabin,
noticing the locks on the windows are old, and the windowpanes are made of real glass. Nowadays,
you can buy those shatterproof ones rather inexpensively. “You really should update these windows.”
 “You’re that guy, huh?”
“Who’s that guy?”
“The dad.”
Oh, God. Did she just compare me to her father? Fuck. This isn't a date anymore. To her, I’m the
old guy reminding her to fix things and keep a shotgun by her bed at night. I think that’s a territory one
would want to steer clear of.
“Sorry.”
She giggles, filling a tray with fresh ground coffee. “Don’t be sorry. I like it. What kind of
windows do you think I need?”
“You know, I think my cousin Waylon has a bunch of windows behind his barn. They’re
shatterproof. I could bring some by and see if they work.”
She wanders toward me, our shoulders touch, and there’s a steady brush of our bodies against one
another as we stare at the window. I’m not sure anyone has ever given a window this much attention,
but I’m pretty sure I’m never moving.
“If you’re worried that guy is going to break in,” she sips her coffee, “I think he would’ve
already.”
“You never know. I think assholes like him are unpredictable. Would you know if he was going to
break in? Psychic wise, I mean.”
She nods her head. “In the past, I’ve aways felt his presence around, but something as traumatic as
a break-in, I’d pick that up rather quickly.” The coffee starts to drip, and the warm scent of vanilla
bean fills the small space. “Anyway,” she works back toward the kitchen, pulling two chipped mugs
down from the cupboard, “I’ve been good here. I doubt he’d do anything that crazy.” She purses her
lips as though she’s thinking through something. “He seems… more lonely than anything. I bet he’s just
searching for connection.”
“You talk about it like it’s normal.”
“It is,” she laughs. “People lose their minds after they come back from war. You know how it goes
better than anyone, I’m sure.”
“Are you saying I’ve lost my mind?” I laugh, standing to help her with the coffee.
“Maybe. Time will tell.”
“Ha. You can’t tell that in your crystal ball?”
She looks away and sucks in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “Nope. Guess not.
Anyway, this guy has been doing this for years. I’m sure it’s all—”
“Years?” Shit. “If you don’t mind me asking, where are your parents or family? They should have
been able to help you. Have you contacted the police?”
“My parents are out of the country. Since they retired, they’re traveling the world looking for
more river rapids to kayak down. My brother is a coal miner in West Virginia.” She smiles softly.
“That’s all the family I have. Besides, they left me with everything a girl needs. I have a shotgun, a
lock on my door, and psychic powers.” She laughs at her joke and her nose crinkles in the cutest way.
I realize she can take care of herself. But for some reason, I’m getting the overwhelming urge to
do it for her. She deserves to have someone here that’s watching, and making sure that sweet body of
hers remains untouched.
“Well, it looks like you’re stuck with me then.” I offer her my best smile. “Do you have any open
positions?”
“I’ll let you know,” she snorts, before sipping her coffee. It’s a subtle sound, but it’s sweet and
innocent and I want it on replay.
 We talk like this for hours, back and forth in easy conversation that swallows up the time. She
tells me about her parents’ ranch and the little house her grandmother had up on the hill by the river. I
tell her about my family and the horses we raised in Utah. We joke about the way Waylon runs the
rodeo with an iron fist, then laugh about the rich having all the power. It’s light, relaxing, and when I
feel the night nearing an end, sadness swells in my chest. I haven’t talked to anyone like this since I
was a boy. The few women I dated were never this open or real. Truthfully, I hadn’t been either. It’s a
little scary, mostly because I’m not sure what any of this means. I’m into her, but I don’t know how to
be in a relationship.
“That stuff I said earlier,” she blushes, “at the restaurant… about the animal sex and being a
virgin… that was weird. I’m sorry.” She sets her mug on the coffee table and curls her legs beneath
her as she leans her head against the back of the couch. “That’s embarrassing and I should have been a
little cooler on a first date.”
The move is soft, innocent, sweet, and sexy. It’s exhausting to be in her presence without touching
her.
“Nah.” My heart picks up a few beats and my cock lifts, attempting to cross a line again. I readjust
on the couch. “You’re good.”
“I hope I didn’t make myself sound like a weirdo or something. I mean, I’ve never even had sex,
so it’s not something I know I like or not, but the idea of being, I don’t know, taken over like that,
it’s… really sexy to think about. What about you? What are you into?”
For a second, I freeze. I can’t remember the last time I’ve talked about sex this openly.
Never. I’ve never talked about sex this openly.
In the barracks, the guys would go on about women and they’d ramble about how lonely they
were, and how much they missed pussy, but that was different. That was the barracks. This is real.
This is me, staring at a woman. A young woman. A young woman with pert tits and nipples that break
through cotton. A young woman with a scent of flowers on her that’s driving me mad. A young woman
with a tight, virgin pussy, a smart-ass mouth, and the biggest, prettiest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen.
Fuck. My cock lifts again.
“Sorry. That was weird of me to ask.” She smiles. “I really need to learn more manners.” She
stands from the couch and attempts to return the mugs to the kitchen, but I stop her, holding her arm
gently.
She sits back in place, setting the cups back on the table.
I’m not sure what I’m doing. My body is reacting to her, and I’m losing control of it.
“I can answer your question.” My tone is lower than usual. “I’ve never thought about sex like you
have. Nothing crazy, anyway.”
“Really? So, you’ve never spanked anyone, or played with wax, or…”
I shake my head. “Never. I’d guess you’d have to trust someone to play like that. I’ve never been
that close to anybody.”
She nods thoughtfully. “Me either.”
Worried that I sound inexperienced, I keep talking. “I could see the point you’re making about the
primal thing, though. I don’t know anything about it, but it seems natural. Is the point to act on
impulse?”
She nods, biting her lower lip as she leans in slightly. “Yeah,” she whispers, her gaze on mine
with a look I haven’t seen in ages. It’s dark and beautiful. “Like… if you have any urges, you just act
on them. It’s supposed to be raw and natural.”
We linger in this moment for a while before her gaze drifts to my cock, which is clearly hard and
riddled with the uncontrollable urges she’s speaking of.
Her gaze draws upward to mine before she stands and bends her round ass toward me. She’s
playing coy, reaching for the mugs, but it’s purposeful. She’s giving me permission. She’s inviting me
in. She hasn’t pulled her skirt down since she was sitting. Her white lace panties hug the swell of her
ass, and her plump cheeks spill out below the lace.
Dark, dirty thoughts of squeezing her, licking her, touching her, and fucking her enter my brain. My
throat goes dry, and my mind runs a mile a minute. We’ve just met, and she’s young. Not only that, but
saying I’m not fucked in the head would be an understatement. I’m working through piles of mental
shit that this innocent young woman doesn’t need in her life.
Then again, the conversation is easy, and the chemistry is undeniable.
Ella stays bent forward, collecting every piece of clutter on the table, biding her time as though
she’s desperate for me to grab her.
My chest aches as dark hunger gnaws inside of me, aching to release itself, desperate to grip her
hips and thump her against me. My mind tries to grasp the cliff of rationalization, but she turns before
I find it, pulling her skirt back into place.
“Do you want another cup?” Her tone is sweet, and those girl scout eyes are back again.
I shut my eyes and hold my breath before letting it out slowly. If I’m here a second longer, I’m
going to do bad things to that girl. There’ll be no stopping me.
 Chapter Four
Ella

I don’t know how much more ‘on the nose’ I could be. I’m practically throwing myself at
Boone. There’s something about him. He’s caring and protective, but he’s also rough and a little harsh
in the way he talks.
I like it. He reminds me of a man’s-man. A man who’s lived a life of pain and heartache. A
man who works hard and doesn’t stop to think about himself or his emotions, except for when they’re
overwhelming him.
He stands from the couch and looks toward me. His gaze is dark and ominous. Usually, I’d be
able to tell his intentions, but whatever state he’s in, I’m still blocked. The entire night he told me
stories I was hearing for the first time. Stories that I couldn’t see coming. Everything was a surprise. I
love it.
Like the time he fell off his horse riding to the ice cream store when he was a kid. He broke his
ankle and his wrist. He spent all summer in a cast and couldn’t do anything with his friends. That’s the
summer he learned to love reading. If my abilities were working, I’d have seen all of that three
minutes before the words left his mouth… but I didn’t. I didn’t see a thing, and right now, as he stalks
toward me, I have no idea why he’s coming.
I can guess, though. He has to be turned on after I was bending over in front of him. My pussy
aches at the thought of doing it again. This time, I imagine he grabs me. I imagine his big, rough hand
on my skin, squeezing my ass and growling… biting… licking.
My breath hitches and my heart swells as his hand touches my face. “I’m not sure you know what
you’re asking for when you say you want a man to let his urges run freely.” His voice is dark and low
when he talks.
My clit throbs. I don’t speak.
He leans into my ear. The warmth of his breath sends a tickle down my spine and into my groin.
“If you keep saying that, girl, I’m going to lose control. Then what are you going to do?”
I bite my bottom lip and stare up at him.
His nostrils are flaring, and his gaze is narrowed. “I’m going to become that animal, Ella. Do
you even know what that means?” He’s talking as though he’s a different man, as though his mind has
entered a space where hormones have taken the lead. He’s a midnight wolf, howling at the moon.
God, I want him to fuck me. I’ve never wanted anything more.
“I told you,” I moan, “I want you to lose control.”
He grins, looks away, then back again, dragging his dark gaze up my frame like a crazed beast,
hungry and impatient. “You don’t even know what that means.”
I stand taller, a little insulted by his statement. “I do!”
“You don’t, girl. You really don’t.”
“What does it mean then?”
He grins. “Once I tip over this edge, I’d chase you down, and I’d get to you by any means
necessary.” Images of him biting, pulling at my hair, and growling come to mind. “And once I have
you,” he groans, “I wouldn’t waste my time. I’d tear off your clothes and I’d fuck that tight little pussy
like I own it, and I’d never let you forget who the fuck it belonged to.”
Every hair on my body stands on end as Boone stares back at me. I’m alive in ways I never
thought possible and there isn’t a cell inside of me that isn’t aching to be taken by the big, scarred
cowboy.
He grips my chin in his hand and drags it down to my throat, guiding me against the back wall.
“Consider this a warning, baby girl. Stay away unless you want to lick your come off my cock.
Otherwise, I’ll be back tomorrow with new windows.” His lips graze mine in a whisper. One
wouldn’t have to be psychic to know that he’s holding back because he’s afraid of what letting go
means.
Truthfully, I’m glad he’s holding back. I don’t know if I can handle him. I thought I wanted a
big, rough man, but he’s extra big and extra rough, and not being able to see any of that coming is a
complete mind fuck. In the restaurant, Boone came off as a quiet, wounded soldier, unsure of himself
and his future. Here, with his blood all rearranged, he’s intense, wild, and everything I’ve ever
wanted. He turns toward the door handle, unlocks it, and closes it behind him, leaving me in a puddle
of my own desire. There’s no way I’ll get through the night without coming. My panties are already a
sopping wet mess.
With the doors locked, I shut off the lights in the house, and make my way back to the bedroom,
pulling my vibrator from the bedside table. Usually, I turn to porn or read some dirty book. Tonight,
though, I have something far better.
Closing my eyes, I imagine Boone chasing me through the field. Even with his bad knees, he’d
catch up with me in seconds. I’m a terrible runner. Besides that, I want to be caught. He pulls at my
clothes, tearing them off me as his teeth sink into my neck lightly.
Growl after growl leaves his throat as he kisses and nips at my skin. The soil beneath us scrubs at
my back and a stick pokes at my shoulder. Every sensation is a match striking against my skin.
Boone yanks down his jeans and presses inside of me. It’s not careful or timed. It’s needy and
desperate.
I twist the vibrator back and forth over my clit, moaning and sighing as the pulsations work their
way over my groin.
I’d give anything to feel him inside of me. Anything to make him feel good. Anything to feel his
weight on my body, and his rough hands against my skin.
Aching sighs turn into an orgasm as I remember the words he’d said earlier. ‘Stop right now
unless you want to be tasting your come on my cock.’
I sigh and let out a holler so loud, I’m sure the folks down on Main have heard me. My body
relaxes and I’m brought back to Earth, as movement in the window catches my eye.
My heart stops and my gaze is drawn toward the man staring back at me. His mouth is open, and
his eyes are wide. He’s holding a cell phone.
Oh my God! How did I not remember to shut the shades before I laid down? A gnawing ache
takes over as my stomach turns. I grab my shotgun and slide from the bed, holding my sheet in place. I
need his phone. Who the hell knows what he’d do with that video, pictures, or whatever he was
doing?
Swinging open the front door, I step onto the porch, and stare out into the dark night. There’re
trees everywhere. There’s no way I’d find him.
“I can sue you!” I shout out the threat, like some rich girl from the city who doesn’t have a gun in
her hand. No one around here cares about being sued or calling the cops.
A branch snaps and I hear the sound of my neighbor jumping the fence. I aim toward the field and
let out a warning shot, then step back inside, locking the cabin door for the night, my heart slamming
against my chest. I’ve never wished for a man before, but tonight, I wish the man playing wolf a few
minutes ago, was still here next to me.
 Chapter Five
Boone

“Stealing my windows now, huh?” Waylon laughs as he makes his way toward me. He’s a big guy
with dark features and tattoos covering most of his available skin. I like ink, but I’m not sure anyone
likes it as much as Waylon.
“Ah, figured you wouldn’t mind. There’s a girl up on Elk Ridge that needs something sturdier than
what she’s got now. I know these have been lying around for a while. I think a few will fit.”
Waylon’s brows raise as though the conversation just got more interesting. “Good to hear. You’re
talking to someone? Who is she?”
I refocus on the white framed windows. “Ella Winters, but I’m sure you know the Rodeo Queen.
Anyway, she’s got a peeping Tom. I just want to make sure she’s safe.”
Waylon’s eyes widen. “The fuck? Who the hell is bothering her?”
“I think it’s Nick Andrews. I checked the mailbox on my way off the mountain last night, then
looked him up online. He’s got a few prior arres—”
“Back up, back up, back up.” Waylon holds up a hand. Cousins and all, I know the man pretty
well, and I was thankful that he gave me a job out here after Iraq, but I’m not interested in answering
the questions I know are coming. “You were at her house last night? A little young for you, don’t ya
think?”
“Don’t read into it, man. It was nothing.”
His brows wrinkle. “Must have been something if you thought enough to Google a man
afterwards. I wasn’t even aware you knew how to use that feature on your phone.” He laughs because
everyone gets a kick out of my lack of technological knowledge.
“We had a date, and she mentioned a broken gate, and a peeping Tom. So, I went to help her and
noticed more things needed to be fixed. That’s all. Nothing else.”
I’ve never been a good liar, and this is no exception. Even as I say the words, I’m thinking about
her round ass in my face again.
Waylon tips his head back slowly, laughing to himself as he helps me with the last of the
windows. “I’m happy for you, man. It’s good to see you out and about. She know what a handful she’s
getting?”
I know he’s talking about the mental health issues I’ve been managing, but instead of wondering
how I’d fix them, my mind goes to the vulgar things I said last night before I left Ella’s house. I’ve
never even thought of saying things like that before, but something about her brought me to life in a
way I’ve never been. I want that feeling again. I need it. She may as well be heroin because after one
hit, I’m addicted.
I’m sure there was a question Waylon asked, but I don’t remember what it was. I open the truck
door. “You need anything from Nichols? I have to stop for weather stripping.”
Waylon shakes his head and lifts the tailgate to the truck back in place, knocking twice on the back
to let me know I’m safe to go.
I’m thankful for his help, and I know we need to spend more time catching up, but I’ve been
thinking about Ella nonstop since last night and the thought of wasting another second away from her
is damn near excruciating.
The way she felt in my hands. The way our bodies felt pressed against one another. Fuck.
It was just a light brush, but I was on fire all night, desperate to touch her again. I wonder if she
felt the same way. I wonder if she tucked into her bed and touched herself to the thought of us the same
way I did.
My cock goes hard at the thought of her rubbing that innocent, swollen clit to us.
Us. God, I need help. There is no us. She doesn’t even know I’m on my way. She could’ve been
repulsed by what happened last night. She could’ve thought she wanted something, then realized when
it was happening how terrifying it was. More than likely, that’s the reality.
I lose myself in this pattern of sick perversion and real talk the whole drive, until she’s staring
back at me with a smile.
She’s more relaxed than yesterday, wearing a short blue skirt and an oversized sweater. Her legs
are long and bare, and so are her feet. Her toes are painted black to match her nails. If I were acting
on instinct right now, I’d already be on top of her.
“I figured you’d be hungry,” she says, inviting me in. “I hope you like spaghetti. I made garlic
bread, too.”
“It’s my favorite. My mom used to make it every Sunday growing up. She’d call it our family
recipe, but I’m pretty sure it came off the side of a tomato can.”
Ella snorts and my heart warms the same way it had last night when I’d first heard the noise.
“Well, this is a recipe from my buddy, Mr. Ragu, so I hope you love it. I’m not the greatest chef. In
fact, I don’t usually cook at all. Boiling water is, ten out of ten, the best I can do.”
I laugh. “You’re so connected to everything. I pictured you as the type to sniff all your ingredients
and layer them accordingly.”
She shakes her head. “Uh, no! I think the closest I get to sniffing ingredients is making sure the
milk hasn’t gone bad.”
I sit at the small oak table and stare toward the woman I want to skip dinner for and devour.
“Anything new going on? You any closer to getting your shop open?”
“Well,” she sighs, “the shop is ready to go. I think we’re going to open on Friday. That’s the good
news. The bad news… Nick, my neighbor, he came back last night shortly after you left. He has a
video of me now that I’d like to get back, though he’s not answering his door.”
My chest tightens and my jaw locks. “A video? Of what?”
She twists her dark hair into her index finger and glances away, biting into her garlic bread before
looking back again. “It’s private.”
“He has you showering?”
She shakes her head. “No. Worse.”
“Worse than one with you fully nude with soap all over? What’s worse?”
A deep breath releases from her lungs. “He… I… this is only going to make you feel weird
again.”
“I should know what I’m going after.”
“You don’t have to go after anything.” She reaches toward my hand. “That’s not why I was
telling you. I just—”
“I’m going after him. What does he have?”
Her eyes dart around the room, then settle back on mine with a downturned expression. “I was
masturbating, and he has it on video.”
Every alarm system in my body goes off at once. For one, she was masturbating to the thought of
us together. She had to have been. Immediate possession takes over my thoughts. It’s irrational and not
at all a modern way of thinking, but for the first time in my life, my body doesn’t ask for justification.
It’s hooked on Ella, and no one else can have her. No one else can think of her. And no one else can
see her like that… ever!
This thought, however, undoubtedly leads to the next set of alarms. She’s got a fucking asshole
probably jerking off to her right now, and I can’t let that happen.
I push back from the table and look toward her. “Thank you for dinner. It’s lovely, but I can’t sit
here knowing that guy has a video of you.” I slide my boots back on and head out the front door, jump
in my truck, and drive toward the asshole’s house, trying to manage the blood popping beneath my
veins. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this turned up.
Ella follows behind on foot. The houses are only a few hundred feet apart, but I’m in a hurry. This
son of a bitch isn’t getting away with this shit any longer. End of story.
I expect to break his door down, but he leaves the house before I’ve even knocked. The irony of
his posture over my trespassing has me laughing. His shoulders are wide, and his gun is drawn. “Who
the fuck are you?”
I pull my gun from its holster, and he jumps back. It’s an aggressive move because technically I’m
on his land. If he wants to shoot, he’d be within his rights. But this asshole needs to know I’m serious,
and if that means a shootout right here and now, that’s what it means.
“You have a video of me,” Ella shouts from down the drive. “I want it back!”
His eyes are on her, hungry, like a dog. An unstable, fucked up dog that needs to be put down.
I’m sick to my stomach as I think of him staring at her.
“Give me your phone!” she barks, holding her hand out toward him as she arrives next to us.
He laughs, looking toward me with the pointed gun, and then Ella. “Whatever.” He hands her the
phone.
She erases the video then tucks the phone into her pocket. “I’m taking it to Sheriff Woods, and
he’ll have Detective Arrows dig through every inch of it. You’re not getting away with this.”
Nick rolls his eyes. “Seriously, you’re going to get fucking Arrows? I took a video. I didn’t kill
someone.”
He’s a skinny guy with buzzed hair and tattoos on his forearms. His teeth are so yellow, they
trigger me to slow down.
“Where do you work?” I bark. He handed over his phone too easily. He’s doing something else
with those photos.
He narrows his gaze and shakes his head. “Get the fuck out of here, the both of you, or I’ll call the
damn sheriff myself.”
I stare at Nick a moment longer, then twist back toward the truck, reaching for Ella’s hand. I don’t
want her walking back without me. I want to know she’s where I can see her.
I’ve seen men like Nick before. Men who’ve had a rough time at war. They come home in pieces
and turn to drugs to heal them. It’s not ideal, but it fixes a problem quick… by creating another one.
“I don’t get what his problem is.” Ella buckles herself in and stares toward me. “He’s a psycho.
I’ve never seen him act like this. I mean, sure, he’d pop over and stare, but I’ve never seen him take
video, or get that agitated. How the hell am I going to sleep here alone?”
“You’re not going to.” I reach my hand out toward her, squeezing her shoulder tight.
“I can’t ask you to do that for me, Boone. We just met. You don’t owe me anything.”
I stay quiet until I’ve pulled the truck back to her lot and we’re officially in the warmth of her
cabin. When the door’s closed behind us, I step forward and put my hand back on her throat where it
belongs. Against my thumb, her heart is beating rapidly.
My teeth scrape against her shoulder. “We’re all animals, protecting what’s ours.” I breathe her
in. “I’m here protecting what I want.” The statement is aggressive and over the top… but it feels right.
 “Okay,” she whispers, squeezing her thighs together for reasons I hope to God mean this turns her
on.
“Good.” I bite the lobe of her ear gently and grab my phone out of my pocket. “I’m going to call
Sheriff Woods and get him in on this. Maybe they can scare Nick off before he does something stupid.
In the meantime, why don’t you look through the search history on his phone and make sure he hasn’t
shared any of those videos he took.”
Her gaze widens before she leans into my chest. “Why can’t I see any of this? My visions, they’re
blank. I thought it was you, but it’s everyone. When I was with Nick today, I didn’t get a reading from
him at all.”
“It’s about you, though. You said when something has to do with you, it’s harder to see.”
She pauses for a long moment, breathing slow against my chest as she whispers, “I’m so glad
you’re here.”
I brush my hand down over the back of her head, losing my fingers in the silk of her hair. “I am
too, baby girl. I am, too.”
 Chapter Six
Ella

If I was a prisoner of war, receiving brutal torture, I don’t think I’d be sharing as much info as
I do with Boone. It’s embarrassing how loose lipped I am with this man. He knows everything. He
knows every detail of my life from birth to now. He knows I get off on caveman-like energy and he
knows I was masturbating to him last night. What else is there to know?
I sigh, staring down at Nick’s phone as Boone pulls out my bedroom window. We’re still waiting
for Sheriff Woods. His car has been parked at Nick’s for the better part of an hour.
An hour!
What is there to say for an hour? You’d think it would be a very simple request. Don’t video
tape your neighbor. That’s pretty straight forward.
“Can you hand me that caulk?” Boone hollers from the back room.
I stand and make my way into the bedroom, handing him the caulk gun through the open window.
It’s nearly dark, but the man seems to like fixing things under moonlight.
“What did you find on his phone?”
“Just a bunch of texts. Nothing important. His search history was cleared.”
“Did you check the trash can? Sometimes the history stores there.”
“Look at you, knowing things about phones and the internet.” I grin, and scroll through Nick’s
phone looking for the trash can.
“I don’t use the phone, but I know how it works,” Boone grumbles under his breath as he knocks
the window into place. As he does, the front doorbell rings, and our gaze matches one another.
“Whatever he says, we’ve got this. Okay?” Boone flashes me a smile. “I’m going to caulk this
quick. I’ll meet you up front.”
I nod and suck in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as I make my way to the door. Sheriff Woods
stands on the porch in tight blue jeans, a button-down shirt, and a Stetson with a star in the center.
He’s a thick man with what I’d call a ‘dad belly.’
“Ma’am.”
He’s barely gotten the words from his mouth before Boone is standing with us. My heart swells
and contentment washes over me knowing he’s there.
“Well,” Sheriff Woods says, taking off his Stetson, “Detective Arrows searched the man’s
computer, and it’s confirmed that he has videos of Ms. Winters in… compromising poses.” The
sheriff looks away again, darting his gaze everywhere but toward me.
My face flames and my cheeks burn at the thought of the detective seeing that video, at the thought
of anyone seeing that video!
“Wait? Did you say videos, as in more than one?”
“I’m afraid he’s been watching and recording for a while, ma’am. I’ve taken the hard drive from
his computer and I’m sending it into the city for someone to analyze. Mr. Andrews is in the truck now.
I’m going to hold him until we can get a hearing.”
“What? So, are the videos online or were they just for him?”
The sheriff looks down. “Thankfully, they look to be more of a personal collection, but we’ll do
some further research and get back to you with a confirmation on that.”
I nod slowly, trying to process the invasion of privacy. How did I not know this was happening?
What has he seen?
 My stomach turns and Boone pulls me in, holding me tight against his chest. “Can we expect to
hear from you tomorrow?”
Sheriff Woods nods, brushing his big hand down over his beard. “Tomorrow evening we should
know more. I’ll keep you both up to date.”
With my mind rocketing a hundred miles an hour, I pull away from Boone and pace back and forth,
unsure what to think, what to do, how to act.
“You need a cup of tea and a movie. No… a book,” Boone says, helping me into the house. “Start
the kettle. I’ll be back in ten minutes. I just want to check the gate behind the detective.”
I nod and head inside, thankful that Boone is here, and that he knows what to say, and when to say
it. If I didn’t have his support right now, I’d be a basket case, trying to will myself out of the corner.
My phone rings in my back pocket. It’s Junie. We met at a farmers’ market in Whiskey Falls a few
years back and we’ve been friends ever since. I already know why she’s calling. She wants to wish
me luck tomorrow with the shop opening. I should answer. It’s nice of her to call and I need the
distraction.
“Hey,” I say, running warm water into a kettle, “what’s up with you?”
“I just had the strangest day. Do you have time for a quick reading?”
I was off about what she wanted. Maybe I’m losing my ability all together. I’ll be the one Winters
woman that has no psychic talent whatsoever. Great time for that considering I owe the bank every
other part of me.
“Sure,” I lie. “What’s up?”
“I just put in an application to a mail order mountain man website.”
“Okay…”
“Well, I feel supremely dumb now. Like one, what if I’m not matched with anyone? Two, who gets
a mail order groom? Three, can you see me being with anyone, or getting married, or anything?”
I love Junie, I really do, but I’m not sure I can handle this right now. Sweat drips from my
forehead and my heart bounces against my chest. I lean against the counter and focus on my breathing,
but even the drip of water in the kettle is overstimulating. Every breath is labored, and my ribs hurt.
“Ella!” Junie laughs. “Are you there?” Her voice is like nails against a chalkboard and I snap.
“I can’t do this! I’m sorry.” I hang up the phone and slide down to the ground, holding my knees to
my chest as I stare at the bottom of my vintage refrigerator. It’s wide, dented, curved, and bent. I
follow the slope over and over again.
How did my mother do this? Why did I agree to do this? How am I ever going to maintain a
career giving people readings day in and day out when I can’t find the answers? Hell, I didn’t even
see the man who was stalking me. I didn’t see why Junie was calling. I couldn’t see anything about
what Detective Arrows would find, and I can’t see anything about Boone.
Honestly, this isn’t about Boone or anyone else. This is about me. I’ve lost my gift, and
tomorrow morning at nine, I’m screwed.
 Chapter Seven
Boone

I’ve seen too many breakdowns not to know what one looks like. The tears, the inaudible
mumbling, the shaking limbs, the racing heart. Ella is in a classic meltdown.
I lift her from the ground and carry her to the bedroom, resting her on the bed, before grabbing a
washcloth from the closet. She keeps a stack of them neatly folded next to a few bottles of soap that
have pictures of various flowers on the label.
“You’re okay,” I finish, wetting the cloth with cold water. “This will pass.”
She shakes her head, as tears fall. “I don’t think it will. I think I’m stuck like this. I can’t see
things anymore. I can’t see them happening. I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Fuck. I’d give the world to help her with her problems, but I’m not versed in psychic abilities and
have no idea what to tell her.
I place the washcloth on her forehead. “Let’s start from the beginning. Has this happened before?”
“No.”
“Okay. Well, you know for sure the abilities are connected to an overactive part of your brain. We
also know that structurally speaking, your brain did not get damaged. We agree that physically your
brain is the same, right?”
She sucks in a deep breath and nods. I get the sense that she likes the rationale, so I continue.
“It stands to reason that without a physical change, you’re dealing with a self-made block.”
She nods again.
“When did this start?”
Her teeth sink into her lower lip. “Somewhere around mid-dinner last night. We were talking and
around the same time I told you about the primal thing… I just… I lost it. At first, I thought it was you
blocking me somehow, then it wasn’t working at all.”
“You knew Nick was on the property before. You said you felt it.”
“But not last night. I didn’t feel anything.”
“Okay, what about meditating? You said that helped you before.”
She nods and closes her eyes, sucking in a series of deep breaths before letting them out slowly. I
lay beside her and follow her lead, letting the soft sound of her breath soothe us both.
Her hand slides into mine and I hold her safe as she does her reflection. Many service men and
women use meditation in both combat and post combat healing. I’ve tried it more than a few times
myself, but I don’t have the patience to wait, and always get frustrated that some work isn’t getting
done.
After ten minutes, she opens her eyes and stares toward me. “Think about something. Something
strange.”
First thing that comes to mind are her soft lips, but I refocus and shift my energy toward a tree I’ve
been growing on my property. It sits in a field with the horses. They love the shade, but lately it’s
been losing leaves and I can’t figure why.
Her gaze holds mine for a long while, but she says nothing.
“What do you see?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing,” she sighs. “I told you I’m broken.”
“You’re not broken.” I squeeze her hand and grab my phone off the table, pulling up the search tab
I’ve never used before. ‘How to clear your mind for psychic energy.’
 “Google is going to make a joke out of you. It’s times like this, I wish my mom was easier to
reach.”
Scrolling down the page, there are two options. Meditation and chakra clearing. “It says here that
your energetic skin can collect debris, just like your actual skin. When was the last time you did a salt
scrub?”
“A salt scrub?” Her brows turn down as though she’s never heard of it.
I nod. “It says here, you should use a salt based scrub to cleanse your skin, and make way for new
energy.”
“That’s it? Just soak in salt?”
“Not just soak. It says you should scrub. Areas of importance are the neck, back, heart, throat, and
bottoms of your feet.”
“Okay.” She hops from the bed with renewed vigor, looking beneath the sink for what I assume is
salt scrub. “Do you think Epsom salt will work? It’s rose quartz.” She sets the giant bottle up on the
counter and starts the tub. “I bought this when it was on sale and I haven’t even used it yet.”
“I think that’s perfect.” I lean into her head, kissing her gently before turning away. “I’ll give you a
few minutes to get scrubbed. If you need me, just yell.”
“I need you,” she says immediately. “I was hoping you’d help… unless it’s weird. I mean, it’s not
your—”
“I want to help,” I say, reaching for the washcloth.
“Okay. I’ll put my bathing suit on, and we can do this right.”
The thought of Ella in a bathing suit has my cock going stiff again, but I ignore it, and stay focused
on the task at hand. She’s got a big opening tomorrow, and I know she’s relying on this scrub to work.
I’m not sure how salt clears an invisible skin, but I’m all for the placebo effect. Out on tour, if a man
needed Tylenol and we didn’t have any, we’d give him a Vitamin C drop, and his headache would go
away every time. Last I checked, Vitamin C has little to do with caring for migraines.
Ella disappears to another room as I fill the tub with warm water and salt, stirring the bath
periodically to release the purities inside the tiny crystals.
“I’m really sorry about all this,” she says, stepping back into the room in a black two piece that
has my heart doing cartwheels.
Fuck.
“I’m pretty sure any guy in his right mind, would take this job willingly.”
“Your flattery is appreciated, but not necessary,” she says, bending forward to test the water, the
bottom of her bathing suit, swallowed up as her ass cheeks plump outward.
Fuck me. My mind travels back to the dark, carnal parts of myself that are in line with hers, and
for a second, I wonder if a good hard fuck would bring her abilities back.
I swallow hard and watch as her tits go buoyant in the water.
Focus, man! I’ve been flipped on my back, waterboarded, and kept more focus than this.
I dip the washcloth into the tub and work circles at her neck, then down her back to the very base
of her spine.
Moan after moan escapes her lips as the soft, warm salts work over her skin.
Her eyes close and her head tips back instinctually. I rub her throat and let the water drip down
her chest as I scrub the cloth in small circles over her shoulders, her stomach, and then her thighs,
slowly polishing my way to the bottoms of her feet.
The touch of her creamy skin against my palm is surreal. I’m desperate for more.
“Should I rinse now?” She tilts her gaze back toward me, splashing water up onto her shoulders.
 I nod and stare for a second too long before grabbing my phone off the nearby counter. “Right.” I
scroll down. “It says you should rinse with cool water, then root yourself back to the Earth.”
She narrows her brows. “Root myself back to the Earth? How do I do that?”
I scroll down more fully until I’m at the bottom of the page where the comments live. The first
few are ridiculous reviews of the article.
‘I scrubbed my aura, but the devil is still following me. Now what?’
‘Where’s the spell for realignment? I’ve been dizzy since my scrub.’
The third comment is something more useful. “This person says they ground by,” I clear my
throat, “standing nude in the garden and planting their feet in soil for ten minutes.” My chest squeezes
at the thought of that very scenario.
“Okay.” She stands from the tub and turns on the spray, quickly rinsing the salts off her skin
before reaching for the towel I’ve hung on the rack. “Let’s go.”
“You want me to go? What about the nude thing? Besides that, what if that asshole has more
cameras around here? It’s too dark for me to go looking right now.”
Her eyes widen as she looks toward me. “My shop opens tomorrow. I don’t have a choice.
We can look for the cameras in the morning and delete whatever they caught. Right now, I need to be
rooted, and I don’t want to go out there alone.”
I nod, watching her breasts bounce as she steps from the tub. “And I’m not sure I can see you
naked and not howl at the moon, baby girl.”
She turns back toward me and grins. “Maybe that’s what I’m going for.”
 Chapter Eight
Ella

Well, this is a first. I never thought I’d be standing naked in the garden with my feet tucked under
the soil like a scarecrow. Maybe I’ve officially lost my mind. I should be happy if someone is video
taping this. I could go viral and pay off the loan I owe to the bank when my shop inevitably flops
tomorrow.
“You can turn around. You don’t have to look away.” I stand shamelessly uncovered, airing my
every flaw to the universe as I beg for my visions to return. Something tells me, this isn’t going to
work.
“You sure you’re ready for what happens if I turn around?” Boone stands ten feet away as
though I’m diseased. He faces the cabin, his big arms crossed over one another. He’s fighting with
himself. He has been since I put on the bathing suit and got in the tub. I like it. I like the struggle on his
face as he watched my body move, knowing he couldn’t maul me the way he wanted to.
I’d be lying if I said my clit weren’t throbbing. It has been since last night. Even with the
drama, I’m still thinking about what Boone’s weight would feel like against me. It’s nearly all
consuming.
“I am,” I whisper, wondering what box I’ve just unlocked. The way he acted yesterday, the
words he said… could he mean them? Could he be that guy? Right now, I can’t imagine it. He’s too
protective, too nice, too…
His rough hand grips my jaw from behind, and his hot breath is low in my ear. “Say it louder
so I can hear you. Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”
My breath hitches and I begin to pant as his strong arms hold me in place. His cock is already
hard and pressed against my back. “Touch me,” I beg. “Yes. I want you to touch me. I want you inside
of me. Raw with nothing between us.” It’s a risk to let him inside without a condom, but I don’t want
some packaged version of him. I want to feel every inch of him inside of me. I want to feel every
degree of his heat.
He lets out a heavy breath along the side of my neck and nibbles the lobe of my ear. “You’re
sure?”
I nod and twist toward him, burying myself against the warmth of his skin. In my head, I’d
imagined him chasing me, tearing off my clothes, and pummeling me to the ground. Now, I don’t want
him to leave my side.
A low growl rumbles in his throat as he stares down at me. “You’re mine after this.
Understood?” There’s no room for wavering, only compliance, and I like that. I want him to own and
possess me.
Take me, Boone. I want everything you’ve got. The rough, the possessive, the gentle, the
aggressive… I want it all.
My fingers weave through his dark hair. “Gladly.”
He grumbles low again and snarls his lip up as he tears off his shirt and tugs at his jeans.
I stand in awe of him, watching as the crescent moon above highlights his large frame. The
night is cool, but I’ve lost all sense of temperature when I’m against his body. There’s no other
reality.
He’s not poetic or careful with his touch. He’s rough and hard, squeezing my waist, pinching
my nipples, tasting my lips. Groaning and growling, he paws over me, raking a tingly trail of heat
across my skin and between my legs.
His touch takes me out of my head, and I love every aching second of it.
I rock against his frame and grip my hand over his long, thick cock. He’s huge. It’s so big, that
I stop for a second and wonder how I’ll ever take it all inside, but before I can figure the angles, I’m
on my back in the dirt, and his head is between my legs.
His fingers slide inside of me, thrusting hard as he growls into my pussy. Heavy and hard, he
licks me up, nibbling on my outer folds as he flicks my clit. The soil is cool and a few stray roots
scrape at my back as he works his tongue up and over the throbbing center of my pussy.
He’s magic.
My toes curl, my eyes squeeze shut, and I scream out in desperation. “I need to come! I need
to come… now!”
“You’re really ready for this cock?” His voice is low and deep as he looks up at me, his thick
fingers still inside exploring.
Truthfully, I’m not sure I’d ever be ready for a cock the size of Boone’s. “I’m ready,” I pant,
thrusting up toward him.
A dangerous grin lifts onto his face and he pulls his fingers out slowly, licking them clean
before he strokes his big cock.
I’m not sure what to do. I’m new to this. Should I kneel? Should I suck his dick? Should I
stay where I am and wait?
He doesn’t keep me wondering. He takes the lead and lifts my leg onto his shoulder, twisting
my body to the side as he nudges his cock inside of me.
I know this is going to hurt, but I don’t care. I refuse to scream out in pain. I refuse to give him
a reason to stop. I want him to fuck me so hard in this dirt that when I stand it’s dripping down my
legs.
Boone’s face turns dark as he thrusts inside of me. “Fuck… you’re so fucking tight.” He grips
my hips and pumps, slapping his large frame against me like an out-of-control animal.
My clit swells and my lips draw open as the pain sets in.
I really thought it wouldn’t be this bad, but it is. He’s so big, and I’m so small.
“You okay?” He slows for a second, his face changing from wild to concerned. I don’t want
that. I want the wild.
“I’m fine,” I whine. “Really… don’t stop! Go harder!”
“You’re in pain. I’m going to stop.”
I grip his arm, and hold him in place, my eyes on his. “Fuck me, Boone! Don’t stop!” I must
look as serious as I sound, because Boone drives into my body with a fervor he’s been holding back.
He lands his thumb on my clit and twists in circles as he presses inside of me.
In between his thrusts, I can see the soil starting to accumulate on his arms and legs as he tears
us through the garden. I don’t remember what was planted here before, but Lord knows it’s not going
to hold up to Boone.
Between the cool dirt pressing against my back, the wild stars above, and the sound rumbling
in Boone’s chest as he thumps, I’m not sure I’ll make it either. “I’m going to come,” I whimper, lifting
my hips instinctually toward him. “I’m going to come so hard, Boone.”
“Come for me, baby girl. Let me have it. Come hard on this cock so you can lick it off.”
There it is again. Those words. Those dirty, filthy, delicious words.
Boone’s jaw tightens as he rubs my clit faster, thumping against me with speed. His thick cock
spreads me wide and the racing pulse between my legs explodes.
 He’s ruthless, as I come hard. My body clamps down on him, tightening the already tiny hole.
“Fuck!” His growl sends a shock wave through me that’s natural and open.
My body stiffens and convulses beneath him as my toes curl into the soil under me. Heat
floods my skin and all at once I fall apart, dragging my limp arms down his and into the dirt.
His hand lands on my face. “You look so fucking good when you come.” He’s panting as he
thrusts, and his eyes are desperate.
“I can’t wait to lick me off you,” I say, holding his rough hand as he continues to explore my
depths.
Again and again, we move together against the rough dirt. My hair is covered, my fingernails
are filled, and I’m sure I’ll be scrubbing the Earth off me for days, but watching Boone rock back and
forth against me in the moonlight, is an image I’ll never forget.
His expression is raw and wild, and I’m an electric wire, desperate for his current. I never
want it to end. I’ve finally found a big, sweet, rough man and I’m not letting go.
His weight presses against me harder, burying me in the dirt, before all at once he fists into my
hair and growls.
It’s loud and unabridged… feral and free… blissful and hard.
“Fuck,” he groans, thumping against me slower now that he’s released. We stay like this for a
long moment before he settles beside me in the garden, still breathing hard. “You okay?” He kisses my
head gently. “I lost myself there. I—”
“It was perfect.” I roll into his shoulder and twist the hair on his chest with the tip of my
finger, dragging my body to his freshly enjoyed cock.
“Oh, baby girl, you don’t have to. I was—”
I dip onto his dick, forcing him to choke on the end of his sentence. His hand digs into my hair
as I bob and lick, gagging on his length, devouring what we’ve created.
Thick sounds of approval gather in his throat as I lick his dick clean.
“Fuck me, baby. What the hell?” He pulls me on top of him, moaning before kissing my wet
lips.
“Maybe this is awful, but I hope this is on video. I want the recording for myself.” I smile and
lay against his strong chest. We’re sweaty and sticky despite the cool air and I’m pretty sure we’ve
turned the soil enough for spring planting.
He laughs and kisses my forehead. “Can you tell I was thinking the same thing?”
I suck in a deep breath of night air and stare down at the man I’m most certainly in love with.
“I see everything.” I grin. “Also, you’re wishing you had a ring for me. If you did, you’d ask me right
now. Do you know what I’m thinking?”
He smiles and brushes my hair from my face. “You’re thinking I don’t need one. That if I ask,
you’d say yes.”
I can’t help but grin. “Maybe I should get you a job in the shop, too. We could be a team.”
Leaning up from the garden dirt, he holds me in his arms, then lowers to one knee, still nude in
the light of the moon. “A few days ago, you were a stranger. Today, I can’t live without you. I don’t
know how that works, which as you know, is incredibly frustrating to me, but I do know I’m willing
to spend the rest of my life figuring it out. Will you marry me, Ella?”
He’s not a poet and the timing could be better, but I see past all that. I see what he’s thinking…
what he’s feeling. This man loves me. He genuinely, truly loves me. He’d do anything for me. He
wants to protect me, hold me, and savor me. He wants to buy me a ring and have a family. He wants
love, and he wants to grow a garden, right here where we stand.
 Tears fall from my eyes and my hand shakes as Boone holds me close. “Yes, yes, yes!” I fall
into his arms, and he presses a kiss into my neck.
My heart squeezes and my clit throbs again as his hand wanders to my lower back. I know where
he’s going with this, and the future never looked so good.
 Epilogue
Boone
Six Months Later

Junie and Ella sit beside the garden, pulling weeds. They’ve been talking about some mail order
mountain man for the last hour or more. Apparently, Junie has had a number of bad dates and she’s
wondering if there’s a good one coming anytime soon.
“I see a guy,” Ella says, yanking up a dandelion, “but he’s a lot older than you, and he’s got a
past.”
“Oh, great!” Junie rolls her eyes. “The last thing I need is another man with a past.”
“I get the feeling this one works out, though,” Ella says, drawing her attention to the spinach.
“Give this one time to develop.”
The sour look on Junie’s face says she doesn’t believe the advice Ella’s giving her. I never
realized how complicated being a psychic would be.
“Be careful with those eye rolls,” Ella says playfully, “or the big guy will kick you out. He’s got a
reputation now, ya know.”
Junie laughs and stands from the dirt, dusting off her bottom. “I hear.” She looks toward me.
“Sorry, boss. I’ll keep it in line.”
Ella snorts and blows a strand of hair from her face. “It’s not a joke. He’s brutal. I was giving a
guy a reading a few months ago, and the man went berserk because he didn’t like my answers. Boone
went full-on maniac and kicked the guy out. If he hadn’t been there, I don’t know what the psycho
would’ve done.”
“A local?” Junie asks, staring down at Ella who's kneeling next to the garden.
“No, some out-of-towner. No local would act like that, at least not on Main Street.” She sighs.
“Anyway, that’s nothing compared to the whole Nick thing. We just finally got all that settled.”
“Oh yeah?” Junie says, fluffing back her hair. She doesn’t seem to be the gardener that Ella is.
Junie would rather do something less dirty and more refined. “What happened with all that?”
“He got six months in jail and two years of probation. We found cameras all over the property.”
“Which we took the footage from,” I add, helping my girl up from the garden. “It was a mess, but
he moved to Colorado Springs. So, we bought his property. We’re tearing down the house and
building a barn so we can move all my horses here. Right now, we’re back and forth everyday taking
care of them.”
Junie twists her ginger hair to her shoulder. “Did he share the videos anywhere or…”
“Nope. They were just for him.” Ella twists her lips. “So weird.”
“Well,” Junie sighs, “at least you don’t have to worry about any of that now. But in a few months,
you’ll be nothing but worries when the new baby comes.”
Ella smiles gently and leans into my chest. She fits perfectly there, like she was made for me.
“Well, all your love is making me jealous, so I’m going to go.” Junie laughs. “Wish me luck with
this mail order man thing. I think I’m going to need it.”
“You won’t need luck.” Ella smiles gently. “This one is good. Trust me.”
Junie smiles as she makes her way back to the car, but I can tell she’s not convinced this meeting
is going to go well. I’m not sure I blame her. A mail order anything sounds sketchy. I have a hard time
trusting mail order catalogues, let alone a mail order spouse.
“You think she’ll be okay?” Ella snuggles into me. Her little round belly has popped recently. I
rub my hand over the top of it. It’s funny how fast this has become one of my favorite things.
I stare down at her dark gaze, watching the pitch-black strands of her hair blow in the breeze.
“She’ll be great, and you know it… literally.” I laugh.
“I know, but sometimes people get their own way and the future changes. I worry she’s one of
those people.”
I kiss her forehead. “Right now, I’m wondering what you see for our baby. You said you knew the
sex, right? Care to spill?”
She nods. “A girl. I’m sure of it.” Ella’s face lights as she says it.
“Okay, so… that means she needs a name.” A shot of excitement shivers through me at the thought
of having a little Ella to raise. I imagine her telling us the thoughts of all her schoolmates and reading
my mind before bed to trick me into one more bedtime story.
“You want to name her Mabel, right? I like that!” Ella grins and kisses my lips gently.
At first, I thought this whole psychic thing was a downfall. I had trauma I hadn’t resolved, I
wasn’t ready for love, and civilian life was a complicated maze I didn’t have the energy to work
through.
Then, I met Ella. A raven-haired woman whose visions showed me a future I couldn’t resist. Ten
days after we met, I married her beneath an oak tree, next to a creek on a cool spring day. It was a day
that me, Ella, and the garden will never forget.
Thank you for reading! Check out Junie’s story next!
 Khloe Summers is the author of over one hundred short and steamy romance titles. Her books are
written in many different tropes, but always contain growly older alphas, curvy women, and lots of
steam.

Khloe lives with her husband, (who she affectionately calls Daddy) in sunny Florida. They spend
most of their free time sinking their toes in the sand, eating too many pizzas, and hollering obscenities
at the TV on football Sunday. (At least he does. She sits on the sidelines and quietly orders nonsense
off Amazon.)

Before this life is over, Khloe would like to check everything off her sexy bucket list and visit
South Africa to wrestle evil poachers into submission. (And maybe see some baby elephants.)

HEA Guaranteed.

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frequently relieved. The young lady, whose case is related at page 7,
used it daily, sometimes several times in a day, and never without
benefit. She could never enjoy any sleep at night unless she had
previously spent a quarter of an hour in the bath; and to this day she
continues the use of it. Joined to the above remedies, habitual
attention must be paid to the bowels. They should be moved by the
gentlest medicines, and they may often be advantageously acted on
by glisters only. This manner of exhibiting medicine is frequently
objected to in England, because it only empties the lower parts of the
larger intestines; but repeated experience has convinced me, that
the mere circumstance of evacuating the large intestines gives
occasion to, and stimulates the action of, the higher passages. I do
not intend to defend the habitual abuse of enemata which is daily
witnessed on the Continent; but, in this country, I think that their use
may be extended with advantage. In whatever way, however, the
bowels are evacuated, it is of the greatest consequence that they
should be acted on by the gentlest medicines possible. Such,
however, is their slowness in this disease, that it sometimes
becomes necessary to use the strongest medicine in order to effect
a mere evacuation; but I have never seen the bowels violently
moved without the highest injury to the patient. My common practice
has been to prescribe small repeated doses of one of the neutral
salts, to each of which I desire five or six drops of laudanum to be
added. By this means it has seemed to me that my purpose was
effected with least violence. I have tried all the medicines of the class
of antispasmodics, and cannot speak in favour of any one of them.
They are either useless or hurtful. The tinctures and ethers are
injurious in a very marked manner and in a very high degree. Various
other remedies will, of course, be suggested to the judicious
practitioner by the peculiar circumstances of each case.

I may seem to some persons to have dwelt too tediously on the

poisonous properties of iodine; but let it be recollected, by those who
have had opportunities of becoming acquainted with its virtues, that
this medicine is as yet almost unknown to the numerous practitioners
who are now daily using it; that it is a medicine of singular power and
efficacy in a great class of disorders, with which the inhabitants of
this country are peculiarly afflicted; that this most useful remedy may
be divested of all its deleterious properties; that, therefore, it will
probably come into general use among us; and they will allow that I
have not bestowed too much time on this important subject. I wish
the details had been more complete, that my experience had been
more extensive, and that I had been better able to satisfy the
reader’s curiosity and my own.
Some of my readers, who have lately been in the habit of using
iodine cautiously, and of watching its effects, may think that I have
overcharged the picture of its baneful properties; but I have been an
eyewitness of all I have written; and I should extend this treatise
much beyond the limits I have assigned to it, did I detail all the cases
that have reached me of the mischief it has produced. I am glad,
however, to add my testimony to that of Coindet, de Carro, and
others, that this medicine may most certainly be deprived of all its
hurtful qualities, by using it cautiously and watching its effect. Like all
other powerful medicines, when its action is not controlled by the
hand of a master, its energies become a source of mischief and ruin,
instead of restoring the blessings of health and strength; but when
well managed, it is a most useful remedy, and a valuable addition to
our materia medica. I have used it myself in a great number of
cases, and I have never yet, in my own practice, had occasion to
regret the occurrence of any of the violent symptoms I have
described. I have more than once discontinued the medicine on
finding the pulse become frequent, small, and depressed, on
account of watchfulness, flying pains of the joints, tremors, or pain at
the stomach; but having early detected these symptoms, they were
not allowed to become formidable. Dr. Coindet states, that he has
prescribed the medicine to one hundred and fifty patients, and that
he has never had occasion to observe any mischief from its use.[3]
Dr. Decarro has given it at Vienna to one hundred and twenty
patients; Dr. Erlinger, of Zurich, to seventy; and Dr. Formey has
prescribed it extensively, in Prussia, with the same favourable
results. Dr. Decarro, in his enthusiasm about this new medicine,
seems almost to doubt whether accidents have ever occurred from
its use, though these accidents have been as public as the day, and
the unhappy patients have paid with their lives the inexperience and
rashness of their physicians. Thus far I can agree with Decarro, that I
have never known or heard of any bad effect from iodine, when it
had not been used unadvisedly and injudiciously. It has been used
extensively by Hufeland in Germany, who makes no mention of its
deleterious properties; and a great number of physicians in London
and Paris, and various parts of England and France, have also lately
employed it. They have either not met with the accidents I have
described, or have prudently concealed them.

Having now considered the effects of iodine on the alimentary

canal and the nervous system, we are prepared for studying its
effect on the absorbent vessels, by which its use in medicine is
indicated. This is the most important subject which has yet fallen
under my review, and I shall give it as much extension as may be
necessary for its perfect discussion. It has been already seen at
pages 10 and 12 that the lymphatic system is very powerfully and
generally stimulated, so as to occasion a great absorption of all the
sebaceous, muscular, and glandular structures of the body; but it will
be seen, in the following pages, that the action of iodine may be
directed exclusively against tumors, and local disorders, while the
healthy structures of the body remain unaffected.
The absorbent system is distributed over every part of the body. In
the brain alone the vessels of this class have not, hitherto, been
detected and submitted to ocular demonstration by any other
anatomist than Mascagni. But physiological and pathological proofs
of their existence, equal in force to any anatomical evidence, are not
wanting to demonstrate their presence in the central organ of the
nervous system. The office which these vessels discharge, in the
nutrition of the body and removal of its waste, is most important to its
healthy condition; and the influence it exerts, in a state of disease, is
not less considerable. From the inactivity or obstruction of the
absorbent vessels, a great proportion of the chronic disorders of the
body take their rise. Medicines, therefore, which act either directly or
indirectly on this system, have always been accounted most valuable
articles of the materia medica. Unhappily, they too often deceive us
in their operation, and, notwithstanding the united studies of many
physicians directed to them, the causes of their failure, as well as the
circumstances under which they succeed, still remain a problem. A
considerable step towards the solution of this difficulty has, indeed,
been lately taken by Dr. Blackall. Much obscurity, however, yet rests
upon the subject, and a direct medical agent on the absorbent
system, whose effects are speedy, indubitable, and powerful, is a
great desideratum in the art of healing.
Such an agent is iodine. Its effects on the absorbent system are
incontrovertible. They are as speedy as they are certain, and so
powerful are they, that if the medicine be not duly and cautiously
managed, we have already seen what havoc may be the result. A
few, a very few, cases have occurred to myself, in which the
constitution was altogether insensible to its action; I believe a greater
number have occurred to others; but I cannot help thinking that such
cases have been owing, in many instances, either to some fault in
the medicine, or to some inadvertence on the part of the
practitioner.[4]
We shall first consider the use of iodine in the treatment of
bronchocele, the disease for the cure of which it was introduced into
practice. All the physicians who have employed it bear unequivocal
testimony to its efficacy. It seldom fails of effecting a complete cure,
and when it does, it almost always reduces the swelling very
considerably. The promptitude of its action is at times very
extraordinary. Decarro states, that one of his patients, thirty-eight
years of age, after taking the remedy for seventeen days, had the
circumference of his neck reduced from one foot seven inches and a
half, to one foot three inches and three-quarters. Dr. Coindet relates
a case of a man, fifty years of age, in which this medicine, taken
internally, reduced a very large goître considerably in size, after six
days’ treatment only. An old woman, aged sixty-five, who took this
medicine under my care for a goître, with which she had been
affected nearly forty years, had the circumference of her neck
reduced from twenty-two inches to eighteen, on the twenty-fifth day.
Such rapid diminution in the size of the tumor is not to be always
expected. In some cases a whole month, and even more, elapses
before any effect is visible. In general, however, the powers of the
medicine are manifest at the end of the second week and
considerable progress towards cure has been made at the end of a
month. I have endeavoured to find out whether there was any thing
in the constitution of the different persons under my own
observation, or in their state of health, which rendered them more or
less apt to be affected by this medicine. I have not been very
successful in this inquiry. But I found that in two cases of women
afflicted with extensive and very painful varix of the veins of all the
extremities, the effect of iodine was produced with great difficulty.
This fact seemed to coincide with the result of Mr. Magendie’s very
interesting experiments on absorption, and I accordingly desired one
of the persons, to whom I have just alluded, to lose a little blood from
the arm. The effect of the medicine was very much accelerated by
this treatment, but a consequence I did not look for was also the
result of it, viz. the total and sudden disappearance of the varix,
which had commenced during uterine gestation twelve years before.
The goître succeeded the varix after her delivery. I merely mention
the facts of this case, which may suggest useful hints to those who
may meet with a case similarly circumstanced. Since its occurrence,
whenever the medicine is slow in its operation, provided the vessels
be full and plethoric, I desire a little blood to be taken away from the
arm, and I almost invariably find the action of the medicine much
quickened. I have sometimes, also, thought that the cases, in which
blood was taken away, were cured more easily and with less
suffering than the others.
There is, very rarely, any considerable effect produced on the
arterial system by iodine, if it be given with propriety and caution.
Sometimes it accelerates the pulse in a slight degree; it frequently
occasions a little mucous expectoration from the chest, and it often
raises nervous symptoms in delicate subjects, which are very
distressing. I saw it given to a young woman in one of the public
hospitals in Paris, in whom it produced such a state of insomnia that
she told me she had not slept at all for a whole week, though she
had been a very good sleeper before. I have said that it affects the
pulse but a little, yet it sometimes stimulates very powerfully the
arterial vessels of the tumor. This is mentioned by all the authors
who have written on iodine, and is one of the most singular
circumstances in its medical history!
This irritation of arterial vessels frequently becomes active
inflammation, requiring the use of bloodletting for its relief. Topical
bleeding will, in general, be found fully competent to remove it.
Indeed, it sometimes happens that when the iodine has lighted up
smart inflammation in the tumor, the arterial system generally is
unaffected. To what is this effect on the vessels of the part to be
attributed, from which the constitution generally is free?
The same is occasionally true of the absorbent vessels. I have
seen some very large tumors discussed, while there was no
evidence whatever of the absorbent vessels in other parts of the
body having felt the influence of the medicine. It is a curious
question, to determine by what law the constitution remains
impassive to the action of a medicine, which affects remote and
distant parts through the constitution. Certain tumors are of so
irritable a nature, that a stimulus, which only serves to rouse the
healthy energies of the body, excites the process of destruction in
them. In the quaint language of a celebrated modern lecturer, “they
are irritable beings, if you touch them they’ll kick.” But this is not the
case with many of the tumors which are dissipated by iodine.
Bronchocele, for instance, is of a slow growth; all the operations
which go forward in its structure are of a very indolent and chronic
kind. Such, also, is the case with the greater number of scrophulous
tumors. Yet all of them have been dissipated, like a charm, by the
agency of iodine.
In prescribing this medicine, it is very necessary not to lose sight
of the effect I have just mentioned. When the tumor is very large,
and especially in that kind of bronchocele, in which the principal
enlargement of the thyroid gland takes place on its inner surface,
where it is in contact with the trachea, the occurrence of
inflammation is much to be apprehended. When a very large tumor
becomes inflamed, the distress which it occasions, and the
disturbance it excites in the constitution, are very considerable; and
in the second case to which I have alluded, inflammation of the
trachea is very readily excited.[5] Such cases are easily distinguished
by the immovability of the tumor, and the effect they have in altering
the voice. On dissection, the trachea is sometimes found to have
been very much compressed by them.
It is now fit that I should mention the most common and beneficial
methods of using this substance. Dr. Coindet has recommended the
hydriodate of potass as an external application, and my experience
has certainly confirmed his choice. The hydriodate of soda, however,
will be found to answer equally well. Practitioners may choose
between these two remedies. I have used the iodates, but I have
found them at once more inert and more unmanageable. They
possess all the virtues of iodine in a very remarkable degree, but
they will be found to fail more frequently than the hydriodatic salts;
and, if I may draw any conclusion from the few trials I have given
them, they are more apt to excite disorder in the system. I have
generally ordered half a dram of the hydriodate of potass to be
united to an ounce and a half of axunge, and desired the patient to
rub in a dram of this ointment over the surface of the tumor, night
and morning. When the tumor is painful, it is not necessary to rub in.
The ointment may be used in the manner recommended by
Scattigna.[6] All that is necessary is to choose a portion of the
surface of the body where the skin is very tender and thin, and
simply to apply the ointment over night. For this purpose, almost any
part of the body which is habitually covered may be chosen; but in
the axilla, and in the inner surface of the thighs close to the scrotum,
the absorption will be found most rapid.[7]
It is a more important question to determine the proper method of
using this medicine internally. From my own experience, I am
inclined to give a decided preference to the solution over the tincture.
It is prepared by dissolving thirty grains of the hydriodate of potass in
an ounce of distilled water. I have generally begun this preparation
by a dose of ten drops, and augmented it gradually to twenty, and,
very seldom, to twenty-five. This preparation can dissolve an
additional dose of iodine; a formulary, however, to which I seldom, if
ever, have recourse. I have found that the deleterious action of the
medicine on the bowels was more marked, in proportion to the
quantity of free iodine it contained. For this reason, also, I now
seldom have recourse to the tincture, a form much used, because it
is less expensive. Practitioners will, in general, find an advantage in
confining themselves to the external use of iodine for the cure of
bronchocele, and tumors, which do not arise from any vice in the
constitution. In a few cases of bronchocele, however, it is necessary
to have recourse to its internal use, especially when the disease
exists in a strumous habit. By the use, either of the ointment, or of
the solution in the way we have recommended, a soft bronchocele
will be discussed in a month or six weeks. Those which are hard,
and of old growth, generally take a little longer time, and many of
these latter cases cannot be altogether reduced. I have seen two
cases, however, in which the tumors gradually disappeared some
weeks after the medicine had been altogether discontinued. Dr.
Coindet says, that he has seen several cases of bronchocele,
complicated with watery cysts, yield completely to the action of
iodine. I have only had occasion to see one such case treated by this
medicine. It was somewhat lessened in its bulk, and the patient was
certainly relieved, but the disease was by no means cured.
If the iodine be given internally, it is indispensably necessary to
watch its effects from day to day. No peculiarity of circumstances
whatever can dispense the physician from this care; and if it be
recollected that it is yet a new medicine, that unknown accidents, to
which it is liable, may be discovered by future investigations, this
caution will not appear superfluous. The case related by Dr. Coindet,
to which we have already alluded at page 36, in which a very
powerful and painful effect was produced at the end of the fifth day,
sufficiently evinces the necessity of the watchfulness here
recommended.
 When iodine acts kindly on the constitution, no other effect will be
found to accompany its use, but a diminution of the tumor and a little
nervous excitement, which is sometimes not so severe as to become
disagreeable. The increase of appetite is a very frequent effect of
iodine, and it is sometimes very troublesome, because it is extremely
necessary not to indulge it. The diet of the patient should be good,
but by no means full, which the occasional voraciousness of his
appetite would lead him to adopt.

Having established that the use of iodine in bronchocele was

owing to its effect on the absorbent system, it was natural to
conclude that it would be of equal service in the cure of scrophula.[8]
Accordingly, we find that Dr. Coindet made trial of it in the cure of the
latter disease, soon after he had determined its virtues in the former,
and that his experiment was followed by the most satisfactory result.
I have already considered at so great length the general effects of
iodine on the constitution, that little remains for me in this place but
to mention the particular cases in which I have found it useful, and
those in which it has failed my expectations.
The first case of scrophula in which I made use of this medicine,
was that of a young lady eighteen years of age, who had been
affected by glandular swellings of the neck for nearly eight years.
She used the solution of hydriodate of potass for a month; the dose
varied from ten to twenty drops three times a day, with occasional
intermission of a day when the absorption was going on rapidly. At
the end of this time she had got perfectly rid of her swellings, and
she now (two years since she took the medicine) remains perfectly
well. When she discontinued her drops, so far from having been
incommoded by them, her health was certainly much improved.
There remained several little fistulous sores, which required the
assistance of the knife to heal them. The iodine is not equally
efficacious in all cases of this kind. Great numbers, however, yield
rapidly under its use; but many of them, also, resist its operation. I
have never been able to assign even a plausible reason for this
difference of its action in scrophula. In general, I have found such
cases yield more readily to the internal than to the external use of
iodine. The scrophulous glands of children are not so easily affected
by iodine as those of persons who have attained the age of puberty,
and they are also more liable to a relapse.
A female servant in one of the public hotels of Paris, aged thirty-
three, married, who had born several children, shewed me a tumor
of her right breast she had had about two years. It was not attended
with any pain, but had lately somewhat increased, which gave her
alarm. About a year before she had been advised by a surgeon to
have it cut out. This advice gave her so much uneasiness, that she
presented herself at the clinical consultations of M. Dubois. That
eminent surgeon immediately distinguished the tumor to be
scrophulous; and during three months’ treatment, all the usual
remedies of this disease were exhausted without the least effect. A
scruple of the ointment of the hydriodate of potass, placed in the
axilla at night, completely removed the tumor in about six weeks.
This is the only case of a similar kind in which I have used iodine. I
have never yet employed it in scirrhus of the breast.[9]
I was called in the month of February, 1822, to visit a boy five
years old, affected in the following manner. Since the period of his
birth, he had always been weakly, but, for the last two years, had
gradually been falling off in his flesh and strength. He complained of
frequent pains in his bowels, which were alternately confined and
purged; the motions were discoloured and scybalous; he frequently
vomited his food; his abdomen was much swelled; the rest of his
body considerably emaciated; pulse natural; appetite variable, but
never great. It was impossible to doubt, from the appearance of the
child, that the mesenteric glands were enlarged, and I determined to
make a very cautious trial of iodine. It was the first case in which I
had used it for an internal disease, and I therefore watched it with
unremitting care. I began by giving my little patient twelve drops in
the day, which I gradually augmented to twenty, and I had the
pleasure of seeing the abdomen gradually diminish in size, the
bowels become more regular, the evacuations restored to their
natural colour, the pain diminish and vanish, the appetite increase,
and at the end of five weeks the child return to comparative health,
without the occurrence of a single untoward symptom. The only
medicine I employed during this treatment, besides iodine, was
occasionally a few grains of rhubarb. At the end of the five weeks the
bowels acted without medicine. I am sorry to say that I lost sight of
this child from this time. The parents were poor, were probably
satisfied with the benefit they had received, and not willing to incur
any farther expense for medicine. I have since prescribed this
medicine in two other cases of disease of the mesenteric glands.
The result was not so satisfactory as in the case I have just related,
but both of them were considerably relieved, and had they been
more attentive to the directions given them, I have little doubt that
they also would have obtained a complete cure. But they were in the
poorest class of society, were irregular in their habits, and paid very
imperfect attention to the orders of their physician. In one of them, a
young woman, fifteen years old, after she had taken fifteen drops of
the solution of hydriodate of potass, twice a-day during three weeks,
considerable tenderness of the whole abdomen came on, for which I
judged it necessary to order the application of a dozen leeches. The
relief was immediate. From the whole appearance of the case, I
judged this feverish attack to be an affection of the mesenteric
glands, similar to what I have described at p. 39.
I have used this medicine in cases where I had good evidence of
the presence of tubercles in the lungs, and I do not doubt that it will
be found to be serviceable in the incipient stages of the disease. But
I much question whether it will prove even innocent in the more
advanced periods of tubercles, when extensive disorganization has
taken place in the lungs. Some cases in which I have prescribed it,
were benefitted in so marked a manner as to have inspired me with
hopes of having at length found a remedy for that hitherto intractable
and cruel malady. Other cases, on the contrary, seemed to be much
aggravated by its use. If I may judge from the cautious expressions
of Dr. Baron, in his work on tuberculous disease, this is nearly the
result of his experience also. It is much to be desired that we had
sufficient data for distinguishing the cases in which its use is
beneficial, inert, and injurious. As yet, the results I have obtained do
not entitle me to come to any very definite conclusion on this subject.
Mr. Haden, in his translation of Magendie’s Pharmacopœia, has
given the history of a case of affection of the chest, in which he
seems evidently to think that tubercles were removed by the agency
of iodine. I am glad to find this case stated by Mr. Haden with his
characteristic candour and caution. It is much to be desired that a
series of such cases were published. They would form the materials
on which a just estimate of the powers of this medicine might be
formed. I trust to be able, at no distant period, to give the result of my
experience in this disease to the public, in such a manner as to
establish what are the real virtues of iodine in the cure of pulmonary
tubercles. At present, there is certainly sufficient ground for making a
cautious trial of its powers; but, if I may trust to my own experience, it
is impossible to use it with too much circumspection.
A young gentleman, aged twenty-six, who had passed four winters
in the south of Europe for a cough, with pain in his chest, and
occasional expectoration of a thick maturated discharge, frequently
streaked with blood, consulted me on account of swelled glands in
his neck, which he had had from his infancy, but which were at that
time particularly troublesome. I desired him to use a solution of
hydriodate of potass in the dose, of twelve drops three times a-day.
In the course of two months, the swellings in the neck, which had
pained him from his infancy, were quite dispersed, and at the same
time his sufferings in the chest were so much diminished that he
requested to be allowed to continue the medicine. I allowed him to
use it a fortnight longer, at the end of which time he was quite free
from complaint. He subsequently had another attack of his chest
complaint, and wrote to me from Thoulouse to request directions for
renewing the use of the medicine, under the care of a French
physician. Before my letter reached him, he was carried off by an
attack of some violent complaint, of which I never could learn the
history. I have exhibited this medicine in several such cases, and
frequently with the most marked good effects. In fine, I have not the
smallest doubt of its efficacy in relieving many diseases of the chest,
in which all the general symptoms, as well as all the local means of
exploring the condition of the lungs, which have lately been so much
attended to in France, have given me the most satisfactory evidence
of the presence of tubercles. I will not yet assert, however, that the
use of iodine has been followed by the absorption of tubercles in the
lungs. This important fact must not be affirmed hastily; but I trust I
shall be enabled, at a future period, to establish it to the satisfaction
of every one, or to explain the beneficial action of the medicine on
other grounds.
Dr. Baron, in his work already quoted (p. 221), has related a case
of encysted dropsy of the ovarium, in which the use of iodine was
attended with the most manifest and rapid benefit. I have seen it
used in a case of the same kind, in which a swelling that had been
twice tapped, and which then filled the greater part of the abdomen,
was almost completely removed. The patient, a woman of sixty-two,
has recovered her strength; she has resumed the appearance of
health, and has remained eighteen months free from dropsical
symptoms.
I have made trial of iodine in two cases of ascites without benefit. I
have also made use of it in a case of amenorrhœa, according to
Coindet’s advice, without the smallest advantage; nor have I been
able to satisfy myself that it possesses any power over the uterine
system.
 CONCLUSION.
The liability of iodine to excite great disturbance in the constitution,
has been made an objection to its use. I fear that this reproach must
be shared by all powerful medicines whatever. If unattended to, or
used with levity, any medicine which is capable of doing good, may
also do harm. But if used with due discretion and properly watched, I
have no hesitation in affirming, that iodine may be employed with as
much safety as any of the powerful remedies which are daily in the
hands of the least skilful members of the profession. But it has been
also made a subject of reproach to this remedy that it is quite inert
and useless. I shall not give any further reply to such a statement
than what the foregoing pages contain. But I am credibly informed
that it has been used by several eminent practitioners of London;
who finding it quite inert, had laid it aside as useless[10].
I have already pointed out one source of such mistakes (page 3). I
fear, however, that it has also been used by physicians who have not
leisure of mind nor time enough for conducting such inquiries as they
ought to be conducted. When we consider the silly pretences on
which medicines are sometimes forced into fashionable practice, it
will not appear wonderful that the investigation of their virtues should
not be conducted with much zeal. But I know also that it has been
hastily rejected, and without trial, by some persons grown old in the
practice of physic, who have made their interests decidedly to
consist in defending all that is old, and repudiating all that is new.
Such persons expose themselves to ridicule when we see them
reject a remedy so active as iodine, and continue to trust, for the
cure of the severest diseases to which the human frame is liable, to
medicines allowed on all hands, and even by themselves, to be
absolutely useless.
The value of iodine as a remedy, however, does not depend on the
testimony of any individual, however high his name. Its use is
established by a long series of facts observed by physicians and
surgeons of different countries. Wherever it has received a fair trial
from unprejudiced persons, its effects have been so striking and
undeniable as to force assent. It is not one of those remedies which
is adopted by one man, and rejected by another, according to the
accident or caprice of the moment; but one whose effects are written
in such clear and intelligible characters, that he that runs can read.
Its applications also are in cases of such common occurrence, that
all practitioners have an opportunity of satisfying themselves of the
real nature of the remedy, and the extent of its powers.
This medicine has also been called an empirical remedy. Of what
importance is it that it should bear this or any other name, by which
the enemies of every thing that is new endeavour to keep others in
the same state of happy ignorance which satisfies their own
indolence, and answers the demands of the common routine of their
practice? But in what respect is it an empirical remedy? Do we know
any thing more of the action of a purgative? It is said to stimulate the
larger or the smaller intestines, and iodine may be said to stimulate
the absorbent vessels; and after we have said this, are we at all
wiser than we were before? The only questions now before us, those
which alone appear worthy of discussion, are, Do we in iodine
possess a remedy for the diseases in which I have said it is useful?
and if we do, on which of the living textures does it seem most
particularly to exert its action? These questions settled, all the rest is
of comparatively trivial importance.
The medicines which exert their action on particular textures or
systems are extremely few indeed, and the few we possess are so
uncertain in their operations, they are liable to such frequent failures,
that sceptical physicians doubt of their efficacy altogether, and even
of the efficiency of medicine. There is something peculiarly gratifying
to their vanity in supposing themselves freed from the common
errors, and above the credulity of the vulgar. Iodine, however, is not
liable to the sneers of such narrow minds. It is a real “heroic
remedy”—a true present from the science of medicine to mankind.
 APPENDIX.
I have here thrown into an Appendix a brief account of the different
preparations of which I have had occasion to make mention. It is
chiefly extracted from Magendie’s Formulary, which will be found to
contain sufficient directions for the chemical and pharmaceutical
operations undergone by iodine.
Tincture of Iodine.
Take of Alcohol, of sp. gr. of .842, 1 oz.
Iodine, 39 gr.
Dissolve.
This preparation should not be long kept, as it readily undergoes
alteration and decomposition. Alcohol varies in its solvent power of
iodine according to its degree of concentration. The frequent opening
of the vessels, therefore, in which it is kept, must occasion a change
in the quality of the tincture, by allowing the evaporation of the spirit,
and thus occasioning a diffusion of undissolved iodine through this
preparation. Mr. Magendie seems also to fear, that a decomposition
of the alcohol may take place from the superior affinity of iodine for
hydrogen. Altogether this is certainly the most objectionable form in
which iodine is used.
Solution of Hydriodate of Potass.
Take of distilled Water, 1 oz.
Hydriodate of Potass, 30 gr.
Dissolve.
I have generally prescribed these two preparations in cinnamon or
mint water, in which form they are seldom disagreeable to the
stomach. I have avoided, as much as possible, joining them to any
tinctures or infusions, as we are yet in a great degree unacquainted
with the chemical habits of iodine and the different vegetable
substances. It will be sometimes, however, found advisable to use
tonics with iodine.
Ointment of Hydriodate of Potass.
Take of Hydriodate of Potass, ½ dr.
Axunge, 1½ oz. Mix.
 NOTE.
Since these pages were put to press, I have received from
Professor Maunoir the following details of the case mentioned at
page 49. As far as I know, it is the only case of the kind on record. I
make no apology, therefore, for inserting it in this place.
“C’est le 18 Mars 1821, que j’ai été consulté pour la première fois
pour le jeune B—— de Soleure, enfant de huit ans, atteint, depuis
moins d’un an, d’un white swelling au genou droit; pour lequel on
avoit employé inutilement vésicatoires, sangsues, topiques résolutifs
de toute espèce, remèdes internes, &c. Il avoit alors une
augmentation considérable dans le volume du genou, que le
médecin supposoit avoir lieu dans les os plutôt que dans les parties
molles, et en même tems une diminution sensible dans le volume de
la jambe. L’enfant ne pouvoit faire un pas sans douleur avec des
béquilles; car il y avoit flexion de la jambe sur la cuisse, je ne sais
pas à quel angle, mais impossibilité d’extension.
“Je l’ai traité par correspondance sans le voir; on lui a fait des
frictions avec l’onguent d’iode, gros comme une noisette, matin et
soir. Il a pris la teinture d’iode à la dose d’ 1/12 de grain au plus. Son
estomac n’en a été nullement affecté, et huit mois après le père n’a
pas pu résister au plaisir de me montrer son enfant. Il me l’a amené
à Genève, et j’ai vu cet enfant, marchant et courant lestement, le
genou droit de la même grosseur que le gauche, et aussi serviable
que celui-là.”

THE END.

LONDON:—PRINTED BY J. MOYES, GREVILLE STREET.

 [1] The total inefficacy of this medicine in the hands of British
Practitioners, while its virtues are so palpable and evident at
Geneva, that not only Physicians, but also the inhabitants in
general, are convinced of their reality, had always surprised me. I
was at a loss to account for testimony so contradictory. It seemed
as if medicine were a science so uncertain and futile, that its
plainest facts depend more on the authority of name than on the
substantial evidence of observation and experiment. I lately
obtained an explanation of this difficulty from a quarter in which I
can place implicit reliance. It seems that the chemists are much in
the habit of substituting charcoal for burnt sponge, of which an
undeniable proof is the fact, that burnt sponge is sold at an
inferior rate to the same article before it has undergone the
process of combustion.—I may also be allowed to state in this
place, that I have sent prescriptions for the hydriodate of potass
to several chemists in London—that my prescriptions were said to
have been made up; but that a few days afterwards, when I called
at their shops, in order to examine the medicine, I discovered that
they were not even aware of the existence of such a drug. If such
frauds continue to be committed with impunity, the sick had better
submit patiently to their pains, than have recourse to physicians,
whose science is rendered unavailing for the profit of tradesmen.
[2] I have seen in one case a most obstinate suppression of
urine. I merely mention the fact, as I have no reason to believe it
to be a common effect of the use of iodine.
[3] Dr. Coindet, however, though he must be acquainted with
the sad accidents which have occurred in his native city, has not
yet taken any public notice of them. This silence on facts so
important seems in some degree to invalidate his testimony.
[4] The iodine which is sold in the shops is of very different
degrees of purity, which will probably afford an explanation of
some of the above anomalies. But still after all possible care has
been taken, there will be found a few instances in which it does
not appear to possess any power over the absorbent system.
[5] Dr. Coindet gives an instructive example of this kind.
Bibliothèque Universelle, Février, 1821, p. 148.
[6] Nuovo metodo di amministratori l’unguento mercuriale ne
mali fisici del Dottore Vitantonio Scattigna. Napoli, 1818.
 [7] I have seen, in the hospitals of Naples, the most decided
and unquestionable effects produced by mercury used in this
manner, I have since used it frequently in my own practice in the
same way; and I
believe that the mercurial ointment, thus used, is exempt from
much of the inconvenience occasioned by rubbing. I have seen
several persons use it in this manner with ease, who could not
rub in mercury without much suffering. Scattigna asserts that it is
also much more efficacious than when rubbed in by the common
method. His way of using it is, to extend a scruple of mercurial
ointment over the skin of the axilla before the patient goes to
sleep. In the morning, the whole of it will be found to be absorbed,
and in this way he calculates that as strong an effect is produced
as by a drachm of the ointment. I have used, in a case of
hydrothorax, an ointment of squills in the same way, which has
caused an increased flow of urine, which I had vainly
endeavoured to effect by means of the same medicine given by
the mouth. These statements are at variance with the experience
of Mr. Pearson, which must be allowed to be of much weight in
this matter. Will the difference of climate account for the
discrepancy?
[8] On perusing most of our practical, and more especially our
systematic authors, this term will be found of such latitude and
various meaning, that, were they indiscriminately followed,
scrophula might be considered an universal disease. In this place,
we confine our attention to those diseases which are familiar to all
practitioners, scrophulous tumors of the conglobate glands.
[9] My friend Mr. Maunoir, of Geneva, informed me that a little
boy from one of the interior towns of Switzerland, was brought to
him on account of a swelling of the knee-joint. He had already
been under the care of several eminent surgeons, who had all
declared the tumor to be a white swelling, and had recommended
the amputation of the limb. Such, also, was the opinion of Mr.
Maunoir; but finding the friends and the boy himself extremely
averse to the operation, he tried the effect of iodine. In the course
of a few weeks the tumor, pain, and stiffness of the joint were
dissipated, and the boy was running about as formerly.
[10] So great have been the ravages committed by the
imprudent use of iodine in the Pays de Vaud, that the government
of that canton has issued an injunction against its sale, excepting
under the signature and responsibility of a physician.