“I’m gonna have to forfeit this go. I’m driving Channing to the hospital.”
“I’ll take her.” Gemma’s arm circled Channing’s shoulders. “Colby would be pissed if you didn’t ride on account of him. So get back there and cover that bull. Meet us there later.”
Cash nodded and reluctantly trotted off.
Channing was absolutely numb. She let Gemma lead her into the parking area. The heat from the blacktop nearly scorched her lungs. She didn’t remember anything about the ride to the hospital, as she was too busy praying that Colby would still be alive when she got there.
Eight excruciating hours later the surgeons gave the news to the family. The doctors had stopped the hemorrhaging, which was their first concern. Then they’d fixed his collapsed lung. After that, they began surgery on his leg and inserted an intramedullary rod down the center of Colby’s thighbone.
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Colby was in intensive care in stable condition. With physical therapy he’d walk again. Even ride a horse. But the doctor’s prognosis for Colby continuing his rodeo career even part-time wasn’t good. Colby had a long road of therapy ahead of him. Months.
Channing heard all of this information secondhand from Trevor and Edgard. And Gemma. And Cash. She’d hidden herself away in a tiny lounge off the main family waiting area. Not wanting to intrude on the McKays. For her own self-preservation she would not insert herself in a situation already rife with trauma.
For all those hours Colby was in surgery, she’d paced. Worrying.
Wondering. When she’d received the news he’d pulled through, she’d curled into a ball and wept. Colby was alive. That was all that mattered.
“Channing?”
She looked up when Gemma plopped beside her on the dilapidated loveseat but she couldn’t muster a smile. “Yeah?”
“It’s been hours. You want something to eat?”
“No. I’d just throw it up. Thanks, though.”
“Okay. That’s fine. How long do you want to stay here?”
“Until I can see him. Let me rephrase that. Until I can see him in private. Without me having to explain who I am to his family.” Not that she knew who she was to Colby.
His words mine mine mine echoed in her head.
But what did that mean?
“You realize that might not be for a day or two. The McKays have all but circled the wagons ‘round him. Cord, Colton and Carter will all be here tomorrow.”
Crap.
Gemma frowned. “Why do you say that?”
Channing wasn’t aware she’d muttered the word aloud. “Because me sticking around wasn’t part of our arrangement. Colby and I had always planned to part ways after Cheyenne. Now is just as good a time as any for me to leave.”
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Gemma’s eyes froze into chips of ice. “You’re just gonna take off like nothing’s happened? Like it don’t matter he’s laying unconscious and beat up and practically dead in a hospital bed?”
Channing winced at Gemma’s hard slap of words. “No. But maybe you’d like to give me a chance to explain myself before you go jumping to conclusions.”
“Fine. I’m listening. But even you gotta admit things are different now.”
“Yeah, they’re probably worse, Gem.” Channing leaned against the concrete wall and resisted beating her head into it. She closed her eyes.
“How long is Colby going to be in the hospital? A week? Two? When he’s well enough to leave, he’ll have to return home to the ranch because he won’t be able to take care of himself. His family will expect to do that, as they should. You really think they’ll want me—a strange woman from the East Coast—around?
“Do you think Colby will want me underfoot? God. When he was injured in Greeley he’d get all pissy whenever I fussed around him. The man is stubborn. And proud. He didn’t want me to see him as weak so he took chances he shouldn’t have. That injury wasn’t nearly as serious as this one is. He’ll have months of physical therapy, months of being dependent on others. So if I drop everything in my life and move to Wyoming to help take care of him, he’ll resent me. I know he will. I couldn’t stand that, Gemma. He’s too important to me.” Her voice broke.
Gemma pressed Channing’s head to her shoulder and let her cry.
When the worst of the jag was over, Gemma smoothed the hair from Channing’s damp cheek. “You know, I’d like to argue with you and say you’re wrong, but I have a sneaking suspicion you’re exactly right.”
“I wish I wasn’t.”
“Me too.” Gemma handed her another Kleenex. “I’m sorry I was hard on you.”
“That’s what friends do, Gem.”
They stayed locked in silence for a while. Gemma sighed and scooted away. “So what are you gonna do, girlie?”
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“Same thing I’ve been doing, I guess. Hide out until Colby’s family leaves and then I’ll sneak in to see him. After that, I have some things to deal with at home that I’ve been putting off.”
“You gonna stay there? Back on the coast where your folks live?”
Probably not. “I don’t know.”
“Remember, my door is always open. If things don’t work out for you with your family or your job, look me up. I can always use another set of hands to muck out horse stalls. The company would be nice too, Chan.
I’m gonna miss you.”
Channing actually smiled for the first time in hours. “Thanks.”
“No problem. This whole situation sucks all the way around.” Gemma stood. “Call my cell when you’re done here and I’ll come get you and take you to the airport.”
Channing nodded.
Hours passed. Trevor, Cash, Edgard and several other cowboys on the circuit came and went. She watched from the shadows at end of the corridor. No one paid any attention to her. She’d spent her whole life blending into the background and she was damn good at it.
Around five a.m. Channing was jostled awake. She blinked up into Keely McKay’s curious blue eyes.
“Channing, right? Gemma told me to keep an eye on you. My folks are gone. Colby isn’t awake, but he is alone if you want to see him.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
The room was small and filled with a medicinal stench. A ghostly sound of Colby’s breathing apparatus echoed, as well as the constant beep beep of the machines keeping him alive.
Channing bit her tongue hard to stop a gasp from escaping.
His leg was in a cast. Most of the rest of his body was covered up with blankets. He had tubes in both arms. He didn’t look frail; he looked…like a wounded warrior.
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She approached the side of Colby’s bed, curling her fingers around the metal railing. Her tears fell. “Oh, cowboy. Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
No response.
She brushed her fingertips across the scraped-up knuckles on his hand and studied his unconscious face for the longest time, hoping for a sign of some kind.
Increased activity in the hallway signaled it was time for her to go.
Channing kissed his forehead and moved her lips to his ear. “Get better soon. When you’re back on your feet, cowboy, come looking for me because I’ll be waiting. No matter where I am or what I’m doing I’ll be waiting for you. For as long as it takes. And I’ll say the words you were so hell bent on hearing from me last night. I love you, Colby McKay. Don’t you ever forget it. I’ll say it again. I love you.”
Walking away from him was the hardest thing she’d ever done, even when she knew it was for the best. For now.
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Chapter Twenty-One
One week later…
Trevor sipped his fourth beer and watched Edgard loading the las
t of his tack in his luggage. “You sure you don’t wanna take that saddle? It’s awful damn nice. Nicer than mine.”
“No. You can have it. Or you can sell it. I don’t care either way.”
Pause. “Maybe I’ll keep it around for when you come back.”
Edgard sighed, but he didn’t look up from zipping his soft-sided suitcase. “I already told you, Trev. I’m not coming back.”
Trevor ignored the stab of pain near his heart. He drained the lukewarm brew and reached for another.
Thud. Edgard’s last bag hit the floor.
The silence between them was deafening.
Edgard said, “When are you going to Cody?”
“Tomorrow. Early.”
“Who’re you going with?”
“Cash and Brian. Colby’s cousin Dag.”
“Good luck. Dag’s a great heeler.”
“Thanks.” He fiddled with the metal tab on the beer can. “You sure you don’t want me to take you to the train station?”
Edgard laughed softly. “That wouldn’t be wise, amigo.”
“It ain’t like I’m gonna make a big scene, Ed,” Trevor scoffed.
“I know. Maybe I would.” Edgard briefly shut his eyes. “Shit. I’m not gonna do this. I can’t do this anymore.”
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Edgard ran his hand through his hair. A gesture of frustration Trevor had come to recognize in the last two years he and Edgard had been together. Off and on. In secret. He knew it wasn’t fair to either of them.
Trevor wanted to get up, walk over and smooth Edgard’s dark hair back in place. He ached to soothe him and tell him everything would be all right. But mostly he wanted to wrap his arms around Edgard and beg him not to leave.
But Trevor did none of that. He just steadily drank his beer, waiting for the numbness to settle in and ease his sorrow.
Edgard opened the door and tossed out his luggage. Then he closed the door again and braced his shoulders against the wall.
Automatically Trevor stiffened.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to make you uncomfortable by telling you how I feel. You already know. I just wish things could be different.”
Trevor swallowed a drink and the lump in his throat. “Me too.”
“Take care of yourself, meu amor.”
“You too.”
A truck horn honked outside.
Without another word Edgard turned and walked out of his life.
Trevor stayed seated until he heard Gemma’s rig drive away. Then he slowly stood, shuffled to the door and locked it.
He shoved the rest of the case of beer up in the sleeping compartment and crawled across the mattress. He cracked open a fresh can, lay flat on his back and let the tears come.
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Chapter Twenty-Two
Eight weeks later…
Colby McKay sat on the front porch of his parents’ house with his leg propped on a folding chair and scowled at the darkening sky. Fucking clouds. If it was gonna be cloudy, at least the damn things should be rain clouds. They needed the moisture in a bad way.
A dry autumn breeze drifted through the eaves, rattling the wind chimes. He’d been home for two months. A doctor ordered bed rest after his leg had been busted up like a cheap 2X4, and his lung had seeped air like a leaky balloon.
As glad as he was not to be pissing in a colostomy bag or wheeling himself around in a chair for the rest of his life, it stung his pride that his family was forced to take care of him at the family homestead for the time being. For six long goddamn months.
Oh, they didn’t seem to mind. His mom was happy to have him home in any capacity, happier yet he was done with life on the road. He was still shuffling around on crutches with a brace on his leg like a gimped-up old man, but at least he wasn’t flat on his back.
Still, there was something mortifying about his mom or his sister doing his physical therapy exercises with him every damn day. That little sadist Keely liked inflicting pain on him. He’d warned her paybacks were a bitch and he’d invited Amy Jo over to keep him company on occasion.
But he suspected the only reason Amy Jo showed up was on the hope she’d run into his brother Cord.
Colby felt useless. He couldn’t stay by himself in his beloved log cabin on the other side of the canyon. His mother claimed she didn’t trust him 238
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not to do too much, too soon. Helping Colton with chores was out, too.
His dad had told him there’d be plenty of chores waiting for him when he’d healed up properly. Next spring. Even Cord gave him pitying looks, and Cord’s life was even more fucked up than his.
But mostly Colby sat around wondering what the hell he was gonna do now that his rodeo career was history. Sure, he’d known at the end of this season he’d have to scale back and compete locally only on weekends. So it’d come as a complete shock when the surgeons warned him if he started riding bulls or broncs again, he could end up in a wheelchair permanently.
Not a chance he was willing to take.
For the millionth time Colby’s thoughts turned to Channing. He knew that wasn’t why she’d bailed—because he was no longer a rodeo cowboy, now that injury had forced him into being just an ordinary Wyoming rancher. He doubted she’d skipped back to her old life after she’d had her sexual adventure of traveling the rodeo circuit with a trio of cowboys.
Or that she’d forgotten about him as she was on the Eastern seaboard teaching readin’, writin’ and ’rithmetic.
Probably they called it something else at that fancy-pants school where she was hiding away.
No doubt Channing was hiding. From him. From herself. From what she’d said to him in the hospital when she didn’t know he could hear her. Colby didn’t have any idea what to do about fixing things. Hell, he couldn’t do anything about it until he was a whole man again.
Lord. He missed her. After one glorious week Channing meant everything to him. During the last night he’d spent making love to her, showing her how he felt, he knew she’d never just waltz away.
I’ll be waiting.
But where? It seemed as if Channing Kinkaid had dropped off the face of the earth.
A couple of weeks back after he’d gotten through the worst of the pain, he’d taken a chance and called her cell phone only to discover it’d www.samhainpublishing.com 239
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been disconnected. That left him adrift because he didn’t know her parents’ names. He didn’t know where she lived.
But he did know he loved her.
The wind blew the scent of sage and dirt. For a second, he thought he caught a whiff of Channing’s perfume. Wishful thinking. There weren’t a lot of wildflowers in Wyoming in the autumn.
He sighed. Maybe he’d nap. At least when he was asleep he didn’t think about this shit. And he could dream about her wrapped up in his arms in the middle of his king-sized bed back at his place. Just the two of them alone for a change. No traveling partners. No interruptions.
The front door opened and his mother hustled out with his nephew Ky cocked on her hip. She pitched Colby the portable phone. “We’re out of milk and diapers. I’m running to the store. Do you need anything while I’m in town?”
Colby shook his head. He’d drifted into that dreamy state right before sleep when the phone rang. He snapped, “Hello?”
“Colby McKay, you sound like a bear with a sore paw. How you doing?”
He relaxed. “Getting better every day, Gemma. And you?”
“I can’t complain. Hey, is your dad around?”
“No. He and Cord and Colton are sortin’ cows with the cattle broker.
Why? What’d you need?”
“Hang on.” A rustling sound crackled on the line as she moved the receiver on her end. “No, Channing, those don’t go there. Put ‘em in the su
n porch.”
Colby froze. Then his heart raced. “Gemma? What the devil is goin’
on?”
“Sorry ‘bout that. What did you say?”
“Did you say Channing is there? At your ranch?”
“Well—”
“My Channing is at your ranch?”
“Yeah.”
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“Since when?”
“Awhile.”
Colby practically growled. “How long has she been there?”
“She’s been here almost six weeks. Where’ve you been?”
“Right here! Why in the hell didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t you tell me, Gemma?”
“Not my place.”
“Goddammit. I don’t know whether to take a horsewhip after you or her.”
“I don’t like the direction this conversation has taken, Colby McKay.”
He breathed deep, trying to calm himself. “Sorry. It’s just…I’ve spent the last month tryin’ to find out where she is!”
“So now you know. My question is: What are you gonna do about it?”
Gemma hung up.
A shaft of sunshine spilled across the porch railing. Colby glanced at the sky. The gray clouds had cleared out, revealing a radiant blue horizon.
A sign that he’d finally get a chance to clear up some of the issues that’d been clouding his mind?
He grabbed his crutches and his keys and he was gone.
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Chapter Twenty-Three
Meanwhile, back at Gemma Jansen’s ranch…
“You always make me do the shitty jobs,” Channing half-complained.
“That’s part of learning the ropes and working on the ranch.
Somebody has to do them.”
“Yeah? I wish you would’ve told me this before I packed up and moved here.”
Gemma leaned on the pitchfork, her face serious. “Do you have some regrets about shucking life in the city for shucking corn?”
Even covered in horse shit and hay dust Channing couldn’t hold back a big grin. “Not a single one.”
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