And she knew, when he tipped his head toward her, that gratefulness wasn’t the only emotion swelling within her.
*
“We need to do more,” Steven said. “That little trick you pulled with the saddle didn’t even stop her from coming to the picnic. And now look at the mess we have.”
Steven once again held the gavel. Wade had tossed it back to him once he’d managed, yet again, to get the town to listen to him. Well, he hadn’t swayed them all, but Steven had seen the moment when some of them had shifted their support back to Wade. Goddammit!
“Shit,” Bill agreed, “that saddle was a lame idea anyway. I told you,” he said, pointing a sausage finger at Justin, “that it would take more than that.”
Justin crossed his arms. “And I told you I wouldn’t hurt her, neither. Besides, it scared her. Even from where I was hiding in the bushes, I could see her face was white as milk.”
“Well, clearly she’s not so easily rattled.”
“I won’t have it,” Steven said, thumping the gavel into his palm. “I won’t be made a fool of. We need her out of this town before she and Wade convince the rest of them.”
“What about Wade?”
Steven looked over at Bill. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe if Wade stood to lose something, he’d reconsider supporting her.”
“Well, hell, Bill, now you’re talking!” Steven said. His mouth salivated at the thought of Wade finally getting some comeuppance.
“It’s all fine to have Wade reconsider and all, but we can’t ignore the Matthews woman either.” Robert reminded them.
Harvey snickered. “Don’t you worry, we haven’t forgotten about her. If she’s still around when I get back from Bozeman, you just leave her to me.”
*
It took Wade longer than he expected to get back to the ranch after the meeting. First, his mother caught him outside, launched herself in his arms. Silver and Letty patted his back, told him he’d done the right thing. Then, as he knew she would, Angela Hollingsworth told him how disgusted she was with him; how she hoped he was using better judgment raising her granddaughter.
Feeling the sting of his mother-in-law’s words, Wade told his ma he’d stay in town to take Annabelle—who would be ecstatic when she saw him waiting for her—home from school. Wade then asked Shane to join him at the restaurant for dinner.
By the time they ate and Wade brought a chattering Annabelle home, it was midafternoon. With a few hours yet before supper, Wade joined Scott and James, who’d been working on the barn while Wade stayed in town. Filling his pockets with nails, Wade carefully climbed into the rafters. A few more supports and they’d be ready for the roof.
“We did good today,” James said after pounding in a nail. “I’d hate to think what would have happened if Annabelle hadn’t heard about the meeting. Hell, can you imagine the damage Steven would’ve done?”
“It’s what he’d hoped for,” Scott said. “I don’t know him as well as you do, but it made me happy to see his face when we walked in.”
Wade chuckled. Looking at Steven hadn’t been as rewarding as looking at Jillian, but it had given him satisfaction to see the shock, and then understanding creep over Steven’s face.
“Your mother-in-law wasn’t very happy with you either,” James commented.
“You got that right,” Wade answered. He’d tried. From the time he’d begun courting Amy, he’d tried to win over her mother. A widow, she’d fussed over her only child and had wanted much better for Amy than to marry a rancher. Then, Amy had gone one step further and pursued midwifery… well, that was just one more thing his mother-in-law blamed Wade for. As though he’d encouraged her—which he hadn’t. As though he’d wanted her to be a midwife—which he hadn’t. As though he hadn’t been enough to keep her daughter happy.
“Well, I’m proud of you, son.” James leaned forward, slapped his shoulder.
Wade, who’d just positioned himself on a beam, tensed and tightened his grip on the rough wood. Just that little tap by James had sweat breaking out along his forehead. Wade hated heights.
“You think they’ll come around?” Scott asked. He was perched on a beam parallel to Wade’s.
“I have no idea. But I’d like to think folks are going to be smart enough to call on her when their animals need help.”
Time, and only time, would eventually tell in the end. And with nothing more to say on the matter, they got back to work. Soon, sweat was stinging Wade’s eyes. The pounding of three hammers echoed in his ears. The vibrations made his palm tingle and itch at the same time. Nevertheless he enjoyed looking around—around, not down—and seeing progress. Loved the smell of freshly cut wood. Taking another nail, Wade drove it home.
“What do you suppose Jillian will do next?” Scott asked between hammering.
Wade lowered his arm. “What do you mean?”
“Do you think she’ll leave Marietta if she doesn’t get work?”
He hadn’t considered that option but he supposed it made sense. She needed income to survive. Still, the idea of her packing and moving didn’t sit well with him.
“I don’t know,” he answered simply. “I suppose she could.”
“Be a shame if she did,” James said. He straddled the wood, rested his hammer on his thigh. “Who knows when we’ll get another one?”
“And one as pretty,” Scott added.
Scott had moved into a position that would have made a monkey proud. With one leg wrapped around a beam, he reached into his pocket, drew out some nails and placed them between his lips.
“Be careful. I don’t want you falling or we’ll be picking nails from your cheeks for a week.”
Wade looked down, a good fifteen feet. His stomach clenched. Not a good idea. Feeling the world tilt, he wrapped his hands around the wood, hammer and all, and looked up. Through the frame of the rafters, small puffy balls of clouds floated by lazily. He concentrated on their movement until his stomach settled back into position.
“Hey, are you going to daydream all day or are you going to carry your weight?”
Wade pulled himself together and looked at James, who seemed as comfortable on the narrow board as he would in a saddle. He took the jab for what it was, a distraction from his fear. James had known since he’d offered to build him a tree house when he was six that Wade couldn’t stomach heights.
“Yeah, keep your shirt on. I just need to get some more nails.”
Scott, having stopped to dig some out of his pocket, leaned over as far as his arm could reach. “Here, take these. It’s almost suppertime anyway. That’ll get you by for a few minutes.”
Not daring to look down, Wade stretched to take the nails. It wasn’t enough. Though only a few inches separated them, it may as well have been a mile. Grunting, Scott shifted and tried again, but lost his balance. The nails in his hands dropped to the dirt below.
“Shit!”
Instinct, not logic, had Wade reaching for Scott’s hand. Managing to rotate and grab, Scott was able to stay up. Wade wasn’t so lucky. In a matter of seconds his balance shifted too far to be righted. It happened so quickly he didn’t have a hope. As his upper body swung down, his legs slipped from around the wood. His stomach plunged right along with the rest of him. The ground came up fast and all he could do was brace for impact.
Despite bending his legs he landed hard and his ankle turned as he rolled to the ground. His head smacked something cold and sharp. Breath knocked out, Wade gasped and wheezed for air. From above he heard shouts and shuffling.
“Wade! Wade, you all right?”
He worked hard on getting his breath back but it seemed his lungs weren’t working. It was as though someone had smacked him across the chest with a wooden beam. He tried inhaling but he sounded like a donkey braying. Panic engulfed him. His lungs burned. The harder he tried, the more panicked he became and the less air went in.
Suddenly strong arms lifted him from behind. Propped, Wade was at last able to draw
air. He took several long breaths, letting whoever was behind him support his weight.
James moved into his line of vision, his face was pale. “Are you okay? You’re bleeding.”
“I think so.” Testing his theory, Wade looked from side to side. Well, he hadn’t broken his neck. His arms were heavy and stung on the shoulder he’d landed on, but otherwise they worked. His ankle, though, if not broken, was sprained. As the rest of James’ words sank in, something warm trickled past his eye and over his jawbone.
“How bad is it?” Scott asked over Wade’s shoulder.
Luckily Scott didn’t loosen his grip or else Wade would have fallen again. He was too dizzy to support himself.
James leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Too much blood to tell for sure. Let’s get him in the house. Once he’s cleaned up we’ll have a better idea.” He sat back on his haunches. “Are you ready to get up or do you need a few minutes?”
Wade felt like he’d been stampeded over, and his boot already squeezed his ankle. If he waited much longer they’d never be able to get it off.
“I’m ready. But I don’t think I can walk on my left ankle.” Keeping his foot off the ground, Wade stood up. Scott moved around to his side.
Hobbling, they staggered through large yellow rectangles the sun cast on the dirt floor. Each hop was excruciating for Wade. His ankle throbbed and his head pounded. Judging from the trickle, which was creeping into the collar of his shirt, the blood wasn’t subsiding.
Somehow they shuffled along and it was with great relief when they reached the house. But one thing stood in the way of him, a chair, and a long swig of whiskey. The porch. Raising his head he looked at the two steps as though they were tall as the mountain that overlooked Marietta. They may as well be. Horses stomped in his head and he was light-headed. His swollen ankle pressed against the leather of his boot and every time he inhaled he smelled blood.
The front door flew open. His mother gasped. “What happened?”
“Papa!”
Though he felt like he was wading through mud, Wade forced himself to talk. He didn’t want his daughter frightened. “Button, I’m okay,” he managed through teeth clenched in pain.
“Eileen, we’ll need some water and a cloth or two. Once we clean up the blood, we’ll have a better idea how bad it is.”
“Annabelle,” Scott said in the same gentle voice he used for horses, “could you get some pillows for your pa? We’re going to set him on the couch.”
Though his vision wavered, Wade saw his daughter nod solemnly and run up the stairs.
“I’m okay,” he managed again. “I just need to sit a spell.”
“We won’t know for certain until you’re cleaned up. Might be we’ll have to take you to town for stitches.”
The idea of being jostled the whole way there and back had his ankle screaming and his head thumping.
“First, though, we have to get you up the porch. You let us take your weight, just jump when we tell you.”
Oh, hell. With his arms around their shoulders, they made it to the bottom of the steps.
“Okay, jump.”
They took his weight and he landed on the first step. Pain exploded between his ears when he landed.
“Once more.” Scott encouraged.
Gritting his teeth, Wade did as he was told. Though he landed on his good foot both times, the jarring ripped through his body like lightning.
“Hard part’s over,” James said.
Easy for you to say. Together they staggered through the entryway. Suddenly that hard couch was looking mighty good to him. And once he got there, no way in hell was he getting off of it to go to town.
“I’m not going,” he muttered.
“Going where?” James asked.
“Town. I’m not going.”
Finally they made it into the parlor and Wade sprawled on the couch. Exhausted, the pain getting the best of him, Wade closed his eyes and sighed as the world went black.
Chapter Eight
Jillian stood on the Parker’s porch, her heart drumming in her chest. She’d needed to go home after the meeting, needed to calm down. Her mind had been racing and she’d been trembling with emotion. Going home had been her only thought. She wasn’t a stranger to narrow-mindedness, but it never failed to infuriate her.
After spending the rest of the afternoon with her animals and feeling much better for it, she’d washed, changed, and ridden over to say her thanks. But now, the idea of seeing Wade again made her nervous. She hadn’t stayed to see how he’d been treated, hadn’t lingered to offer her thanks. Did he think she hadn’t appreciated his gesture? Had the townsfolk unleashed their resentment on him and did he blame her for leaving him to deal with it alone after he was kind enough to come to her defense?
Well, she wasn’t going to find out standing here. She straightened her navy riding skirt and knocked on the door. While she could hear voices inside, nobody came to answer her call. She knocked again, louder. The door swung inward. Jillian gaped at Scott’s appearance.
His hair was disheveled. A streak of blood slashed across his cheek. More was smeared on his shoulder. Jillian immediately thought the worst.
“Jillian.” He breathed as he grabbed her arm and pulled her inside. “Your timing is perfect. Eileen, Jillian’s here!”
Eileen ran from the kitchen. Her face was ashen and there were bloodstains on her blouse. From the parlor Jillian heard Annabelle crying. Dear Lord, what had happened?
“Oh, Jillian, thank goodness you’re here!” Her friend exclaimed. “Wade’s been hurt.”
She went cold all over. Wade was hurt? Had he been beaten after the meeting? Would Steven and his friends have stooped so low? She didn’t hesitate when Eileen pulled her into the parlor. The first thing she saw was Annabelle, on her knees with her father’s hand clasped within her own, her head resting on his chest. At the front of the couch, James leaned over Wade’s head, a handkerchief pressed to Wade’s temple.
She moved closer, sucked in her breath at the sight of the blood seeping from underneath the kerchief.
“What happened?”
James ran his free hand through his hair. “We were working on the rafters of the barn. He slipped and fell to the ground. I’m pretty sure he twisted his ankle ’cause he couldn’t walk on it.”
“He hit his head against a rock, got the breath knocked out of him but he was talking right up to the time we got him in here, then he passed out cold,” Scott added.
“Is my papa going to be okay?” Annabelle asked in a watery voice.
Seeing Wade’s chest rise and fall in a smooth rhythm, his left boot already off, Jillian knelt next to Annabelle. “See this,” she said, pointing out the steady rhythm of his breathing. “If your papa was really hurt, his breathing wouldn’t be that steady.”
“But he’s not waking up!” Annabelle whimpered.
“Well, sometimes that’s the body’s way of dealing with an injury. As long as your papa’s sleeping, he’s not feeling any pain.”
The girl nodded, but she didn’t release her grip on her father’s hand.
“Head wounds always bleed a lot. He may look worse than he is. We’ll know once I get him cleaned up.”
“I was just warming water when you knocked. I’ll fetch it now,” Eileen said.
“What can I do?” Scott asked.
With Eileen fetching water and James keeping pressure on Wade’s head wound, there wasn’t anything Scott could do.
“You can see to Hope. I hadn’t planned on staying long, so I just tied her to the porch.”
“I’ll see she’s taken care of.” After a worried glance in Wade’s direction, Scott disappeared outside.
Tears ran down Annabelle’s freckled cheeks and her sniffles seemed loud as a herd of horses in the otherwise still room. Jillian knew that kind of pain, had felt its searing burn as she’d sat beside her own father’s unmoving form. But Wade was going to be fine and since it appeared as though everyone had been too bu
sy to reassure Annabelle, Jillian took the time to do so now.
But when she opened her mouth, Jillian realized she had no idea how to do so. She’d never dealt with children other than answering their questions regarding her work. Usually if an animal couldn’t be saved, it was the parent left to do the explaining. Jillian thought to her own experience not so long ago when her father lay dying and what had brought her comfort. Jillian placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“Annabelle, your father is going to be fine, but it’s important that I examine him to be certain.”
“But I don’t want to leave him!”
“I’d never ask that. I know you want to be near him, that you need to see for yourself that he’ll be all right. But I need to wash him and have a closer look at that gash on his forehead.”
Though Annabelle nodded her agreement, she didn’t let go of her father’s hand.
“I can’t help him, Annabelle, if you’re in the way.” She reminded her gently.
“Do you promise I can stay?”
“I promise. All I need is some room. Maybe you could stand by his feet. If you’re careful, you can pull off his sock. I’ll want to look at his ankle once I’m done with his head.”
“Won’t that hurt him?” she asked.
She wiped her cheeks dry and Jillian was glad to see the tears had stopped.
“You’ll be careful, won’t you?”
The answering nod came very quickly.
Jillian smiled. “Then I don’t see why you can’t do that.”
Content to have some task to make her feel useful, Annabelle released her father’s hand and shuffled to the end of the couch.
Jillian turned to James, reached for the handkerchief. “I’ll need to examine the wound.”
He nodded, stepped aside. She looked at his bloody hands and her stomach clenched at the thought that that was Wade’s blood. She reminded herself as she had Annabelle that Wade had a strong and steady heartbeat. He was going to be fine. Seeing the worry etched on James’s face she reiterated the fact to him as well.
A Rancher’s Surrender Page 11