by Claire King
Daniel looked at her for a long moment. “I should kill you for this, you psychotic little bitch,” Daniel said calmly.
Lisa laughed bitterly. “You see what I mean?” she said to Grace. “You see that? I have a gun! A big-ass gun, that he taught me to shoot!” She shook the vial at them. “And enough of these anthrax spores to exterminate him and half this town. And he’s threatening to kill me?” She raised her hands as if in supplication, the gun turning on its side as she did. “Do you see what I mean? He’s got the biggest damned ego.” She shifted her attention back to Daniel. “Well, I have news for you, Danny,” she snarled. “I have done all of this to you without you even knowing it.” She laughed again, low, back in her throat, and Grace thought it sounded like a growl. “Without you even suspecting! You never would have figured any of it out if Grace hadn’t. How smart does that make you?”
“I never would have suspected you, Lisa. You’re family.”
Lisa took in a sharp breath, her eyes narrowing to slits. “That’s right,” she whispered. “I’m family.” She stepped forward, pushed the gun to Daniel’s nose. Grace let out a sobbing, terrified gasp and reached out, but Daniel caught her hand in his and squeezed. “I am a Cash. But am I a part of Cash Cattle, Incorporated? No. I wanted in, Daniel, and I was willing to buy my way in, but you wouldn’t let me.”
“Your father sold his shares, Lisa, before you were even born. The ranch belongs to my parents and Frank and me. And our children. It doesn’t belong to your side of the family, and hasn’t for a generation.”
“Because Uncle Howard stole the ranch away from Daddy and left me with nothing,” she spat, flecks of saliva spraying from her mouth onto Daniel’s composed face.
“My father kept your father from going to jail, Lisa.”
Lisa’s head jerked back. “That’s a lie.”
“No, it’s not.” Daniel coolly met her wild eyes over the barrel of the gun. “Uncle Moe and Dad were once equal partners in the ranch. But back before any of us were born, Uncle Moe forged Dad’s name on federal farm relief applications, about a hundred thousand dollars’ worth, that the ranch didn’t legally qualify for. When the government guys figured it out, they put a lien on the ranch and issued a warrant to arrest Uncle Moe for felony fraud. Dad went to his in-laws, scraped together enough money to pay off the lien and the fines and kept him out of jail. In return, Uncle Moe signed over his shares in the ranch. It left Dad about six thousand in equity short, but he managed.”
“You liar!” Lisa screamed.
“It was what Uncle Moe wanted, Lisa. I’ve seen the papers. Didn’t you ever ask him?”
“Of course I did! He spent hours talking to me about it. How he wanted to pass Cash Cattle on to me when he died, but Uncle Howard had stolen that dream from him to give to you and Frank. Because you were boys. Sons! Because I was just a girl.”
“He lied.”
“Daddy didn’t lie,” Lisa said. “Daddy never lied.” Her hands were shaking now, and Grace was terrified the gun would go off in her hand, and the little bottle of death would pop open on the cold linoleum. They were thrust in front of Daniel’s face now like the twin heads of a striking snake. “Daddy was an honest man.”
“Lisa,” Grace said. “Pull yourself together. Give me the gun and that vial before you make this any worse on yourself.”
But Lisa kept her wild gaze pinned on her cousin. “You think you’re smarter than everyone. But I’m smarter. Both you and Frank are ruined now, and nothing can save either one of you.”
“What have you done to Frank?”
“You should see yourself, Danny. You’re white as a ghost.”
“What have you done?”
“I told you. He’s an addict, Danny.” Lisa smiled wickedly. “I started dealing to him right after his wife and kid died. Just a little something to help him get over the pain, at first. But, God, it was easy to get him on the stronger stuff, Sara and Cody dying like they did. He took to drug abuse like a calf to the bottle.”
Daniel moved then, so fast that later, when Grace was alone, she could not even reconstruct it. His hand came up as a raw, deadly sound erupted from his throat. The noise was guttural, paralyzing, but Grace forced herself to move, too, and grabbed at the vial in Lisa’s hand as Daniel twisted his cousin’s wrist.
Grace heard the distinctive sound of bone snapping at the same moment the gun went off, deafening her, burning her nostrils.
Both Daniel and Lisa dropped to the floor. Grace didn’t scream, though it occurred to her she should. If Lisa had put a bullet into Daniel Cash, that deserved some significant screaming. But she was busy now, she thought absurdly. She’d scream later.
“Daniel!”
“I’m okay, Grace.”
“Oh, my God.” She went to her knees beside them, slipping the vial of anthrax safely into the pocket of her coat as she dropped.
Lisa sat back on her butt, holding her wrist. The look on her face was one of complete surprise. She stared at Daniel. “You broke my wrist,” she whispered.
“I should do more than that for what you did to Frank,” he replied. He had the gun now, was holding it against his thigh as he knelt beside Grace. He glanced at her. “Did you get it?”
Grace nodded. She was certain she’d never been so frightened in her life, was sure she would be unable to speak coherently for at least a week.
“Call the police.”
Grace nodded frantically again. She crawled over to the desk, pulled at the cord until the phone came clattering to the floor.
“And call Frank and my folks.”
“Okay.”
“Uh, honey?”
Grace looked over at him. “What, Daniel?”
“Before you do that, could you come get this gun?”
Her pretty brown eyes went wide with apprehension. “Why?” She asked, scrambling over to him. He had his free hand at the base of his throat, checking his own pulse.
“Because, evidently,” he said evenly, “I’m about to pass out.”
He handed her the gun, and went down like a redwood.
Grace wasn’t there when Daniel woke up in the hospital bed, but everyone else in Nobel was, or so it seemed. He saw his mother’s face first, of course; it hovered inches above his and she was whispering frantically to God, to him, to everyone she could think of who might help.
“Mom,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse and weak to his own ears. “I’m awake now. You can stop praying on top of me.”
“Oh, Danny,” she wailed, and he was saved from her catapulting herself over the bed rails only by his father grasping the waistband of her trousers and yanking her to her feet.
“You’ll smash the boy,” he said, then shouldered past his wife to peer into his son’s eyes. “Daniel,” he said slowly. “Can you hear me?”
He moved his head so he could see past his loitering parents. Where was Grace? “From the pain in my shoulder, Dad, I’m assuming the bullet didn’t hit my ears.”
“Well, you’ve been out for over an hour, and the doctor said you lost a lot of blood,” his mother said, grasping his hand.
“He said ‘some’ blood, Liz,” Howard corrected. “Not a lot.”
“Well, how much do you think is a lot when it comes to our own children, Howard?” she asked huffily. “Doesn’t he look pale enough? You want me to stab him with my hatpin so he can lose enough blood so you can take it seriously that your own son has been shot?”
“You don’t wear a hatpin, you deranged woman,” his father muttered in response.
“Uh, Mr. Cash?” A deputy of the Nobel sheriff’s department squeezed in beside his parents, further blocking Daniel’s view of the room. Daniel knew Grace had to be here somewhere. She wouldn’t just leave him here with these crazy people, would she?
“Oh, go away, Delvin,” Liz scolded. “He doesn’t want to talk to you now. Can’t you see how pale he is?”
“Liz, the man’s just doing his job. Daniel’s tougher than to let some old b
ullet wound slow him down, aren’t you, son?”
“Does anyone know where Grace—” Daniel began, but his mother was too busy chiding her husband to pay attention.
“Yes, John Wayne. I’m sure you’re right. Why don’t we just tie him to his horse and let him ride off into the sunset? Would that be tough enough for you?”
The deputy, reluctant but determined, tried to interrupt. “I just need to take a preliminary statement. Dr. McKenna gave me one downstairs—”
Daniel frowned. “Is she still here?”
“Delvin Shutte, you’re not taking this boy’s statement. He’s too weak,” his mother insisted.
“He isn’t weak,” Howard shouted. “You think the boy is weak?”
“Oh, for crying out loud. Just shoot him again! It seems like that’s the only thing that will satisfy you!”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Elizabeth—”
“Frank,” Daniel barked when he saw his brother standing in the doorway. Frank grinned at him sympathetically and then maneuvered his way past the protective trio. They didn’t notice, but continued to argue rather loudly regarding Daniel’s ability to speak at the moment.
“You okay?” Frank asked.
“Where’s Grace?”
“She left the hospital about ten minutes ago. She’s gone out to the ranch to talk to Phil Brown and his buddies from Animal Industries.”
“Dammit, she shouldn’t be walking around on that ankle.”
Frank shrugged. “Can’t tell the woman anything, Danny.”
“I need to see her,” he said. Lord, that was an under-statement. He needed her to get through a day, to breathe, to live. He was only just realizing it. “Can you find her, bring her back here?”
Frank shook his head. “I don’t think so. She’s pretty well determined to get this all cleared up.”
Daniel frowned absently at his now fully engaged parents. Between them, they’d soon have half the hospital staff in here arguing over his stupid shoulder. “She’s too tired to go out to the ranch tonight. She needs to go home, get some sleep.”
“I’m not her daddy, and neither are you.”
“I’ve got to talk to her,” Daniel said. He ignored the burning in his chest and shoulder and tried to raise himself up off the bed. His parents and the deputy did not notice, but his brother put a wide palm across his forehead and pressed him back into the pillow.
“I don’t think so.”
“It’s not that bad,” Daniel said, biting back a groan.
“You got hit point-blank with a .32 slug about two inches above your heart, fool. The back of your shoulder looks like hamburger where they dug it out. You’re not getting out of bed.”
“Well, hell!” Daniel closed his eyes, chewed for a moment on the inside of his cheek. The frustration of not being able to see her burned worse than the bullet wound. “Hell,” he rumbled again.
“I’ll go to her house in the morning. Haul her back here.”
“Why did she leave me?” Daniel asked, barely managing to not whine. His shoulder hurt, dammit, and he needed Grace.
Frank made a sucking sound with his tongue and teeth. “Reckon she wanted to get this all cleared up before you got out. She feels pretty responsible.”
“She isn’t responsible.”
“You’ve been telling her for weeks she was.”
“God,” Daniel muttered miserably. “I am a fool.”
“True, but it was her vet stamp, her employee.”
“Our cousin.” Daniel met Frank’s eyes. “Did Grace tell you everything?”
“Yeah.” Frank shook his head. “I didn’t have a clue Lisa resented us so much for having the ranch. She’s crazier than I thought, and I thought she was pretty crazy.”
“Where is she?”
“They have her in custody. After they patch up her arm, they’re taking her in.”
“I regret that. I didn’t mean to hurt her, I just wanted to save Grace.”
“You did, she said.”
Daniel dragged at his cheeks. “Then why isn’t she here?”
“You’ll have to ask her.”
“I will.” Daniel nodded, squinted up at the fluorescent lights above his bed. “I don’t think I can take it if she doesn’t stay with me, Frank.”
“She will,” he said. A corner of his mouth kicked wryly. “She has to do what you say. You’re Daniel Cash.”
Chapter 15
Grace carefully positioned her surgical instruments in their carrying case and put the case in the small cardboard box on the reception counter. She wasn’t taking much with her; the advertisement she’d placed in all the national veterinary magazines said the clinic came fully stocked. She wouldn’t be opening her own practice again. She could leave almost everything behind.
Oh, God. She leaned against the counter, closed her eyes. It was almost as painful giving up the practice as it was leaving Daniel.
She sighed heavily and pushed herself away from the counter, reaching for her crutches. One last look around, she decided. Make sure she hadn’t left anything behind but her heart.
She hitched her way through the front office, running a hand over the file cabinets she’d straightened that morning. She’d barely had a chance to meet any of the clients those files represented. Now, never would. She regretted that bitterly.
She checked the lab, locked it. The kennels had hardly been used, but she’d had them cleaned again in any case. Mrs. Handleman had come in to oversee it when she’d found out about Grace’s broken ankle. She’d been questioned by the police, was mortified beyond consolation to realize she’d let Lisa’s deception and gross misconduct slip past her watchful eye.
Grace shut the kennel door. The next dog or cat she doctored would be kept in someone else’s kennel for recovery and observation. She regretted that, too. She’d loved running her own show.
Her ankle throbbed as she made the final run-through. She’d rested it as much as she could stand, had been off it nearly all day yesterday as she’d slept off the effects of the hypothermia, the strain of the encounter with Lisa, and the aftermath of dealing with the Idaho Department of Agriculture Animal Industries Division. It had taken some persuading and half a dozen frantic phone calls to the state capital, but she was satisfied with the outcome of it all. Daniel’s ranch would be under scrutiny for a while, but he wouldn’t lose it.
Grace stopped in the hallway and stared unseeingly at the cool, clean linoleum floor. He’d been released from the hospital this morning. She hadn’t been able to keep herself from calling, checking on him. But she’d always spoken to a nurse, never to Daniel or his family. She didn’t think she could have stood it. They told her this morning that his brother had taken him home.
It was over. All of it. Her practice, her place in this community, her relationship with Daniel Cash. It seemed woefully unfair.
Well, she thought, straightening to full height, life was famous for being unfair. She’d have to find some way to go on.
Daniel watched her through the glass front door. She didn’t see him, and he speculated about what she was thinking. Him? Could she be thinking of him? Well, damn her if she wasn’t, he thought, scowling in at her. Because he’d been able to think of nothing but her since he’d awakened two days before in that hospital bed, shot through and miserable.
She came forward again, but didn’t notice him through the glass. What a pair they made, Daniel thought. He was bandaged from his shoulder to halfway down his chest, his arm in a sling, and he felt like hell. She was staggering around like a war victim and the shadows under her eyes made him think she hadn’t had nearly enough rest, no matter that he’d sent his brother out to spy on her and had been reassured she’d spent most of yesterday at home.
She picked up a roll of tape from the reception counter and pulled out a long piece. Daniel’s mouth dropped open as he watched her fumble with a box, barely managing to hold her crutches in her armpits as she secured the tape across an open box top.
&nbs
p; If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was packing.
Packing!
Well, hell. That was just great. He’d concede he’d been something of an idiot the past few weeks, but he was reasonably sorry about that and ready to admit it if pressed. It was no reason for her to be packing in any case.
Furthermore, he’d only come to the conclusion a couple days ago that he loved her more than his own life, more than anything, and that he very probably could not manage to exist on this planet without her, and here she was packing! The woman, damn her, had a lot of nerve taping up her life in a box and moving on.
Daniel had the strongest urge to kick in this door, as well. He’d take that stinking little box she was worrying over and toss it out into the street.
He didn’t do it, of course. He was trying to resist some of the baser urges this woman gave him, wasn’t he? He pounded on the glass with his fist instead.
Grace’s head snapped up and her eyes met his. Oh, dear, she thought, her heart leaping to her throat. There he is again.
She crutched her way to the door, twisted open the dead bolt.
“Daniel.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.
“I called your house, left a message for you.”
“I’ve been in the hospital,” he said, trying to keep the accusation out of his tone but not quite succeeding. Nothing in the world would have kept him from her side if she’d been shot, he thought, still cranky over it.
“I know. How’s your shoulder?”
As if you care, he almost whimpered, but kept himself from it at the last second, fearing he’d sound churlish. “It burns like hell,” he answered roughly, hoping she’d be impressed by his macho tone, “but no permanent damage.”
“Good.” She balled up the tape she’d been holding. It had stuck together when her hands had started to tremble.
“Nice of you to stop by,” he said testily. That one just slipped out.
She kept her head down. “I’m sorry. I’ve been very busy.”
“I can see that. What are you doing, Grace?” he repeated, spacing each word carefully to keep himself from shouting.