Sarge, in the bed next to his, was a lifelong military man who’d fought in the Great War. The man was crusty and slightly bitter, but Zane could sense him healing more than just physically. The man had told him about losing a hand to a grenade an eighteen-year-old newbie had accidentally pulled the pin on and set off. When Sarge was ready to leave, he had a choice of retiring from the military or going to a base in Washington where he could still train enlistees.
On the other side of Sarge, closest to the door, was Jimmy. The private seemed about as happy and carefree as anyone could be, but Zane knew from Billie’s letters the young man had lost both his legs. At one time she’d worried about the boy giving up his will to live. As he listened to Jimmy joke and tease the other patients, he knew it was because of the work Billie had done.
Being around her every day was both torturous and heavenly. He loved listening to her voice, hearing her laughter, picturing her smile. He could almost feel her presence before she set foot in the room. By now, he knew her footsteps, and, of course, he recognized her fragrance.
The moment she stepped into the room, the atmosphere changed, as though every single man there revered and respected her. Truthfully, it was more than that, but Zane couldn’t even put to words what that feeling encompassed.
All he knew was that Billie’s presence brought a lightness and brightness to these men they otherwise wouldn’t know. Billie was an excellent nurse, highly skilled and expertly trained, but it went far beyond her ability to help them heal physically. It rested in her ability to encourage the men, make them believe they could get better, be better.
Zane hated being blind. Hated being confined to his bed or at the mercy of someone to lead him around like a dog, but he had no choice in the matter. Unlike Rock who’d walked himself out of the hospital and to a better outcome for his life, Zane couldn’t even do that much.
Rock had been to see him three times in the past two weeks, and he was grateful for his friend’s presence.
When he’d come yesterday, Rock had brought him a few treats, and a wooden puzzle he could put together by feeling the tabs and slots as they slid into place. The puzzle at least gave him something challenging to do during hours of boredom, besides brood about his mistakes and regret his past.
He’d tried to pry more detail out of Rock about his wife, but the man had changed the subject quite abruptly. He didn’t know if Rock was already regretting his marriage, or what the problem could be. Had Rock made a hasty decision to wed based on his recent brush with death?
Thoughts of illness and death sent his mind chasing along a path guaranteed to put him in a maudlin mood. He’d finally been ready to read the details of the report about his plane crash just that morning. Since he couldn’t see, Billie had taken him to an exam room where he’d be able to have privacy and read it to him.
Zane knew he’d missed the runway and crashed in the jungle. What he didn’t know was that the plane had taken so many hits from enemy fire it had knocked out the engines and drained all the fuel.
So many other things were already malfunctioning on the plane due to a lack of parts and supplies, not to mention trained service crews, it was a wonder they’d made it back to the island at all.
When the plane crashed, a fiery ball had shot up, burning Zane’s eyes. Shrapnel from the torn hull of the plane had sliced through him and Bud, but Bud had survived.
Zane was sure all the other men on his plane had died, but he discovered the only casualty was poor Smitty who’d been in the belly turret. He’d been crushed the moment the plane hit the ground.
Unable to contain his emotion — a charged mixture of relief that so many of his men survived, and grief over the scrappy little gunner’s death, he barked at Billie to leave him alone. When she placed a hand on his arm in comfort, he’d brushed it off and yelled at her to get away from him.
She’d left him without saying another word. Ten minutes later, an orderly helped him back to his bed. That was right after breakfast and it was nearing time for supper. He’d had hours to mull over his need to apologize to her, if she returned to the room. Maybe she’d request someone else take over, or perhaps she’d have him moved to a different floor.
As much as he hated to admit it, he needed her daily visits, even more than the other men. In spite of everything, he thought of Billie as his.
“You have a visitor, Captain West,” a feminine voice said from the foot of Zane’s bed, pulling him from his thoughts. He recognized it as belonging to a young girl named Dorothy who volunteered at the hospital. If he hadn’t missed his guess, she was sweet on Jimmy and the feeling was returned ten-fold from the young private.
“Thank you, Dorothy,” he said, forcing a smile in the direction of where the girl spoke.
Zane pushed himself up against the headboard, glad his side no longer felt like someone constantly rammed a hot poker through it. Other than occasional twinges if he turned wrong and a bit of heat radiating from it, he thought it was healing quite nicely.
“Well, Two-Bit, what have ya done to yerself?” a nasally voice twanged from the end of his bed.
Panic, irritation, and fury rolled into one distasteful lump in his throat. Zane swallowed it down, sat up a little straighter and lifted his chin.
“Howdy, Floyd. What brings my big brother all the way from Texas?” Zane had no idea what dire calamity would have forced his brother to travel to Portland to see him. He knew he wasn’t dying. He was certain even his demise wouldn’t spur Floyd to travel that far.
“Well, shoot it all to heck and back again, Two-Bit. Yer as blind as a foggy-eyed frog. I reckon they ain’t been a lyin’ to me.”
Zane could feel a faint stirring of air in front of his face and assumed his brother was waving his hand in front of his eyes to make sure he couldn’t see. He resisted the urge to reach out and grab his brother’s hand, or punch Floyd in the nose.
Irritation swelled in him until he could hardly keep it subdued. “What do you want, Floyd? I know you didn’t come all the way here just to make sure I was receiving adequate care.”
Floyd laughed, an annoying sound that always reminded Zane of a witch’s cackle. “No beatin’ around the bush with ya, is there, boy?”
Zane barely refrained from grinding his teeth or clenching his jaw. “Just get to the point, Floyd.”
“Well, shoot, Two-Bit, it ain’t like ya can chase off somewhere. Seems to me ya got all the time in the world. ‘Sides, I ain’t clapped eyes on ya since Pa up and died.” Floyd’s weight settled on the edge of his mattress.
The mention of their father caused Zane to bristle. He fought the temptation of kicking his brother onto the floor. “Only because you chased me off the ranch and told me not to come back.”
Floyd released a sigh, the stink of his alcohol-laden breath tainting the air. “I may have been a bit hasty. After all, we’re family.”
Zane held his tongue and waited. Floyd was on a fishing expedition and he had no intention of taking the bait. His brother cleared his throat. Zane pictured him rubbing his fingers across the felt of the big ten-gallon hat he always wore.
“Ya never did answer my letter asking for ya to come back to the ranch and help. We lost all the hands to the war except ol’ Darnell and Cookie. They’ve both been picking up the slack.”
Zane had loved the foreman and bunkhouse cook as though they were his uncles. He’d spent many, many hours learning life lessons and skills from both men. He hoped Floyd wasn’t working them into their graves, but he wouldn’t put it past his brother.
“It’s not like I could just walk away from my responsibilities, Floyd. The military frowns on that sort of thing,” Zane said, listening as his brother’s clothes rustled. No doubt, Floyd was fussing with his suit jacket, tugging at the sleeves. He’d had that habit for years and it always meant he was fixing to bamboozle someone.
“Right,” Floyd said. “At any rate, with the shortages on meat starting now that it’s rationed, we’ve had problems with cat
tle rustlers. They stole a dozen head just last week.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Zane said, and he was. Cattle rustlers had been plaguing the West family since his great-grandparents first started the ranch right after the Civil War.
“Look, Zane, I can’t keep the ranch by myself and ya’ll sure ain’t in any shape to help. I want to sell it, but to do that, I need you to sign a paper. Will ya do that?”
Anger blazed in him. “No, I’m not going to do that. That ranch has been in our family for generations. It’s survived Indian wars and raids, floods, famine, infestations, cattle rustlers, blizzards, droughts, and fire. If you think I’m gonna stand by and watch you lose something our family has worked so hard to keep, you’ve lost your ever-loving mind!”
Floyd got off the bed. The stench of his overpowering cologne mingled with the odor of his foul breath. The smell nearly gagged Zane as he leaned down close to him. “See, Two-Bit, right there is the problem. Ya can’t watch nothin’ because ya went and lost your sight. Now sign the dang paper so I can be on my way.”
“No. I’m not signing it.” Zane pushed himself up, swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He would have stood, prepared to engage his brother in a round of fisticuffs, if a small hand hadn’t settled in the smack dab middle of his bare chest and pushed him back.
“Captain West, you stay in that bed and do not move.” Billie’s voice, full of authority and fury, brooked no room for argument.
He heard the swish of her skirt as she spun around. “As for you, Mr. West, I must ask you to leave this room and the hospital. We simply will not allow visitors to upset our patients. It’s quite clear Captain West is more than ready for you to leave. Please do so posthaste.”
“Aw, shoot, lil’ lady, me an ol’ Two-Bit grew up goin’ at it quite regular. It don’t mean nothin’.”
“Well it does to me,” Billie said, her voice laced with steel. “If you refuse to leave, Mr. West, you’ll leave me no choice but to have you forcibly removed. You can walk out of here on your own or be hauled between two orderlies who were boxing champions during their school days. It makes no difference at all to me.”
“Now, there ain’t no need to get all het up about things,” Floyd said. Zane could hear his boots clomping toward the door. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”
With that, Floyd was gone. Zane listened as a huff filled the air and then the men in the room all started talking at once.
“Man alive, Nurse Billie, I thought I saw flames shooting from your eyes.”
“That’s the way to set him straight.”
“Boy, I’m glad you’re in our corner, Nurse Billie.”
Zane would have joined in the commentary, but he was still fuming from Floyd’s visit and highly embarrassed Billie came to his rescue.
The years hadn’t changed his brother at all. If anything, Floyd was even more detestable than he recalled.
“That’s your brother?” Billie asked, sounding upset as she spoke in clipped tones.
“That’s him.”
“Well, I could have run into him on the street and would never have made the connection,” she said as she fluffed his pillow and adjusted his covers. “You don’t have to see him tomorrow unless you choose to.”
“I know. I don’t really want to, but there are some things I’d like to know about the ranch, questions I’d sure like him to answer. Rustlers taking a dozen head of cattle shouldn’t throw the finances off kilter. Something else is going on and I want to know what.”
“What happens if he sells the ranch?”
“After the bills are paid, we’d split the profits.” Zane sighed. “Honestly, I took the few things that meant the most to me when my father died and left them with an old family friend. He promised to keep everything until I had a place he could send it.”
“That’s good,” Billie said, continuing to fuss over him.
He grabbed her hand as it brushed over his arm and held it between his. “Listen, Billie, I’m sorry about this morning. I had no right to yell at you and I wasn’t mad at you, just myself.”
“You shouldn’t be, Zane. You did your best in a horrible situation and saved the lives of all your crew but one. I’m sure your men would agree if it wasn’t for you and your skills, you’d all have been dead.”
“But Smitty is.” Zane choked as he said the gunner’s name.
Billie squeezed his hand then she was gone.
The following afternoon, Zane and Sarge had gone for a walk around the courtyard. Billie had decided they made a good team. Sarge guided him and if the older man got tired, Zane had enough strength to help him get to a bench and sit down. Between the two of them, they managed to get in their daily quota of exercise. On their walks, Sarge talked about his years in the army and the horrors he’d seen during the first World War. Zane shared about his experiences at West Point, growing up on a Texas ranch, and his lack of plans about his future since he’d always assumed he’d enjoy a long military career.
The two of them had just returned to the room from their walk and settled back into their beds when Zane heard the distinctive step of boots on the tile floor and smelled his brother’s cologne.
“Lookin’ all bushy-tailed but not so bright-eyed are ya, brother?” Floyd jeered as he seated himself on the end of Zane’s bed.
“Go away, Floyd. I’m not going to sign anything. At least not until you tell me the truth. Why do you want to sell the ranch? And don’t try and feed me that pig wallow about rustlers. How many head have you lost total?”
“Close to seventy.”
That was a sizeable number, but not enough to upset the ranch’s finances that badly. “So what’s the real reason you have this sudden urge to sell and how did you even find me?”
“Well, Uncle Sam sent me a telegram when ya were injured. After a few telephone calls, I found out ya’d been moved here. I can’t even begin to guess why. Sure didn’t make it convenient for me to travel here from home.”
“And?” Zane asked, hoping to prod his brother into finally telling him the truth. Not that Floyd would recognize the truth if it bit him on his flabby backend. The man had manipulated the truth, twisted and turned it for so long, reality was a complete stranger to him.
“Ya know it’s powerful hard being in charge of a ranch that size. There’s overseein’ and decisions, and a man gets lonesome. Needs a diversion from time to time.”
Zane bit his tongue until he tasted blood. If the conversation was headed in the direction he feared, he might just strangle his brother with his bare hands.
“What kind of diversion?” he asked, his voice tight and tense.
“Mostly at The Crystal. A little drinkin’, and availin’ myself of the services, and…” Floyd hesitated. Zane knew what was coming, knew what his brother was going to say before the word came out of his thin lips. “Gamblin’.”
“You ran the ranch into debt with your gambling problem. Is that what this is about, Floyd? Hmm?” Zane sat forward and wished he could see just enough to lay his brother out cold on the floor. “Wouldn’t Mama and Daddy be proud of you,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm and disdain.
Floyd stood. Zane could hear him pacing back and forth in front of his bed before he moved so close the hate rolled off his brother in a palpable force, battering against him.
“Listen up good, ya blind, helpless whelp! Ya got no future and I sure ain’t takin’ ya in, so you might as well sign the paper, let me sell the ranch, and I’ll split what’s left after I pay off the debts.”
A vein in Zane’s neck began to throb. He could feel it with each pulse. “How much do you owe?”
“That don’t matter. They ain’t gonna give me any more time. I need the money, now.”
“How much, Floyd?” Zane asked again.
“Almost seventy-thousand.”
Sarge whistled from the bed next to him. Even with his blindness, he could practically see Floyd glaring at the older man.
“How did you get that de
ep in debt? You just don’t know when to fold and walk away, do you?” Zane asked, no longer capable of hanging onto his rising temper. “Dad dragged your sorry hide out of trouble twice before. A smart man would have learned his lesson. Even a dumb one would know not to get that deep into a hole he couldn’t get himself out of without crawling to family for help.”
Zane’s head snapped back when Floyd hit him. He scrambled off the bed, going purely by instinct, and landed a blow to Floyd’s gut. Elation flooded through him when Floyd grunted in pain.
“Enough!” a voice boomed so loudly from the doorway it nearly rattled the windows. “Out! Get out of the here, you nasty, horrid man. Out of the hospital, out of this room, but most especially out of your brother’s life. I’ll have you arrested if you set foot back in this room today. How dare you come in here, upset my patients, and strike one of them. I won’t have it. Not at all, you filthy, low-down skunk! Now, out!”
Zane was shocked Billie could yell that loud. He heard scuffling sounds as though his brother scooted away from her fury.
“I’ll be back with a lawyer and we’ll settle this Two-Bit. I’ll have you declared incompetent and keep every penny for myself.”
“Just try it, Floyd,” Zane said, listening as his brother’s footsteps faded. He reached behind him, searching for the bed. Something wet trickled over his lip, and he only then realized his cheek throbbed where Floyd had hit him.
“You’re cut, Zane. Rest while I get something to take care of it.” Billie helped him back into bed then hurried from the room.
“That is one fine gal,” Sarge mused after Billie left the room.
“She’s like a mama bear defending her cubs,” another man said with a laugh.
“No offense, Tex, but she sure set your four-flushing brother on his ear,” Jimmy crowed. “I wish you coulda seen the way she poked him in the chest as she let him have it.”
Zane wished he could have seen it, too.
And Sarge was right. Billie Brighton was one fine gal.
Chapter Seventeen
Raised voices from room seven urged Billie down the hall to investigate. She feared Zane’s brother would return and hadn’t been surprised to find him there.
Dream of Her Heart Page 16