Heart of Texas Vol. 2 (29 page)

 

“I
N HERE.”
C
AL'S HEART POUNDED
as he peered into the hotel. The stair case had collapsed and he was able to make out a figure trapped beneath the boards. Richard Weston, he was sure.

Jane was a few steps behind Cal. They cautiously entered the hotel and began to approach the ruined stairs.

“Stand back,” Cal ordered, looking up to make sure nothing else threatened to fall. As soon as he'd assured himself it was safe, he started to remove the boards.

It was indeed Richard, and his groans grew louder, more plaintive. He was in obvious pain and close to un consciousness.

Jane checked his vital signs. “There's no telling how long he's been here.”

“Two days,” Richard whispered, his voice weak. “Am I going to die?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” she said firmly.

Cal understood that to Jane, medicine was a passion the same way ranching was to him, and he respected her for it.
Loved
her for it. He loved her courage and her sense of humor, too, her honesty, her kindness. Why that realization should come to him at a time like this, he didn't know. He'd intended never to make himself vulnerable again after Jennifer had humiliated him in front of the entire town. But he loved Jane. He felt no doubt, not about her or his feelings.

He continued to lift the heavy pieces of wood that trapped the injured man. The way in which Richard's leg was twisted told him it was badly broken.

Richard was moaning for water. Jane carefully lifted his head and dribbled liquid between his parched lips.

“Don't let me die,” Richard pleaded between swallows. “Tell my mother I'm not ready.”

Jane raised her gaze to Cal's.

“His mother died more than six years ago,” he told her.

“He's hallucinating,” she explained. “We need to get him out of here. The sooner the better.”

“How?” The truck was parked some distance away, and Cal was aware it would be nearly impossible to move him.

“He's lost consciousness,” Jane said.

“His right leg's broken.”

“I suspect internal injuries, as well.”

“How are we going to trans port him?” Cal asked, seeking her advice. His biggest fear was that moving Richard, especially in his frail condition, might kill him. Cal didn't need Richard Weston's death on his conscience.

“We have to get help,” Jane said, and while her voice was calm, he sensed the urgency in her words. “Leave me here and go back to town. Have Sheriff Hennessey call for a medevac.
His injuries are far too extensive for me to handle. He's going to have to be air lifted out of here.”

“You'll be all right alone?” he asked, getting to his feet.

She nodded, then looked up at him. “Hurry,” she said. “I don't think he'll last much longer.”

Cal sprinted out of the hotel, running through the brush and up the hill as fast as he could force his legs to move. He didn't like the idea of leaving Jane in Bitter End, but he didn't have a choice.

By the time he reached the pickup, he was panting and breathless. Sweat poured off his brow as he leaped into the cab and fired the engine to life.

He drove to the highway at a speed far too great for the terrain, and the truck's jolting threw him repeatedly and painfully against the door. Bruises, however, were a small price to pay for saving a man's life.

No sooner had he reached the highway than two patrol cars came into view, their lights flashing. Cal pressed his hand on the horn and slammed on the brakes. He screeched to a stop, swerving partway into the other lane.

Frank Hennessey was out of his patrol car in seconds. “This damn well better be good,” he yelled.

“Richard Weston,” Cal said, hopping out of the pickup. “At Bitter End. He's injured badly.”

To Cal's surprise Savannah and Grady got out of the patrol car, as well.

“So he's holed up in Bitter End?” The question came from Grady.

“Yes. Jane and I were there. We found him. Apparently he was on the stairway in the hotel when it collapsed. He's in bad shape—broken leg, internal injuries.”

“Oh, no!” Savannah covered her mouth.

“We shouldn't try to move him. We'll need to arrange for a chopper—he's got to be air lifted out.”

Frank was already reaching for his radio, barking out orders.

Cal felt Savannah studying him. All he could say was, “Jane's there. She knows what to do.”

He wanted to reassure Savannah that everything would be fine, but he couldn't. He had no way of knowing what had happened since he left the town. From what he'd seen of Richard, and from what Jane had said, it didn't look promising. Cal knew that despite the things her brother had done, Savannah still loved him.

“How is he really?” Grady asked him privately.

“Not good.” No point hiding the truth from Grady. They'd been friends since child hood, and Grady counted on him for the truth. “I don't know if he's going to make it, so prepare yourself for the worst.”

Grady nodded and moved away. “Maybe it'd be best if we called in Wade McMillen,” he said, wiping one hand down his face. “If there's time…”

Grady wanted to give his brother the chance to make his peace with God. Cal had his doubts. Richard had always been unrepentant. Worse, he was un conscious, possibly dying, and nothing short of a miracle would save him now.

Cal suspected that the following hours would repeat themselves in his mind for years to come. Because of the fresh tire tracks left in the soft ground, Cal was able to lead Sheriff Hennessey, Grady and Savannah to Bitter End. The second patrol car returned to Promise for Wade McMillen. If Richard wasn't in need of the pastor's comfort, then Savannah and Grady would be.

Cal's biggest concern wasn't for Richard. Instead, his thoughts were on Jane. He'd hated like hell to leave her,
knowing how uneasy she'd felt in the ghost town. Damn Richard Weston. If he died, leaving Jane alone with a dead man in the middle of that empty town, he'd never forgive the bastard.

As it turned out, Richard was still clinging to life when they reached Bitter End. Grady and Savannah immediately besieged Jane with questions about their brother.

Cal stepped out of the way and watched as Jane skillfully reassured them. She'd been busy while he was away, Cal noticed. Even without medical equipment, Jane had worked to save Richard Weston's life. She'd created a make shift splint for his leg and managed to shift him onto his side. She'd monitored his pulse and his breathing.

Frank put out a red flare for the helicopter, and it seemed no time at all before he heard the distinctive sound of the blades.

With Jane's help, the medics loaded Richard onto a stretcher and hooked him up to an emergency oxygen supply. Cal and Frank cleared a path, then Richard was carried to the helicopter.

His injuries were determined to be too extensive for the hospital in Brewster, and he was trans ported to Austin, instead. If he lasted that long, Cal thought grimly. It would be touch and go.

Because of the limited space aboard the helicopter, Jane wouldn't be traveling with them.

They all stood back as the chopper rose, carrying Richard Weston away. Cal placed his arm around Jane's shoulders and felt her trembling.

“Whatever happens is out of my hands now,” she whispered.

Cal pressed his chin against the top of her head. “You did everything you could.”

“I know.” She glanced up and down the streets of Bitter End.

“I don't want to come back here,” she said with vehemence.

“Ever!”

Cal couldn't agree with her more.

 

I
T WAS A DAY
F
RANK
H
ENNESSEY
would long remember. Richard Weston, if he lived, faced twenty years behind bars without the possibility of parole. Richard deserved that prison sentence, but Frank felt bad for Grady and Savannah.

Wade McMillen had counseled both of them. Frank never had been one to attend church, but he liked and respected Reverend McMillen. As long as Wade didn't preach at him, then Frank wouldn't quote the law at him, either. In a situation like this, he figured, the reverend provided a service nobody else could. Including the sheriff.

Frank was with the brother and sister when the phone rang about eight that night. Grady leaped on it, and after the initial greeting, glanced across the room where Savannah sat with Laredo.

He nodded and murmured a handful of thank-yous before replacing the receiver. “That was the hospital in Austin,” Grady announced. His words had everyone's attention.

“He's going to make it,” Grady said, and his voice cracked. When Caroline put her arm around him, Grady clung to her tightly.

Savannah burst into tears and hugged her husband.

Frank didn't want to be the one to remind them that once Richard had recovered, he'd be placed in a maximum-security prison. If Frank hadn't disliked the man already, what Richard had said to Maggie to prevent her telling anyone where she'd been would have done it.

Since the deputy who'd driven Wade McMillen out to the
Yellow Rose had already left, Frank drove the reverend back to town.

They chatted amicably, sharing insights and theories about the youngest Weston's personality. Frank dropped Wade off, then, on impulse, drove past Dovie's house.

He wasn't sure what he intended to do. Probably nothing. A few weeks ago he would've been spending this night with her. She would probably have waited up for him, brewing a pot of coffee in case he wanted to talk, which he almost always did. He missed those times with Dovie. Despite everything, he missed her more rather than less with each day that passed. As he'd expected, her lights were out. She might be asleep—or on that cruise she'd mentioned. He'd for got ten the exact date she was supposed to go—although Louise Powell and Tammy Lee could no doubt have told him.

With a heavy heart he turned the corner, and that was when he saw the Realtor's sign. His heart felt as if it'd taken a ten-story tumble. She hadn't been bluffing when she said she'd leave Promise. He stared at the sign, shaken and hurt, trying to imagine Promise without Dovie.

Two days later Frank sat in the café at the bowling alley drinking a mug of coffee. His dour mood had kept his friends at bay. Anyone looking for idle conversation sought out someone else.

He noticed with something of a shock that Wade McMillen had slipped into the seat across from him.

Frank scowled. “I don't remember asking for company.”

“You didn't, but I decided to join you, anyway.” Wade raised his hand to attract the waitress's attention. Neither spoke again until she'd brought his coffee.

“Look, if you're interested in scintillating conversation, I'd be happy to steer you else where. I'm not in the mood.”

“So I noticed, Sheriff. Something on your mind?”

He had to give the preacher credit for guts. “As it happens, there is.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

Wade studied him. “I don't suppose this has something to do with Dovie Boyd.”

“Why? Did she come and cry on your shoulder?” Frank muttered angrily.

“Nope. Dovie didn't say a word.”

“Then how'd you know?”

Wade smiled, and it was the knowing grin of an observant man. “You might say
you
told me, Frank.”

“Me?”

“You've been down in the mouth for weeks. The way I figure it, you can trust me enough to help or you can sit in the café and stare at the wall.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yup.”

Wade certainly didn't pull his punches, Frank thought. “It's not going to do any good to discuss it. My mind's made up. Besides, I already know what you're going to say.”

“Do you, now.” The knowing smile was back in place.

If Frank hadn't liked the other man so much, he might have been irritated. “You're a preacher.”

“Yes, but I'm also a man,” Wade told him.

Frank sighed deeply. “Dovie wants me to marry her.”

“And you don't love her?”

“Wrong,” he snapped. “I love her so damn much I can hardly think straight anymore. We had a good thing, the two of us. I spent the night with her a couple times a week, and we had one of the best damn relationships I've ever had. I always had this sort of vague thought that one day we'd get
married—and then I realized I couldn't. I just could not go through with it,” he said slowly, shaking his head. “As soon as I told her the truth, it was over. Just like that. Hell, if I'd lied to her, she'd never have known the difference. A lot of good being honest did me.” He suspected his words had shocked the minister, and that was exactly what he wanted. To Frank's surprise Wade didn't so much as blink.

“You love her, but you don't want to marry her.”

“Yes,” Frank said more loudly than he intended.

“Any reason?”

“I've got a long list,” Frank muttered.

“I'm not going anywhere,” Wade said.

Frank wished he would. Wade McMillen wasn't going to tell him anything he didn't already know. He wasn't going to offer a quick solution to a complex problem. If anything, he'd make Frank feel even guiltier for not marrying Dovie.

“You enjoy your freedom,” Wade said. “A man who's been a bachelor all these years is set in his ways.”

“Exactly.” Frank was impressed at Wade's understanding. “I happen to like the way I live, and much as I love Dovie, I don't want a woman messing with how I do things.”

“I'm a bachelor myself,” Wade reminded him.

“If I want to belch after dinner, I don't need to worry about offending a woman. I can hang around the house in my under wear if I feel like it. I can pile up all my papers and magazines and read them all at once without hearing about the mess.”