Jenna's Cowboys

by Laura Jo Phillips

  “That’s different,” Susie said. Jenna and Meg both arched a brow at her until she blushed even redder than Jenna had. “Fine, maybe not so different, but they’re my sole means of creativity. And speaking of creativity, I’d like your opinion on a discussion Jenna and I’ve been having.”

  “Susie,” Jenna warned, but the other woman blithely ignored her.

  “I’m always happy to give my opinion,” Meg said. “What is it?”

  “Jenna’s drawings,” Susie said. “I think she should do a series of western art, have prints made up and sell them here in the shop. I also think she should do portraits but I’ll hold off nagging on that till after the babies are big enough for her to have some free time. Like after they leave for college.”

  Meg laughed. Jenna was the daughter of her heart and had been from nearly the moment she’d met her. But she liked Susie a great deal. She was smart, and she had spunk and sass that was, unfortunately, tempered because of a mean ex who hadn’t kept his fists to himself.

  “I think it’s a great idea,” she said. “Why are you against it, Jenna?”

  “Because drawings of horses and cowboys don’t fit in with this shop,” she said. “They’d mess up the overall feel of the place.”

  “You’ve got a point,” Meg said, nodding. “And a good one. But I still think you should consider doing it. The tourists from the dude ranches would snap them up. Just don’t sell them yourself.”

  Jenna’s eyes widened. “Now that’s an idea.”

  “Who’d sell them?” Susie asked.

  “There are a few of the other businesses I can think of that might be interested,” Meg said. “You’ll have to give it some thought, but I think it’s a good idea.”

  “All right, I’ll think about it,” Jenna said as the bell over the door rang again. She looked toward the front of the store, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree when she saw Cole and Dillon, causing Meg and Susie to exchange smiles.

  “Hello angel,” Dillon said, both men’s eyes going straight to Jenna. Once they were assured she was safe and well, they greeted Susie and Meg.

  “Did you get it?” Jenna asked.

  “Yes, we got it, and it looks real good, too,” Cole said. “Antony did a great job with the frame.”

  “What frame?” Meg asked unabashedly curious.

  “Jenna drew something for Doc,” Dillon said. “She wanted to give it to him today but we weren’t sure if Antony would have time to finish framing it. He did though, barely.”

  “Who’s Antony?” Susie asked curiously.

  “One of the Daniels brothers,” Jenna replied. “They make furniture, cabinets, and just about anything else that has to do with wood.”

  “Come on honey, we’re running a couple minutes late so we best get going,” Cole said, scooping her up into his arms with an ease that still surprised Jenna. After two and a half months she was used to it, though.

  “See you two on Monday,” she said, waving at Meg and Susie.

  ***

  “I’m impressed,” Doc said, smiling after completing his exam. “You’ve gained seven pounds this past month, you look rested, and your color is very good. How quickly do you get tired these days?”

  “Not nearly as quickly as before,” Jenna said. “I can stay awake as long as five hours, sometimes a little more.”

  “That’s good news,” Doc said. “You had me worried there for a time Jenna, but you’re doing real good now.”

  “A big part of the reason she’s doing so well is drawing, Doc,” Cole said from where he stood at one side of the exam table.

  “Drawing?”

  “Now, angel?” Dillon asked from the other side of the table. Jenna nodded. Dillon bent down, then stood up with a picture frame. He turned it around so Doc could see the drawing it held.

  Doc stared in surprise, then smiled as he stepped closer. “This is brilliant,” he said as he took in the details of the drawing of him sitting in front of the ultrasound smiling, the screen beside him displaying Jenna’s babies at ten weeks.

  “You did this from memory, Jenna?” he asked, knowing damn well she hadn’t taken a photograph of him.

  “Yeah, do you like it?”

  “I love it,” Doc said. “I really do. You have a true gift.”

  “Thanks,” Jenna said, blushing. “Today marks the end of week 32 Doc, and I wanted to give you something special, to thank you for all you’ve done for me, for us, and for Max and Marli.”

  “Well this certainly fits the bill, Jenna. This is real special and I’ll treasure it always. The detail is astounding. I bet I see something new every time I look at it. You have a photographic memory, don’t you?”

  “Just for images, like this.”

  “Interesting,” Doc said, then turned his attention back to the drawing. “You said drawing is why she’s doing so much better, Cole?”

  “Yes, and it really is, Doc. Jenna doesn’t like television, and reading bores her after a while. With nothing to occupy her mind, sitting in one place all the time about drives her crazy. She gets tense and antsy and it’s hard to distract her for long. But she can sit and draw for hours without even realizing the time passes. And she enjoys it, so it relaxes her.”

  “In that case you two need to make sure she never runs out of drawing materials.”

  “Don’t worry about that, Doc. We laid in a good supply.”

  “Good,” Doc smiled, then carefully set the framed artwork on the counter. “You three ready to see Max and Marli now?”

  “Yes,” they all said at once, then laughed.

  After getting several new pictures of their babies from Doc, Dillon carried Jenna out to the truck while Cole hurried ahead to unlock and open the door. Once they were sure Jenna was comfortable, Cole started the engine. “We need to stop at the drug store to get your vitamins, Jenna,” he said, turning onto Main Street.

  “Okay,” she said. Cole found a spot at the curb half a block from the pharmacy and pulled into it. “Do you wanna come in?”

  “No thanks,” Jenna said, yawning. “I’m a little tired. I’ll wait here.”

  “We should have brought the Denali,” he said, frowning.

  “Kind of hard to pick up all those oats with the Denali,” she said, rolling her eyes as she gestured to the loaded truck bed with her thumb. “I’m fine Cole.”

  “All right, I won’t be long,” Cole said, opening his door.

  Jenna looked at Dillon. “You don’t need to stay in the truck with me, Dillon. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Dillon hesitated. There’d been no further incidents since the vitamin poisoning a month earlier. Jag had just returned from Oregon, but he and his men hadn’t turned up anything helpful which was a big disappointment. They still had no idea who was responsible for the attempts on Jenna’s life, and that worried them a great deal, but they’d learned their lesson about treating her like a child. Sometimes it was a difficult line to walk. “Promise you won’t unlock the doors, no matter what.”

  “I promise.”

  “All right then, while Cole’s in the pharmacy, I’ll run over to the Tack Room and see if my new saddle came in.”

  “Okay, see you in a bit,” Jenna said. Dillon climbed out and waited for Cole to lock the doors with his key fob. Then they both set off in different directions. Jenna laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

  Several minutes later she was dozing lightly, not far from true sleep when a strange sound that she couldn’t identify caught her attention. She opened her eyes slowly, frowning as she looked left, then right. The sound came again, a pffttt sound, muffled, but not far away. She looked through the windshield and saw several strange little marks on the glass. At first she thought they were chips, like gravel made when it hit a windshield at high speed. But they were bigger, and besides, the truck was standing still. She was still trying to work out what they were when another one appeared directly in front of her, along with another phfftt sound. Then, suddenly, there wer
e several in rapid succession, one after the other, all of them right in front of her face.

  It took just a moment for her to understand that someone was shooting at the windshield. No, she corrected herself. Someone’s shooting at me. And the glass was breaking.

  Remembering what Cole had told her about bullet resistant glass, she immediately reached for the buckle on her seatbelt. She fumbled with it for a moment as she watched bullets hit the glass in front of her one after another after another, knowing that at any moment the glass was going to give way under the onslaught. A fist squeezed her heart painfully but she continued working at the seatbelt. Finally the buckle came free and she leaned sideways, struggling to get her feet up under the steering wheel so she could lay down on the seat and get her head below the level of the windshield since her stomach was too big for her to bend over that far.

  By the time she was lying flat on the seat, bits and pieces of glass had started flying into the cab. She wondered frantically how many bullets one gun could hold as she began to work her way off the seat and onto the floor. The hump in the middle of the floor pressed hard against her back and the squeezing fist in her chest tightened but she did her best to ignore both. Larger and larger chunks of glass were flying into the cab now and she understood she had very little time left before it gave way. She turned her head as far to the side as she could and covered her face with her hands just before the windshield exploded with a terrific crash.

  “Jenna!” Dillon screamed as he ran across the street as fast as he could. He saw Cole running from the other direction, and knew others were also running toward their truck, which someone was still shooting at. He saw more people running toward a building up the street where the shots were coming from, but focused all of his attention on moving his body as fast as he could toward Jenna. When the bulletproof glass of the windshield finally gave out under the assault, his heart seemed to climb up into his throat, but he never slowed down, never hesitated. Uncaring of the rain of bullets that continued hitting the truck, he and Cole both raced straight to it, ignoring the shouts of warning to stay back. Dillon reached the passenger side door two steps ahead of Cole, grabbed the handle and pulled only to find it locked.

  “Unlock it,” he yelled at his brother who was already digging in his pocket for the key. Dillon looked in through the side window, saw the seat covered in a pile of broken glass, but no Jenna. His heart skipped a beat, then the lock mechanism on the truck clicked and he yanked the door open, terrified by the sight of the vacant, glass covered bench seat.

  Then he heard a soft whimper and there she was, on the floor, her hands over her face and her entire body covered in glass. Realizing that the shots had stopped, he reached down, carefully worked his hands under her, then lifted her up and out of the truck in one smooth, careful motion. He cradled her in his arms as Cole pressed against her other side, covering her with their bodies in case the shooter was still out there as they brushed chunks of glass off of her.

  “Get in here,” Stephan Cord shouted from the door to Jester’s just a few yards away. They immediately turned and hurried across the sidewalk and into the restaurant. Stephan shut the door and led them to a long, padded bench in the lobby. Dillon laid Jenna down, then he and Cole knelt beside her and quickly examined her for injuries.

  “I’m okay,” Jenna said even though her teeth were chattering, her breathing was too fast, and her mouth was blue. She didn’t look or sound okay to Cole, Dillon, or any of the men starting to fill the lobby.

  “Someone call Doc,” Cole said, still checking Jenna for injuries.

  “I already did,” Stephan said. “Just a minute ago. He’s on his way.”

  “I’m all right,” Jenna said shakily. She reached out to touch both Dillon and Cole, the fear and panic in their eyes overriding her own.

  Cole forced himself to speak as calmly as possible. “You need to focus on your breathing, baby. Long slow breaths.” Jenna nodded and made the effort, her eyes fixed on Cole’s.

  “Let me through now,” Doc said a couple of minutes later, pushing his way through the growing crowd of men and women.

  “Hi Doc,” Jenna said, her breathing still too fast, but better.

  “Hello Jenna,” he said, studying her pale face and the blue around her mouth that was pronounced enough that it was easy to see even in the dim light. “Tell me how you’re feeling, but remember your breathing,” he said, picking up one wrist and placing a finger on her pulse.

  “I’m cold and a little shaky, but not too bad.”

  “Here, angel,” Dillon said as he draped a blanket over her that Stephan handed him. She smiled her thanks.

  “How about your heart? Does it feel like it’s being squeezed?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not as bad now.”

  “Was it worse earlier?”

  “Yes.”

  “How bad did your breathing get?”

  “It got away from me some, but not completely.”

  “Good girl,” Doc said as he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm and started squeezing the bulb. “How bad did the squeezing pain get?”

  “Bad,” she admitted. “But it didn’t last too long this time.”

  The lobby was packed with people now, but it was dead quiet. Other than the handful of people she’d confided in, no one knew Jenna had a problem with her heart and they were suddenly terrified for her and her babies. Feeling the stares Jenna looked up and around at all the people watching her. But instead of getting nervous the way she would have not so long ago, she smiled. She knew these people, and she knew they cared about her.

  “It’s okay everyone, honest,” she said. “I don’t have a scratch on me.”

  “Hmmph,” Doc said as he removed the cuff. “You’re not as blue as you were a minute ago, but your blood pressure is still too high and your pulse is too rapid. I wanna take you over to the clinic so I can check your heart, and take a peek at Max and Marli.”

  “Of course Doc,” Jenna agreed, her breathing almost back to normal. “But um, could you check on Dillon and Cole for me? I’m getting worried about them. They’re being awful quiet.”

  Doc glanced at Cole, then Dillon, and nodded. He knew exactly how they were feeling at the moment, because he felt the same way, though perhaps not quite as strongly. They were silent because their fury at whoever had just tried to murder Jenna and their unborn children was so great they were afraid of letting it spill out onto her. “What do you two think is the best way to get Jenna over to the clinic?” he asked, trying to distract them.

  Cole looked at him blankly for a moment, then frowned as he thought about the problem. “We can’t drive her obviously,” he said after a moment. “Anyone have any ideas?”

  “If you don’t need to rush, Doc, Sheriff Luke is on site right now.” Everyone turned their eyes to Luke’s right hand man, Deputy Sal. “I’m expecting an all clear soon.”

  “Does anyone know who did the shooting?” Dillon asked, his voice as cold as ice.

  “Not yet, Dillon,” Jag said. “If you don’t mind climbing into my van I’ll be happy to drive you over to the clinic. It’s fully armored.”

  Cole looked at Doc who nodded and closed up his bag before getting to his feet. It was clear he didn’t want to wait any longer than necessary to get Jenna checked out.

  Cole lifted Jenna, then turned to face the crowd. “Thank you, everyone, for coming so fast,” he said. “If someone would call Meg to let her know Jenna’s okay, and tell her we’ll be at the clinic, we’d be grateful.”

  “Don’t worry, Cole, we’ll make sure Meg knows her daughter and grandbabies are fine,” Stephan said. Jenna smiled as she blinked back the sting of tears at that. She loved Meg so much and loved having her as both a friend, and a mother figure. That the rest of the people in town recognized the bond they had meant the world to her.

  “Thank you, Stephan,” she said. Then Cole carried her out the door where a double line of men formed up to guard Jenna from the moment she left t
he doorway to the moment Cole carried her into Jag’s van. Dillon and Doc followed and Jag slid the door shut, then climbed into the front passenger side, leaving the driving to his partner, Rick.

  The clinic was just a few blocks away so it took only a couple of minutes to get there. Cole carried Jenna inside, setting her down on the exam table in the room Doc indicated. He helped her to get undressed and into a gown, then lifted her up to the table so she could lay down. A minute later Meg knocked on the door, so Cole opened it and let her in.

  “Hi Meg,” Jenna said, smiling worriedly at the expression on Meg’s face.

  Meg bit her lip, but couldn’t speak as she leaned over the table to hug Jenna. She held on to her for a long time before straightening up and wiping the tears from her face. “They said you were all right but I had to see for myself, Sugar.”

  “I’m real glad you’re here, Meg,” Jenna said, squeezing the older woman’s hand gently.

  “Meg, would you mind staying with Jenna while Doc does his tests? I’d like to speak with a few of the men.”

  “Of course I don’t mind, Cole,” Meg said. “I’ll stay right here with her, don’t worry.”

  Cole leaned down and kissed Meg on the cheek. “I know you will.” He kissed Jenna, then left the room just as Doc came in. He hurried up the corridor and into the waiting room, unsurprised to find Dillon, Sheriff Luke, Sal, Jag and six of his men as well as most of the men of downtown Sparx including Jack, Hank, Stephan, Chev, and a dozen others.

  “What do you know, Luke?” Cole asked, his voice low and restrained, his eyes matching Dillon’s in their icy fury.

  “Not as much as I’d like to know,” Luke said. “We found the site up on top of Flo’s Market, along with about a hundred shell casings. We could get lucky with a finger print but I’m not holding my breath. About thirty people ran toward the market as soon as it was obvious that’s where the shots were coming from, but the shooter stood behind that big sign on the roof, so no one could see who it was. There were three shoppers in the market, along with Flo and her men. None of them left during the shooting or entered after it. Lou and Henry tried to get up on the roof themselves but the door had been blocked. We had to have someone climb up to the roof to clear the door.”