Second Chances

by Denise Belinda McDonald

  She only counted six, but that didn’t mean the others weren’t coming in from another side of the property. The man in the lead, who bore a remarkable resemblance to Dale Holstrom, raised his gun in the air and fired several rounds. Zan couldn’t move, frozen with fear in her spot.

  A whinny right behind her made her jump. She turned to find Stella. The horse pawed at the ground, her ears back and head jerking. In all the noise, she must have turned around and tried to go back into the barn instead of out through the gate.

  Zan reached out with a tentative hand and petted Stella’s velvet nose. The horse had no bridle, so Zan gently grabbed a handful of mane and walked the mare toward the opened gate. Ten feet away from the gate, another barrage of rounds shattered the night. The horse reared up.

  Zan held her breath and waited for the horse to come back down on top of her, to crush her. But the mare landed off to the other side then bolted through the open gate.

  A shuddering breath racked through Zan’s lungs. Her knees shook and made it difficult to stand upright.

  That was too close.

  “I thought I told you to get the hell out of here,” she heard Jacob say from across the corral.

  She surveyed the area before looking at him. All the horses were out, only she, Jacob and Quint filled the area. When her gaze met his, the heat and anger she expected to see weren’t there. Instead, she saw admiration. The emotion conflicted with the earlier look on his face.

  Several fat snowflakes fell around them in earnest.

  “Stella got turned around and I…” Another barrage of gunfire drowned out her words.

  Something slammed into Zan’s shoulder from behind. She teetered for a moment, shaky on her feet. When she steadied herself, a tingle sparked through her shoulder before a numbing cold set in. She ignored the discomfort, worried another horse may have come back into the corral and run into her. She glanced over her shoulder but saw nothing behind her. With furrowed brows, she turned back to Jacob.

  He slapped his hat against his leg and knocked snow from the brim before he set it back on his head. “Someone’s doing a hell of a job trying to scare the horses.”

  Scare the horses? Zan was confused. Why would anyone scare the horses? Why did she suddenly feel lost inside the huge corral? Panic swept in and shortened her breath. A sudden need overwhelmed her. A need to touch him, to feel his heat, to rid herself of the ice-cold chill that engulfed her. She couldn’t break the connection with Jacob, as if it were dire to her life. She waited as he walked to where she stood rooted in her spot. Her ears rang. Dizziness took hold of her.

  When Jacob reached her, he smiled. “Thanks for getting Stella out.” His voice sounded tinny and distorted to her ear.

  “Just trying to help.” Her mind swirled and nausea rolled her stomach. A shiver racked her body and she had to fight to keep the chatter from her teeth. She was cold. So cold. From the inside out. She wanted to shake out her arms, circulate the blood to warm herself, but she couldn’t. Laden with more weight then she could bear, she stood still. “Did I do good?”

  ———

  Jacob nodded. She amazed him. He didn’t know why he was surprised. “Yeah, you did good.” He’d been furious at first when she hadn’t left, but he should have known better to expect anything less from her. She would always be the first to jump in and help. “You did just fine.”

  He had to touch her, to hold her. He stepped closer to her and wrapped her in his embrace.

  She smiled weakly up at him, then her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell limp in his arms.

  Jacob’s breath seized. His heart dropped to his stomach.

  “Zan?”

  Jacob shifted his hold. Wetness seeped through his leather gloves.

  He lowered himself to the ground careful to support her. When he finally sat, he eased his hand from her shoulder and grabbed his flashlight with the other. His gut rolled when he saw the crimson stain on the tan leather. He could only stare, horrified. Zan was bleeding.

  The masked gunman opened fire again. Then the reality of it struck him. Zan was shot. He needed help.

  “QUINT!” Jacob’s mind couldn’t quite grasp the truth. “Aw Jesus, Zan, don’t do this to me. Zan, please open your eyes. Open your damn eyes.” Despite the harsh words, he whispered it in her ear as he rocked her in his arms.

  “Somebody call the doctor. Zan’s been shot,” Jacob screamed.

  “What? Zan’s shot?” Quint ran up beside Jacob.

  “Go get the truck. We’ve got to…” His breath hitched in his lungs, “We’ve got to get her into town.”

  “The hospital—”

  “Is too far away. We need to get her to Doc’s.”

  “Aw shit.” Quint knelt down and caressed his aunt’s cheek.

  “Now! Quint get your ass in gear. We’ve got to get moving.” Jacob pushed Quint’s hand away and stood in an awkward balancing act.

  Jacob tore his gaze away from Zan long enough to see the men on horseback turn and head back across the property. Several of the ranch hands came and stood next to the corral fence. Hank hurried over to Jacob. “Let me help you, boy.”

  “No, get back. I’ve got her.” Zan’s blood soaked into his shirtsleeve chilled by the cold air. The snow fell in a heavy rhythm blanketing the ground around them.

  God, the drive into town was far enough without having to add weather into the mix. “Where the hell is Quint with the truck?”

  As if summoned by his ire, the truck pulled up to the open gate. Hank was at the door opening it as Jacob carried Zan. With help from Hank, Jacob climbed into the cab and cradled Zan in his lap.

  Someone shoved a handful of towels at him and Hank helped him pack them around her shoulder before he slammed the door.

  Quint peeled out and made good time getting to the highway. But the snow made him slow his speed and release a string of curses before he spoke to Jacob. “What the hell happened back there? Why the hell was she here?” Quint pounded his fist on the dashboard. “I hold you responsible for this Bowman. If she dies…”

  “Don’t even say that.” Jacob couldn’t blame Quint for voicing the same feelings that rolled in his gut. “I know this is my fault. Don’t you think I know that?”

  Jacob smoothed her hair back from her forehead. Her skin was pale and clammy. She hadn’t so much as stirred since she collapsed in his arms.

  “Eric said he thought it was Dale.” Quint’s voice was so low Jacob had to strain to hear him over his shuddered breath.

  “What?”

  “When he and Hank rode out to see what the commotion was, he said the lead horseman looked like Dale. He said he thought Bart and that crony Dwayne were with him, too. He couldn’t tell who any of the rest of them were.”

  “Asshole’s gone too far this time.” Jacob shook with anger. “I’ll see him in hell before he even looks at Zan again.”

  “I thought you didn’t give a damn about Zan.” Heavy sarcasm laced the younger man’s words.

  “I lied.” Jacob bowed his head and whispered in Zan’s ear. “I love you. Please come back to me.” He sang one of the campfire songs, first in a whisper then louder until he filled the cab of the truck with the song.

  She had to hear him. She had to come back to him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A foul taste filled Zan’s mouth. She tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. The remnants of a dream, of a dulcet voice crooning to her, stirred her mind. But the voice coupled with the steady motion that rocked her kept her under. She wanted to open her eyes, but she was so tired and couldn’t quite seem to surface.

  Think, she told herself. What had she been doing? Where had she been?

  Jacob. Horses crying. Shooting.

  It came to her with a fuzzy-edged clarity. Chaos collapsed the calm, cold winter night. Men shouted and horses cried. Shots rang out into the frigid air. Someone knocked into her. But who? No one was around. But she hadn’t cared. Jacob had opened his arms to her and she all
but fell into his warm embrace. Then nothing. The world turned to black. And there was nothing.

  But singing.

  She could hear it clearly now. Rhythm formed into tangible sounds, not just a vague noise rattling her brain.

  She knew it wasn’t a lullaby her mama would sing to her as a child. It was a male voice. Daddy can’t sing, she thought. Even though she could hear the words, they didn’t make sense to her. Nothing did. But the sound soothed her, comforted her.

  The words faded and the rocking motion stopped. Her body, weightless and numb, floated. A chilled breeze feathered her. Cold, wet kisses fell upon her face. Spot after spot. Not so numb after all.

  A door opened. She could tell by the rattle of the knob and the groan of the hinges, that she was certain. How odd she could distinguish the sound of a door, but not understand the words of a song. Or who sang it.

  Voices murmured around her. She heard snippets of the baffling conversation.

  “…horses…”

  “…masked men…”

  “…gunshot wound…”

  “…unconscious…”

  “…Zan…”

  That’s me. But none of it made sense. She was asleep. Yes, she had dreamed about horses and masked men, the rest warred with what she knew. Not shot.

  Asleep.

  Odd dream.

  She was moving again. The weightlessness vanished and she lay upon a stiff bed or table. A hand stroked her face, gentle and tender. But it trembled. A warm breeze—no a breath—tickled her cheek. Then drops of moisture dripped onto her and ran down to her ear.

  “I love you, Zan. Please—” the voice familiar but fading paused, “—don’t leave me.”

  ———

  Zan groaned. She ached all over, her body stiff. Her mind reeled. God, what nightmares. Strange dreams plagued her sleep. A sense of apprehension tightened her chest, but she didn’t know why.

  She opened her eyes and gasped at the face hovering above hers.

  “Aunt Bonnie?” Her voice sounded weak and thin, her tongue uncooperative.

  “Welcome back.” The older woman’s smile, though genuine, looked pained.

  “Back?”

  “You’ve been out of it for a little while.”

  Out of what? She tried to ask but her scratchy throat burned with the attempt. “Thirsty,” she managed to croak out.

  “Oh sure.” Bonnie’s face disappeared.

  The view of the unfamiliar wood ceiling made Zan frown. An antiseptic odor warred with cedar, assaulting her nose. Her breathing shallow, she couldn’t draw enough air in her lungs, though, to rid herself of the smell.

  The deafening quiet frightened her. She wanted to ask where in the hell she was, but a cup with a straw appeared in front of her. The cool water bathed her throat.

  “Where am I?” she asked when she finished drinking.

  “At Dr. Hambert’s house.”

  The apprehension she woke with built inside her. “Why?”

  She watched her aunt’s face blanch with the question. Her aunt looked away and nodded to someone. They weren’t alone? “You don’t remember?”

  Zan shook her head and suddenly regretted the movement. Pain ripped behind her eyes and her stomach rolled. She groaned again and clamped her eyelids closed.

  A warm hand slid into hers and gently gripped it. “How are you feeling today, Suzanne?”

  Zan opened her eyes and saw the wizened face of Dr. Hambert. Deep lines crinkled around his faded blue eyes as he smiled down at her. His hair stuck up in matted gray tufts as if just awoken from sleep. “Are you in any pain?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Everywhere.”

  She wiggled her toes and shifted her legs. They didn’t hurt, exactly, but were stiff. Her shoulders and head ached worse than any cold or flu she ever had the misfortune to suffer. Her arms, heavy to lift, reminded her of the time she hauled her niece Amy’s thirty-pound toddler around the mall for hours.

  What was wrong with her? She fought to remember. Flashes from the odd dream peppered her thoughts. But clarity didn’t come.

  “I’ll get you something for that,” he said then disappeared from sight.

  “Bonnie?”

  “I’m here, dear.” Bonnie retuned to her side.

  “What’s going on? Why am I at the doctor’s house?” She knew Dr. Hambert had an office on the rear of his home. But she wasn’t ill.

  “Well…” Bonnie looked away again.

  “I’ll tell her.” Another voice came from the other side of the room.

  How many people were there?

  Sheriff Reese stepped next to her aunt. “How are you, girl?”

  “I’m not entirely certain. But I’m pretty sure I’ve been better.”

  She didn’t mean it to be funny, but the sheriff chuckled and turned his Stetson in his hands. Anxious? “There was some trouble out at the Saddle Creek Ranch last night. Well, it’s only been a couple of hours really.”

  A couple of hours? How could she have lost a couple hours? She had been at the ranch talking to Jacob.

  Jacob. Where was he?

  “Where’s Jacob?” She tried to sit up. A wrenching pain jolted through her shoulder, forcing her to remain lying still.

  “He’s…”

  She didn’t hear Sheriff Reese. The pain in her shoulder made memories come crashing in. She had been at the ranch, all but begging Jacob to give her a chance, which he refused to do. And Trisha had been there with him. He’d found someone new, moved on before his scent had even faded from her sheets. Could he have made it clearer? He didn’t want her.

  Her heart sank as if she could still see the soured look on his face.

  Then someone started shooting, trying to scare the horses. She’d had to get Stella out when, disoriented, she went the wrong way. The mare had reared up. Had she landed on top of Zan? Had the horse injured her?

  She wanted to feel her face for injuries, but her damn arms were so heavy. Vanity be damned, she just didn’t care that much really. But curiosity was a strong incentive to find out.

  Before she could ask, though, the sheriff laid his hand on her forearm. “Suzanne? Did you hear what I said?”

  “No, sir. Sorry.” She looked up at him. “Did Stella put me here?”

  “Stella?”

  “Jacob’s horse. Did she hurt me?”

  The sheriff’s brows knitted. “No.”

  “Oh.” Then what happened? If Stella hadn’t hurt her then…

  “You were shot. In the shoulder.”

  “Shot?” She moved her head slow in denial. She studied his face, looking for a sign that he was telling a monumentally unfunny joke. His face revealed nothing. “No, sir.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. There were several men on horseback shooting around the corral.”

  She did remember that. The one in the front even reminded her of Dale Holstrom.

  “One of the men took aim and hit you,” he said with blunt matter-of-factness.

  “Aimed? On purpose?”

  He nodded slowly.

  Someone bumped into her. She wasn’t shot. “Impossible.”

  His eyes widened, but he didn’t comment.

  “No, sir,” she repeated. She shifted her view from his face to the tan Stetson. She couldn’t stand his frank look. “You’re mistaken.” But even as she said it, the reality dawned on her. The pain in her shoulder the truest testament. “Why would Dale shoot me?”

  “I never said it was Holstrom.” Sheriff Reese’s tone hardened and he dropped his hands, hiding his hat from her view.

  He hadn’t, had he? But she knew it was Dale.

  “I saw him.” She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. Aunt Bonnie held the cup to her lips as if reading her mind. She drank deeply then pushed the cup away. She looked back up at the sheriff.

  “How certain are you?”

  “I’m not a hundred percent, but it looked like him. All the shit—” she looked at her aunt with an apology, then back at Reese, “�
�that he has given me, I couldn’t miss him if I wanted to.”

  “But if it came down to it, could you testify to that in a court of law?”

  “Yes, sir. It was dark and they were a ways away, but I saw him. The lead horse. Had something half covering his face. A bandanna I guess. I can’t quite remember. My brain’s a little fuzzy.”

  He studied her for a long moment. “Okay. You get some more rest, darlin’. I’ll come in and check on you after a while.” Sheriff Reese set his hat on his head, tipped it at her and Bonnie and left.

  Dale Holstrom shot her? Why?

  “Here you go.” Dr. Hambert appeared in front of her. She hadn’t heard him come back into the room. “Take this.” He held a pill to her lips. She opened her mouth and took it, and then drank the water offered by her aunt.

  “You’ll be sore for a while. The bullet went clean through, but it’ll still hurt like the dickens.” The doctor patted her cheek with affection. “We’re just waiting for the ambulance from Sheridan, to come get you.”

  “What? No.”

  “Zan, hon, I x-rayed you. Nothing major damaged. You were pretty darn lucky. If those boys hadn’t gotten you here as fast as they did… well, there’s no telling.” He shook his head, his mouth pursed. “But you lost a lot of blood and they need to run additional tests on you to make sure you’re at a hundred percent. The snow slowed them down, but they should be here in a bit.”

  When Zan made no comment, he continued. “You will have a good size scar, but if it bothers you too much you can have a plastic surgeon look at it.”

  Zan’s eyes wanted to fill. Her mind couldn’t wrap around the events. Charles came to Wyoming all but beating his chest. Jacob dumped her and moved on lickety-split. Dale Holstrom shot her. What the hell had she done to turn her life upside down in a matter of moments?

  “You need to rest until they get here. That pill should help cut down some of the pain.” He touched her cheek once more and looked as if he wanted to say something. Instead, he shook his head again and looked away. “I’ll leave you two ladies and go watch for them. Holler if you need something.”

  Bonnie nodded and mumbled.