Texas True (9 page)

“Talk about being in the right place at the right time. I had stopped by the call center when they got the word that Will had been snakebit. Few minutes later we heard that Natalie was making a mercy run to bring her supply of antivenin.” He absently shifted the holstered pistol to a more comfortable position. “I figured she could make the drive quicker, with fewer incidents, if she had an official escort.” A dark eyebrow shot up. “Can you imagine a hospital in Texas running out of such a thing? 'Course, it is spring, and the rattlers are coming out of their dens all cranky and hungry.”

“How's Will?” Natalie inserted.

“Not good,” Beau admitted.

Immediately she struck out for the automatic door to the ER. “I brought six vials. It was all I had.” She tossed the information over her shoulder as the door opened ahead of her.

Beau followed her inside while the sheriff trailed both of them. In short order, they located a nurse. Natalie passed the cooler to her and dug a folded piece of paper from her pocket.

“I'll need someone to sign this, accepting the transfer of the vials,” she told the nurse.

“I'll get it signed and bring it right back to you,” the nurse promised after a brief scan of the unfolded paper.

“I'd like to see my brother,” Beau said.

“Not yet.” The nurse smiled her regret. “When we have him stabilized, somebody will come and get you.”

It wasn't exactly the answer he wanted, but grudgingly Beau accepted it, holding his silence when the nurse walked away.

“He's going to be fine now, Beau,” Natalie assured him.

“Thanks to you.” He glanced at the woman standing at his side and experienced a prick of conscience. “Sorry, I should have said that sooner. Heaven knows you didn't have to volunteer to bring it to the hospital.”

“Will is my friend,” she said with quick emphasis. “You do things like this for friends.”

On the surface she seemed to be using friendship to justify her actions. But Beau had the impression she was using it to keep him at a distance.

“You're right, of course,” he agreed, and smiled to himself, certain there had never been anything remotely platonic about their feelings toward each other in the past. And that was still true today, no matter how much she might try to convince herself to the contrary.

“Hey, you two!” the sheriff called to them from a small alcove outside the waiting room. “I just brewed some fresh coffee. Want a cup?
^”

“I could definitely use a cup.” Natalie was quick to accept the offer as she turned from Beau and started across the space to the alcove.

“Make that two cups.”

After passing a Styrofoam cup of steaming coffee to Natalie, Hoyt Axelrod filled one for Beau. “I heard you hadn't taken the flight back to D.C. like you planned.” He handed him the second cup and picked up his own.

“Will was short-handed and faced with spring roundup. Since I was entitled to two weeks' bereavement, I decided to take it and help him out.”

“Turned out to be a good thing you did or you wouldn't have been on hand when he got snakebit.” Axelrod hooked a thumb over his belt and leaned a husky shoulder against the wall.

“I guess you're right.” Beau blew on the coffee's steaming surface and inhaled its rich aroma.

“Have you talked to Tori?” Natalie inserted.

“I called, but it went straight to voice mail. I left word for her to call me as soon as she got my message. So far, nothing.”

“I keep thinking about Erin, how upset she'll be and worried about her dad,” Natalie murmured.

Beau started to pull out his cell phone to try Tori again, but stopped when he saw the doctor, a sturdy, balding man in green scrubs, pushing his way through the swinging doors. He walked straight to them.

“Here's your receipt, Dr. Haskell.” He handed a sheet to Natalie, showing the respect of one professional to another before turning to Beau.

“How's my brother?”

“We've got him on the antivenin, as well as some fluids and Dilaudid for the pain. There's no reason he shouldn't make a full recovery, but it won't happen overnight. He'll need to be here several days, then rest at home until the swelling goes down. That could take as long as a month.”

Relief sagged through Beau, even as he recognized that Will was in for a miserable time. And he would be hell to live with until he was back on his feet.

“Is he awake?” Beau asked. “Can I see him now?”

“He's groggy, mostly because of the pain meds. But he's alert enough to know what's going on. You can see him, but no more than a minute or two,” the doctor warned. “He needs to rest and let the antivenin do its work.”

Stepping into the alcove, Beau set his cup of coffee on the counter. Natalie laid a delaying hand on his arm when he started past her. “Let Will know we're all thinking of him,” she said.

“Will do,” Beau promised, then sensed there was something she wasn't saying. “Are you leaving?”

“That new registered bull the Caulfields bought last week is running a fever. I got a call when I was halfway here,” she explained. “They're keeping him isolated until I can get there and check him out.”

Some inner sense alerted Beau to the close way Hoyt Axelrod was observing the two of them. As jealous as Natalie's husband seemed to be, Beau knew he needed to be circumspect and not add any fuel to the gossip mill.

“I know I've said thanks, but I mean it.”

“I know.” Her smile was stiff as if she, too, was aware of the sheriff 's presence.

Turning, Beau followed the doctor into the ICU and down the row of small, white cubicles. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of his brother, propped in a narrow bed with an IV and catheter tubes, oxygen lines, and beeping monitors connected to his body. His face was a stranger's, flushed and puffy. His bitten leg, swollen like a log, was covered with a sheet.

“You look like hell,” Beau said, knowing that Will wouldn't want to be pitied or fussed over.

Will's purpled lips stretched in a grimace. “A damn sight better'n
you
did that time you bashed in a hornet's nest. Come here.”

Beau leaned over the bed, hiding the rush of emotion he didn't want Will to see.

“Go home now.” Will's voice was hoarse, his speech slurred. “You can't do a blasted thing for me here, but I need you at the ranch to see that things get looked after. Understand?”

“I do. But Sky's more competent to run the ranch than I am. He'll manage things fine.”

“Sky's good at his job, but he isn't a Tyler. It's you I want runnin' the place till I'm on my feet.” Will's voice had deepened to a growl. “Promise me you'll do it.”

“Fine, I'll do it. But you promise me something. The more you rest, the sooner you can come home. I need to know you're taking it easy and letting these good people take care of you.”

“All right.” His jaw tightened as he shifted in the bed. “Now get going before that battle-ax of a nurse throws you out of here.” Will's voice had begun to strain and fade. Realizing he'd stayed long enough, Beau turned to leave. That was when he heard a commotion in the hall.

“You can't go back there, ma'am.” It was the nurse Will had just mentioned. “The doctor said—”

“I don't care what he said! Get out of my way!” The door swung open and Tori burst into the room. Dressed in her black court suit with a fuchsia-pink silk blouse, she was wind-tousled and out of breath, as if she'd crossed the parking lot at a dead run in her high stilettos.

The sight of Will stopped her in her tracks. “Oh, good Lord,” she breathed.

Will managed a grin. “Tori, honey,” he drawled. “You look like a chocolate-dipped strawberry. Sorry I can't get up and take a nibble.”

She glanced sharply at Beau. “Is he drunk?”

“It's the pain meds,” Beau said.

Bunching her fists on her slender hips, she glowered at her ex-husband. “You should've been more careful, Will Tyler!” she snapped. “How could you have let this happen?”

“You could ask the snake, but he's blown to bloody . . . bits.” Will grimaced, unable to keep up the pretense that he wasn't in excruciating pain.

Tori, Beau noticed, was trembling on her high heels. Glancing around the tiny room, he spotted a folding chair and set it up next to the bed. As she moved past him to sit, he glimpsed tears in her eyes.

What happened between these two people who still clearly love each other?

“Does Erin know?” Will asked.

“Only the little I was able to tell her. She's sleeping over with a friend tonight. But I know she's worried about you.”

“She mustn't come. It'd only upset her. Just tell her I'm doing fine.”

“Are
you doing fine, Will?” Her hand crept across the sheet to rest on his.

Something glimmered in one swollen eye. “Don't worry your pretty head about me, girl. I'm too mean and ugly to die.” His gaze shifted to Beau, who stood in the doorway. “Get going, man. I'm here with a beautiful woman, and you've got a ranch to run.”

Beau headed back to the waiting room, reassured that Will was in good hands. Tori would keep an eye on him, and heaven help anybody who tried to remove her from his bedside before she was ready to leave.

To Beau's surprise, the sheriff was still there, over by the coffeepot in the alcove. “I didn't expect you to still be here, Sheriff.”

“I was just getting me a cup for the road.” He popped a lid onto a cup. “How's the patient?”

“Well enough to give orders. Tori's with him.”

The sheriff nodded. “Yeah, I saw her come flying through and charge on back.”

“I need to head back to the ranch. Any chance I can ride that far with you?”

“I don't see why not. You're a fellow man of the law,” he replied with a shrug.

“I appreciate it. I'm ready if you are.”

“Let's go.” The sheriff headed for the exit, cup in hand.

 

Sky scanned the rugged canyon pastureland, his gaze lingering on the mesquite thickets where cattle might still be hiding. Most people thought cows were dumb, and maybe they were in the ways humans measured intelligence. But long ago their ancestors had been wild, and the old survival instincts were still there, buried deep in their genes. They were smart enough to hide, and to hide well.

The roundup was organized to cover one section of the ranch at a time. When the hands finished clearing the cattle out of an area, they moved, along with everything they needed, to the next site. This lower pasture, on the border of the ranch, was one of the larger sections. It was a grueling place to work cows because of the brush, which would need to be chained and burned over the summer while the cattle were gone.

Now, after three days, the work here was almost finished. One more sweep to gather any loose animals and the branding fire would be doused, the equipment loaded onto trucks, and the whole operation moved to a new spot.

It was the custom to change horses after lunch. Sky had chosen a sturdy buckskin from his string in the remuda. With the cowhands mounted once more, he directed them to spread along the outer boundaries of the pasture and work their way toward the center, driving the last of the cattle ahead of them. He and Lute would check the bog at the lowest corner. Calves had been known to wander into the morass of reeds and cattails and get mired in the sucking mud.

Motioning for Lute to follow, he nudged the horse to an easy trot. Lute had been slacking all day. Any other new hire would have been shown the gate, but Sky wanted to give the boy the same chance he'd been given. He remembered how he'd wandered onto the Rimrock Ranch years ago, young and scared and hungry, and how Bull Tyler had taken him in and given him work. This ranch could be Lute's one chance to make a decent future for himself.

Lute was family, more like a kid brother than a cousin. Sky barely remembered his own mother, who had died when he was three, and the nameless white man who'd fathered him was long gone. If his mother's brother hadn't given him a home, he'd have ended up a ward of the state.

Life in the big, unruly Fletcher clan had been far from perfect. The mother was a descendant of Comancheros, Mexicans who'd traded with the Indians for white captives to sell south of the border. Drinking, drugs, fights, and petty crimes were so commonplace in the family that Sky had come to accept these things as normal. But he'd always sensed that he was different, and he'd held himself apart.

At fifteen, after his uncle had belt-whipped his back to a mass of bloody welts, he'd run away and found a new life. The Tylers had been good to him, and Sky was loyal to the marrow of his bones. But he knew better than to think he could ever be one of them.

“I need to ask you something, Sky.” Lute, who'd been trailing behind, had caught up with him. “What can you tell me about girls?”

The question almost made Sky laugh. He'd dated some attractive ladies over the years, but they'd all ended up moving on. Not that he blamed them. Much as he enjoyed a good roll in the hay, he'd never had the time to invest in a serious relationship. Maybe he never would.

“Do I look like the right man to ask about girls?” he responded to Lute's query. “How many girls have you seen flocking around me, boy?”

“You're family. There's nobody else I can ask.”

Sky scanned the brush for any sign of a rusty-red coat. “So what exactly do you want me to tell you?”

“You know. How to make them like you. What to say. How you know when it's time to make a move.”

“So you've met a girl, have you?”

“Her name's Jess. She's a waitress at the Blue Coyote. Wears these sexy little pink boots. Last week she let me take her out for pizza, but I'd like to . . . you know.”

Sky groaned inwardly. He'd never been with Jess, but he could name a dozen men who had. Lute's naïve young heart was about to get stomped. The lesson would be bitter, but there was one only one way for him to learn it—on his own.