Wyoming Brave

by Diana Palmer

  Sari smiled at him with real warmth. He smiled back.

  Paul checked his watch. “I have to run up to San Antonio, just for a few minutes,” he told Sari. “A couple of projects I have to check on. Will you be okay?”

  “I’ll take care of her,” Ren promised him.

  Paul relaxed a little. “Okay.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Sari assured him. “I have to go by the office on my lunch break and check in with Mr. Kemp.” Kemp was the district attorney.

  “I’ll stay with Meredith,” Ren said quietly.

  “I’m off to bed,” Mandy said wearily as she finished her eggs and bacon and sipped coffee. “I’m sleepy.”

  “Thanks for sitting up with her, honey,” Paul said. “You’re the best.”

  She smiled at them all. “I’ll be up in time to cook supper, don’t you worry.”

  * * *

  JUST AS REN and Paul walked into the hospital, Mikey met them near the front entrance.

  “How’s it going?” Paul asked.

  He grimaced. “Not so good.” At Paul’s frozen expression, Mikey said, “No, no, not baby doll. It’s your guy in Houston, the one with the pickup truck.”

  “Mikey...” Paul began angrily.

  “It wasn’t my guy who did it,” Mikey interrupted. “Somebody hit the perp in his cell at Houston PD.”

  “How?” Paul asked.

  “They’re still debating that. He had asthma real bad. So he drank something that they think was doctored with a substance that he was allergic to. He had a violent reaction to it and they called for a doctor. The guy came in, saw the asthmatic symptoms and gave him a shot of epinephrine.”

  “That’s what they always did for a pal of mine who had asthma,” Paul said.

  “Yeah, well this guy had an arrhythmia. So the epinephrine sent him into cardiac arrest. They couldn’t save him.”

  “We had a case like that here,” Paul said. “Cash Grier’s secretary had asthma. She had an attack right in his office, and Carson Farwalker, who was a merc at the time, as well as a former army medic, checked to make sure she had no heart problems before he injected her with it. He said if she’d had a heart rhythm problem, epinephrine would have been fatal.”

  “Smart man,” Ren remarked.

  “Very. He actually had his license as a physician, but he didn’t tell anyone until after he married Carlie,” Paul said, chuckling. “He was a bad man before that.”

  “You should tell the captain here about the crocodile thing,” Mikey told Paul, jerking his thumb toward Ren.

  “What crocodile thing?” Ren asked.

  “A man named Rourke and Carson fed a man who’d tortured a young woman to a crocodile in Barrera, overseas. Rourke later married the woman. They live here now.”

  While they were telling him the rest of the story, Sari got up. “I’m going to check with the nurse’s desk,” she said, smiling as she left them to talk.

  “I’m Sari Fiore. Meredith Grayling is my sister,” she said to the floor nurse. “Can you tell me how she’s doing?”

  “She’s doing fine, just fine,” the nurse replied with a smile. “We’ve moved her out onto the floor already. She’s in room 230. You can go right in.”

  “Thank you!” Sari said with heartfelt relief. “It’s been a very long night,” she explained.

  The nurse smiled. “I can imagine.”

  Sari went back to the others. “She’s out of ICU and in a room!” she said.

  “Which one?” Ren asked immediately.

  “Two-thirty. Go ahead,” Sari said gently. “It’s okay.”

  He gave her a weary smile. “Thanks.”

  * * *

  THEY’D JUST FINISHED bathing Merrie. She was sitting up with a towel over her front, her bare back to the door, when Ren walked in. He stopped dead and turned around.

  “Sorry!” he said. “I’ll come back later.”

  He went out the door and Merrie felt tears welling up in her eyes. He’d seen the scars, she knew he had. He wouldn’t be back. She was sure of it.

  “There, dear, all through,” the aide said cheerfully. “Let me help you with the gown. It’s nice and clean.”

  Merrie let herself be placed in the hospital gown, and then she lay back on the bed. She felt dead inside. She’d never wanted Ren to see it!

  The aide went out, and Ren came right back in.

  Merrie stared at him with shock written all over her pretty face.

  “What?” he asked as he stood beside the bed.

  “You, well, you saw my back...didn’t you?” she asked worriedly, and flushed.

  He gave her a sardonic look. “Meredith, I have scars on my own back, and the backs of my legs, from an IED attack when I was in Iraq. Scars aren’t important. Being alive, is.”

  She still stared at him. “Oh,” she said in a tiny voice.

  He moved to the side of the bed, bent down and brushed his hard mouth gently over her soft one. “Idiot,” he whispered, and he smiled.

  She was spellbound. She looked up at him with bright, pale blue eyes, full of hope. “You came back.”

  “Of course I came back,” he scoffed. He dropped down into a chair beside her bed. “They found the guy who ran the truck into you.”

  “Do you have a bat I can borrow? I’d like to speak with him,” she said coolly.

  “Too late. He’s taking up space in the Houston morgue.”

  “The morgue?”

  “He messed up a hit. I expect the man who hired him had him taken care of. Right in his own cell, apparently.”

  “What about the contract killer? Do they know anything about him?” she asked worriedly.

  “He made it on to the ranch last night, apparently before he’d had time to talk to the man he subcontracted for the Jacobsville hit. Snowpaw got him, but he escaped.”

  “Snowpaw?” She caught her breath. “Is Snowpaw all right? He didn’t hurt him?”

  “No, he’s fine,” he assured her, touched by her concern for the animal.

  She smiled. “He’s so beautiful, and so sweet.” Her chest rose and fell. “I hope Snowpaw bit chunks out of him,” she muttered. “He won’t get back on the ranch, will he?”

  “Not anymore. We’ve got security on our security,” he continued. “Nobody’s getting past any of us to get to you.”

  The comment went right over her head. She was still groggy from the anesthesia and she wasn’t quite thinking straight. She studied his lined face. “You look tired.”

  “You should see everyone else,” he replied. “Mandy’s gone to sleep. She and Mikey sat up in the waiting room all night while we slept. I was out like a light.” He caught her hand and pulled it to his lips. “I didn’t want to leave you, but I was dead on my feet.”

  She studied his hard face with wonder. “You were in ICU,” she recalled suddenly. “You were talking to me.”

  “Yes, I was,” he said. His face hardened. “You gave us a scare, honey.”

  She flushed a little with pleasure. Her pale eyes lit up as they scanned his face.

  He smiled. He liked making her blush. “I’m taking you home with me to Wyoming when you get out of here, if I have to fight your whole family to do it.”

  “Ta-taking me home?” she stammered.

  He kissed her soft palm. “We have unfinished business,” he said, his voice like deep, soft velvet. The look in his eyes emphasized the words.

  “Ren, I don’t... I mean, I can’t... I...” She ground her teeth together, and her face contorted.

  “I know all that,” he said easily. “Don’t rush your fences. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  “Do you really think so?” she asked worriedly.

  “Your brother-in-law is a hell of a lawm
an,” he said. “You’ve even got the mafia on your side,” he added, tongue in cheek. “I like Mikey. He was really worried about you. He said, and I quote, nobody hurts baby doll on his watch.”

  “Baby doll?”

  He chuckled. “That’s what he calls you.”

  “Wow. I wasn’t sure he even liked me.”

  “He likes you.” He made a face. “But not too much, or I wouldn’t say nice things about him.”

  She searched Ren’s black eyes until the pleasure became too intense. She dropped them to his broad chest.

  He squeezed her fingers. “Hey.”

  She looked up, her cheeks blushing.

  “I’m not leaving you,” he said deeply. “Not ever, Meredith.”

  She felt her breath catching in her throat. What his eyes were telling her was almost too wonderful to believe.

  “I’m so sorry, honey,” he said, a husky note in his deep voice. “So very sorry, for everything.”

  “You were hurting, and bitter about what happened with Angie,” she said. “I understood.”

  He drew in a breath. “Hurting you did nothing about the bitterness. It made everything worse. When Randall told me you were in the hospital, I headed straight for the airport. What I’m wearing is all I brought with me.” He smiled faintly. “So I guess I’m going shopping while you have lunch today.”

  She smiled gently. It impressed her that he’d dropped everything so quickly to see her. The look on his face was exciting. He wasn’t pretending. He really felt something for her.

  “Did you stay at Graylings last night?” she asked.

  He laughed softly. “Some house,” he mused. “Makes Skyhorn look like a shack.”

  “I love your house,” she argued. “It’s beautiful inside. It’s warm and comfortable, even the furniture just fits. It isn’t right to compare houses, anyway. Ours is the way Daddy left it,” she added with a cold expression. “Sari and I are going to remodel it as soon as Mr. Leeds’s hit man goes away. Which I hope will be very soon.”

  “I hope so, too, honey. But in the meantime, you have excellent protection.”

  “You mean our bodyguards.”

  “Them, too. But it seems that Cousin Mikey has placed a few more, shall we say, unconventional people around here to help out.”

  “So that’s it,” she murmured.

  “That’s what?”

  “The nurses said there were some very odd men carrying brooms and mops and pushing trays around the hospital. They weren’t sure why they’d been hired, because they didn’t actually do anything.”

  “Oh, they do something. They watch your room.”

  She grinned. “Mikey’s a pirate.”

  He chuckled. “He’s a nice pirate. A good guy to have on your side.”

  “Yes, he is.” She drew in a breath. “They must still be giving me something for pain. I’m so sleepy!”

  “Why don’t you nap for a bit, and I’ll go see what Jacobsville has in the way of men’s clothing?” he asked.

  “They have boots and jeans and chambray shirts, mostly,” she said drowsily.

  “I might turn up something a little snazzier than that,” he said.

  “Not too snazzy, or somebody might mistake you for the hit man.”

  “I’m too tall,” he joked. “It’s a known fact that hit men are small and bald.”

  “Is it, really?” She managed one last smile, then fell asleep.

  He got up, dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead and left the room. Right outside it, one man was leaning on a mop, another on a broom. They grinned at him.

  He grinned back and kept walking.

  * * *

  HE FOUND AN exclusive men’s clothing store, to his surprise, right on the main drag in Jacobsville. He found some pants and shirts and a nice jacket, along with a spiffy new Stetson—the first new one he’d bought in years. He put them in the luxury rental car he’d found on a local lot—it was a surprise to find one in a small town like this—and went into the nearby café for lunch.

  He was surprised when people looked up from their meals to stare at him. Feeling self-conscious, he went up to the counter and ordered a burger and fries.

  “You’re not from around here,” a tall, nice-looking middle-aged blonde woman asked, smiling.

  “No. I’m from Wyoming,” he said as he paid the ticket.

  “You’re Ren Colter.”

  His expression was just short of shock. “Well...yes.”

  “How’s Merrie?” a customer behind him asked. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “Yes. She’s out of ICU now, and doing much better,” he said.

  A tall man in a business suit, wearing a Stetson about as expensive as Ren’s, paused beside him on the way out. “Tell her the Ballengers asked about her, will you?” he asked. “I’m Justin. My brother Calhoun and I own the local feed lot.”

  Ren grinned and shook hands with him. “You fed out some cattle for me two years ago,” he said. “Nice job, too.”

  Justin chuckled. “Thanks. I’m running most of the business now that my brother won the US Senate race and is now our junior Texas senator in Washington, DC. He’s not home a lot.”

  “If he can find a way to keep government out of our ranches,” Ren said, tongue in cheek, “I’ll send him a Christmas card every year.”

  “That’s what I told him,” Justin agreed with a grin.

  “What are you doing loafing around in here?” Cash Grier asked Justin with a mock scowl. “You’ve got two bull yearlings out on the highway just outside the city limits. Hayes Carson says he’s going to cite you for feeding your livestock on county land.”

  Justin chuckled and shook hands with Cash. “Times are hard and grazing’s spotty in the fall,” he said. “Come over for supper sometime and bring Tippy and the kids.”

  “We don’t get out much in the evenings,” Cash returned. “We sit and watch the baby sleep.”

  “Been there, done that,” Justin said. “All my boys are in college now.” He shook his head. “Time flies.”

  “So true. See you.”

  “See you.” Cash turned to Ren. “You ordered already?”

  “Yes.”

  “Barbara, how about a bowl of chili and black coffee for the overworked and underfunded police department?” he called to her.

  “Coming up, Chief.” He stuck a five-dollar bill down on the counter and led Ren to a table near the window.

  “It’s the cops! Hide the automatic weapons!” a cowboy piped up.

  “You don’t have any automatic weapons, Fowler,” Cash shot back.

  “How do you know?” Harley Fowler joked. “I might have one in my boot!”

  “No self-respecting weapon would stick its muzzle in there,” Cash said disdainfully.

  “Who’s the tall stranger?” Harley persisted. “That Miss Merrie’s feller?”

  Ren burst out laughing.

  “That’s him,” Cash said, grinning.

  “You need a helping hand with that coyote who’s stalking her, you just let us know,” Harley told him. “We’ll put together a posse and go hunting.”

  “Not in my town, you won’t,” Cash said easily.

  “Not in your town at all, Chief,” Harley agreed. “Out in the boondocks!”

  Cash waved a hand at him. “Eat your sandwich and go to work, or I’ll call Cy Parks and tell him you’re ordering up lynch mobs.”

  “Nope, just coffee and BLTs,” Harley said, grinning. “Miss Merrie doing okay, then?”

  “She’s doing fine, thanks,” Ren replied.

  “She’s a sweet girl,” Harley replied. “Drew a picture of my wife. It was so lifelike, I thought it was a photograph.”

  “She’s got a rare talent,” Ren agreed.


  “Tell her we all asked about her,” Harley added.

  “Sure thing,” Ren replied.

  Cash smiled at Barbara as she delivered his chili and coffee and Ren’s burger and fries, also with coffee.

  “Thanks,” Cash said.

  “Have to keep the police well fed and happy,” Barbara said, “or crime will take a toll on my profits!”

  “If you want to keep me happy, go give my speech to the Rotary Club Thursday,” Cash said grimly.

  “You’ll do fine.”

  “I hate getting up in front of people,” Cash replied. “Life was easier ten years ago.”

  “In a ghillie suit crawling through the jungle? Give me a break!” She laughed, rolling her eyes. “If you need anything else, just call.”

  “Thanks.”

  Ren was staring at Cash over the burger. “Ghillie suit?”

  “Yes.”

  Ren bit into his hamburger and washed it down with coffee. “Barton was a sniper in my unit in Iraq. He had a ghillie suit.”

  “I did it for a living for a long time,” Cash replied. “So did a couple of other local residents, including one of our doctors—Carson Farwalker.”

  “He was at the hospital.”

  “Good man,” Cash said.

  “I had two other men in my unit from here—Cag Hart and Blake Kemp.”

  “Cag’s running the Hart Ranch Properties, headquartered here in Jacobsville,” Cash said. “Blake Kemp is our district attorney for the judicial circuit.”

  “I heard Meredith’s sister mention Kemp. She works for him, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes. She’s just started, but she’s good at her job.”

  “She loves her sister.”

  Cash nodded. “It was just the two of them against their father.” His face tautened as he ate. “Hell of a bad one. I wasn’t chief here when the girls were young. If I had been, he’d have been occupying a cell in my jail, and I wouldn’t have given a damn how much money he had.”

  “Meredith told me some of it,” Ren said quietly. “She’s had a hard life.”

  “They both have. But with the old man gone, a little sunshine’s filtering through. Especially for Sari,” he added with a smile. “She and Paul had a hard road to the altar. She wouldn’t speak to him when he first came back here. So he picked her up and carried her out to the car and talked to her there.”