Mountain Wild

by Stacey Kayne

  “We’ll need some room,” Chance told her.

  She sat back and Tucker closed his hands over the rise in Garret’s shoulder. Garret groaned through clenched teeth. Maggie eased closer, watching intently as his brother felt the wound.

  “Good news is it’s not broke,” said Tucker.

  “Dislocated,” Chance said. “Looks like Mitch’s shoulder did after that bronc tossed him last year.”

  “Bad news is, it’s gotta go back.”

  Chance’s gut burned with the knowledge of what had to be done. Mitch had screamed through the process and promptly passed out the second his shoulder popped into place. “A cinch strap?”

  “That should do it. Sit him up.”

  “This is going to hurt,” Chance warned.

  “Ain’t much…that don’t,” said Garret.

  A shout ripped from his lungs as Chance and Tucker curled him forward.

  “How are your knees?” asked Tucker.

  “Better than the rest of me.” Sweat beaded on his bruised brow, his eye glazing with pain as they shifted him up.

  Tucker leaned back to check his shoulder blade.

  Garret fisted the front of Chance’s shirt with his good arm and dragged him to eye level. “Take Maggie out,” he whispered through gritted teeth.

  Chance held his demanding gaze for a long moment, then looked up at Maggie standing a few feet away, her lower lip clenched beneath her teeth.

  “Hey, Mag? Why don’t you go on out and wait for us?”

  “If I can help—”

  “We’ve done this before. It’s not pleasant.” Chance nodded toward the open doors.

  Her worried gaze moved between him and Garret before she took a step toward the open doorway. “All right. I’ll be right outside.”

  The moment her footsteps left the barn, the pain Garret had been trying to hold back etched across his features.

  “Someone’s sweet on Mad Mag,” Chance murmured, a grin stretching his lips.

  “I think I’ve…got her wooed,” Garret said in a pant.

  Chance’s and Tucker’s laughter drowned out Garret’s groans as they moved him into position, curving a leather strap over his shoulder.

  “You’ve got gumption, kid,” Chance said. His feet braced, his hold tight, he looked up at Tucker. “Ready?”

  “God, no,” Garret groaned.

  Tucker gave a nod.

  “Sorry about this,” Chance murmured, just before Garret’s scream shook the rafters, echoed by the pop of his shoulder snapping back into place.

  So far as Chance could tell, no air rushed back into Garret’s lungs.

  “Breathe,” he said, easing him down to the ground.

  Hurting clear to the roots of his teeth, Garret wasn’t sure death wouldn’t have been the best option. He sucked in air as the blinding pain subsided, leaving a nauseated ache pulsing through his body. If the barn would stop spinning, he might be able to save himself from total humiliation.

  “Come on, Garret,” Chance prodded. “Say something.”

  “Hurts…too much.”

  “Who did this?”

  He blinked his good eye, trying to clear his blurred vision. “Covered their faces. They ride for Circle S.”

  “Who’s Circle S?”

  A wave of nausea forced his eye shut. Good God. He hurt.

  “Strafford, isn’t it? He was at our last two colt sales.”

  “Oh, yeah.” The sharp kick in his tone identified Tucker. “The tall feller in the shiny suits. Isn’t that the one Mag knocked out last spring?”

  “Yeah,” Garret said, wishing they wouldn’t talk so loud. Maggie was sure to be back at any moment. “They were looking for Maggie.” The thought of them coming back tempted him to ask Chance to take her to the Morgan Ranch, out of harm’s way. He had no right to ask any such thing. “Wanted to know where she lived.”

  “Does Mag know this?” asked Chance.

  “No. Don’t want her to know. Not yet.” He didn’t know how she’d react to the news that he’d been attacked on her account. Maggie could be as fierce as she was tender, and at the present moment he was in no shape to look after her if she took a mind to retaliate.

  “I suppose we ought to stand him up,” said Tucker.

  Garret moaned at the thought.

  “Your ribs don’t look much better than your face,” said Chance. “You got bruise upon bruise.”

  Garret didn’t have to see the purple flesh to feel the ache.

  “How do you feel otherwise?”

  A sweat broke out over his body at the mere thought of standing. It hurt to breathe. Hurt even more to talk. His pride ached worst of all—his girl having to be the one to cut him down and Chance and Tucker coming to his aid.

  “If it weren’t for visions of magpies, I’d just have you shoot me.”

  “Magpies, huh?”

  “Up you go,” said Tucker, sliding his arm under his injured shoulder. Chance lifted on his right side. Pain lanced his shoulder. Garret didn’t even try to help them, allowing them to lift his limp weight. Once on his feet, he held his left arm steady against his aching middle.

  Tucker grimaced at him. “Sure hope your lady friend wasn’t interested in you for your good looks. Your face is mighty colorful.”

  “She can’t resist…my boyish charm.”

  “At least they didn’t damage your sense of humor.”

  Peering through the narrow slit of one eye, he spotted Maggie standing just inside the door, her arms crossed stiffly over her chest, her cheeks flushed to a pretty pink.

  “There’s my girl.” He stepped away from the Morgan support. His attempt at a smile was answered by a glare.

  Stubborn.

  Another step and the barn began to spin. “Chance…I’m gonna be sick.”

  An arm braced across his shoulders and he was turned away from Maggie’s startled gaze.

  “Grab a bucket,” said Morgan.

  “Out you go, Mag!” the other shouted, and Garret felt a true appreciation for their help.

  “But—”

  “Now!”

  Maggie jumped at Chance’s booming voice. Furious at her brash dismissal she turned and stomped back into the darkening yard where another fifteen or so brutish men waited. They hovered at a distance, not one of them daring to say a word to her.

  Men and their stubborn pride! She didn’t need to be shielded!

  She went back to the porch to sit with Boots and found him on his feet and about to descend the steps.

  “Boots, stay!”

  The dog halted, his front paws on the first step. She hurried up to the wide porch and gently lifted him. He whimpered as she set him back onto the bench.

  “You need to stay still and out of the dirt,” she said, sitting beside him.

  He laid his head on her lap and her affection for this dog and his owner rushed to the surface. She cared for them in a way she’d not cared for anything or anyone. After two months with Boots, he felt like her own. Garret had left an imprint on her heart after only a few days.

  “Leave you two alone for half a day and all hell breaks loose.” She checked both sides of the blood-stained towel she’d tied around his wounds. Thankfully the bullet had missed the bone.

  The moment she saw movement by the barn she eased Boots aside.

  “Stay.”

  “Ma’am?”

  A tall cowboy stood at the base of the steps. A smile twitched beneath his wide brown mustache. “Name’s Mitch. Boots and I been friends a long time. I’ll sit with him.”

  “All right.”

  “Is he hurt bad?” he asked, coming up the steps.

  “He was shot through the shoulder. There’s no lead. It should heal.”

  “We keep a salve in the barn for cuts and such on the livestock. I’ll be sure to use some on him.”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  Boots sat up as though to follow her but Mitch took her spot and urged him back down. “Easy, boy,” he soothed. “She�
�s not goin’ far. Takin’ a bullet for Garret, you’re gonna be the hero in the bunkhouse tonight.”

  Maggie’s focus was on Garret slowly walking across the yard. Chance held his arm over his shoulders, which was likely all that kept Garret on his feet.

  “How is he?”

  “He didn’t throw up any blood,” said Chance. “About as good as we can hope for at this point.”

  “I’ll hitch the wagon,” Tucker suggested. “No way he’ll tolerate the ride in a saddle.”

  “Not going,” Garret said, his voice hoarse.

  “We’re taking you home. Skylar will have you whipped back into shape—”

  “I am home.”

  “It’s not safe,” said Chance. “Those marauders could come back and torch the place. The shape you’re in, you wouldn’t even make it out of the house.”

  “If my place goes, I’ll go with it.”

  “No piece of land is worth your life,” said Tucker.

  “Amen,” agreed Chance.

  “My crew will be in soon.”

  “A bunch of cowpokes won’t want to play nursemaid.”

  Garret’s bruised jaw clenched and Maggie surmised what the Morgans hadn’t yet determined. Garret was staying put.

  “I could stick around,” she said, “keep an eye on him.”

  Identical expressions gaped at her.

  “I don’t need a nanny,” Garret said through clenched teeth.

  “Earlier today you were nearly begging for my company.”

  “Wouldn’t be…proper.”

  “Now you’re worried about being proper?” She moved in beside him and helped to support his injured arm. “I’ll try not to cry when they kick me out of the quilting bee.”

  “I’m starting to see why he’s so smitten,” Tucker muttered to his brother. Both brothers grinned.

  How could they smile when Garret couldn’t even stand? “Can we get him into the house now?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they said in unison.

  Tucker rushed ahead toward the porch.

  “Boss? You all right?”

  The young rider she’d met this afternoon broke away from the group. His smooth face didn’t have so much as a scratch.

  “You!”

  Everett lunged back, bumping into the man behind him.

  “Where were you when Garret was getting the life beat out of him?”

  Everett looked at the men standing beside her. “She gonna hurt me?”

  “Hard to say,” said Chance. “Mag?”

  “I want to know why Garret looks like hell worked over and this derelict doesn’t have a scratch on him?”

  “We were on the roof when we spotted the riders,” said Everett. “He told me to go for help.”

  “And you left him here to face a whole band of men alone?”

  “I…” His gaze moved frantically between the three of them. “I did what he told me to do.”

  “You did good,” Garret said.

  Maggie huffed her disapproval.

  “Go clean up the roofing supplies. When the men ride in, make sure all our branding irons are accounted for.”

  “Yes, sir.” Everett backed away, keeping his wary gaze on Maggie.

  “Maggie.”

  She shifted her angry glare to Garret.

  “Wasn’t his fault.”

  “You need to lie down,” she said, keeping her opinion to herself. She wouldn’t have left him. She moved her arm around his waist to steady him as they climbed the steps.

  Tucker stood at the open door. “You want me to get him?” he asked as they stepped into the dark entryway.

  “No.” She kept Garret’s arm tucked against his side as Chance led him toward a staircase just beyond the foyer. As they crowded onto the stairwell, she knew three broad-shouldered men wouldn’t have fit in such a narrow space.

  “Which room?” Tucker asked.

  “End of the hall,” Garret answered.

  Light blossomed in the room up ahead. Maggie wedged in through the doorway and felt as though she’d stepped into her childhood bedroom. She blinked, not sure she believed her eyes.

  Pink satin wallpaper lined the walls. A massive four-poster bed, complete with a lace canopy, dominated the room. But the spindly carved vanity and wardrobes along the walls spoke of femininity, as did the lace curtains and rose painted lamps. She’d once had a room of such privilege and comfort, the memory adding to the chaos welling inside her.

  Chance chuckled as they lowered Garret onto the mattress.

  “Now isn’t this sweet,” he said, stepping back to take in the lace canopy and floral swags. “A room fit for a princess.”

  “Takes a real man…to pull it off,” Garret said in a shallow breath, and collapsed against the pink bed coverings.

  Both brothers laughed as they helped to prop him up against a stack of fancy satin pillows.

  Maggie pushed past Chance. “Are you going to tease,” she snapped, casting a reproachful glare over shoulder, “or make yourself useful?”

  “I’ll be right back,” Tucker said, and left the room.

  Garret’s fingers combated her attempt to remove the rest of his shirt.

  “Maggie, I can—”

  “You are going to sit still!” she raged, her vision blurred by unshed tears. “Or I will cut the rest of that shirt off you!”

  He captured her trembling hand and held it to his chest. “Honey, I’m all right,” he said softly. “Just bruised.”

  He could have been killed. She couldn’t stop the rush of tears. “You look like you’ve tangled with a bear. I should know.”

  “Come’ere,” he whispered, pulling her against his warmth, and Maggie couldn’t resist his comfort.

  Chance watched in stunned silence as Garret held Maggie close, consoling her fear, calming her tattered nerves. He’d known Mag for seven years, but obviously he didn’t really know her at all.

  She straightened a moment later, drawing a deep breath as she wiped her eyes.

  “Maggie, could you warm some water to clean his cuts? There’s a pump in the kitchen downstairs.”

  “Okay.”

  Tucker stepped into the room as Maggie went out. He shut the door behind her and held up a brown bottle.

  “Let’s get you liquored up.”

  Garret had downed a quarter bottle of whiskey by the time they had him stripped and back into bed. They’d fashioned a sling for his arm from a spare bed linen and secured it around his neck. Strafford’s crew had done their damnedest to stomp the kid into the ground. It was hard to look at him, his face and abdomen a mess of purple and black lumps. Ropes had left a spiral of bruising along his arms.

  Judging by the shape of his bloody knuckles, he’d torn up a few raiders before they got him tied down. There wasn’t anything else Chance could do but pray he didn’t have any internal bleeding. Only time would tell.

  “Strafford has gone to a lot of trouble to find Maggie,” Chance said as he sat on the stool in front of the vanity. “Seems to me, if she’s in danger, she has a right to know. Any particular reason you’re not telling her?”

  “She’ll think it’s her fault.” Garret’s slow speech told him the booze had taken effect. “And I’m in no shape to keep her from going after Strafford.”

  “You think she would?”

  “Might have noticed…my gal’s a bit of a firecracker.”

  “That she is, but I’ve never known Mag to seek out trouble. What does she have to do with Strafford?”

  “I’m not sure. Send for my attorney. He’s supposed to be looking into Strafford and some of the other new ranchers.

  The man in the chaps, he mentioned Duce. Said he wouldn’t cooperate when they asked him about Maggie.”

  “They killed Duce because they thought he had something to do with Mag?”

  “They figure we’ve been protecting her, helping her. Said she’s been vandalizing Strafford’s ranch.”

  “Has she?”

  Garret tried to peer up at him
through his good eye. “I don’t know. She laid him out quick that day in town. Upset as she is, I don’t want her to get a notion to go after him. I’m in no shape to protect her.”

  “You do realize you’re talking about Mad Mag?” asked Tucker. “Seems to me she can defend herself just fine.”

  “So can my sister,” Garret retorted, anger firming his tone. “She had to for years. Does that mean you want Skylar facing down gunmen alone?”

  Tucker gave a solemn nod. “I see your point.”

  “And her name is Maggie. How could y’all not see? She’s soft and sweet as a rosebud.”

  “Don’t look at me,” said Tucker, holding his hands up. “I never met the woman until today.”

  “I’m thinking Maggie gave you more than shelter from the storm up on that mountain.”

  “Watch it,” Garret warned in a growl.

  “All right,” Chance said, appreciating the kid’s discretion and respect for a woman Chance had long admired; a woman he didn’t recognize in Garret’s presence.

  By the time Maggie made it upstairs with a pot of warm water the room wreaked of whiskey. Garret was tucked in bed, his arm bound and his swollen eyes closed. Dried blood marred his skin and hair.

  “He’ll likely be out for a while,” said Tucker.

  “If I’d taken a beating like that,” said Chance, rising from a small bench, “I’d be praying for sleep. We’ve got to head back. Garret’s crew should be in anytime and I’ll leave a few of our men. I’d stick around but Cora Mae is due to have a baby. She was having pains when we left.”

  “I meant what I said. I can watch over him for a couple of days.”

  “Magpie?” His black-and-blue eyelids fluttered. He started to push up.

  “I’m here,” she said, sliding the bowl onto the night table as she sat on the bed beside him. She dunked a rag into the warm water and lightly swabbed his jaw. “Just lie still.”

  “So damn pretty,” he murmured, reaching up to caress her cheek.

  “You’re drunk.” Noting his lack of inhibition did little to keep a blush from scorching her face.

  “Want to hold you.”

  “Hush,” she said, placing the damp cloth over his face to keep him quiet. She glanced at the men standing behind them.

  Both brothers grinned at her.

  “Did you have to give him the whole bottle?”