Cattleman's Courtship

by Lois Faye Dyer

  Victoria cautiously eased the screen door open a crack, ready to slam it shut if the dog attacked, but the collie only barked again and took two dancing steps down the hall away from her.

  Convinced that the dog was trying to tell her something was wrong, Victoria pulled the door open all the way and stepped into the hallway.

  “Becky? Becky, are you here?”

  No response. Uneasily, Victoria looked at the dog.

  “Okay, girl, where is she?”

  The collie barked once more and raced down the hallway, disappearing through a door at the far end. Victoria followed her and stepped into the kitchen. One swift, searching glance told her why the dog was frantic.

  “Oh, no!” She ran across the room and dropped to her knees beside Becky’s slight figure, crumpled motionless on the gleaming linoleum floor. The collie sat on her haunches beside her mistress and whined anxiously. Victoria pressed her fingers against the soft skin of Becky’s wrist, sighing with relief when she felt a pulse. “Thank goodness,” she murmured.

  Her gaze flicked over the older woman’s prone figure. A small blue scatter rug, crumpled as if shoved out of the way, lay just beyond her feet.

  “Becky—” Victoria brushed a soft strand of gray hair away from her cheek. “Becky, can you hear me?”

  She was answered by a soft moan. The worried collie nudged her nose against Becky’s outstretched hand.

  “Becky—are you awake?”

  Blue-veined lids flickered, then lifted slowly to reveal blue eyes filled with confusion.

  “Victoria?”

  “Yes, Becky, I’m here. Can you tell me what happened?”

  “What happened?” she repeated, clearly disoriented.

  “You’re lying on the floor. Can you tell me what happened? Do you hurt anywhere?”

  Awareness crept into the blue gaze, accompanied by pain. Becky grimaced and lifted a shaky hand to touch the back of her head.

  “I tripped on the rug and wrenched my ankle. I must have hit my head when I went down because it hurts like the devil. Almost as much as my ankle,” she added with weak humor.

  “Don’t move,” Victoria instructed, slipping her fingers in careful exploration up the back of Becky’s neck and skull. “I’m going to call the paramedics. Where’s the phone, Becky?”

  “On the wall—by the refrigerator. But don’t bother with the ambulance people. I’m sure I only sprained my ankle and don’t need them. Just call Quinn and he’ll take me to the hospital. His number is on the pad next to the phone.”

  The older woman’s voice was thready, her refusal to consider that her fall may have done real damage underlaid with worry.

  “I’ll call both Quinn and the emergency staff,” Victoria said gently but firmly. “That way, we’ll have all our bases covered, just in case.”

  “All right.”

  Concerned, Victoria rose quickly and located the phone. The necessary information was taken quickly and efficiently by the paramedic team and she quickly punched in the numbers for the Bowdrie residence. The phone rang ten times before it was picked up.

  “Yeah?”

  “Quinn?” Victoria was pretty sure the impatient male voice belonged to Quinn, but it might be Cully.

  “Victoria?”

  “Hi.” Relief flooded her at the sound of his deep voice. “Quinn, I’m so glad I reached you. I’m calling from Becky’s house. There’s been an accident.”

  “Is she hurt?”

  “Yes—her ankle is either badly sprained or broken and she hit her head when she fell.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Quinn hung up before Victoria could say any more.

  Reassured that both Quinn and the ambulance were on their way, she dropped to her knees beside Becky once again.

  “Is my ankle broken?” Becky asked, eyes closed.

  “I don’t know,” Victoria said honestly.

  “Mmm.” Becky turned her head toward her, wincing as she did.

  “I’m going to get you a pillow—and a blanket.” Victoria patted her shoulder comfortingly. “Where are they?”

  “Linen closet—down the hall by the bathroom.”

  Victoria jumped up, hurrying out of the room. She didn’t like the breathy quality in Becky’s voice and wished she remembered more from the first-aid classes she’d taken in college.

  Becky lay just as she’d left her. Victoria spread the blanket over her and carefully lifted her head, tucking the pillow beneath.

  “There you go,” she murmured, smoothing a hand across Becky’s brow. “Are you warm enough?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” Becky’s lashes lifted. “This wasn’t exactly what I’d planned for lunch.”

  “Don’t give it another thought,” Victoria reassured her. “If you were fated to fall today, I’m glad we made plans, otherwise I wouldn’t have found you.”

  “True.”

  Becky’s lashes drifted lower, as if they were too heavy for her to hold up, and she closed her eyes again. Victoria cast a quick glance at the wall clock.

  Ten minutes since I called Quinn and the paramedics. She glanced at Becky’s pale face, her features drawn with lines of pain. Hurry.

  Her plea was answered by the growl of a truck engine.

  “Thank goodness,” she murmured.

  A truck door slammed, boots thudded across the porch, and the screen door squeaked open.

  “Victoria?”

  The sound of Quinn’s deep voice flooded her with relief.

  “We’re in the kitchen.”

  Quinn’s long strides carried him quickly down the hall and into the kitchen. One swift glance took in Becky’s crumpled figure. Victoria knelt beside her, worry etching her features.

  “Hey, Becky.” He dropped to one knee on the kitchen floor next to her, his voice gently teasing. “What have you been up to?”

  Becky managed a wan smile.

  “Nothing good, I’m afraid. I tripped over that darn rug and twisted my ankle.”

  Victoria listened as Quinn quietly soothed the injured Becky, glancing at the kitchen clock every few moments. It was another fifteen minutes, however, before she heard the sound of a vehicle outside.

  “That must be the paramedics, Quinn,” she murmured softly. “I’ll let them in.”

  “Mmm?” Becky stirred.

  “Shh.” Quinn calmed her. “The EMTs are here.”

  Victoria rose and hurried down the hall to the front door.

  “Hello.” She pushed open the door for the two uniformed men climbing the porch steps. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  “Where’s Becky?” the older one asked as he eased past her, bag in hand.

  “She’s in the kitchen—straight down the hall and through the door to your left.”

  “Mrs. Sprackett?”

  Becky’s eyes opened, and she peered up at the young man bending over her.

  “What happened?” The older man wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm and began to pump, watching the gauge.

  “I tripped—fell on the rug in front of the sink. If it hadn’t been for Victoria, who knows how long I’d have lain here before you were called. Probably not until Quinn came by and found me.” Becky shifted, wincing.”

  “Don’t move, Becky,” the older paramedic ordered. “I don’t think the ankle’s broken, but we need to keep you still. And we should have it X-rayed. You’ve got one heck of a sprain there,” he continued, extracting a roll of elastic bandage. He began to wrap her ankle. “You’ll have to stay off this foot for a while.”

  “How long?”

  “At least a week, maybe two. When we get to the hospital, the doctor can probably give you a better time frame.”

  “I’m not going to the hospital,” Becky said firmly.

  “Now, Becky—” the older paramedic began patiently.

  “Don’t you ‘now, Becky’ me,” she snapped. “I don’t want to go to the hospital and that’s that!”

  “But you can’t stay here alone. T
hat ankle won’t get better unless you stay off of it completely and that means total bed rest.”

  “Give me a cane. I’ll hobble around and won’t use my foot and ankle.”

  “I don’t think the doctor would approve of your being out of bed, not even if you used a cane.”

  Becky glowered at him.

  “What if I stayed here with her?” Victoria suggested. “Granted, I don’t have any nursing experience, but if all she needs is someone to make sure she doesn’t need to get out of bed…”

  Becky beamed at Victoria, her pale face brightening.

  “There, you see.” Triumphant, she turned to the paramedic. “I won’t be alone.”

  “Can you be here twenty-four hours a day?” the man asked, eyeing Victoria doubtfully.

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “What about your job at the pharmacy and the law office?” Quinn asked.

  “I’ll call my uncle and let him know what happened. If he needs help, Aunt Sheila can cover for me.”

  Quinn, Victoria and Becky all looked at the paramedic.

  He shrugged. “It’s up to you. You should still have your ankle X-rayed, Becky, and call your own physician to have him check you over. We’ll make sure he gets copies of our report, but he’ll most likely want to see you in his office.”

  “I’ll drive her to Colson to her doctor’s office,” Quinn told the medic. “He can take X rays and examine her.”

  The medic nodded and snapped his bag shut.

  “Fine.” Becky glanced at Quinn. “If you’ll give me a hand, Quinn, I’ll hobble out to your truck.”

  “You aren’t going to hobble anywhere,” he told her firmly as he knelt to slip his arms under her legs and shoulders. “Wrap your arms around my neck.”

  Becky obeyed and he stood, lifting her carefully. She moaned softly when her foot left the support of the folded rug. Upright, Quinn paused. “All right?”

  “Fine.”

  Quinn looked at Victoria. “Do you want to come with us?”

  “Of course.”

  Three hours later, Victoria carefully pulled the bedroom door closed and tiptoed down the stairs. Quinn rose from a chair on the porch and held the screen door for her.

  “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s asleep. Poor thing—she’s exhausted.”

  “Yeah. I never think of Becky as being elderly. Seeing her crumpled up on the floor like that was a shock.”

  “I know—for me, too.”

  Quinn glanced sideways at her. Her eyes were solemn, and he fought the urge to pull her into his arms.

  “Thanks for offering to stay with Becky—and for going to Dr. Anders’s office with us. She’s scared to death of hospitals—always said that all they’re good for is a place for old folks to die. It means a lot to her to have you here—and to me, too.”

  “I’m glad that I can be of help.” Victoria was deeply touched by his concern for Becky’s fear. Clearly, Becky’s affection for Quinn wasn’t one-sided. “You don’t have to thank me, Quinn.”

  “Yeah, well…” His voice was rough with emotion. He tugged his Stetson lower over his brow and cleared his throat. “I’d better go. I have some things I need to get done at home so I can be back here in time to do Becky’s evening chores. Do you want me to run into town and pick up Becky’s medicine?”

  “No, I need to call Lonna and have her stop by my apartment to collect some clothes for the next couple of weeks. She can drop by the pharmacy to pick up the pain medication and bring it out with her.”

  “All right. Either Cully or I will stay near a phone this afternoon. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.” He didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he touched the brim of his Stetson in goodbye and left her.

  She stood on the porch, watching as his truck pulled away, before she turned back into the house.

  The first few days and nights were difficult. Despite the pain medication, Becky’s ankle throbbed and plagued her. She slept in fits and starts, and Victoria was kept busy running up and down the stairs to Becky’s second-floor bedroom during the day. Reluctant to leave the older woman awake and alone in the night, Victoria kept a book on the nightstand to read aloud from in the long hours between midnight and dawn. When she wasn’t tending to Becky during the day, she snatched what sleep she could and as a result, she saw little of Quinn.

  The third night, Becky fell asleep at ten o’clock and Victoria climbed into her own bed, exhausted. She woke just before dawn, her lashes lifting slowly. A vague feeling of uneasiness swept her and she frowned, staring at the ceiling over her bed. Something was wrong.

  Comprehension dawned as she realized the significance of waking in her own bed.

  Becky slept through the night.

  Relieved, Victoria stretched, curling her toes against smooth cotton sheets. A small smile of satisfaction curved her mouth, and she turned her head on the pillow. Outside the window, dark night had lightened to a predawn gray that was quickly brightening as the sun peeked over the horizon.

  Unable to go back to sleep, Victoria got up and headed downstairs. Early-morning sunshine poured through the kitchen windows. Operating on automatic pilot, Victoria went through the motions of measuring coffee and water, then switched on the coffeemaker.

  Annie nudged her cold nose against Victoria’s palm.

  “Hmm. What is it, girl?”

  The dog padded to the door and looked expectantly back over her shoulder.

  “Oh, you want out.” Victoria obligingly let the dog go ahead of her across the utility porch, then unlocked and held open the outside door. Annie whisked past her and out into the morning sunshine.

  Victoria squinted against the intrusion of light and pulled the door shut, wending her way back into the kitchen to lean against the counter, stare unfocused at the coffeemaker and pray that the brew finished perking sooner rather than later.

  “Good morning, sunshine.”

  The male voice was deep and filled with amusement. Startled, Victoria’s sluggish heart slammed into overdrive.

  She whirled to face the room, the knee-length skirt of her robe lifting, swirling around her thighs before settling once more.

  Quinn stood just inside the door leading to the utility room, holding a large galvanized pail filled with foamy milk.

  “What are…” She gulped, one hand pressed over her galloping heart. “What are you doing here? You scared me to death!”

  “Sorry. I thought you heard me come in the back door.”

  “Well, I didn’t.” She frowned at him. “You’re disgustingly cheerful.”

  He quirked an eyebrow and grinned. “And you’re grumpy. Are you always cranky when you first wake up?”

  “Yes.” The grin lightened his features, the sight inflicting another jolt to Victoria’s sluggish heart. The coffeemaker behind her beeped, and she sighed with relief. “Thank goodness.”

  She turned her back on Quinn and opened the cupboard to take down two mugs. She filled them and handed one to Quinn, cradling her own in her palms and leaning against the counter while she sipped. The coffee was hot, black and strong.

  Quinn headed for the utility porch.

  “Where are you going?” Victoria asked.

  He lifted the pail and paused to glance at her. “I have to process Becky’s milk. By the time the coffee wakes you up, I’ll be back.”

  Satisfied that he wasn’t leaving, Victoria returned to her coffee, absentmindedly noting what sounded like pans rattling in the utility room, then the hum of a motor.

  When Quinn reentered the kitchen ten minutes later, she felt almost human.

  “Want some more coffee?” she asked, refilling her own cup.

  “Sure.” Quinn washed and dried his hands at the sink, then leaned an elbow on the countertop beside her. “So, how many gallons of coffee does it take to get you going in the morning?” he asked, his tone curious.

  “Go sit down,” she told him. “I’m not awake enough to deal with you.” She pushe
d the steaming mug into his hand. “Shoo.”

  He laughed and did as he was told, depositing his mug on the tabletop before he pulled out a chair and sat, his long legs stretched out, booted feet crossed at the ankle.

  Victoria picked up her own cup and started for the table. She stumbled over his boots. With one quick move, Quinn lifted her mug from her hand, set it on the table and wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her.

  She responded by losing her balance entirely and tumbling into his lap.

  Before she could catch her breath, his arms trapped her neatly. She blinked and frowned at him.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

  He lifted a brow and eyed her. “What do I think I’m doing? You’re the one who threw yourself at me.”

  “That’s a lie. Your feet were in my way and I stumbled,” she said without heat. His body was solid and warm beneath her, his arms holding her securely. She stifled a yawn and blinked at him. His green gaze watched her intently, a slight, bemused curve to his hard mouth. “This isn’t funny,” she commented. “And the minute I wake up, I’ll get off your lap and we’ll discuss it.”

  “Fine.”

  He shifted, his arms tightening.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Cuddling you.” He cradled her cheek in the palm of one hand and gently pushed her head down to lie on his shoulder. “Until you wake up.”

  “Oh.” The strong, rhythmic thump of his heartbeat beneath her cheek was oddly comforting. She smoothed her palm over his shirt just below his collarbone. “I’ll argue with you about that later.”

  “All right,” he replied easily.

  Silence reigned in the kitchen. Quinn leaned forward and picked up his mug, then eased back to cradle her close once again while he sipped his coffee.

  “Becky must have had a good night,” Victoria murmured. “She didn’t wake me even once.”

  “Good.” He bent his head. “So you slept the night through?”

  “Yes. Becky’s still asleep, but I’m so used to the alarm going off at five a.m. for work in Seattle that I automatically woke at five this morning.”

  “Why didn’t you just roll over and go back to sleep?”