A little old man with a crinkled face wearing baggy trousers and suspenders tipped his hat at us.
“Les Houghton. Klepto. Took my gramma’s silver horse pin and I had to call Sheriff Packer on him.”
And on and on it went. I was exhausted by the time we got back to the farm. I dropped the bags of groceries on the counter. The shoulder was throbbing painfully. I hooked my finger over the collar of the shirt and took a peek. The padded gauze was more red than white. I felt a bit nauseous.
“There’s more to bring in, gal. Don’t be dilly dallyin’ around.”
I turned to go back outside when a wave of lightheadedness swept over me. I reached out to steady myself, catching nothing but air.
“Cherry?” Sissy’s tinny voice echoed around me. “Cherry!”
I slid to the floor. I closed my eyes, pressing my cheek to the cold tile. That felt better.
Sissy was talking to me, but I couldn’t understand a word she was saying. I tried to tell her to shut up and leave me alone for five freakin’ minutes, but I was too tired to open my mouth.
I had the sensation of being lifted; weightless, like I was flying. Then I was outside. The sun was shooting its heat all around me.
A cacophony of voices erupted. I wasn’t flying anymore, chilled air instead of heat. I was cold, shivering. I managed to open my eyes. Gideon’s face hovered over me. His warm brown eyes were filled with concern. His lips were moving, but nothing came out. It looked funny. I smiled at him. He frowned. I closed my eyes and fell into silence.
* * * *
The room was dark. I could tell I was back in my room because I could smell the heady aroma of the roses. A sliver of light from the hallway cut a line through the blackness.
“You said she was fine,” I heard Sissy say.
“She is, but you can’t overexert her. She’s been shot, Maw-Maw!” Gideon railed. It didn’t seem like him to raise his voice.
“Don’t you take that tone with me, boy.” Sissy was getting riled up.
“I’m sorry, Maw-Maw, but you could’ve really hurt her. She tore her stitches and lost some blood.”
“Did I know that?” Sissy argued. “The girl’s spunky, but I swear she’s afraid of her own shadow.”
“I know,” he whispered.
“That girl’s got a story. Something awful happened to her. I can see it in her eyes. Full of grief... and scared too.”
“I know,” Gideon repeated.
“They ain’t goin’ anywhere til we find out what’s goin’ on here.” Sissy’s voice was unyielding. “The boy too. He says he’s an orphan and Cherry takes care of him. I swear...if half the stories he tells are true, that girl in there deserves a medal. We might have to keep her.”
“She might not like that.” I heard the smile in his voice. “She’s the independent type.”
“Well, she’d be the stupid independent type if she leaves before she’s healed. She’s a baby...the two of them livin’ in the gutters...No sir. I’ll get my twelve gauge and shoot her in the leg. Let’s see her walk out then.”
I shuddered. The old lady would shoot me. I know she would, the crazy old bitty.
“Calm down, Maw-Maw. No one is shootin’ anyone. Now go down stairs and make sure Cort ain’t burnin’ the house down making those frozen pizzas in the wood stove.”
The door eased open enough for Gideon to enter the room. I watched his silhouette tiptoe to the winged chair by the window. He slipped his large frame into the narrow seat, stretching out his long legs, and crossing them at the ankles.
“Am I dead?” I asked in a hoarse whisper.
“No. But you sound like you’re spittin’ dust.” He got up, came to the night stand, and turned on the lamp. The soft light made me squint. From a pitcher on a silver tray, he poured water into a glass. I noticed a bowl of soup and a sandwich too.
“You slept through dinner.” He handed me the water. “I’d think it was on purpose if I hadn’t treated you myself.”
“What happened?” I asked between gulps.
“You were being manhandled by a seventy year old.”
“I hate it when that happens,” I joked. Gideon cracked a smile.
“How’re you feelin’?”
“Like I’ve been run over by the light rail.” I gave him the empty glass then used my good arm to hoist myself upright. I was wearing a cotton nightgown that didn’t belong to me.
“Who dressed me?” I asked.
“Maw-Maw, don’t worry,” he said, realizing I was doing just that. “I don’t take advantage of unconscious girls.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay.” He pulled the chair close to the bed.
“JD gave me some Percocet for you.” He pointed to the medicine bottle on the tray. “Want one?”
“Yes, please.” I was ready to let him give me horse drugs, anything to ease this nonstop-aching throb.
“That’s what I like, an eager patient.” He opened the bottle, shook out a pill, and handed it to me with more water. “I want bed rest for the next few days. No more marathon shopping with Maw-Maw.”
I opened my mouth to protest
“No arguments,” he added.
“What about our deal?”
“We’ll worry about that later.”
“What about Stewie?” He couldn’t be left to fend for himself.
“Stewie’s fine. He’s a bright kid. He takes instruction very well, and Cort put him charge of taking care of the cats.”
“Great, just what he needs, emotional attachment to those kittens. I’m going to strangle your brother,” I groaned.
Gideon smiled like he knew exactly how I felt. “When you get all better, Wonder Woman, we’ll even sell tickets. But for now...” He picked up the tray, “I’ll go heat your soup. Maw-Maw left a stack of magazines for you.” He jerked his chin to the nightstand.
“Thanks,” I said, but he was already gone. Twenty minutes later he was back with my hot soup and fresh sandwich. He set the tray over my lap and took the seat beside the bed. I took a bite of the sandwich, chicken salad. Nothing fussy, but it was good.
I felt Gideon’s eyes on me, full of questions and curiosity. I did my best to ignore him. I blew on a spoonful of soup, tentatively slurping in case it was homemade. Thank God it wasn’t. Good old Campbell’s chicken noodle. Warm broth trickled down my throat, heating a path into my stomach.
I was hungrier than I thought. I ate like a starving refugee. While I devoured the sandwich, my mind shuffled ideas in my head like a deck of cards. I cursed my lame arm for keeping me in bed when I should be looking for a way to get us farther away.
I finished everything, not leaving a single crumb behind. Gideon took the tray and stood up. He didn’t make any move to leave. I looked at him, waiting for him to say something. His eyes were curiously tender.
“I want you to know you’re safe here,” he said.
I nodded. What else could I do?
“I don’t want you thinking of anything but getting better because until you are, you’re only gonna make it harder on yourself.”
“I have some money—”
“I told you, we don’t need your money.” He cut me off.
“And I told you I don’t like mooching,” I snapped back.
“That’s why we decided to trade. So, you get all better and then you can earn your keep like Stewie.” He flashed a quick, firm smile and bid me goodnight.
I want you to know you’re safe here.
I replayed those words in my head as I flipped through the magazines Sissy had left.
Safe. That was an unfamiliar state of being for me.
Baltimore was five hundred miles away. Cass had no idea where we were. So why didn’t I feel a hundred percent in the clear?
Maybe it was because I’d been living in fear for the last year. Maybe my sense of preservation ran so deep that it would take a time to get rid of it, if I could get rid of it. After all, I’d had some sort of danger in my life since
birth.
I closed the magazine and turned off the lamp. Strange sounds invaded through the open window. I imagined blood sucking insects, ravenous attack birds, probably some maniacal crickets, and who knew what else was out there. I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the unfamiliar sounds with a silent prayer.
I’m safe...I’m safe...I’m safe...
Chapter Seventeen
Two days under house arrest was more than enough for me. The summer heat had invaded, leaving a sticky humid trail everywhere. I was grateful for the borrowed clothes Sissy rounded up for me. Especially the designer shorts. I was hoping to find Stewie and talk over a few points of action I’d come up with.
The sound of a low seductive bass thumped from the barn that housed the vet’s office. Curiosity got the better of me, and I made a bee line for the source. Surprisingly enough it was coming from Gideon’s operating room.
I opened the door slowly, poking my head in to see if anyone was inside. I immediately recognized the music. Michael Bublé was crooning about fever. I crossed the small room that was used as a waiting area to stand in the open doorway leading into the surgical room. What I saw shocked me, but more than that, it made my lips curl in a lazy appreciative smile.
Gideon was singing along with Michael while he gently rubbed some sort of salve over a large horse’s rump. He had a nice voice, which I already knew, but his soothing tone turned sultry, blending in with Michael’s.
It was fun to watch him as he went from doctoring the horse to serenading it. Then the horse noticed me, cocked its head, and snorted like it wasn’t very happy to have me there invading the moment.
Gideon glanced over his shoulder, “Hey JD—” He caught himself, and for once, I wasn’t the one blushing. “Sorry.” He said twisting around to face me. “I thought you were JD.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” I felt guilty for not announcing myself. “I heard the music.”
“Ah, yeah, Sampson here likes jazz, keeps him calm while I check his stitches,” Gideon explained.
“So the whole theory about music calming the savage beast is true?” I tried to sound serious.
“For the most part.” Gideon chuckled.
“What’s wrong with him?” I nodded toward the big horse.
“He got a little too frisky with Lola, and she bit him.”
“Another horse bit him?”
“Not just any horse. Lola is our resident drama queen. She’s Sissy’s horse, if that helps explain it.”
I laughed. That did explain it.
“Yeah, thought so. Both are old, set in their ways, and cantankerous.” He turned to Sampson. “Aren’t they boy? Learned a lesson, didn’t ya?” He gave the horse an affectionate pat.
“What does Lola listen to?” I asked, taking a step into the considerably oversized room. There was a high-vaulted ceiling and a set of double barn doors that were opened up, revealing the fenced-in corral. A few oversized sterile tables, operating stations, and lots of medical equipment lined the walls. It looked like a well-organized ER for people, except everything was bigger.
“Depends on her mood.” Gideon peeled off his surgical gloves. “Mostly though, she likes Tom Jones. That’s the voice that calms her the quickest.”
I nodded. Tom Jones, Maw-Maw and Lola, that made sense. Sampson snorted again.
“Yeah, yeah, I didn’t forget,” Gideon assured the horse. He wiped his hands on a rag and walked over to a pouch hanging on a peg and reached in.
“Ya wanna give him his treat?” he asked me, waving a carrot.
“Uh, I dunno... I’ve never been around horses before.” They scared me and I’d heard that like dogs, horses could smell fear. I didn’t know if this was true, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to test the theory.
“He’s a softy,” Gideon assured me. He ambled my way and handed me the carrot. Holding my hand in his, he urged me forward until I was face to face with Sampson. “Don’t be scared. He’s just going to smell you first.” The horse snorted.
“Now slowly raise the carrot to his mouth,” Gideon instructed.
I did what he said. Sampson hesitated then opened his big horse mouth and grabbed the carrot with his big horse teeth. I stifled a scream.
“That’s it. Good...” Gideon soothed in that quiet way he had. I didn’t know if it was for me or the horse. Probably both. It only took a minute for the horse to eat the carrot and a few more for my hand to stop shaking.
“All done. You did good,” he said to me.
I felt pretty proud of myself. I reached out and lightly touched Sampson’s nose.
“I think you made a friend,” Gideon said.
“Really?”
“Yeah, Sampson is a real ladies man. I figured you were safe.” Gideon took the reins and led Sampson out of the hospital and back to the stable. I followed him. When we were three stalls from the main entrance, a graying white horse whinnied and stretched its neck out over the stall door, coming a scant few inches from my face. I squealed and jumped behind Gideon.
“Careful, that’s Lola. She wasn’t tryin’ to nip you. It’s Sampson she wants.” He patted my arm the same way he did Sampson then said to the hostile horse, “Lola, behave yourself.”
Yeah, Lola, back off, or I’ll call the glue factory.
“Great timing,” a voice came out of nowhere, “I could use some help in here.”
We both turned to look behind us. Maggie stood a few feet away, a shovel propped in her hand. Her pretty blue eyes narrowed and focused on me like a cocked and ready pistol.
“Cherry isn’t here to help you,” Gideon said as he led Sampson into a stall. “She doesn’t know anything about horses.”
“You don’t have to know about horses to shovel their crap,” Maggie snapped.
Gideon gave her a measured look. I could tell it was a ‘watch your step’ warning. I wouldn’t mind helping with the horses, but it wouldn’t be possible with my arm still in a sling. Well, that and I wasn’t really inclined to help this girl who had anger issues that seemed to be centered on me.
“Fine.” She flashed daggers at me and spun around, huffing out of the barn.
“Sorry ‘bout that.” Gideon smiled apologetically. “She’s a live wire, our Maggie.”
“I think she’d like to string me up in one of these stalls.”
Gideon laughed. “Yeah, well, she just might at that. It’s hard to tell what she’ll do most days.” At my startled look he laughed again. “Don’t worry, she’s harmless, mostly just a lot of lip service.”
Yeah, right. If there was one thing every girl knows it’s the signs of jealousy in another girl. Maggie thought I was moving in on her territory. I glanced at Gideon. He was busy writing on a clipboard full of papers that hung beside Sampson’s stall.
He was handsome in that rustic good ol’ boy way. Not to mention kind and thoughtful...I gave my head a little shake. No sense in going down that road.
Didn’t I have enough on my plate? Did I think I needed more? I cursed at myself.
Get a grip. You aren’t staying long enough to get roped in by this cowboy.
Gideon must’ve sensed my stare because he looked over at me. I quickly looked away, embarrassed at being caught.
“C’mon,” he said, “I think the boys are down at the office. Cort moved the kittens, and Stewie was worried they’d be scared. I’m bettin’ he’s still there.”
I followed him across the yard and down a stone path that led to another barn. It was much smaller than the hospital, but inside was richly decorated with leather furniture and bronze sculptures of cowboys and horses. More importantly there was a computer on the desk.
Gideon rounded the desk, pulling open a drawer to shove a few papers into one of the folders. I scanned the room, noticing one wall that was a showcase of medals and trophies.
“What are they?” I asked, pointing.
“This is a breeding farm, but we also have show horses. Those are some of our winnings.” His chest puffed a little
with pride.
I nodded, slightly impressed. Scanning the other walls I saw another wall filled with framed photos. I gave them a quick once over, not wanting to appear nosey. There were a lot of pictures of the same couple, a tall, long legged man with his arm around a petite woman. In one, they were both laughing with their heads thrown back. Another picture had them on each side of a horse with a wreath of flowers around its neck.
I saw a strong resemblance to Gideon in both of them. They had to be his parents. They looked so happy. I glanced at Gideon. He was bent over the keyboard of the computer. I wanted to ask him what happened to them. Where were his parents?
“Cherry!” Stewie poked his head out of a door in the hall. “The kittens got moved. That mean cat was trying to hurt them. I’m making sure they’re alright.”
“He means Esmerelda,” Gideon laughed. “She’s a fire breathin’ cat from Hades. She hates everything and everyone, so if you see her walk the other way.”
“She’s very bad.” Stewie bobbed his head emphatically.
I smothered a smile. He was so cute when he was serious. I walked back down the hall. The room was empty except for the six kittens, their litter box, and some toys.
“This is Lynyrd and this is Skynyrd,” he said, holding two gray tabbies. I could only assume Cort named them.
“They’re cute.” I took one from him. I didn’t know if it was Lynyrd or Skynyrd, but it nestled itself into my arm and closed its eyes.
“It’s nap time,” Stewie said gravely, reaching for the sleepy kitten.
“I have a few other horses to take care of.” Gideon came up behind me, startling me, making me jump. He gave me that cool speculative look he was so good at, but didn’t say anything.
“Okay. Uh, I guess I’ll head back to the house.” Which I really didn’t want to do. I’d been inside way too much lately.
“You can go wherever you want to, stay here with Stewie if that’s what you feel like doin’. This isn’t a prison. You don’t have to check in with me. I just don’t want you over doin’ it again.”
“Oh, okay.”
He left me alone with Stewie and the kittens. Even though I hadn’t planned it, this worked in my favor. I hustled over to the computer and gave the mouse a shake. The screen popped to life. I pulled up the internet and typed ‘The Baltimore Sun’.
Love You to Death Page 13