by Cheree Alsop
I sat up slowly and felt Magnum’s hands on my shoulders keeping me steady. I held a hand to my aching chest and noticed blood dripping down my arm from a bullet wound. The vest felt like it was stabbing into my ribs. I reached for the straps and the sheriff helped me remove it. He pulled it away to reveal angry bruises already showing across my chest where the bullets had hit. The wound along the top of my shoulder started to bleed down my chest.
“I’m glad you came prepared,” Magnum said. He looked from the vest to Sheriff Bowley meaningfully.
“Would’ve worked better if they hadn’t moved the drop point,” I said wryly.
“Much better,” Magnum agreed. I coughed, and another spasm of pain tore through my chest.
“We need to get you to the hospital,” the sheriff said. “An ambulance is on its way. Just rest here.”
I shook my head. “Others need the help. I’ll get a ride.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure,” I said. I tried to rise, but Magnum kept a hand on my shoulder to hold me down. He set my battered helmet in my lap. “This town needs a hero. Let’s give it one.”
I met his eyes in surprise. He gave a small smile. “I owe you one.”
I accepted the helmet and tried to slip it over my head, but it hurt to raise my arms. Magnum put my helmet on. “You’re the one who beat the crap out of the Bullets?” he asked.
I chuckled, then winced at the pain. He rose and held out a hand to help me to my feet. The sheriff assisted me on the other side as I stood. I reached a standing position, then wobbled when my knees threatened to give out. I leaned with a hand on Magnum’s shoulder as I fought to catch my breath.
“Maybe the ambulance is a good idea,” Magnum said with concern in his voice.
I shook my head, took a slow, shallow breath, and rose upright. “I’m ready,” I said through clenched teeth.
We stepped out from behind the shield of Bullet gang members and deputies who kept their backs dutifully to us. The building was almost empty as the sheriff’s men and women worked to clear out the chaos. I leaned heavily against Magnum as we reached the wide-spread doors.
A crowd waited beyond, held back by officers and festival workers. We stepped into the floodlights that shone down from above the door. A cheer rippled through the audience and quickly grew into a roar. I paused in surprise. “Hold your head high,” Magnum whispered. “You earned this.”
Sheriff Bowley and two other officers cleared the way. Calls of gratitude and relief followed us. I scanned the audience, hoping to see Madelyn and the Ashbys.
The sheriff caught my search. “I’ll have them meet you at the hospital—don’t worry.”
An officer pulled through the grounds in the sheriff’s car. Sheriff Bowley opened the back door and I climbed inside. I leaned my head against the seat, too exhausted to take off the helmet.
The door on my other side opened, then closed as somebody sat down next to me. “You better stay awake,” Magnum growled.
I tipped my head toward him. “It’s been a long day.”
He chuckled. “Tell me about it.” Someone slipped a thick bandage beneath my riding outfit to put pressure on my shoulder. Magnum held it in place and the door on my side shut. I closed my eyes and my thoughts drifted in and out of clarity.
Sheriff Bowley got in the driver’s seat and began to drive slowly through the crowd.
A metallic taste filled my mouth. My mind drifted to an image of fire everywhere, smoke so thick I couldn’t breathe, and a voice calling my name. “Zoey,” I said, sitting up.
“Whoa, slow down,” Magnum said. He eased me back gently. “You hit your head pretty hard, even with the helmet.”
“You should start wearing one,” I replied groggily.
He stared at me. “Are you lecturing me about safety?”
I wanted to laugh at the irony, but settled for a weak chuckle. “Pretty bad example, huh?”
Sheriff Bowley looked at me in the rearview mirror. “When I said we needed a distraction, I didn’t expect you to come flying through the window on your motorcycle.”
“It wasn’t what I had in mind either,” I admitted. It was hard to breathe. I wanted to take my helmet off, but knew it would be better if I got into the hospital without anyone knowing who I was.
“It’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen,” the sheriff said. “Foolhardy, but brave.”
Magnum nodded. “You saved lives; you saved my life.”
The tone of awe in his voice rang through my heart. I felt a release of pressure as if some dark thing that sat on my soul lifted free, leaving me lighter and better for having experienced its depths. The Black Rider had given me a breath of relief past my guilt for Zoey’s death.
AN AMBULANCE WITH WHIRLING lights passed us on our way to the hospital. When we arrived, two others were there already unloading victims from the shooting. I climbed gingerly out of the car and felt eyes on me as Magnum and the sheriff helped me inside.
A nurse with short black hair and purple scrubs met us at the automatic doors. “We’ve got a back room ready for you,” she said, holding a wheelchair so I could sit down.
“I’d prefer to walk, if that’s all right,” I replied. The wheelchair looked inviting, but I owed it to the Rider to stand strong despite the pain.
She and the sheriff exchanged a look. “Which way is it?” Magnum demanded.
For the first time, I was grateful no one questioned the Bullet leader. The nurse pushed the empty wheelchair and led the way; her short hair swung from side to side as if she was annoyed at my refusal. Whispers from patients and families we passed in the emergency room waiting area followed us down the hall.
I sat on the bed in the room the nurse indicated and waited until she left to pull off my helmet. The movement strained my bruised ribs, but I felt stronger than I had in a long while and the pain didn’t bother me as much. Magnum took the helmet as though it was something to be prized. Scratches gouged the back where my head had hit the ground. I was immensely grateful for Jagger’s foresight.
“You should probably take off your riding gear,” Sheriff Bowley suggested. He helped me ease out of my jacket. Neither he nor Magnum said anything about the burn scars and bruises on my back, but it was obvious by their shocked silence that they saw them. I gritted my teeth and settled back on the bed.
A young doctor in green scrubs appeared a few seconds later. “Sorry about the delay,” he said as he walked in the door. “It’s a madhouse out—”
He paused and glanced at the helmet in Magnum’s hands, then at my riding jacket flung over the back of a chair, and finally at me. “So you’re the Black Rider.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I kept silent.
The sheriff stepped forward. “Dr. Carrison, you were requested specifically for your ability to handle,” he glanced at me, “delicate situations.”
The doctor nodded. “Of course, Sheriff. His secret is safe with me.” He picked up an empty chart and made a few notes, then walked to the side of the bed. His eyebrows rose. “Those look like bullet bruises through a vest.”
“Seen a lot of those lately?” I asked, impressed by his accurate diagnosis.
He smiled and something about his expression was familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Just once, with our dear old sheriff.” He tipped his head to Sheriff Bowley.
The sheriff gave a pained smile. “Surprised a few trigger-happy hooligans out by Rattlesnake about a year ago. My own stupidity got me shot at, and man, it hurts even with the vest.” He gave me a sympathetic look. “You took a few more than I did.”
The doctor probed my ribs and I tried not to wince. He then asked me to sit up so he could check the bandage on my shoulder. “Looks like it grazed you pretty good. You’ll need stitches, but I think you’ll live. I’m going to order an X-ray of your chest.”
He paused, gave me a curious look, and said, “You didn’t come in a few weeks ago needing stitches down your leg, did you?”
&
nbsp; Magnum smirked and the sheriff watched me with considerable interest. I pulled up my pant leg and the doctor nodded. “I thought so.” He took a closer look. “Where’d those green ones come from?”
My stomach tightened. I had forgotten about Madelyn’s repair work. “I busted a couple of the stitches and had to have them redone.”
I glanced at Magnum, wondering if he realized it was during our fight at Joe’s store. He stepped closer to get a good look. “Looks like my bike got off lucky. Who restitched it?”
“A friend,” I said.
He rolled his eyes. “You’re crazy.”
“We might as well take the stitches out while you’re here. Looks like it’s healed pretty well,” the doctor said.
He made a few more notes on the chart, then disappeared from the room.
The sheriff walked to the side of the bed. “I need to get back to the fairgrounds. You all right here?”
I nodded just as a commotion started up the hall. “Of course she’s family—she’s dating our nephew,” Aunt Lauren’s voice exclaimed.
“But that’s not hospital policy,” a woman argued.
A second later, the Ashby family hurried in, followed by a hassled-looking nurse. Madelyn and her father appeared closely behind.
“Kelson,” Cassidy exclaimed upon seeing me. She ran to the bed and was about to throw her arms around me when she noticed my chest. Her eyes widened. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I reassured her.
Aunt Lauren hurried over and kissed me on the cheek. “Are you sure you’re all right, darling? When Cassidy told us you were the one on the motorcycle, I about had a heart attack.”
“I’m really fine,” I said.
Uncle Rick stood near the door. When I met his eyes, he gave a nod of approval. “Well done, Kel. That was incredible.”
“That was awesome!” Cole piped in. “When you crashed through the window, everyone was shooting, people were screaming, and—”
“That’s enough, Cole,” Aunt Lauren quieted him. “Kelson’s been through a lot.”
Madelyn peered shyly around her father and Uncle Rick. The look in her eyes made my breath catch in my throat. “Maddy,” I said in a voice just above a whisper.
Everyone fell silent. The two fathers stepped aside and let her through. She walked slowly to the bed as if afraid of what she would find. Her eyes traveled over the bullet bruises on my chest, paused at my bandaged shoulder, and then rested on my face.
I gave her an embarrassed smile. “I tried to be careful.”
A small answering smile appeared on her face. “I can’t imagine what you’d look like if you were trying to get yourself killed.” Her hand slipped into mine.
“Probably the same,” Cole put in helpfully. Jaren shoved his shoulder.
“I’ll take my leave,” the sheriff said.
Uncle Rick shook his hand. “Thank you for all you’ve done. I’m sure you have a lot of work waiting for you.”
Sheriff Bowley nodded. “It could have been worse, though.” He met my eyes. “A lot worse. This town is indebted to your bravery.”
I couldn’t think of a good response. I hadn’t acted out of bravery—I had done the only thing I could think of to do. “Good luck out there,” I said.
He left the room just as the doctor came back in. “Whoa,” he said with a surprised chuckle. “Busy room.” He met my gaze. “I figured the Black Rider wore a helmet to protect those he cared about. My brother argued that he would be more careful if that was the case. It was the subject of many discussions around the dinner table.” He shrugged. “What he wouldn’t give to be here. I’m sure he’d write quite the article.”
Madelyn’s hand tightened in mine. “Wait a minute. Dr. Adam Carrison? As in, brother of Martin Carrison, writer of the Bulldog Bulletin?”
My blood ran cold. I don’t know if it was my dazed imagination, but it looked as if everyone in the room took an ominous step in the doctor’s direction.
Dr. Carrison put up his hands. “Don’t worry. All doctors are required to maintain the privacy of their patients.” He lowered his voice. “And if you ask me, Martin has a way of making far more of a situation than it really is. A writer’s flair, I suppose.”
I laughed, then held an arm around my ribs when they protested. “You could definitely say that.”
He gave me a serious look. “Let’s get you taken care of.”
Madelyn was the last to leave the room before they wheeled me off for X-rays. My head ached, but I didn’t want her to go. I kept hold of her hand while Dr. Carrison stood near the door and tactfully pretended to write notes in my chart. “You were the last thing I thought about,” I told her honestly.
“Just like you promised,” she replied. There was a shine of moisture in her eyes and she blinked quickly. “I thought I saw you die. I heard the shots and told myself it couldn’t be you, but I knew it was. And when you hit the ground . . .”
She turned her head away. I pulled her close and lifted a hand to turn her face back toward me. “You stitched me up once,” I said. I saw Dr. Carrison smile out of the corner of my eye.
“I could do it again,” Madelyn replied. She wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Promise?”
She nodded. “I promise. Now be a good patient and let them take care of you.”
I settled back on the bed and watched her leave.
“She’s a special girl,” the doctor said.
“You have no idea,” I replied.
Dr. Carrison gave me a perceptive look. “I might have some idea. I treated Mitch West before he left town. Martin mentioned him in an article, if I remember correctly.”
I rubbed my forehead in an effort to chase away the pain behind it. “I could get thrown in jail for that one.”
The doctor shrugged. “Like I said, doctor/patient confidentiality. Besides, I think the sheriff was just as happy to see him leave as my dad was.”
He grinned and wheeled me from the room.
DR. CARRISON LET THE Ashbys, Madelyn, and Mr. West back in while they stitched up my shoulder. Magnum left an hour before, but promised to drop by the Ashbys later. I relaxed on the bed while the doctor worked. Lidocaine made it a piece of cake. “You should get some of this,” I said to Madelyn.
Her father and Uncle Rick exchanged a look. “Are you sure there was no brain damage?” Uncle Rick asked the doctor.
Dr. Carrison chuckled. “Kel definitely has a concussion, so just excuse any strange things he says for the next day or so.”
I winked at Madelyn and she laughed, then turned red when her father looked at her.
“Two more should do it, then—”
I sat up.
“Hold on. I’m not through yet,” the doctor protested.
I barely heard him. Everything else fell out of focus at the sight of my mother in the doorway.
“I—I got your text,” she said, her face paler than I remembered, and her hair, light gold like Zoey’s had been, was disheveled. “I could tell something was wrong, and I hurried to get here.”
“You flew?”
She nodded, and my heart rose in my throat. My mother never flew. We had once driven from California to Florida because she wanted to see the Wizarding World of Harry Potter and refused to set foot on an airplane. Yet she had flown for me because of a text in which I barely said anything.
“Mom . . .” I started, but my throat tightened and I couldn’t continue.
She ran across the room and tried several different ways to hug me gently without hurting me. She finally settled for resting a hand on my uninjured shoulder and kissing me on the cheek. “No one was at Lauren’s, and when I reached town, there were ambulances and patrol cars everywhere.” Her voice broke and she looked back at her sister. “I finally got Lauren on her cell and came here. I tried to hurry.”
My eyes filled with tears. “Mom, you did fine.”
She shook her head. “I a
bandoned you, Kel.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “I think I lost my mind when we lost Zoey. I know it wasn’t your fault, but blaming it on you was my way of not blaming myself for being absent in your lives.”
“You were working; you were taking care of us. We just made a bad mistake,” I said quietly.
She nodded. “Then I sent you away only to find that you nearly got killed in some sort of gang shooting.” Tears smeared her mascara, but she didn’t care. She looked at my bruised chest and the bullet wound Dr. Carrison was still trying to sew. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I should have been here.”
“You’re here now; that’s what matters,” I replied. It was true. I hurt all over, but having Mom close by again eased the pain to a bearable ache. I would heal, and she would too. Fingers tightened in my own and I realized I was still holding Madelyn’s hand. I could get used to that. “Mom, this is Maddy. We’re going to the Senior Ball together next week.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Brady,” Madelyn said. She turned an anxious gaze on me. “We probably should reconsider the ball after all you’ve gone through.”
I was shaking my head before she stopped talking. “I’m taking you to the dance,” I replied. I met Mr. West’s eyes. “It might be our only chance. Considering everything your father’s seen, I’m not sure I could get him to agree to a second date.” He gave me the barest of smiles; his wife would approve of the way he was warming up.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” my mother said. “Any friend of Kel’s is someone I would love to get to know.”
“You’re just shocked he has friends,” Cole put in helpfully.
“Cole!” Aunt Lauren said.
He gave an impish grin. Jaren elbowed him in the ribs. “You should see him on the farm,” the older boy said.
Mom stared at me. “You’ve been helping out?”
I looked at Uncle Rick. “I’m not sure how much of it is actually helping.”
“He’s been doing well,” Uncle Rick said, surprising me. “He’s a great asset and we’ve enjoyed having him over.”
The blow to my head was either affecting my hearing or the day was taking yet another crazy turn. “You done, Doc?” I asked. “I definitely need to sleep because I just heard Uncle Rick give me a compliment.”