The Wrangler

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Here…” Val gently wrapped the white towel around Griff’s bloody forearm. Glancing up, she saw how much pain he was in. His strong mouth was nothing more than a pursed, thin grimace.

  “I got it,” Griff said in a rasp, his right hand moving over the towel.

  Heart pounding with fear, Val pulled the seat belt across his chest and snapped it into place. Shutting the door, she trotted around to the driver’s side and hopped in and kicked the truck into gear. Remaining alert, she quickly drove to the highway, gunning the accelerator. The old truck protested, the engine whining. Val pushed it faster, going over the speed limit. She didn’t care.

  Hands clammy, Val kept glancing from time to time toward Griff’s arm. Bright red blood was soaking through the towel. “How are you doing?” she asked in a fearful voice.

  “Feeling pretty stupid, if you want the truth. I know better than to stand close to a chain. It was my fault, Val. I’m really sorry.” And he was. The abject terror in her eyes shook him as little else could. Her touch had been tender. Even though his wound was bleeding profusely, Griff could feel the warmth of her fingers on his flesh. He laid his head back after taking off his hat and he closed his eyes.

  “It’s all right. Everyone makes mistakes.” Val drove intently, passing slower moving cars.

  “My brother will laugh his head off over my amateur mistake,” Griff said. “He’ll say something like, yep, that’s a city-slicker move, all right.” He chuckled weakly and then opened his eyes and glanced over at Val.

  “I don’t think Slade would laugh at all about this.” Val gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. As they approached the outskirts of Jackson Hole, she took the lesser-known roads that would be relatively free of tourist traffic. “No one is going to make fun of you, Griff. I just pray to God that your injury isn’t serious.”

  Griff continued to fight the heightening pain. “You’re a good person, Val. You give people a long rope to go hang themselves on.” One corner of his mouth hitched upward. He felt blood oozing through the towel around his arm. Griff didn’t need to be a medic to know he was losing a lot of blood. The chain must have hit an artery. That was the last thought he had before everything faded to blackness.

  * * *

  VAL WAITED IMPATIENTLY out in the visitors’ area. It was crammed with people today and she paced up and down the hall, hating the antiseptic smells. When they’d arrived, she’d driven to the E.R. door, hopped out and yelled for help from the orderlies and nurses within. Instantly, two men and a gurney flew out of the E.R. doors. They collected an unconscious Griff and quickly got him inside for treatment. It was only when Val had seen Dr. Jordana Lawton-McPherson appear that she’d broken down and cried in relief. Because Griff was Jordana’s brother-in-law, Val knew he’d get instant treatment. Just now, she spotted Jordana coming out of E.R.

  “Val?” Jordana called, gesturing for her to come.

  Instantly Val hurried toward Jordana, who was dressed in her white lab coat and green scrubs, with a stethoscope hanging around her slender neck. “Griff. Is he going to be okay?”

  “Yes,” Jordana said in a low voice. She placed her hand on Val’s upper arm. “That chain chewed up a lot of tissue but he’s going to be fine. No permanent muscle damage.”

  “He fainted in the truck.”

  Jordana patted her arm gently. “It was from shock, not loss of blood. I know his arm looked awful, but really, he’s going to be okay.”

  Relief shot through Val. “Thank God. And thank you, Jordana. What would we have done if you hadn’t been on duty?” Val looked at the busy visitors’ lounge. Many people were still waiting to be seen.

  “Griff’s injury was enough to admit him immediately.” Jordana led Val through the visitors’ area. “Do you want to see him?”

  “He’s awake?”

  “Yep. He’s a little out of it. He probably lost about half a pint of blood, so his workday is over.” Pushing open the door, she led Val into the green-curtained cubicles of E.R.

  Val was anxious to see Griff. “He’s got full use of his arm? His hand and fingers?”

  “Yes, no nerve damage.” Jordana grinned a little. “He’s got more hurt feelings over his greenhorn moment than anything else.”

  Val managed a slight smile. “Hey, we’ve all done things like that.”

  “Yes, we have.” Jordana halted halfway down the row. “He’s in cubical ten, at the end. I think he can use a kind smile and some nice words about now.”

  Relief shattered through Val. She gripped Jordana’s hand. “Thanks so much. I was so scared. His arm looked like ground hamburger.”

  “It doesn’t now,” Jordana said. “I sewed him up after scrubbing the area clean. All you’ll see is a nice six-inch incision and lots of shorter stitches.”

  Dragging in a shaky breath, Val closed her eyes for a moment. “He’s such a nice guy, Jordana. He works so hard and he’s honest…” The words tore out of her. “He’s really special….”

  Patting her hand, Jordana said, “Griff is a work in progress, like all of us.” She smiled gently. “And to tell you the truth, he was more worried about you than himself. He’s concerned you’re going to think him weak because he passed out.”

  “You’re kidding me!” Val compressed her lips. “I’d have passed out just looking at that injury had it been mine.”

  “Go talk with him. I’m having the nurse at the desk get the discharge papers ready for him to sign. He’s already received a tetanus booster shot. There will be a prescription for antibiotics and for a mild pain medication. You’ll need to pick those up for him before you drive home.”

  “He shouldn’t work until I see him in two days. I need those stitches to close properly.”

  “I promise.”

  Griff looked up as the curtain was pulled aside. “Val!” She looked pale, the freckles across her cheeks much darker than usual. He managed a sheepish smile of welcome and held up his bandaged arm. “I’m going to be okay. Jordana told me that it looks worse than it really is.”

  Val pulled the curtain closed and walked over to his side. She saw the shirt he’d worn hanging on a chair. Griff was wearing a green hospital gown. Without thinking, she touched his shoulder. “I’m just so glad you’re okay. Are you in pain?”

  “No.” He added wryly, “I feel really stupid right now. I keep asking myself why I didn’t step away when you started to pull out the post.” Griff shook his head and gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Val. It was an amateur wrangler’s mistake.”

  Her heart swelled for Griff. He was like a little boy who’d had the stuffing knocked out of him. She kept her hand on his broad shoulder and could feel the powerful movement of his muscles beneath the fabric. Contact with Griff sent a frisson of desire through her. She’d never found herself so drawn to a man before. Licking her lips, she said, “Don’t be hard on yourself, Griff. Things like this happen. None of us are perfect.”

  Griff could see terror banked in her blue eyes. He could literally feel her anxiety and fear. It was written clearly across her tense features. “I feel bad for you.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” Val shifted uneasily at the side of the gurney. She told him about Jordana’s prescriptions and her orders.

  “I’m laid up for two days? No way.”

  “Way,” Val growled. “Jordana said you wouldn’t take her orders well.” She gently tapped him on the shoulder with her index finger. “We’ll get you out of here and then we’ll drive over to the drugstore and pick up the prescriptions, Griff. Then, we’re going home and you are going to rest.”

  Wincing, Griff said, “My arm feels fine. No pain. It’s as good as new.”

  “Jordana warned me that if you pull those stitches by working too soon after the injury, you’re in bigger trouble.”

  Damn. Griff sat there feeling l
ike the perfect fool. “Maybe I can find some odd jobs around the place while I’m recouperating?”

  “Listen,” Val said more firmly, “you scared the living daylights out of me, Griff. You will follow Jordana’s orders and rest.” Tears suddenly formed in her eyes, surprising her. Self-consciously, Val wiped them away. Her voice trembled. “I’ve had more than enough turmoil in my life. I—I can’t handle any more trauma right now. Do you understand?”

  The tears in her eyes tore at Griff. He felt badly and, in a raspy voice, said, “Yes, I’ll rest. I promise you, I will.” Val looked devastated. She was fighting back the tears and her lower lip trembled. All Griff wanted to do in that moment was hold her. That was what Val needed, he realized. Someone to just hold her. To keep her safe. Reaching out with his good hand, he tangled his fingers among hers for just a moment. “I’ll be good. Maybe I can push a vacuum cleaner around or do some dusting for Miss Gus? She’d like that.”

  Sniffing, Val wiped the last of her tears away. Griff gently squeezed her hand, as if to reassure her. Her skin tingled pleasantly in the wake of his unexpected gesture. “We’ll see,” she said, her voice unsteady. “The ranch isn’t going to die in two days if you rest.”

  Griff would do anything to see the terror leave her eyes. “Are you sure? When Miss Gus finds out I’m laid up for two days, she’s liable to lay an egg or two.”

  Laughing, Val shook her head and drowned in his mirthful green gaze. “What is it with you guys? You get hurt and all you do is joke about it. Gus would never have a hissy fit over this.” Val pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and said, “And I’m going to call her right now. I know she was worried. I’ll meet you out front after they release you.”

  “Sounds good.” Griff watched Val leave the cubicle. Despite his injury he felt a keen ache in his lower body. Val’s tears had surprised him. Usually, she was remote with him. He remembered her hand resting lightly on his shoulder and how good it felt. Did Val realize the power she had over him? Griff didn’t think so.

  CHAPTER TEN

  VAL WAS BUSY scrambling eggs for breakfast when Griff stepped into the kitchen. He appeared well rested, if a bit pale. His left arm was still in the waterproof bandage and he’d rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows. She couldn’t tear her gaze from him.

  “Good morning. Anything I can do to help?”

  Val shook her head. “No thanks. You’re up earlier than usual.”

  He smiled a little as he poured himself some coffee. “So are you.”

  “Guilty.” Val found herself melting beneath his warm gaze. “How’s the arm this morning?”

  “Testy,” Griff admitted, raising the cup and savoring the hot coffee.

  “Did you sleep?” Val knew she was getting personal but she couldn’t help herself. Usually she was quiet and reserved when Griff would show up for breakfast, but things seemed to have changed within her after yesterday’s accident.

  “Off and on. Those pain meds do make a difference.” He looked around. “Where’s Miss Gus?”

  “Still in bed. It’s only five-thirty.”

  Grunting, Griff retrieved three plates from the cabinet and placed them on the counter. They had established an unspoken rhythm for breakfast. Either Miss Gus or Val cooked. He set the table and poured coffee. As he placed the salt-and-pepper shakers on the table, he said, “I have an idea.”

  “Uh-oh,” Val teased, looking over her shoulder. She saw him grin a little. Unable to stop being personal with Griff, she wondered what was responsible for the change.

  “Hey, even wranglers have a few good ideas every now and then.” Griff smiled and walked to the drawer next to the stove where she was cooking and pulled it open. He began collecting the flatware. “Since I’m not allowed to do any serious work today, I thought I’d ride the fence line of the property. It’s on the to-do list you wrote up. I know there’s fence down along the line so I figured I’d make some notes about where it needs repair.”

  Nodding, Val said, “I don’t think Jordana would object to you riding the fence.” She carried the skillet over to the table. Dividing the mixture of eggs, bacon bits and cheese onto the three platters, she added, “I’d like to come with you.”

  Surprised but pleased, Griff said, “Sure, no problem.” He took the plate Miss Gus would eat from and placed it in the microwave. When she got up, she’d know where to look for it. He popped slices of bread into the toaster on the counter. “We’ve got two horses so we can do it.”

  Wiping out the cast-iron skillet, Val set it on the stove. “Since arriving home, I haven’t had time to ride the property lines to see what’s going on. God only knows what all needs to be fixed or replaced.” She sat down at the table trying to ignore the happiness threading through her. Opening the pink linen napkin and spreading it across her lap, Val wondered if her tears had opened up a door between them. She never cried. Yet, tears had sprung to her eyes with such surprising fierceness that it had taken her by complete surprise.

  Griff waited for the toast to pop up and then carried the slices over to the table, dividing them between their plates. “It’s a good idea to ride together. We can both understand the layout of the property.” As he sat down, he realized he felt so much closer to her today than ever before. He tried to ignore the feeling and reached for the strawberry jam. This morning, unlike yesterday, she looked peaceful. He decided to speak up on another idea he had. “What do you think about packing a picnic lunch in the saddlebags and that way we don’t have to starve to death if it takes us a while?”

  Heart leaping unexpectedly, Val moved the fork through her eggs. For a moment, she wanted to jump up and shout yes! Caution won out, however. “I guess we could.”

  Sipping his coffee, Griff said, “We’ve got two hundred acres to ride. And there’s going to be a lot of mounting and dismounting on my part. I want to test the strength of those posts about every hundred feet or so where they’re sagging.”

  “I’m glad you’re thorough,” Val said, not tasting her eggs. Being around Griff was like inhaling cold, fresh air compared to being trapped inside a stale building. Val found herself confused by the array of emotions Griff triggered and brought to life in her. Her heart thumped every time he gazed at her. And when his strong mouth would lift into a smile, she felt herself starting to go weak inside.

  “I like crunching numbers. I see fence posts as numbers. One and the same, I guess.”

  “You can’t run a ranch successfully and not be a number cruncher,” Val agreed. She stole a glance over at Griff as they ate. He looked happy. There was a peacefulness mirrored in his ruggedly handsome face.

  “Maybe this is none of my business,” Griff began, as he cleaned up his plate, “but is the Bar H in any financial difficulty?”

  “Miss Gus knows more about the books than I do right now,” Val admitted. She watched his expression as he savored Gus’s homemade jam. Not many men showed their real feelings, but apparently Griff wasn’t one of them. Val wasn’t sure what it meant, because most men in her life up to this point had been stoic, unreadable types. She never knew what lurked in their minds or hearts until it was too late. Griff was an open book in comparison. Maybe his unique demeanor was what made her feel safe around him. She could read him and know where she stood with him.

  “You don’t know?” Griff pressed gently. Usually, wranglers knew nothing of the inner workings of a ranch’s financial health. They got paid twice a month and did their jobs.

  Val finished off the eggs and set her plate to one side. “I’m still going through the accounting books. Gus, bless her, did the best she could, but I’m finding a lot of mistakes.”

  “She’s eighty-four. No one can expect her to be perfect on keeping a set of complex ranch books.”

  “Right.” Val said, “Before bed every night, I try to read for an hour and understand the whole thing. If I fi
nd a mistake, I correct it, but I’m certainly not an accountant. I feel vulnerable because I’m afraid I’m not seeing some of the mistakes she’s made.”

  “Do you want some help?”

  Her heart raced for a moment over his offer. “Are you sure about this?” Val demanded, digging into his gaze. “Accounting isn’t one of the things you’re getting paid to do around here.”

  “Hey,” Griff joked, “I gotta do something with that MBA of mine.”

  Val smiled. “I’ll ask Gus. The ranch is in her name. My mother knew I never wanted to come back here, so in her will she named Gus as the owner.”

  Hearing the veiled pain in her suddenly husky voice, Griff nodded and shared a warm look that he hoped would make Val feel better. The urge to slip his arms around her ate into Griff. Any fool could see she needed an embrace. “That’s fine. I don’t want to be sticking my nose in where it’s not welcome.”

  “I appreciate your offer. I’ve got some things in the accounting books that I can’t make sense of. I was thinking of asking Gus about the entries to try and figure out why she put them in there. I’ll ask her if she minds if you help me out.”

  “Good approach.” Griff placed his napkin on the table after wiping his mouth. Standing, he carried the dirty plates and flatware over to the sink. In no time, he had them washed, rinsed and in the drainer to dry. Wiping his hands on a towel, he turned and said, “Would you like me to get the horses saddled?”

  “Yes, please.” Val remained at the table drinking her coffee. “I’ll make us lunch. Is there anything you don’t like to eat?” she asked, turning and looking at him. Griff was leaning against the counter. Again, she felt gently suspended in his green gaze, her lower body hot wax melting beneath this very male stare.

  “Okra?” Griff answered with a grin. “I hate the stuff.”