by J. D. Faver
“What’s up?” Cami asked.
“I tried to call you, but you weren’t answering.”
“So you drove all the way out here?”
“Yeah, that sounds pretty stupid, doesn’t it?”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” she said.
His jaw was set tight and he glared at her.
She felt her color rise under his harsh scrutiny.
Frank held out his hand for Red’s reins. “I’ll take him to the stables.”
“I can’t believe you let her ride Red,” Breck growled.
“Man you need to lighten up,” Frank said. “Cami’s a lot more woman than you’re willing to admit, and she is Silky’s niece.” He swept Cami with an appraising gaze. “She did great.”
She felt a flush of pleasure with Frank’s simple praise. It had been a while since she’d accomplished something new. She started to dismount, but found Breck’s arms around her as she alit. She turned to stare up at him as Frank led Red away. “What’s wrong, Breck? Why are you acting so strange?”
“Let’s go inside,” he said tersely. He followed her into the house tossing his Stetson in its usual place on the rack.
“What’s wrong?’ she asked.
“You better sit down,” he said.
She sat on the edge of the brocade loveseat, staring up at him.
His jaw was set in a grim line. “I got a call from the County Medical Examiner. He confirmed that the compression injury in your aunt’s skull wasn’t consistent with a horse’s hoof. He said it was something with a regular shape and could have been a tool or a weapon, you know, a hexagon shape.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “He’s ruling her death suspicious.”
“Suspicious?” Cami jumped to her feet. “How could he rule that it was suspicious? Did he think it suspicious that she fell on something that wasn’t in evidence when they located her body out in the middle of nowhere?”
“Take it easy,” he said. “This is a rural community without all the bells and whistles you’re used to. He’s not through with his investigation.”
“Oh, great! The cause of death should only be ruled natural, accidental or homicide. Some country bumpkin ME thinks Aunt Silky’s death might be suspicious?” She expelled an emphatic growl of frustration. Spreading her arms, she leaned against the mantle, her mouth forming an intractable line.
“Cami, I…” He reached out to her but drew back when she shrugged him off.
“I’m not in the mood for company right now,” she said.
“Maybe your old pal Frank Sullivan can provide some more agreeable fellowship.”
She turned, her eyes blazing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Breck took a breath. “Sorry. When I saw you ride up with Frank, I was… jealous.”
“Are you listening to yourself?” Her voice sounded sharp.
“You think I’m an idiot.” Breck returned to the entry hall and took his Stetson off the rack.
“No, I…”
“Cami, I just like you too much.” He shoved the hat on his head and left.
She stood in the doorway, watching him climb in his truck and drive away without looking back. What was that about? Yesterday he’d revealed that Silky had been matchmaking. They’d kissed passionately. Now he was in a huff because she’d gone for a ride with Frank.
She turned and closed the door, angry that Breck was acting like a teen-ager and angry that some Medical Examiner, who obviously didn’t know which end was up, couldn’t make an accurate ruling as to the cause of Silky’s death.
She paced around until she reached a decision. Doctor Camryn Carmichael would request that another coroner examine the evidence in her aunt’s death. She could have someone with greater knowledge review the available information. Perhaps someone with more competence could tell her how Silky had been murdered.
CHAPTER TEN
“Well, Doctor Carmichael,” Breck said. “I didn’t know you got out of bed this early.”
She’d accosted him as he entered his office the next morning. “Don’t be an ass.” She noted with some satisfaction the look of surprise on his secretary’s face. “I’ve worked sixteen and twenty-four hour shifts at the hospital. You have no right to judge anything I do.”
A dark look crossed his face. “You’re correct. I don’t have any right at all. Won’t you step into my office, Doctor?”
The glint in his eyes made Cami shiver.
“To what do I owe the honor of your presence?” He gestured to the armchair and took a seat behind his desk.
“I need money. I have to pay for my apartment in Houston.”
“By all means.” He pulled out a checkbook and wrote her a check for five thousand dollars. “Will this cover your immediate expenses?”
“Yes, but I want to write my own checks.” She gazed at him across the expanse of his mahogany desk.
“I’ll arrange for you to have access to your aunt’s funds, but I write checks for the ranch.”
“What does that entail?” she asked.
“I pay the ranch accounts and write the payroll checks for the hands. I keep the tax records for the CPA.”
“Fine, but I’d like to see those records sometime.”
Breck frowned at her. “Are you telling me you don’t trust me? You think I’d misuse my position?”
“Did I say that?” She tried to match his frown. “I think it’s reasonable that I understand the inner workings of the ranch.”
His brow cleared. He shuffled papers on his desk. “I’d be happy to go over everything with you at your convenience.” He showed her to the door.
Cami took the check to the bank and cashed it. She got a cashier’s check for her rent and mailed it from the small post office. She drove the candy-apple red Lincoln from one end of town to the other. How do people live here? Where’s the mall?
She parked in front of the combination hardware store and lumber yard and walked inside. Apparently this was no woman’s land, because every man inside stared at her with a slack-jawed expression.
“Do you have paint samples?” she asked the clerk.
Wordlessly, he pointed her toward a rack against the back wall.
She browsed the dusty paint chips and finally chose a color called ‘tea rose’. It was a lovely peachy pink. She had two gallons mixed and while the cans were shaking, she selected a drop cloth, a paint tray and roller set and a good quality brush to cut in the edges. She added a gallon of semi-gloss white to touch up the woodwork and a step stool. The clerk helped her take her purchases to the car and waved as she drove away.
The grocery store was her last stop. She stocked up on fruit and fresh salad ingredients. As she pushed her cart into the line she saw a familiar face in front of her.
“Milita,” she said, smiling.
“Hi Doctor.” She glanced in Cami’s basket. “You drove all the way into town for a little produce?”
“It looks like you’re buying the same thing.”
“This is for the restaurant,” she said. “Pop won’t buy from the commercial grocer because he says it’s not as fresh. And,” she smiled, “he thinks it’s important for local business owners to support each other.”
“Good policy,” she said.
“Why don’t you come over to the restaurant and have a cup of coffee with me?”
“I’d love to.” She realized that Milita was the only woman her age who hadn’t been hissing at her when she was in Breck’s company.”
She followed Milita to the restaurant, parking beside her ten-year-old truck. Cami helped her carry in the bags of produce.
“Let me take these back to the kitchen,” Milita said.
Cami watched her disappear behind the double swinging doors and seated herself at the counter.
Milita reappeared a few minutes later with a glass coffee pot and two white ceramic cups. She filled the cups and lifted a glass dome to offer Cami a pastry.
Cami chose a flaky cinnamon-scented empanada. She bit in
to it and the juicy apple filling ran down her chin. “This is delicious,” she said.
“Thanks, I make them every morning.”
“And your dad mans the grill. This is really a family operation.”
“Tell me,” Milita asked, “What’s it like to live in Houston? It’s such a big city. How do you find your way around?”
“I think most people have their own little rat maze and they run it every day. There’s a lot of traffic and the freeways are a mess, but my apartment is in the Medical Center so my maze is pretty much contained.”
“You have a boyfriend there?”
“Yes, I have a fiancé. He works downtown and lives in the Heights. His maze is a little more spread out than mine but he takes me out and meets me for lunch several times a week.”
“I thought maybe, you and Breck…” She let the sentence trail off.
“Breck was my aunt’s attorney and her friend.” Cami reflected that he was also the man who kissed her like he was going to devour her, but she couldn’t say that.
“He’s a really nice guy,” Milita said. “I was hoping that you were interested in him.”
Cami smiled. “Breck seems to have quite a few local female fans already. I don’t think he needs one more.”
“I’ve known him a long time. I don’t think you’d have any competition.” Milita grinned. “If he were going to make a move on any of the local women he would have done it before now.”
“You seem to know him well,” Cami said. “What’s his story?”
“He was my boyfriend Hector’s best friend. When Hector died, Breck took over as my watch dog. He thinks he owes it to Hector to look out for me.”
“That’s nice,” Cami said. “I’m sorry about Hector.”
Milita smiled and cast her eyes down. “Me, too.”
From the kitchen, they heard something heavy and solid hit the floor. Then the unmistakable sound of china impacting a hard surface resounded off the walls.
“Pop? Are you alright?” Milita got off the stool and headed through the double swinging doors.
“Let me help.” Cami followed, thinking she could pick up broken dishes. Milita’s gasp brought her up short. A man lay on the floor.
“Oh, Pop!” Milita knelt beside him.
Cami squatted and felt for his pulse. It was weak and thready. The man’s eyes had rolled up in his head and his skin was clammy. “Call for an ambulance! Where is the nearest hospital?”
“Doc Parker’s out of town. There’s an emergency medic in the next town. It’s about twenty miles east. The nearest actual hospital is in Amarillo.”
“Let me talk to the 911 operator,” Cami directed. She loosened the man’s clothing and noted his pallor. She gave him a cursory examination and spoke to the emergency dispatcher. She asked Milita to bring something to cover him and waited for the life flight helicopter to arrive.
The emergency medical personnel burst through the door as soon as the helicopter landed and Milita directed them back to the kitchen.
“I’m Doctor Carmichael,” Cami said. “This man is diaphoretic, his pulse is weak and his stomach is distended. I think he’s bleeding internally. He may need immediate surgery.”
Milita covered her mouth with both hands and moaned softly.
The EMTs spoke to someone at the hospital while loading Mr. Rios onto a gurney for immediate transport.
“What will I do?” Milita asked. She spread her hands and looked around the restaurant. A few people had wandered inside.
“Sorry, folks,” Cami said. “The restaurant is closed.” She put her hand on Militia’s shoulder. “Make sure everything is turned off and let’s go with your father.” When she turned she was surprised to find Breck standing on the sidelines with a concerned look on his face. “Let’s go.” She shepherded Milita to the helicopter and got in with her when Mr. Rios was loaded. The EMT administered oxygen and monitored his vital signs. The helicopter took off, leaving Breckenridge T. Ryan and the rest of Langston behind.
#
Cami shepherded Milita and her father into the hospital from the helipad. The emergency room doctor met them and Cami sent Milita to fill out paperwork while she met with the doctor. He was very young, probably just out of med school himself.
“I’m Doctor Amir, he said. His accent was from the Middle East, but his command of English was excellent. They conferred as Mr. Rios was examined and sent to be X-rayed. Cami glanced around the emergency room, glad that the hospital was well-equipped.
They learned that, indeed, Mr. Rios had a gastro-intestinal bleed and would require immediate surgery. Dr. Amir called in a Gastro specialist as Cami tried to calm Milita.
“Oh, no,” she moaned. “Will my father be alright?”
“He’s being transfused now. He’s apparently had a slow bleed for some time,” Cami said.” Did he ever complain of pain or fatigue?”
“My pop is always tired, but he works very hard. He’s never said anything about pain.” Milita wrung her hands together. “We have no health insurance. I don’t know how we’ll afford this operation.”
“Don’t worry about that now,” Cami said. “The bleed is in his lower GI tract so the surgeon will remove the section of bowel that’s damaged and hopefully, he’ll be as good as new.”
“But the money…” Milita’s voice trailed off in a moan.
“The hospital will let you pay it out as long as you need. What can they do? Cut him open and replace the damaged bowel?” Cami smiled and gave her a hug. “They’ll be patient as long as you pay a little each month.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Cami sat with Milita until her father was out of surgery. “I better call the ranch,” she said. “They don’t know what happened to me.”
Milita went to the recovery room to sit by her father’s bedside.
Cami realized she didn’t know any other number for the ranch except the phone in the house. There was a phone in the men’s bunkhouse, but she didn’t know it. Reluctantly, she called Breck’s office.”
“Mr. Ryan isn’t in,” his secretary said.
Cami identified herself and was told that Breck had driven to Amarillo to check on Mr. Rios. She found herself smiling. It seemed that she could always depend on Breckenridge T. Ryan to do the responsible thing.
She returned to the lobby in time to see Breck at the information desk. He looked relieved to see her.
“Hi, Breck,” she said. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Yeah, fancy that.” He grinned, the tension around his eyes fading.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Her voice came out all husky. She cleared her throat, only to have him reach for her lapels and pull her into a bear hug. She couldn’t say it didn’t feel good, but she was at a loss to explain why being in Breck’s arms felt like coming home. She pressed into his chest and wrapped her arms around him, knowing that if she raised her face, he’d kiss her.
They stood clasped together in the middle of the busy hospital lobby with people milling around and a metallic voice making announcements overhead.
“How’s Mr. Rios?” he asked finally.
“He’s in recovery. She’s sitting with him.”
They pulled apart and Breck held onto the back of her collar. They walked toward the elevators while Cami tried to examine her feelings.
She wasn’t supposed to have any feelings for this big, over-protective cowboy. He wasn’t her fiancé. Yet, she experienced some sort of internal ache whenever he wasn’t standing this close and some other kind of ache when he was.
Cami was aware of his big hand on her collar. This was his method of herding her. She’d noticed it with Shadow, whose natural instinct for herding extended to his current human companion.
In the elevator, he kept his grip on her.
She leaned against him, acknowledging her fatigue and his strength.
Cami spoke to the Recovery Room nurse and learned that Mr. Rios would soon be moved to the Surgical ICU. Milita came out to hear
the update from the surgeon.
She hugged Cami, expressing gratitude for her intervention. “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I don’t want to leave my father, but if I don’t open the restaurant, we’ll lose the income.” She managed a teary little smile. “Lord knows we need it now more than ever.”
“It’s just you and your father?” Cami asked.
“We have a few regular waitresses and a part-time cook.”
“Can you get in touch with them and let them know to come to work? If so, I’ll try to keep the doors open tonight.” Cami smiled at her. She agreed to open the restaurant and allow Milita to stay with her father. Breck drove Cami back to the restaurant with Milita’s keys in her pocket.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said. “I can work any section of a hospital for endless twelve-hour shifts. Surely I can keep a restaurant open for one night.”
“You know, offering to run the restaurant was kind of a nice thing to do.” He winked at her. “It was kind of a small-town, neighborly thing to do.”
She made a scoffing noise in the back of her throat. “Come on now. You know I’m a city girl.”
He grinned. “I’m just saying…” He parked in front of La Hacienda, beside the Lincoln and Milita’s truck.
She unlocked the door and picked up a menu. Breck took off his jacket and Stetson and began rolling up the sleeves of his flannel shirt.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “I volunteered my services, not yours.”
“Nice thought, Doc,” he said. “But, I don’t think you know your way around a barbeque pit as well as I do.” He went to the back and got to work on the smoker. Fortunately, several briskets and a ham were fully cooked and waiting to be sliced. Breck put chickens on a spit and hung big links of sausage inside the smoker.
Cami reflected that he always seemed to step into the breach without being asked. Not a bad attribute for a man. She took a pan of sudsy water, added a capful of bleach and washed down all the surfaces, ready for customers.
She opened the cash register and found it to be empty. She still had most of the money from cashing Breck’s check. Counting out a hundred dollars in the smallest bills she had, she put in a note as to the origin of the loan.