by Becky Avella
Sean couldn’t decide if Deanna was the bravest person he knew or just the most impulsive. He supposed the right label for her all depended on the outcome, and in this case, the outcome had been very good. Sean never would have thought to call Greg Martin out like that. Putting him in the spotlight was gutsy, stupid yet brilliant, all at the same time.
Sheriff Johnson joined him. “You know what all of that was about?”
Sean gave his friend a lopsided grin. “I’ve got a long story for you.”
“I was afraid of that.” Jim pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Give me a chance to take care of this media mess first. Then I’ll meet you out front. You can fill me in then.”
Jim nodded his head toward Deanna. “That was quite a show she put on for us.”
Sean chuckled but there was no joy in it. “Yeah. She doesn’t do anything halfway,” he said. Why did he sound so bitter? Shouldn’t he be celebrating with her?
“She’s got guts—you have to give her that much,” Jim said.
“More than anyone I know,” Sean said. He’d always known Deanna was a spitfire—he liked that about her. So why did it bother him so much to hear Jim say it about her?
“It could have backfired,” Jim said. “We could have ended up with a hostage situation or worse.”
“I doubt she was thinking that far ahead,” Sean said, looking at Deanna hugging her grandmother. “She just did what she had to in the moment.”
More than he did. While he was still running scenarios through his head, she had followed her gut. And now her grandmother was safe in her arms because she hadn’t hesitated. Because she hadn’t allowed Sean or anyone else to stop her. That was a good thing, right?
Jim placed a sympathetic hand on Sean’s shoulder. Someone called the sheriff’s name. He frowned. “This might take a while. See you out front in a bit.”
Then he sauntered off, leaving Sean to figure out the inner workings of his heart all on his own.
* * *
They were waiting on Sheriff Johnson again. But it didn’t matter. Deanna squeezed Gram’s hand. She could be patient this time around.
It was getting late. Ash fell in the glow of the streetlamp, floating slowly down like dry snowflakes until they lit softly on hair and shoulders. As long as Deanna didn’t think about the angry flames causing it, the scene looked peaceful, beautiful even. But it was deceptive. Sheriff Johnson’s warnings echoed through her mind. He said if they didn’t have to be in town, they should get out. Did Deanna have to be here? Did Gram?
For weeks, she’d ignored everyone’s fire talk, figuring she’d pay attention when she had to, but Sheriff Johnson had been so insistent tonight. Was it time to pack up? But how could she leave town now when so many things tied her down here? Leaving would equal giving up. Was she ready to give up?
Deanna lifted her head and let the flakes fall on her face. She couldn’t think negative thoughts right now. Not yet, anyway. All she wanted was a few minutes to enjoy Gram’s rescue, to be at peace and to celebrate. All the negativity was draining away the joy she’d felt. She squeezed Gram’s soft, wrinkly hand once again. She didn’t ever want to let go. She’d tell her story to the police and then she and Gram would be on their way home. Deanna just wanted to call this horrible day over and get some sleep.
Then what? Fear reached out from the periphery of her mind and clawed at her thoughts. How would she keep Gram safe once they were home?
Austin had said that they had nothing to worry about, that the key players were already in jail, so they were safe. If that was true, why had Greg Martin been there trying to kidnap Gram? No matter what he claimed, it didn’t seem like Austin knew everything. He certainly didn’t have things under control. Maybe Greg was the last of them. But then again, maybe not.
The person behind all of this could be anyone in town. For all she knew, it could be Sheriff Johnson himself. An image of that Jeep she saw in the meadow popped up in her mind. How was she supposed to trust anyone?
Sean leaned against the wall with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, making his shoulder muscles pull tight against his black T-shirt. With the flakes falling on him, he was a picture of peace and strength.
I can trust him.
The thought landed in her mind as lightly as one of the ash flakes, but the truth of it slammed against her. She couldn’t recall ever thinking that about a man before, not even her own father. How could you ever really know if you could trust someone? And how could she know that about Sean in less than a day?
But she did know it. It wasn’t like she’d figured out this monumental truth in the course of one afternoon. It was just that the day’s events had revealed what she already knew to be true. Sean Loomis was trustworthy. She could count on him.
On the ride back to town, she’d questioned why they needed to stick together. She’d contemplated splitting up from him and going alone. That wasn’t an option for her anymore. They needed to stay a team. She thought about Sue Lloyd’s worry that the fire would spread to Sean’s place. Deanna had seen the same worry reflected in Sean’s face. He’d known that was a possibility when he left the crash site. He’d chosen to go to town anyway, to report the fire and help her find Gram. Who knew what was happening back at his ranch right now? What had Deanna ever done to deserve that kind of loyalty?
And that’s when the plan fell into place for her. She had one more responsibility to take care of, and then after that, it would be Sean’s turn. She owed him so much. They’d make sure his ranch was safe. They’d figure out how to stop whoever was after them. And they’d do it together. No more flying solo. She already knew that was what Sean wanted. Now she knew that she wanted it, too. No matter how much it scared her to need someone else like this, she would stick with Sean. She didn’t want to think about it, but there was probably more danger coming. She knew she couldn’t do this alone and who better to have as your friend than Sean?
“You okay?” he asked.
She dropped Gram’s hand and closed the gap between them. She reached up and brushed away an ash flake on his forehead. Her breath hitched as she became so very aware of how close they stood to each other. “There, that’s better.”
“Thanks,” he said, his voice deep, rough.
She opened her mouth to confess what she’d been thinking, but her tongue was tied. She swallowed. How could she tell him how much she trusted him without it coming out sappy or flirty? She wanted to tell him she planned to stick by him until this was all resolved, but she could imagine the “you two are so cute” expression on Gram’s face behind her. Deanna wasn’t ready to put her true thoughts to words, especially not with Gram listening. She needed to sort through them first. She would tell him later, when they didn’t have an audience.
“Thank you for getting me here. If you hadn’t convinced me to come to the meeting and stay here, I would have missed Gram,” Deanna said. “It would have been too late.”
An expression she couldn’t read skirted across Sean’s face. Frustration? “It wasn’t me that saved her,” he said. “I almost stopped you.”
He looked like he wanted to say more, almost like he was a little mad at her. Maybe she was wrong about what he wanted after all. Maybe he was tired of babysitting her. She opened her mouth, but Sheriff Johnson joined them and Sean turned his attention to him instead.
The sheriff’s shoulders were slumped. Deanna could read exhaustion written all over him, but he planted his feet shoulder width apart and took on the typical cop stance, preparing to shoulder their stories anyway.
“You look beat, Sheriff,” Deanna said.
“Nothing a pot of coffee won’t fix. Now tell me this story.”
Her own posture drooped. Normally, she’d insist they move this meeting to The Hangar. The condition they’d left it in flooded her mind, but she had to shake away her t
houghts. She’d deal with them later. She wasn’t ready to move out of the denial stage. It seemed to be working fine for now. Sheriff Johnson probably didn’t have any extra time to stop for a cup of coffee anyway.
“We’ve had quite an afternoon,” Sean told him and then launched into their story.
Somewhere behind Deanna, an accelerating engine whined. The noise made it hard to focus on what Sean was saying. She tried to ignore it. She wanted to hear everything, to make sure he didn’t leave out any critical details like he’d done earlier with Austin. Instead her attention kept turning to some hotshot revving his truck engine and squealing his tires.
The engine noise increased in pitch. She directed her annoyed gaze over her shoulder as an old Nissan pickup truck sped around the corner. Deanna noted the jacked-up tires, the roll bars and mud spray. She rolled her eyes. Stupid teenagers showing off. She wanted to yell at them to grow up. It was so distracting.
Sean’s voice sounded as if he were far away in a tunnel. “Austin Mills told us you guys made some arrests today,” he was saying. At that same moment, a masked man leaned from the passenger-side window of the approaching pickup.
Deanna blinked. Then her brain caught up with her eyes.
“Get down,” she screamed.
Sean’s body slammed into her, knocking the wind from her lungs. He rolled midair and hit the ground on his back, taking the brunt of the fall for both of them. Sean scrambled to cover Deanna, wrapping her tighter against him as the first bullet hit the brick wall, spraying mortar dust. It hit the exact spot she had been standing seconds ago.
Deanna tried to count the gunshots. Pop, pop, pop, pause, pop, pop, pop. Maybe six rounds?
It was quiet for two heartbeats before the shooter started again. Deanna clamped her eyes shut and curled against Sean’s body, no longer able to count the bullets. There were too many. Debris flew around them as the bullets continued connecting with bricks. Sean’s strong arms pulled her even tighter against him.
The whole thing had lasted only seconds. And then just as quickly as it had begun, the truck was gone, the gunfire over. Silent beats. Sean pulled away from her. Deanna gasped, but she wasn’t hurt.
“Everyone okay?” Sean yelled, his voice hoarse as he scrambled to his feet.
Deanna heard the moan first and then Gram’s shaky voice.
“He’s hit,” Gram cried. “The sheriff’s been shot.”
TWELVE
Sean couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. What would he find when he reached Jim’s side? His instinct screamed at him. He should run the opposite direction, get as far away from his friend’s pain as possible. But Jim needed him.
He fell to his knees, his hands hovering above Jim. Sean had no idea what to do first.
Jim sat propped against the bullet-riddled wall. A smear of dark blood marked the path he’d slid down after he was hit. He was hunched over, holding his right side with both hands. Blood flowed over his fingers and onto the sidewalk. Sean’s stomach rolled, and a sour taste rose into his mouth. What could he possibly do to fix this?
He gripped Jim’s shoulders gently. If only he could transfer some of that pain into himself, to share it somehow. Sean’s throat constricted, and all he could get out was a whisper. “I’m so sorry. They weren’t aiming at you.”
Sean glanced up at the mosquito-covered light fixture above them. He could see now the way that it highlighted the damage beneath it. They’d been standing in a virtual spotlight when that truck drove by them. Why hadn’t he thought to stay out of sight? Once again he’d underestimated the threat and hadn’t taken enough precautions to protect them all. He should have warned Jim of the potential danger when they were still back inside the school. Jim was hurt because Sean was naive. He couldn’t make that same mistake again.
Deanna stood to the side, her hands covering her mouth. Arlene was beside her, her own hands clasped under her chin like she was begging for something. Both of them stared at Sean like they wanted something from him.
They were waiting for him to make everything better. To fix it. But he couldn’t. His eyes roved Jim’s bleeding body. He was a cattle rancher, not a paramedic. He had no clue what to do.
Jim’s polo shirt was ripped across the chest. The ballistic vest he wore under his shirt had stopped the bullets from penetrating. He probably had the wind knocked out of him from the impact, though. It would explain why Jim was struggling so hard for breath. His right sleeve was ripped where another bullet must have grazed his upper arm. But it was the bloody mess at his side that concerned Sean the most.
“Help him,” Deanna begged.
“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Sean snapped.
“Then tell me what to do to help,” she said. “I can’t stand here doing nothing.”
Sean ripped strips off the bottom half of his T-shirt, hardly noticing the cooler evening air against his stomach. He wadded the fabric into a ball and placed it against Jim’s side as a makeshift bandage.
“Here, hold on to this,” he said, placing Jim’s hand over the fabric. Thankfully, Jim was still conscious.
They had an audience. People who had lingered after the meeting and witnessed the drive-by now gathered around them to see what had happened. Sean resented their intrusion. Jim deserved some privacy.
“Stop staring and get us some help,” Sean yelled. “Someone go into the school and find a first-aid kit.”
“I’ll go,” Deanna said and took off.
There she went again, taking action while everyone else watched. He should have expected her to volunteer, but it was too late to stop her now.
“Be careful!” he called. She wouldn’t listen. Careful wasn’t anywhere in her DNA.
Sean squinted up at the light. They were still so vulnerable, but he couldn’t move Jim without doing more damage or causing more pain. Would the shooters circle around the block and open fire again?
“Sean,” Jim whispered, his breaths frantic and labored. Getting the words out past the pain took so much effort.
Sean squeezed Jim’s shoulder on his good side. “Hey, buddy, don’t waste your energy trying to talk. We’re getting help.”
Deanna came back with a first-aid kit in her hand and Austin Mills right on her heels. Sean grimaced. Great. Just who they needed right now.
“Austin’s car pulled up before I got inside.” She bent over and put her hands on her knees, winded from running so hard. “Here.” She handed the kit to Sean. “He had this in his car.”
Austin’s face drained of all color. “What happened?”
Sean jumped to his feet and shoved his finger into Austin’s chest. “You told us they were all in jail. That we didn’t have anything more to worry about. That we were all safe.”
Austin shook his head. “I didn’t know this would happen. How could I know that?”
“Arlene narrowly missed being kidnapped, and Jim’s been shot. Tell them you’re sorry.”
“Move,” Austin said. He shoved Sean aside and snatched the first-aid kit. Tossing the bloodied fabric from Sean’s T-shirt aside, he pressed a clean gauze pad against the wound. “Let the professionals do our job.”
“Mills,” Jim panted. “Let...me...talk to Sean.”
“You don’t have time.”
“Alone,” Jim insisted.
“No,” Austin said. He peered up at Sean. “Look at this blood. Don’t be stupid.”
Keeping one hand on the bandage, Austin turned to the radio mic on his shoulder. The dispatcher’s voice—Sue Lloyd’s, most likely—confirmed that paramedics were coming. The hospital was only a mile away, but that ambulance couldn’t get there quickly enough. Watching Jim suffering in front of his eyes without being able to fix it was too much. Sean’s fingers drummed against his leg. He strained to hear the sound of sirens.
Austi
n must have felt the same way. “They’re taking too long. Help me move him into my car,” he ordered. “I’ll get him to the ER faster than sitting and waiting for the ambulance.”
“Why should I trust you?”
Jim lifted his head and leveled a steely gaze at both of them. Austin turned from its intensity. Sean leaned away, too. Even in his weakened state, Jim was still very much in command.
“It’s an order.” He wheezed. “Give me a minute with Sean. Then you can come back and save my life.”
Austin was furious, but he obeyed. “Keep pressure on this,” he ordered Sean before backing up a few steps. He didn’t take his eyes off them. Sean pushed gently on the gauze.
Jim’s chest heaved up and down. His face had become the same color as the falling ash. Was Sean pushing too hard on the wound? How much pressure was enough?
“You can’t stay,” Jim said. “Fire’s coming for your place fast.”
Sean’s responsibilities at home called to him. He’d been gone all day. Uncle Paul must be frantic for help. The firebreaks were already dug. He’d done that himself with the Bobcat. But what about the cattle? Had the crews been able to get them all rounded up? Uncle Paul wouldn’t wait too long to get out, would he?
Sean shut out his racing thoughts. “I’m not leaving you.”
“I’ll live,” Jim grunted, giving Sean the same authoritative look he’d shown to Austin. “After the ambulance comes, I’ll tell my deputies you’re free to go. Promise me you will.”
Sean hesitated, his loyalties torn.
“Promise me!”
“All right. As soon as I know you’re in good hands, I’ll head home.”
“Lean in,” Jim instructed.
Sean angled his ear close to Jim’s face. The words were so quiet and labored Sean had to concentrate hard to understand.
“There were no arrests.”
Sean pulled away, locking his eyes on Austin. Austin cocked his head in return, questioning. He stepped toward Sean, a look of challenge on his face.