Trusting Them

MARLA MONROE

Copyright © 2011

Chapter One

“Ah, hell.” Brock snapped off the radio. The weather station was predicting a blizzard, just like old man Gunthrie had warned them about back at the store. They were on their way back home from Denton, Montana, the closest town to their ranch. They still had another thirty minutes before they made it home.

“It’s too early for a blizzard,” Brady, Brock’s younger brother, groused.

“Yeah, well. Nature likes to play games. We’ll have to see about the horses when we get back.” Brock fought the wind as it picked up.

“I guess it’s a good thing we decided to go into town today instead of putting it off ‘til tomorrow.” Brady leaned forward in his seat.

Brock figured he was right about that. They were probably going to be stuck at the ranch for the next few days. The supplies would come in handy. He did like milk with his cereal in the mornings, and they had been mighty short on coffee as well. You couldn’t live without coffee.

“Think it will be a big one?” Brady asked.

“Don’t know. Gunthrie sure thought so.”

“Damn.”

Brock peered through the thickening snow, trying to make sure he stayed on the road. So far, they hadn’t encountered any ice. Still, they had a few more miles to go until they reached their drive. He didn’t take chances when it came to nature. She was a fickle bitch.

“Hey, what’s that?” Brady said.

Brock saw a flash of color ahead and steered around it, trying to break without sliding. Whatever it was, it didn’t move.

“Better move whatever it is out of the middle of the road, or someone might hit it and wreck.” Brock hit his hazard lights and fought to open the door against the wind.

Brady followed him on the other side of the truck. They reached the object in the middle of the road at the same time.

“Fuck!” Brock sank to his knees next to the body lying in the road. “I almost hit a person.”

Brady bent over and brushed the snow off the body. Beneath lay the body of a young woman.

“Is she alive?” Brady asked.

Brock reached beneath the collar of her coat and felt for a pulse. There—thready, but present.

“Barely. Let’s get her in the truck.”

“What if she’s got internal injuries?” Brady had to yell over the whining wind.

“She’s going to die out here anyway if we don’t get her warmed up pretty damn quick.”

Brock reached beneath her and picked her up. She weighed little to nothing. Brady helped him stay on his feet and make it to the truck.

“Get inside. I’m going to hand her to you. I’ll turn the heater on high, and maybe we can keep her alive ‘til we get home.”

Brady opened the door and climbed inside the cab. Brock handed his charge over to him and closed the door. Then he made his way around the front of the truck using the grill on the front to pull himself along. He climbed in and turned the heater on full blast. The drive back to the ranch took much too long. It wouldn’t do any of them any good for him to run off the road, so he drove slowly, watching for their mailbox in the driving snow.

As soon as he located the bright blue box, he turned down the winding drive with trees on either side. They helped to block some of the wind and snow. He still had to be careful not to run off the road, but the gravel drive helped give him traction. It seemed like hours before they made it to the house.

“We’ll have to unload tomorrow. The milk will be fine out here. It will freeze. The horses have plenty to eat. I would feel better if we could check on them, though.” Brock looked over at their patient and shook his head.

“Ready?” he asked his brother.

“As ready as I can be. You come around, and I’ll hand her down to you.”

Brock jumped out of the truck and struggled around to the passenger side to take charge of the woman. Brady handed her down to him and then followed his brother to the back door. They rarely locked the door, which was a good thing tonight. Brock struggled through the increasing wind and snow to the back door. Brady helped get her inside, and then they carried her upstairs to the master bedroom neither of them used.

“Pull back the covers. We need to get her out of these wet clothes and warm her up.”

Brock laid her across the foot of the bed and unwrapped the blanket. Her dark fiery red hair, though tangled, looked to fall a little past her shoulders. With her eyes closed he didn’t know what color they were, but he figured with her delicate pale skin they would be blue or green. She couldn’t be much over five feet three or four inches tall. She was a tiny thing with a pert little nose and a sprinkling of freckles across it.

He began undressing her. He hesitated at removing her underwear but knew he had to. Finally, he had her totally nude. A pale blue hue colored her skin. He felt guilty for admiring her lush breasts and gently rounded stomach. He tucked her in the bed and turned on the electric blanket. They piled another blanket on top of the comforter.

“Did you see the bruises on her? She looks like she was hit by a car,” Brady said.

“I didn’t hit her. I stopped before I did. I sure hope she doesn’t have any internal injuries. We can’t get her to a hospital in this weather. Even if we could get the ambulance out here, she has to warm up enough to live until they get here.”

Brock felt an odd attachment to her. If he didn’t know any better, he would say possessiveness. She felt like she belonged to him—to both of them. He placed a hand on her cheek and found it still cold. He checked her pulse and found it wasn’t any better.

“She’s not warming up, Brady. Strip and get in bed with her. It’s going to take both of us to warm her up fast enough she doesn’t die on us.” Brock started shucking his clothes.

His brother joined him under the covers about the same time. They settled down on either side of her.

“Good God, she’s cold as a block of ice. I’m going to freeze my nuts off,” Brady complained. He didn’t move away from her though. Instead, he pulled her closer to him, causing Brock to scoot closer to keep his body in contact with hers.

“Turn her on her side. You back up against her, and I’ll face her back. We’ll get more skin covered that way,” Brock said.

What seemed like hours later, she began to warm up between them. Sweat began to drip from their faces under the heat of the electric blanket. If it hadn’t been for her cold body between them, they would have burned alive. As she warmed up, it got more and more uncomfortable. They sighed in gratitude when she finally moaned. She twisted and attempted to turn over.

“Easy there, honey,” Brock soothed.

She moaned again and turned over this time. They let her and waited as her eyelids fluttered. Then her eyelids snapped open, and she screamed.

* * * *

Both men jumped out of the bed. She grabbed the cover before it fell any further down and pulled it up to her chin.

“What…” She coughed and cleared her throat. “What am I doing here?”

“I found you out in the road in the snow. You were just about frozen solid. We were getting you warmed up,” Brock explained.

“Naked?”

“Skin to skin is the best way to warm someone up fast. We wore our underwear,” Brady pointed out.

“I don’t have mine on!” she said.

“It was wet.” Brock tried again to explain as he reached for his clothes and began pulling on his jeans.

Brady followed suit. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got run over by a truck.” She touched the side of her face and winced.

Brock noticed her head wound had begun to ooze blood now that she had warmed up.

“I nearly hit you, but I didn’t. Do you remember anything at all?” Brock asked.

“Not really.” She hesitated and looked away from them.

Brock could tell she was lying about that. “Do you remember your name?”

“Of course. It’s Jeni. Jennifer Hampton.”

“I’m Brock Montclief and this is my brother, Brady.”

They were both dressed now, and she looked a little more at ease.

“What is the last thing you remember?” his brother asked.

“I was going to see a friend. I was planning to stay with her for awhile. She lives outside of Billings. I remember packing the car and gassing up and…that’s really all I remember until now.” She didn’t look at them as she spoke.

Brock was almost positive she was lying about something. They had no way to check out her name since she didn’t have a purse with her. Or at least he hadn’t seen one when he picked her up out of the snow.

She started coughing. Brock and Brady exchanged worried glances.

“You need to be in a hospital, but I’m not sure we can get you to one tonight. We’re in for a blizzard and the nearest town is an hour away. We would never make it in this weather.” Brock watched her face as it paled a little.

“We can call your friend while we still have phones.” Brady picked up the phone from the bedside table and handed it to her.

She looked at it for a moment, then dialed a number and put it to her ear. She seemed to listen for several seconds, then pushed the button to turn it off and handed it back. She made sure she had the covers up to her neck.

“There was no answer.”

Brady took the phone and sat it back in its cradle.

Brock grunted. He didn’t believe her. Why not leave a message? Everyone had answering machines now.

Brady walked over to the master bath. “I’m going to run a bath. You need to warm up some more, and the water will feel good to those cuts and bruises.”

Brock nodded. It was a good idea. “We’ll have something for you to put on when you get ready to get out.”

Brady returned a few minutes later and announced the water was ready. She looked pointedly at them, and they realized she was waiting for them to leave.

“I’m going to leave the door cracked in case you need anything. Just call out and we’ll hear you,” Brock told her.

He and Brady turned and walked out the door, leaving her alone in the bedroom. They went back downstairs to the living room to talk.

“She’s getting sick already,” Brady observed.

“Yeah.” Brock walked over to the phone and picked it up. He hit redial and listened. The operator came on and said he had dialed a number that was disconnected and no longer in service.

“What?” Brady asked.

Brock held out the phone and let Brady listen.

“That’s the number she dialed. She’s lying to us.” Brock took the phone back and hung it up.

“But why?”

“I think she’s running from something or someone. Some of those bruises look old to me,” Brock said.

“She doesn’t trust us.” Brady looked back towards the staircase. “You think someone hurt her?”

“Seems likely.”

“What are we going to do with her?” Brady asked.

“Keep her well if we can until this blizzard blows over. Then I guess it will depend on her.”

“Brock, do you feel anything odd?”