Hard Ride to Dry Gulch

by Joanna Wayne

  “But then we have Walt Marshall,” Reno continued. “I also talked with his high-school counselor. He was expelled in the eleventh grade for bringing a gun to school. Before that he had a number of suspensions for fighting, including one for threatening a teacher.”

  “Have you talked to that teacher?”

  “No, but I left a message for her to call me once she’s out of class for the day. In the meantime, I’ll check out the national database and see what kind of rap sheet he’s accumulated.”

  “And see if he ever showed up in the Dallas morgue,” Travis said. “But for now, the first order of business is making sure Cornell stays alive.”

  “I guess that means no arrests have been made yet.”

  “Not that I’ve heard,” Travis said grimly. “I have a call in to Patterson so I can fill him in on Angela’s story and see if there’s been any progress in locating Cornell. John should be calling me back any minute.”

  “How’s Faith taking this?”

  “She’s hanging in there, still holding out hope that this is all some huge mistake.”

  “Ever met a mother who didn’t think her son was innocent?”

  “Only one. Gloria Keating. Called 911 and reported he’d stolen her heroin.”

  Reno laughed. “I remember. She was a jewel of a mom.”

  The difference was that Faith was a loving mother and this was pure agony for her. Before meeting Faith, Travis had been obsessed with putting Georgio behind bars. He still wanted that, but it was killing him that accomplishing that goal might send Faith’s son to prison, as well.

  For the first time in his life, he wished he wasn’t a cop.

  His phone clicked. “I’ve got another call, probably Patterson. I need to talk to him while he’s available, but phone me once you get the lowdown on Walt.”

  “I’m on it,” Reno said. “I’ll keep you posted and you do the same.”

  Travis switched the call to John. “Any news?”

  “Yeah. Is Faith Ashburn still with you?”

  “Yep. A few feet away, but out of hearing.”

  “Then I hope you’re good at delivering devastating news.”

  Travis’s muscles tensed. He swallowed a curse, afraid to even speculate about what was coming next.

  “Cornell was found by a rancher out checking his fence line for breaks about an hour ago,” Patterson said. “He was covered in blood and lying facedown in the grass. The rancher took him for dead at first, but then found a weak pulse and called for an ambulance.”

  “Gunshot wounds?”

  “Two of them. Shot at close range, once in the shoulder, once in the back of the head. Whoever shot him probably believed they’d killed him, or they would have finished him off.”

  “The shooter will have holy hell to pay when Georgio finds out Cornell isn’t dead.”

  “I hope Cornell rallies enough to talk before he dies,” Patterson said.

  “Any idea where Salinger was at the time of the shooting?” Travis asked.

  “Sitting on the deck of his ranch house, drinking coffee and talking to me. I paid a friendly visit to Jackrabbit Chase this morning.”

  “Did he admit to you that Angela Pointer had been living on his ranch for the past ten months?”

  “To the contrary, he swore he’d never heard of her. His word against Angela’s. Take that to a jury and guess who they’ll believe? The generous, well-respected rancher or the Big D stripper?”

  “I picked her up at his ranch,” Travis reminded him.

  “No, you found her in your trunk at a gas station. A good defense attorney will twist that every which way but straight.”

  That still left Dolores Guiterrez, but Travis knew she’d be too afraid to testify against Salinger. Even if she risked it, she’d never live to take the stand. She’d have some kind of freak accident.

  A fall. An accidental drowning. A house fire. Georgio’s methods were effective if not particularly creative.

  Here they went again.

  “Exactly where is the ranch where Cornell was found?”

  “About twenty-five miles north of here. Reports from the scene of the crime indicate the shooting took place just off the narrow shoulder of a little-used county road. He apparently stayed conscious long enough to stagger into a clump of tall grass along the fence line.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Doctor’s Hospital, in surgery. His condition is listed as critical.”

  “Georgio didn’t waste any time.”

  “No,” John agreed. “Pisses me off that his thugs were more effective at finding him than we were, but it is what it is.”

  “They had to get tipped off from somebody,” Travis said. “I’m sure Salinger has his own web of informants in these parts.” But right now, Travis could think only about Faith and how she’d take the news. “Can Cornell’s mom see him?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, as long as the surgeon doesn’t object. The kid is under arrest and there’s a guard stationed at the door, but I’ll see that the two of you are allowed in to see him.”

  “I appreciate that. I’ll need someone to stay with Angela Pointer. She’s scared to death that Salinger is going to track her down and kill her.”

  “Drop her off here. It’s safe enough. But no questioning Cornell about the smuggling, Travis. I don’t want anything to come back and bite me when this case goes to trial.”

  “No questions,” he agreed. The smuggling charge was the least of Travis’s concerns now. It was the murder charge that worried him.

  That and the fact that there would be no way he could protect Faith from this new bombshell.

  Travis thanked John for keeping him on the inside track and broke the connection.

  Now came the hard part.

  * * *

  FAITH’S EYES OVERFLOWED with tears as she stepped into the intensive-care unit and got her first look at her wounded son. His eyes were closed. His skin ghostly pale. His breathing erratic in spite of the numerous tubes attached to his body. The monitors measuring his vital signs clicked ominously in the background.

  She reached over and caressed his hand with her fingers and then brushed her lips across his cheek. “I’m here, Cornell,” she whispered. “I’m here beside you. You’re safe.”

  He didn’t open his eyes or twitch or show any sign that he knew she was there.

  She turned to the nurse, who was only steps away. “Can he hear me?”

  “I’m not sure, but it never hurts to reassure him. He may recognize your voice and get comfort from that even though he’s not conscious.”

  “Has he regained consciousness at all since the shooting?”

  “Not since arriving at the hospital, but the doctors don’t want him to just yet. He’s being kept in a medically induced semi-coma to avoid unwanted stress. It’s not uncommon to do that after a traumatic brain injury.”

  A traumatic brain injury. The words conjured up new horrifying possibilities. She grabbed hold of the bed rail to support her watery muscles. “How serious is the injury?”

  “I think it’s best to discuss that with the surgeon. We’ve alerted him that you’re here and he said he’ll see you momentarily.”

  She couldn’t blame the nurse for not wanting to be the bearer of bad news. Faith finally had her son back, but the nightmare had acquired new monsters.

  Painful memories returned in a rush of sickening anxiety. She’d been through this before during the worst of the virus. Sat at Cornell’s bedside, praying, crying, afraid to close her eyes for fear he wouldn’t be alive when she opened them again.

  How could life do this to Cornell and to her all over again?

  She took a deep breath when she felt Travis’s hand on her arm. Amazingly, his strength seemed to transfuse fro
m his veins to hers. Sometime over the past few days he’d changed from cop to protector.

  She didn’t fully understand their new relationship, but he was the one person in the world she wanted with her right now. The one person she could lean on.

  The feeling of being protected was only an illusion. Travis was a cop. He would come down on the side of the law no matter what that meant for Cornell.

  Even knowing that, she needed his touch. She let her head fall to his shoulder. He raked a hand through her hair, smoothing it and brushing it back from her cheeks.

  “Thanks for being here,” she whispered.

  “I’ll be here as long as you let me, Faith.”

  The doctor walked into the room. He introduced himself, then checked out his patient and the chart before turning back to Faith.

  “I’m sure you have lots of questions,” he said. “There’s a small conference space off the waiting room where we can have some privacy.”

  They followed him past the guard and out of ICU.

  “I realize my patient is under arrest,” the doctor said once they’d reached the conference room. “Let me assure you, Mrs. Ashburn, that will not affect my treatment. Nor will it keep me from being as honest with you as possible.”

  “Thank you.”

  “There’s no necessity for you to have Detective Dalton in the room with us now unless you want him here.”

  “He’s also a friend. I’d like him to stay.”

  “Very well.” The surgeon motioned for her and Travis to take a seat at the small round table, and he sat down, as well.

  “How serious are the injuries?” she asked.

  “Critical.”

  The doctor pulled two X-rays from Cornell’s chart and showed her where the bullets had entered his body. He followed that with a string of medical jargon that was difficult to follow.

  Faith studied the X-rays and then pushed them back across the table. “Exactly what does that mean in layman’s terms?”

  “We removed the bullet from the shoulder, and barring any complications from infection, there should be no lasting impairment of the muscles.”

  “And the bullet to the head?”

  “Brain injuries are never totally predictable, but I was able to remove the bullet without any further damage and stop the bleeding. There is temporary swelling that’s pressing against the skull and extensive trauma to the tissue at the entry point.

  “However, your son was extremely lucky, Mrs. Ashburn. If the bullet had hit an inch to the right or at a more direct angle, I doubt Cornell would be alive right now.”

  Faith trembled, hearing how close her son had come to death. But he was alive. God had been with him this morning, the same way He’d been with him during his illness.

  “What are his chances for a complete recovery?” she asked.

  “Right now I’d say good, assuming he makes it through the next twenty-four hours. This is the most critical period for him. But recovery will take time and most likely require rehabilitation.”

  “How much time?”

  “That’s impossible to predict. He could be fully functioning in as little as a few months or he might never regain all his facilities for memory and movement. Right now I think the former is more likely, but I can’t promise that.”

  The odds were in his favor. That was enough for now. Only what chance for recovery would he have in prison?

  “I’d like to stay with him tonight,” Faith murmured.

  “I understand,” the doctor said. “I’ll see that you’re allowed to. But that brings up our next concern.”

  “Which is?”

  “If all goes well tonight, I’d like to transfer your son to a trauma unit in Dallas either tomorrow or the following day. It’s one of the best facilities in the country for this type of injury.”

  Faith considered the tubes and monitors he was hooked up to. She’d love to have him in Dallas, but... “Do you think it’s wise to move him so soon?”

  “Not by ambulance, but we’ll arrange for an emergency medical air transport. A trauma nurse will travel with him. Do you have any problems with that?”

  “Not if you’re sure it’s safe.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend it if I wasn’t convinced it was not only safe but a sound medical intervention for Cornell.”

  Back to Dallas, as soon as tomorrow. They would be going home. But that also meant they’d be closer to Georgio Trosclair, the monster who’d ruined Cornell’s life and surely had a role in trying to kill him.

  “Will Cornell still have a guard at his door when he’s moved to Dallas?”

  “You’ll have to discuss that with John Patterson.”

  “He’ll have a guard,” Travis assured her. “I guarantee you that neither Georgio nor any of his thugs will get near Cornell while he’s in the hospital.”

  She breathed easier, determined to see the positive side of this. Cornell was not only alive, but was getting the best medical treatment available. And he’d be in Dallas, where she could see him every day. That was miracle enough for now.

  As long as he made it through the night.

  * * *

  ANGELA, FAITH AND TRAVIS drove through the gate at the Dry Gulf Ranch at 4:30 p.m. two days later.

  Fortunately, Cornell had come through the first night at the hospital in Laredo without any serious complications and had made steady progress since then. Faith had left his bedside only once, long enough to go back to the motel for a quick shower and change of clothes.

  She was clearly exhausted. Even the surgeon had noticed. He’d urged her to stay home and get a good night’s rest tonight while the Dallas trauma team completed their evaluation.

  While she’d been at the hospital, Travis had spent his time at the local police department, using their resources to dig up every speck of information he could on Walt Marshall. There was plenty to be found.

  Walt had a history of arrests for everything from possession, distribution and trafficking of controlled substances to road rage and assault with a deadly weapon.

  He’d served three years in a Georgia prison for the last charge. Shortly after his release he’d moved to Dallas. No surprise that he and Georgio had found each other.

  Travis spotted Leif’s car as they drove up to the house, though Faith was so preoccupied with her own concerns she didn’t appear to notice. Just as well; she could use a pleasant surprise.

  “It’s a big house,” Angela said as she climbed from the backseat of Travis’s double-cab truck, which they’d picked up at the Lamberts’ after Tague had flown them home from Laredo. “Your father must get lonesome living in it all by himself.”

  My father. The expression always threw him. Planting his seed in Travis’s mother did not make R.J. a father any more that sowing hayseed made a man a rancher.

  “I still don’t feel right about imposing all my problems on him,” Faith said. “His brain tumor is more than enough for him to deal with.”

  Angela stopped in her tracks. “He has a brain tumor? You didn’t mention that. Is he bedridden?”

  “He still gets around,” Faith said, “just not like he used to. He gets dizzy and confused occasionally, but most of the time he’s lucid. He goes horseback riding down to his favorite fishing hole every day. At least that’s what his new daughter-in-law, my friend Joni, told me.”

  “I love horses,” Angela said. “I used to ride when my father was alive.”

  The front door opened before they reached it. Joni flew out and came running to meet them. The signs of fatigue vanished from Faith’s face. Her smile was radiant. Travis had never been as grateful to anyone as he was to Joni at that moment.

  The two friends collapsed into each other’s arms and the tears started to flow down both their faces.

  R.J. and
Leif were waiting at the door.

  Leif gave Travis a manly clap on the back, but then pulled him into a half hug. “Welcome back, bro. Tough week?”

  “Tough is not the word I’d use for it,” Travis said, “but you’re on the right track.”

  “Mighty glad to have you back,” R.J. said. “Who’s the young woman?”

  Travis introduced Angela as a friend of Cornell’s. He’d save the details for later, when he had a chance to talk to Leif alone.

  R.J. flashed a big grin for Angela and escorted her inside.

  “I want to hear everything,” Leif said. “Adam and Hadley are bringing dinner down here around six, so we need to find some alone time before that.”

  “Good idea. R.J. can show Angela to a bedroom, and Faith and Joni won’t even notice that we’re not around.”

  Travis had no qualms about leveling with Leif. He’d give him the inside scoop on everything. Well, almost everything. He’d leave out the part about falling so hard for Faith that he couldn’t think straight where she was concerned.

  That didn’t change the fact that he might have to be instrumental in sending her son to prison.

  Talk about a dead-end relationship.

  * * *

  “WHY DON’T YOU LADIES take a break and we men will clean up the kitchen?” Adam suggested.

  “I agree,” Leif said. “But I may finish off that blackberry cobbler first. I don’t normally like cobbler or blackberries, but that is one scrumptious dessert.”

  Hadley passed him the remaining cobbler. “It’s Caroline Lambert’s recipe. She taught me how to make the crust, too. That’s the real secret to good cobbler.”

  “Caroline as in Tague’s mother?” Travis asked.

  “Yes, she’s an amazing cook. In fact, she’s pretty amazing at everything she does.”

  “I can’t believe some man hasn’t grabbed her up and married her,” R.J. said. “’Course, old Hugh will be a hard man to replace.”

  “He must be,” Hadley said. “Caroline speaks of him often. I’m sure she still misses him.”

  Faith stood and started clearing the dishes from dining-room table.

  Adam took them from her. “Seriously, get out of the kitchen. The men have KP duty tonight.”