Dead Man's Bluff

by Adriana Law

  “Is the patient breathing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does she have a heart beat?”

  “Yes!” She practically yelled. This was taking up too much valuable time. “Please…”

  “Her heartbeat’s faint!” Drew muttered.

  “He said she has a heartbeat but it’s faint! How long is this going to take?”

  “I need you to calm down, Ma’am, we’ve already dispatched an ambulance. It’s important for you to remain on the line and answer as many questions as possible until they get there, now, how old is the patient?”

  “How old is she?” Megan repeated for Drew.

  “What the hell? Does it really make a difference?” He covered Birdie’s lower body with a blanket. You were supposed to do that right? Because of shock? He shoved a hand into his hair and shuddered as he exhaled a breath, feeling more helpless than he’d ever felt in his entire life, and that said a lot.

  “DREW! He needs her age?”

  “I don’t know… sixty three, maybe. Are they fucking sending someone or what?”

  She nodded.

  “Is the patient conscious?”

  “No.”

  “Does there appear to be a head injury?”

  A sob tore from Megan’s throat.

  “Take a deep breath, Ma’am. I need you to hold it together for me a little longer. Head injury?” he snapped as if he was annoyed. Annoyed with her? She was the one who had cause to be annoyed. He wasn’t a caring person.

  “Does it look like she hit her head, Drew?”

  An ambulance siren’s blared off in the distance, growing louder as they came closer until they were turning into the drive leading up to the house.

  Drew and Megan were pushed aside as the paramedics rushed in taking over. Megan nearly collapsed where she stood, and would have if Drew hadn’t been there to hold her up. She finally allowed herself to break down burying her face in his shoulder. ♠

  Drew and Megan arrived at the hospital before any of the others. They filled all the necessary paper work. And one by one the others started arriving, anxious and worried.

  No one said a word as they all waited for the doctor to come out with news. First: there was the not knowing. Second: there was the mounting tension between everyone. Hurt feelings. Stubborn pride. Words still needing to be spoken. Secrets. Lies. Desire. Fear. Worry.

  Griffin leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he hung his head and sighed. He twisted the silver band on his thumb, something he did whenever he was nervous. “How much longer do you think they’re going to make was wait?”

  Just then Birdies doctor stepped through one of the double doors, flipping through the stacks of papers on his clipboard. He glanced out into the waiting area, “Drew? Megan? You can come on back.”

  The doctor led them through two halls that smelled like disinfectant and death to Birdie’s room, stopping as he reached the closed door. “Ms. File is suffering from severe depression and stress. She’s lost a considerable amount of weight from not eating properly and…” he flipped a couple of papers, studied her lads, “her hemoglobin is low, which explains the passing out spell. We’ve given her something to help her relax. We’re going to keep her overnight just to be safe…run a few more tests and keep a close eye on her.” He lifted his eyes then, yellowish-brown behind a pair of rimmed glasses. “I’ve started her on an anti-depressant, but we won’t know if it’s helping for a couple of weeks. I suggest keeping things as ‘stress free’ as you can for her. I’d like for her to come into the office sometime next week.” He tucked his clip board under an arm and extended a hand.

  Were they finished? Was that it? Birdie was depressed? Megan found it hard to believe what the doctor was saying. Yes, Birdie had lost weight, but depression?

  “Can we see her?” Drew blurted out. Megan had never seen so much concern visible on Drew’s face.

  “Yes, but keep it short…then no more visitors tonight.”

  “Okay. Thank you!” Drew exhaled.

  Megan followed him in through the narrow, dim entryway. He pulled aside the curtain blocking the view of the hospital bed. Her stomach clenched at the sight of Birdie lying under a mound of blankets in the hospital bed. The last time Megan had been in a hospital room to visit someone was the night her father had drawn his last breath. Since then, she’d spent way too much time in a room much like this one, but she had been the patient. Life was delicate, able to be broken at any moment. No one was safe from death. She’d been taught that.

  Birdie’s long gray hair cascaded down over her shoulders, free from its usual bun. Under the florescent lights her skin appeared paper-thin and her eyes more gray than blue as her head turned in their direction. She gave them a weak smile.

  Oh Lord. Megan leaned in, arms tight around frail shoulders, breathing in the smell of sterile hospital coming from the crisp linens “I’m glad you’re okay. You gave us a scare…”

  Hands lightly patted her back. “I know, I’m sorry.” Birdie’s gaze slid to Drew’s. “What’s with that look?”

  He dropped his head, shoved his hands in his pockets. “I thought I’d lost you too.”

  “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Someone needs to hang around to make sure you behave.”

  He laughed. Sniffed.

  Megan’s legs wobbled under her. The adrenaline that had kept her going earlier had diminished leaving her exhausted and her head foggy.

  Drew slipped his fingers in Birdies hand lying along the side of the stiff mattress. “The others are outside, but the doctor said you can’t have any more visitors tonight.”

  “Let them know I’m okay?”

  He nodded. Megan could tell he wanted to drill Birdie to find out exactly what was wrong, but the doctor had said no stress. Birdie studied his worried expression. The woman had always showed a great fondness for Drew. He had that way with women. He somehow got wedged under your skin and stayed there, permanently. Women seemed to gravitate to him, either they wanted to fix him or protect him: her mother, Emma, Birdie…her. She couldn’t image how his mother could not feel the same way.

  “I have three tattoos,” Birdie blurted out.

  Drew raised a brow, a corner of his mouth twitching. “O-kay.”

  Birdie touched her right shoulder blade, “one right here, one on my ankle, and…” she blushed, “one not many people get the pleasure of ever seeing…my point is…you think you know me, but you really don’t,” her words broke with emotion.

  “Hey, the doctor said no stress. We can talk about your ink later,” Drew insisted.

  Her fingers stroked his hand. “I need to tell you this, before I change my mind. You might not be able to tell it now, but I used to be quite an attractive girl and I learned early on how to use that to my advantage. I was wild and out of control. I’d find some successful, powerful man, convince him he had to have me, and then split with a nice chunk of his money once his guard was down.” She inhaled a calming breath.

  “When I showed up at the ranch thirty eight years ago…I was on the run. The kind of men I’d been involved with all had shady histories. They were violent and not the sort to give up easily. William Stratford had just taken over the ranch…well, him and his brother Paul had.” Stratford had never told Megan any of this. “Their father had had a stroke and was no longer able to manage the place. Paul preferred big city life. He always had. His older brother, William, had an unusual way with horses…” She squeezed Drew’s hand, her gray eyes glistening, “Just like you. I knew instantly the man was different from the others I’d encountered over the years. He was tender. Loving. At first I tried to fight our instant attraction to one another. I didn’t want to care about him, because I knew sooner or later my sordid past would come back to haunt me. Ultimately, Will made me want more out of life than scheming and running.” She inhaled and exhaled deep breaths, her chest rising and falling quickly. She waved off Drew’s concern as he urged her to relax.

  “I need to get this out. I�
��m the one who found him that day…out in the field.” She lifted her arms letting go of Drew’s hand for the first time, cradling her arms to her chest as if she was back there, in the past. “I’d held his broken body in my lap. He’d stared up at me, blood bubbling along the seam of his mouth…and I knew he would take his last breath there in that damn field and I would never love another man the way I loved him.” Her palms smeared away the steady flow of tears. “At first I wanted to run, just like I always had, but I was older and the ranch was the only place that still held a part of him, and then Tink showed up…and then there was Paul’s refusal to deal with the ranch after his brother’s death making it convenient for me to stay, the rest you already know...” her gaze slammed into Drew’s, “You were drawn to that ranch…just like Tink, Griffin, Emma, Ms. Susan and even you, Meg. I’d been wrong though. Will and I spent many happy years together and my past never caught up with me…not until two years ago when I ran into one of the men I’d stolen money from in town. He’d followed me out to the ranch and threatened to harm the people I loved if I didn’t give him back every cent I’d stolen from him.”

  “How much do you steal?” Drew asked, his jaw muscles working under the skin. Megan felt a sudden rush of panic at the thought of Drew going after the man Birdie was explaining. Thankfully, Birdie must have sensed the direction of Drew’s thoughts and his need to protect. She refused to give the man’s name.

  “He wanted two hundred thousand dollars. All I had was a hundred thousand dollars. I thought that would be enough to satisfy him…and it was for a while, but then he came back demanding the rest…”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Megan murmured. “Or the police?”

  “If I go to the cops and this gets out, more of my past will come back with a vengeance. These are dangerous people. The fire, it wasn’t an accident just a glimpse of what will happen if I keep ignoring him. I can’t prove he started the fire, but he’d warned me what would happen if I kept ignoring him.”

  Drew laced his fingers behind his head and paced by the bed, and then suddenly he kicked at one of the chairs sending it tumbling over and skidding into the wall. Megan flinched, her palm covering a gasp. She knew what was going through his mind. Tink’s death.

  Birdie sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’ve spent months trying to come up with the rest of his money. My times running out. ” She laughed out a cry, desperation. “When I thought my past would come back to haunt…I had no idea it would be now…”

  Bracing his hands on the side of the bed, Drew leaned placing a kiss on Birdies wrinkled forehead. Her gray eyes widened, following his every move. “Don’t you go doing anything stupid! Whatever idea you have bouncing around in that head of yours…forget it Drew Mackenzie!”

  He offered Birdie a crooked smile that shot an uneasy feeling across Megan’s chest. “I’m not planning anything…except paying him his damn money…right after I rearrange his fucking face.”

  If possible Birdies eyes widened even further from shock. “How are you going to come up with a hundred thousand dollars? You gonna shit it out of your ass?”

  Drew nearly choked on the old woman’s bluntness. His gaze collided with Megan’s and she knew…knew exactly where the money was coming from. He was going to forego what he wanted for someone he cared about, deeply. ♠

  Twenty-One

  Steam consumed the bath from the beating shower. Megan stood under the water, closing her eyes while the heat warmed her body easing the tension in her slumped shoulders. She squirted some of her lavender scented bath wash on the cloth, applying the rich lather in smooth circles starting at neck working her way down to her toes.

  All she could think about was Drew’s selfless act of giving Birdie the money. It wasn’t a very Mackenzie-like thing to do and it had caused a feeling deep inside her that she was afraid to acknowledge.

  Admiration.

  They’d hardly spoke on the way home. He’d opened her car door, pressed a palm to her lower back leading her inside, and then disappeared.

  Turning off the water she stepped out onto the cool tile, draped a towel over her back and was in the processes of drying off when the bathroom door squealed opened letting in a rush of cool air. Her gaze lifted from the puddle she was causing on the floor to his eyes, which were not on her face at all, instead his eyes were aimed lower! She stood there, frozen, arms out holding the corners of the towel, which was nothing more than a back drop for naked body. Beads of water trailed down over her skin most of it coming from the damp hair clinging to the sides of her neck. She squealed, quickly wrapping her nude body with the towel. “What are you doing? You knew I was in here!”

  “I…” His brown eyes lifted to hers, his brows pulled together as he muttered a curse under his breath. Air gushed from his lungs as if someone had punched him in the stomach.

  Her heart raced and her body trembled as she waited for him to say something. Anything. He never did; she started to explain, but before she could he turned and pulled the door back closed just as it had been.

  She panicked and rushed forward reaching for the robe hanging from a hook on the bathroom door, the black satin sliding over her damp flesh, falling mid-thigh. Her body was visibly shaking. Tying the belt around her waist snug she went after him. All she could think about was the sweep of his dark lashes as he’d focused on her scar, and the stony expression that took over after that. Dammit! Why hadn’t he knocked!

  Her bare feet made little sound through the house, out the front door, down the steps, across the dew covered grass as she ran, knowing exactly where he’ disappeared to. The barn. She hadn’t been in the barn since Tink’s death, and as she neared it and slowed down her heart raced, warm breath through parted lips. The blood heated under her cheeks and she had the notion to turn back. All the feelings from that night came rushing in along with the sweet smell of hay. She remembered Tink’s hunched form in the yellow slicker, tugging at the end of the rope, fighting a horse and the storm that day. She remembered the grey-blue color of his eyes of the old man’s eyes.

  The door straight ahead was swung open showing a black sky full of stars, but also drawing in a gentle breeze, the only thing keeping her from hyperventilating. Every stall was empty except for one…Angels. Drew stood by her stall. The horse nuzzled his side affectionately, tossed her head and snorted, black orbs flickering in direction of the sound of Megan’s light footsteps. Drew didn’t glance up. Even though he knew she was there. He stroked the horse’s neck in long slow calming strokes, murmuring sweet words while she nibbled at the feed in his cupped hand.

  “You bought her back? When?” He didn’t answer. “You’re going to have to talk to me eventually, Drew.”

  He was wearing a pair of faded jean, holes starting to show through in the knees, and a black T-shirt, the sleeves tight around his cut biceps. He ignored her, his head staying down, his shoulders rounded, making him look like someone the world had finally got the best of.

  “Please, Drew, say something!”

  The sound of his deep voice resonated throughout her body. He asked, “You’re sick?”

  “Was sick.”

  “Breast Cancer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can the…” He stepped back from the stall door, laced his hands behind his head, twisting at the waist as if he was trying to expel some of the tension. “Fuck! I can’t even say it!”

  She shrank back from the intensity in his eyes when they collided with hers. “Can the…can it come back?”

  “There’s never any guarantees,” came out small, small like she felt, small like she’d been shown she was. Absently she fingered the ends of the satin belt tied around her waist, swallowing thickly as she attempted to make light of the situation. That’s what you do. If you carry too much of the, why me? attitude around it only wears you down, makes you weak. Angry. Instead you have to ask the question…why not me? Her lips edged up into the faintest of grins, one she’d worn for two years now. “If the CANCER does come back, since
you’re going to be all pouty about it…you’ll be one of the first to know next time, okay?”

  She had no problem saying the word. CANCER. Cancer. Cancer. But then again she’d had plenty of time to get used to the feel of it.

  His gaze narrowed on her face, “You think this is funny?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Didn’t you think I at least deserved a phone call? I mean what if…” He doubled over, clutched his knees with his hands, the cords of muscles running up his arms and across his shoulder blades flexing.

  “Why?” she asked. “What was I supposed to do…hunt down some guy who’d obviously moved on and say, ‘hey, I have cancer…wanted to let you know in case you give a shit?’ ”

  “Why!” He unfolded, furious, shoving a hand through his hair. “Why the fuck would I want to know you could possibly die… Come on, Filly, give me a fucking break!” He jabbed a finger in the direction of the house, “After today what happened with Birdie!” He shoved a hand through his hair exhaling a long breath. “Shit, it kills me to think something could have happened to you and I wouldn’t have been there! I’m not the cold-hearted-bastard you make me out to be!”

  They stood only inches apart, both of their chests rising and falling with quick angry breaths. Her head screamed ‘walk away, put as many miles between you and him as you can and never look back!’ But dammit, she could not make her feet move from the spot they were rooted in, nor could she be the first to break eye contact. She didn’t know which she wanted more, to slap him hard enough to convey all the hurt she’d felt the day he walked away. Or Kiss him.