“I’m sure,” Lindsay said, urging Blondie forward to join Cady and the others as they moved the cows into the alley. Lindsay suddenly understood what was meant when she’d heard people talk about how fast a cutting horse could move.
An hour later, they were working their last group of cows. Cady and Lindsay were taking turns opening the gate to let the worked cows loose into the pasture. In the fenced pasture to the side, some of the bulls looked on. Leroy, Trent’s prize bull, stood glaring over the fence and staring at the two women. Lindsay wasn’t sure he wouldn’t walk right over the fence and come eat them for dinner.
With half her attention on Leroy, Lindsay took her turn in letting a cow loose. She was just closing the gate when Leroy let out a loud bellow that frightened not only her, but also the cow she turned loose into the pasture. The cow kicked back, smashing Lindsay’s hand between the lever and the gate latch.
Gulping in air, Lindsay thought she might take a second tumble off the horse as intense pain shot through her hand and up her arm.
“Trent!” Cady screamed as she rushed to push the level forward and free Lindsay’s hand. Trent was there in a moment, followed by Trey.
“What happened?” Trent asked as Lindsay’s face lost all color and sweat broke out on her forehead.
“Her hand got smashed in between the lever and the gate,” Cady said, turning to Trey. “I think we better go to the house and see if we need to take her the clinic.”
“I’ll be fine,” Lindsay said between clenched teeth. She could wiggle her fingers, so she thought that was a good sign that nothing was broken, but the pain was growing worse by the second.
“Let’s go,” Trent said, swinging behind Lindsay on her horse and taking the reins in his hands. Trey sent Tommy to take care of the horses while he and Travis finished the branding with the remaining crew.
Riding right up to the back door, Trent jumped down then lifted Lindsay from the saddle. Cady opened the back door and he carried her into the kitchen, sitting down on a bar stool with Lindsay on his lap.
“We’re going to have to get that glove off before we can see what’s wrong,” Cady said, gently tugging at the fingers which made Lindsay wince in pain and bite her lip to keep from crying out.
“Cut it off,” Trent barked, unable to stand seeing Lindsay hurting.
Denni came running in from the front room. “What can I do?”
“Can you help pull this off while I cut?” Cady asked, grabbing a pair of kitchen shears.
“Certainly,” Denni said. “Trent, support her hand.”
Moving his hand so Lindsay’s wrist rested on top of his, Cady and Denni worked quickly and carefully to remove the glove.
Three of the fingers on Lindsay’s left hand were swelling so rapidly, she thought they looked like the sausages Cady grilled for lunch. The skin was broken on two of the fingers and blood dripped from a deep gash on the third. She knew all about jammed fingers from playing basketball, but nothing had ever hurt like this.
Cady crushed ice in the food processor, filled a large resealable bag with it, wrapped Lindsay’s hand in a towel and gently stuck her hand into the bag of ice shavings.
Lindsay sucked in her breath, thinking she might actually faint.
“I think we better take her,” Cady said, running to get her purse. Trent carried Lindsay out to his truck while Cady grabbed Lindsay’s purse from her car and the three of them drove to Moro to the medical clinic.
After examining her hand and doing X-rays, the doctor confirmed her fingers weren’t broken, just badly jammed and smashed. Her wrist had a slight sprain as well, so she left the clinic with a wrapped wrist and three fingers spread apart and encased in finger splints.
Cady drove Trent’s big truck home while Lindsay sat in the front seat and Trent sat in the back. He was in no shape to drive.
He’d been rattled enough when Lindsay fell off the horse, but when he saw her turn as white as a sheet and look like she might pass out, he thought he might be sick as well. When Cady and his mom pulled off the glove and revealed her swollen, bleeding fingers, he wanted more than anything to trade places with her. The trip to the clinic hadn’t been any better. He and Cady sat in the waiting room while the doctor examined Lindsay. She never cried out or carried on. When he heard her gasp as the doctor stretched her fingers, it took all his restraint not to run into the examining room and punch the well-meaning man in the nose.
Arriving back at the ranch, all the extra help had gone home, the dust had settled and everyone was sitting outside in the shade of the oak tree, enjoying a moment of rest. Cass and Buddy ran around the yard with Bob and Bonnie chasing along behind, yipping and barking.
Through her painkiller-induced haze, Lindsay thought it was as bucolic as any painting she’d studied at the art museum in Portland.
Trey hurried over to see how Lindsay was doing and apologized for her getting hurt.
“It’s not your fault, Trey. It’s not anyone’s fault,” she said, walking to a lawn chair that one of the hands vacated for her. “Although, I might cast a little blame at Leroy’s door. What’s his problem, anyway?”
Several of the men chuckled and most of them had to look at her hand.
“I say, Miss Lindsay, when you set out to do something you don’t go halfway,” said Henry, the oldest of the hands. “That is about as jammed as I’ve ever seen any finger, let alone three.”
Trent, who hadn’t said anything since they left the clinic, sank onto the grass beside Lindsay’s chair. He spent the next half-hour hovering over her, asking if she needed a drink or a cool compress or ice for her hand.
Finally, Lindsay reached down and squeezed his hand. “Can you please calm down and relax?” she whispered as Trent fidgeted next to her.
“I am calm,” he replied curtly. “Never been calmer in my life.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Trent Thompson,” Lindsay said with a grin. “Now sit down and behave for a few minutes.”
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m hungry,” Cady said, turning to look at her husband from where she rested against him on a blanket beneath the big oak tree. “You didn’t leave much lunch for the cooks and it has been a long afternoon. So, where is this dinner that you promised?”
“On its way, wife of mine. Should be here any minute,” Trey said, glancing at his watch. “We’re having pizza for dinner.”
“Really? You get pizza delivered out here now?” Cady questioned, knowing the closest pizza parlor was in The Dalles.
“Sure do,” Trey said with a teasing grin. “And here it comes.”
Cady and Lindsay looked to see a line of dust roiling up the long driveway behind a fast approaching vehicle.
Trey got up and pulled Cady to her feet, then walked over to the pickup.
A handsome young man stepped out with a broad smile. “Somebody order pizza?”
“We sure did,” Trey said, extending his hand in greeting to one of Travis’ hooligan friends, Brice Morgan. Brice and his older brother Ben, along with their sister Tess, spent a good portion of their childhood running wild with the Thompson trio. “Care to join us?”
“Don’t mind if I do. The smell of pizza tormented me all the way home,” Brice said, turning to Cady and tipping his hat. “How are you Cady?”
“I’m doing well. I think,” Cady said, giving Brice’s arm a gentle pat. “At least I can say I survived my first official branding.”
“Well, that is quite an accomplishment,” he teased, handing pizza boxes out of his pickup to eager hands.
“How did you come to be our delivery boy?” Cady asked as they walked toward the picnic table with the pizzas.
“Travis called this morning and asked if I’d pick these up on my way home. How could I turn down an invitation to dinner just for making the delivery?”
“We appreciate you doing it for us,” Trey said, slapping him on the back. “So tell us how things are going with the Morgan family and the Running M Ranch. I know yo
ur work in The Dalles doing construction has been going great guns and Ben is still with a barge company in Portland. How’s that sister of yours? I haven’t seen her around for quite a while.”
“Tess is just as sassy as ever.” Brice said, smiling at his host. “She’s an honest-to-goodness physical therapist. She’s looking at taking a job in The Dalles and getting out of Portland. I guess growing up sandwiched between her two angelic brothers, along with the Thompson boys, drove her to want to inflict great pain upon others and from what I hear she excels at it.”
Everyone laughed at Brice’s joke and the conversation continued to be lively throughout the meal.
Before he left, Brice stopped to admire Lindsay’s swollen fingers. “I heard you were letting good ol’ Trent hang around. Next time he gets out of line, I recommend making a fist and punching him straight out instead of trying to poke him to death.”
Lindsay smiled at Brice’s teasing. “I’ll take that into consideration for future reference.”
“Nice, man, really nice,” Trent said, giving Brice a glare that told him he was close to crossing a line.
“Well, I can see its way past time for me to go,” Brice said, waving his goodbyes. “Trav, see you Monday night at Hemplers.”
When Brice left, Trey turned to Travis. “What’s Monday night, bro?”
“Mick and Frank are putting together some bulls they want to use as rodeo stock and are anxious to see how they ride. Some of us are going to test drive them.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Trey asked, sitting up so fast he nearly dumped a sleeping Cass out of his lap.
“Nope,” Travis said, his face taking on a hard edge. “I might take your orders during the day, but you can’t tell me what to do on my own time, Trey, so just back off.”
When Travis stalked off toward the barn, Trey started to get up to follow, but Cady put a hand on his arm and he sat back down.
“Stupid kid’s going to break his durn fool neck,” Trey muttered.
“He’s not a kid, Trey, he’s a man. If he wants to break his neck, I don’t think there is a thing any of us can do about it,” Trent said, standing up and helping Lindsay to her feet. “He’s still working through some things, you know. Let him blow off a little steam.”
Trey didn’t comment, just nodded at Trent.
“I’m taking Lindsay home. Can someone bring her car?” Trent asked as they walked toward the vehicles.
“Trent, I’m perfectly capable of driving myself home,” Lindsay said, although she could barely keep her eyes open.
“Sure you are,” Trent said, nearly lifting her in the pickup. He helped her get the seatbelt fastened then nodded to Tommy who said he’d bring Lindsay’s car in a few minutes.
By the time Trent got Lindsay home and carried her in the front door, she was mumbling in her sleep. Trying to wake her was of no use, so he carried her to her bedroom, laid her gently on the bed, removed her shoes and pulled a quilt over the top of her. He used one of her fluffy decorator pillows to prop up her injured hand.
Trent wondered if someone should stay and sit with her, but decided he should probably go home and let her rest peacefully. He left her a note, placing it along with her cell phone on the nightstand next to her bed, telling her to call him if she needed anything.
Walking out the door, he watched Tommy pull up. Once the car was parked, Trent dropped Lindsay’s keys in her purse and took it back to her bedroom, checking on her one last time. Seeing her sleep soundly, he quietly shut her bedroom door and retreated down the hall.
Locking the house door behind him, Trent and Tommy returned to the ranch. One thing was for certain, it was a branding day he wouldn’t soon forget.
Chapter Nineteen
The American is wholeheartedly for love and romance at any cost.
Leslie Caron
Arriving home from a challenging day at school, Lindsay was ready for some peace and quiet. Her wrist was feeling better from her accident with the gate Saturday, but her fingers throbbed and ached.
Sending Trent a text that said she wasn’t going to stop by on her way home, she looked forward to settling down with a bucket of ice and a good book.
Pulling in her driveway, she groaned aloud to see her mother’s car there. Polly Perfect had only been to her house twice before, so Lindsay wondered what had inspired today’s visit. If all went well, she hoped her mother would soon be on the road home to Prineville.
“Hello, darling,” her mother called from her seat on the wicker chair by the front door. “I thought you would be home much sooner.”
“Sorry you had to wait, mother, but I am usually home about this time every day,” Lindsay said trying to juggle her purse, briefcase and keys with one hand. Her mother made no offer to help and Lindsay didn’t really expect one.
Unlocking the door, her mother waltzed in before her and took a critical look around.
“Goodness, Lindsay, you give shabby chic a strong accent on the shabby. Why don’t you get something a little more contemporary in here?” Christine said, lifting her chin slightly as she surveyed Lindsay’s comfortable couch and chairs.
Lindsay looked around and ignored her mother. Her tastes ran more along the lines of homey and inviting, not trendy.
“What brings you here, Mother?” Lindsay asked, setting down her things on the chair by the door.
“Well, for one thing your brother called and said you’d been injured in some accident with that low-life cowboy you’ve been hanging around,” Christine said, perching daintily on a chair. “Honestly, Lindsay, I get the whole romance ideal of a cowboy, but you need to think of your future. You can’t have one with someone who rides a horse and chases cows for a living. What could you possibly be thinking?”
“Trent is about as far from a low-life as you could get so I don’t want to hear you say otherwise again. I’m thinking that I’m pretty lucky Trent loves me.”
Christine jerked her head up and narrowed her eyes at Lindsay, clearly not appreciating her daughter speaking back to her.
“Regardless, I must insist you quit squandering your life and talents in this godforsaken abyss. When school finishes next month, I expect you to move home and we’ll see about finding you a suitable job. I’m sure Lonnie could help you find a more worthy vocation. Something more befitting a Pierce.”
“Really, Mother? What should I be doing?” Lindsay said, sitting down on the couch to keep from walking over to her mother and shaking some sense into her. “What exactly about teaching children to read, write and think creatively isn’t worthy? Go on, tell me what, Mother. Teaching is what I love to do. It’s what I want to do and it’s what I will do. As for this wonderful community, I’d say it’s blessed rather than godforsaken. The people here actually care about each other, look out for one another. Why would I want to leave that, Mother? Explain to me, why?”
“There’s no need to get snippy,” Christine said, twirling her wedding band around her finger, a sure sign she was not only nervous but flustered as well. For the first time in her life, Lindsay refused to let her mother bully her into doing something she’d later regret. “I only want what is best for you, what will make you happy.”
“No you don’t,” Lindsay said, something in her finally breaking free. “You’ve never, not once, wanted what was best for me. You wanted what would make you happy, make you look good, bring you accolades. When I don’t perform according to your plans, you treat me like I’m garbage, Mother. I’m not going to tolerate it anymore. If you can’t love me for who I am, and what I do, then there isn’t going to be a place for you in my life.”
“Well, I never,” Christine said, putting on her best motherly scowl.
“No, Mother, you’ve never because everyone walks on eggshells around the mighty Christine Pierce. Do you know why they do that? Because they don’t want to get on your bad side. They don’t want to be the next topic of your catty gossip sessions at one of your sorority meetings. People are afraid of what you’ll say
about them but I’m not anymore.”
“That is the most ridiculous…” A pounding on the front door cut off Christine.
Lindsay opened the door to find Trent standing there, holding a bouquet of daisies in one hand and his hat in the other.
“Hey, Princess, Cady said you should… Oh, hello, Mrs. Pierce,” Trent said walking in to the room and seeing Lindsay’s mother. By the angry looks on both their faces, he could only guess he interrupted something rather unpleasant. “I guess I should probably go.”
Reaching out to him, Lindsay gave his hand a light squeeze. “No, don’t go. Can you help me put those lovely flowers in some water?”
“Sure,” Trent said, following her into the kitchen. He could feel Christine’s disapproving glare boring holes in his back. When they got to the kitchen, Lindsay found a vase and handed it to him. He filled it with water, put in the daisies and set it on the table before turning around and opening his arms to her. She leaned against him, laying her head on his chest.
“I’m so glad you came,” she whispered.
“What’s going on?”
“Mother is trying to convince me to leave,” Lindsay muttered against his shirt.
“What!” Trent forgot to whisper.
“Shhh. She thinks you’re a ranch hand going nowhere, that teaching is a waste of my time, and I’m doomed to a life of drudgery if I stay here.” Lindsay felt Trent stiffen.
“Would you leave?” he asked, trying to keep the note of panic out of his voice.
“No,” she said. “Not unless you tell me you never want to see me again.”
“Well, that ain’t happening, sweetheart, so let’s figure this out,” Trent said, holding her for a moment. “I think we just need to turn the Thompson charm on your dear sweet mother. Cady sent me to get you to come for dinner, so I think you both should come.”
“Oh, Trent, I couldn’t do that to you and your family. There’s no need for you all to suffer.”
“What are you two doing in there? I insist you stop that infernal whispering and come back out here like civilized people,” Christine yelled from the front room.
The Cowboy's Spring Romance Page 22