First Love Wild Love

by Janelle Taylor

  Suddenly, three gunshots pierced the silence. Lynx’s head jerked in that direction, then he encouraged Star to a swift pace. Before he reached the location, a coldness attacked his senses as he became aware of where he was heading.

  Jed and Seth were bending over a prone body near his mother’s grave. He jumped off Star’s back before the animal halted. Taut with suspense, he ran to Calinda’s limp body and dropped to his knees. The front of her shirt was saturated with blood; even her sleeve was soaked as the ominous red stream flowed to the ground. She was very pale and motionless. Never had Lynx experienced such anguish and terror.

  “Is she…” Lynx didn’t finished the unacceptable thought.

  “Still breathing, but bad off, Lynx,” Seth replied first.

  “Get the doctor, Jed! I’ll carry her home,” Lynx ordered.

  “Best patch her first, boss; she’s bleeding fierce. She was back-shot. Looks like the bullet passed clear through,” Seth told him.

  Lynx yanked off his shirt and wrapped it tightly around her shoulder. He carefully lifted her into his arms. Seth held the precious burden as Lynx mounted and reached for her. Jed raced off for town. Lynx gently kneed Star and headed for home, praying all the way.

  Rankin caught up with him and rode along, fearing to ask any questions. Without accepting any help with her, Lynx slipped off his horse and carried her to their room. Rankin rushed into the kitchen for water and bandages, telling Salina what the commotion was about.

  As he left Salina, a merry twinkle danced in her eyes. Too bad, Calinda, but I said you’d never survive here. She wondered who she should thank for this thrilling assistance…

  Lynx ripped off Calinda’s shirt and studied the wound. He rolled her to her side; thankfully the bullet had indeed passed clear through. He placed a thick bandage beneath her shoulder and laid her down. He pressed another one to the jagged tear on her chest. She was spilling too much blood, he fretted. He couldn’t lose her; he couldn’t…

  Lynx had seen plenty of gun-wounds, but he was too overwrought to assess the severity of this one. Likewise, he was too worried to analyze this shooting astutely. Fury chewed at him. He exploded, “By God, I’ll kill whoever did this!”

  “You want me to wash the blood off her arm and hands?” Rankin offered, needing to do something to ease his own anxiety.

  “Not yet. I want to keep her as still as possible. Cal?” he called to her, but she was beyond hearing him. “Who would do this?”

  “Maybe those rustlers are back, or whoever’s been sending those notes,” Rankin suggested with a shaky voice.

  “But she’s never hurt anyone,” Lynx debated.

  “I’ll go tell Steve and the boys to scout around. Maybe they can find a clue,” Rankin suggested, then left.

  Lynx sat down beside Calinda. Tears moistened his eyes, and his voice exposed his pain as he whispered, “Don’t you go and die on me, woman. It took me too long to find you. I love you, Callie; I need you. Please don’t leave me. I promise you, I’ll find whoever did this and make them pay,” he swore furiously.

  Lynx was near a frenzy by the time the doctor arrived. Rankin had to force him to move aside to allow the doctor to examine her. Lynx hovered on the other side of the bed, his gaze never leaving her ashen face and limp body. Normally cool-headed and durable, he absently twisted his hands over and over as he watched the dire scene and realized what it could cost him.

  The doctor dabbed at the rebellious wound and frowned. “What is it?” Lynx fiercely demanded, his self-control strained.

  The doctor glanced up at the towering man with his darkly tanned bare chest and agitated expression. The older man’s forehead wrinkled in concern and concentration. “There’s a lot of bleeding, and I can’t tell what the bullet struck. It’s a crazy angle.”

  “But it passed clear through,” Lynx argued, tensing in consternation, awaiting news he didn’t want to learn.

  “I wish it hadn’t. Now we have two places for infection to attack. But it isn’t as bad as it looks, son. I’m going to doctor and patch the hole in her back first, then stitch that front wound. That exit injury is the worst of our worries. When I sew it shut, I’ll put some medicine on it. You best settle yourself, son; I’ll need you to help me, just in case she comes to,” he explained, doubting she would this soon. How horrible that such a charming creature had to face such violence and pain.

  A moanful noise left her dry lips. “Can’t you give her something?” Lynx insisted, caressing her creamy cheek.

  “Don’t want to rush things, son. The sooner she wakes up, the better her chances for licking this battle.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Lynx inquired hoarsely.

  “We’ll do the back first. I’ll need you to hold her still.”

  Calinda was shifted to lie crossways, her head near the edge. Lynx was instructed to hold her still. “When we start on that front, even if she wakes up or screams, don’t let her move an inch. Understand?” the doctor expounded.

  Lynx took his assigned position. He had witnessed lots of bleeding and pain, but none had affected him as hers was doing. She moved slightly as the doctor cleaned it and placed a medicinal salve there. He washed away the surrounding blood and dried the area to bandage it.

  “Now, let’s do the front,” the doctor stated. “Turn her over gently, Lynx. This is the tricky one. Appears a rifle shot.”

  Lynx carefully rolled her to her back and straddled her waist, confining her body between his legs, positioning himself to prevent any movements from her. He locked his fingers around her wrists and imprisoned her hands near his bent knees. “I’m ready, Doc.”

  “This is gonna hurt, Lynx. Even if she stays out cold, she’s gonna struggle instinctively. I’m gonna try it without drugging her. I need to ask her some questions. Don’t let go of her hands,” he cautioned.

  The doctor worked several minutes trying to see through the flow of blood from the torn flesh. Finally, he pinched the two sides together and took his first stitch. Calinda jerked and groaned. When he took the second stitch, she tried to twist away from the excruciating pain. Lynx tightened his grip on her wrists and increased the pressure on her body with his knees.

  On the next stitch, she cried out in agony and thrashed her head from side to side. Cal attempted to fight the forces which were inflicting more pain on her and preventing her escape, but Lynx refused to allow her body any damaging movement. The doctor waited a few minutes to let her settle down. When he began anew, she screamed into the imprisoning blackness, “No…Stop…”

  “It’s all right, love,” Lynx tried to comfort her. “We’ll be finished soon. I’m here with you, Callie.”

  The doctor took another stitch as her eyes flew open wide. Calinda shuddered and screamed. Perspiration glistened on her face, as well as on Lynx’s. He couldn’t bear to see her suffering like this, but he couldn’t prevent it. Damn, he felt so helpless, a new and distressing emotion. “How much more? She’s coming around.”

  “Just one, Lynx. Ready?”

  Lynx nodded. Calinda tried to uncloud her vision, her feet pounding the bed as she screamed, “Stop! No…”

  “Please, doc, give her something. Anything,” he urged.

  “Not yet, Lynx. I can’t stop now. In a moment. I know best,” the struggling man explained hurriedly, resolved to hasty completion.

  Calinda didn’t arouse fully, but she didn’t settle down. Amidst her frantic exertions, her cheeks stood out like red patches on a snowbank. Her body quivered spasmodically as if she were freezing. Her respiration was erratic. Drops of blood seeped between the tight stitches. The wounded area was fiery red and puffy, but for the whitened spots around the stitches. Tears were rolling into her tousled hair.

  “You want me to release her, doc?” Lynx asked, watching his wife in shared anguish.

  “Not yet. She might claw at the stitches. Let me bandage her first. She should settle down soon. Don’t worry, son; she’s dazed.”

  As the doctor
cleansed the wound, she cried out, “Lynx!”

  “I’m here, love,” he responded, carelessly loosening his grip.

  Cal’s hand flew upwards to rub the throbbing area. Lynx grabbed it before it made contact. She yanked to free herself, crying.

  “I’m sorry, love,” he murmured sadly, cursing his inability to help her.

  When the wound was bandaged and the blood washed away from her upper body, the doctor suggested Lynx put her in a gown. “You’ll need to sit with her. Don’t let her tamper with that wound. She appears to be breathing fine; I hope that means the bullet missed her lungs. I can’t feel any breaks. I’ll give her something for pain and rest. When she comes to, try to get some soup into her. If she starts to run a fever or get delirious, send for me immediately.”

  “I’ll take care of her, doc,” Lynx vowed. “She’ll be all right?” he was compelled to ask, eyes tenderly roaming her grimacing features.

  “I think so. She might sleep all night. Her body’s had quite a shock. But if she comes to in pain, give her one teaspoon of this,” he instructed, handing Lynx a small bottle from his scuffed bag. “No matter how much pain she has, no more than one spoonful every six hours. Make sure you keep it out of her reach; people in agony get desperate,” he cautioned, forcing the drug between her lips.

  “Right, doc. What if the bleeding doesn’t stop?”

  “I don’t expect it to halt for hours. It’ll take time for those cuts to settle down. Those stitches are gonna be sore; she’ll want to pick at them when she’s asleep. If you get tired, tie her hands to her sides before you fall asleep. If she tears open that wound again, won’t be nothing I can do. And don’t let her get out of bed,” he added.

  Rankin saw the doctor out and came upstairs. Lynx related the action and the doctor’s advice. “I can watch over her while you sleep, son. We’ll take care of our girl.”

  “Thanks, Father, but I’ll take care of her myself. If anything happens to Cal, I’ll never forgive myself. I shouldn’t have left her alone. She’s been in danger since she arrived. Who’s doing this to her?”

  “I think we best find out soon,” Rankin suggested.

  It was an hour later when Rankin returned to the somber room. He told Lynx he would watch over Calinda while his son bathed and ate. For the first time since this drama began, Lynx realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt and had dried blood on his hands and chest. He nodded and left reluctantly, too weary and anxious to talk.

  As Lynx ate quickly in the kitchen, Salina asked, “Is she all right, Lynx? Nobody will tell me anything,” she stated as if worried.

  Lynx’s haunted gaze lifted to stare at Salina. “I doubt you give a damn, Salina, but we don’t know yet. When I discover who’s behind those mysterious letters and this shooting, I’ll kill the bastard, or bitch,” he added, sending his intimidating and crafty point home.

  “You mean she might…die?” Salina probed incredulously.

  “Not if I can stop it. And by God, I’m doing all I can. If she does, this land isn’t big enough for her killer to escape me,” he snarled.

  “Who would shoot her?” Salina murmured.

  “Just as soon as she’s out of danger, I’ll find out,” he vowed.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Salina offered guilefully.

  “Stay clear of her,” Lynx demanded harshly in surprise.

  “What is into you, Lynx?” she asked petulantly

  “The devil, Salina, and he’s battling to break free.”

  She watched him closely. “Are you accusing me of having something to do with this accident?” Salina questioned his surly mood.

  “Accident?” Lynx growled skeptically. “You could hardly label cold-blooded murder an accident. I’ve been doing some thinking, and I’ve decided someone is trying to use any method to get her away from the ranch and me. You wouldn’t have any idea who might try something reckless and deadly like that, would you?” Although he continued to eat with his head lowered, Lynx was furtively observing Salina.

  “Como! Are you demente with grief?” she panted in alarm.

  “The fires of hatred and revenge burn brightly and fatally, Salina. You were eager to spy and tattle on her before. Is there anything new you think I should know?” he quizzed the nervous girl.

  “She has been acting very strange since you.left, if that is your meaning. I saw her restless and sad. She went into town Tuesday and Thursday. Both times she returned in crazy moods. She spends much time alone in your room. Does that help any?”

  “What else?” Lynx pressed, glaring coldly at her.

  Salina thought for a time, then added, “Maybe she is not well. She has been pale and tired lately. She cries a lot in her room.”

  “How would you know that?” Lynx demanded tersely, engulfing her with that burning gaze which seared off even a brave man’s courage.

  “The signs, Lynx. Puffy and red eyes?” she hinted, unable to battle that forceful gaze which was glacially intimidating.

  “Why would she cry so much?”

  “Maybe she was missing you or upset with you,” she replied flippantly. “How should I know? You ordered me to steer clear of your wife.” Salina realized it was time to cease her dangerous game; it was getting out of control.

  “Who went into town with her?” Lynx persisted with resolve.

  “I think Charlie,” she replied, ready to end this conversation.

  Since it was too late to speak with Charlie tonight, Lynx returned to his room. “Anything, Father?” he asked instantly.

  “Not a peep or move, son. She’ll make it, won’t she?”

  “She must,” Lynx replied wistfully, plagued by Salina’s words.

  Lynx stretched out beside Cal and waited for her resilience to take command of her weakened body and to strengthen it. Several times, she stirred and moaned, but didn’t arouse. When she attempted to reach for the injury, he would capture her hands and hold them until she settled down once more. When she became so restive that he dreaded further injury, he forced more medicine between her lips. Gradually she quieted. Off and on, he tested her forehead for a fever, finding none and saying a grateful prayer. But by dawn, the front bandage exposed signs of fresh crimson stains.

  Lynx had slept little that night, each muffled utterance or movement catching his attention. His father entered the room around seven to check on both of them. He stayed with Calinda while Lynx flexed his stiff muscles and went for coffee. Lynx was back in the room within minutes. Lynx felt like a splotch on a cowhide, providing nothing but its decorative presence.

  Around eight o’clock, Calinda began to squirm in distress and send forth muffled whimpers. As her hand went upward to rub her groggy eyes, Lynx surged forward and seized it, cautioning, “Don’t aggravate it, love. Lie still.”

  There was a terrible aching on her chest and back; she shifted in discomfort, sending sharp pains through her body. She cried out, fighting to reach the level of awareness. “Callie, can you hear me?” Lynx’s voice probed the encasing shadows.

  Cal struggled to open her eyes. She moistened her dry lips, breathing raggedly. She couldn’t understand why she was in such agony and why she couldn’t awaken. She could hear Lynx talking to her, but she couldn’t respond. Her head rolled from side to side as she resisted the encompassing blackness. “Help me, Lynx,” she murmured, before slipping beyond communication.

  “I’m here, love,” he told her, but he knew it was too late for her to catch his words. She was having a terrible time seeking, and yet resisting, consciousness. Lynx couldn’t endure her anguish. After checking the time, he forced more medicine between her lips.

  Hours passed and the doctor arrived. He questioned Lynx about her condition. They talked for a few minutes, then he removed her bandages to examine the wounds and change the dressings. He glanced at Lynx and smiled. “So far so good, son.”

  As Calinda yanked to free her hands, she screamed, “Let go!” Her lids fluttered and her slumberous eyes touched on Lynx who was confi
ning her. Pain racked her body as she hazily recalled the shooting. Why was he being so cruel to her? Why couldn’t she think clearly? “Why…do you want me…dead?” she asked unknowingly, stunningly. “I’ve…given you …every…thing,” she sobbed. “Don’t…kill me,” she pleaded groggily, senses deluded by medicine and pain.

  Lynx was shocked into speechless disbelief. He stared at his ailing wife. The doctor noted his incredulous expression. She thrashed on the bed, crying and begging. “Callie?” Lynx finally brought an entreating word from his tormented body. “What are you saying, love?”

  In a brief flash of awareness, she shrieked, “Don’t touch me! You won’t deceive me again,” she whispered, slipping beneath that cloak of protective darkness once more where breathing didn’t hurt.

  Lynx’s palm flew to her face to test for fiery warmth. “Is she delirious? Did you hear what she said?” he yelled in dismay.

  “She’s just confused and in pain, Lynx. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. There’s no fever or infection yet. She’s out of her head.”

  “But she called my name,” he debated anxiously.

  “That’s natural, son,” the doctor tried to calm him.

  “Natural to think I did this?” Lynx stormed in bewilderment, for that was how it had sounded to him.

  “It’s the pain and drug talking, Lynx, nothing more,” he tried again to quiet the distraught man.

  “You sure, doc?” Lynx challenged skeptically, worriedly.

  “Yep. Is there any truth to her wild rantings?” he teased.

  “Hell, no!” Lynx thundered from rising tension and fatigue.

  “Then forget it. We can’t have her upset over saying something she won’t even remember. She recognized you standing over her when she’s tortured with pain; that’s why her dazed mind held you to blame.”

  Lynx nodded, but wasn’t totally convinced. For a brief instant, there had been full awareness in her expression, one of inexplicable fear and accusation! Unable to question her actions and words, he was compelled to let them pass. He observed her lovely, unblemished face. Some natural color had returned and her cheeks weren’t bright red anymore. She was weak, but alluded to inner strength. All of which the doctor pointed out to him as encouraging signs.