Finding Home

by Lois Greiman

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “He didn’t do it. It wouldn’t even make any sense to bring her to the hospital if he had hit her.”

  “I don’t know if that’s true,” Colt said. “I mean, theoretically he could have lost his temper, then gotten scared and brought her here.”

  She lowered her brows, anger sprinting through her. “Well, theoretically—” she began, but he stopped her.

  “I believe you.”

  “What?”

  “If you say he didn’t do it, I believe you.”

  She blinked, momentarily speechless. “Why?”

  His lips hitched up a quarter of an inch. “Because you’ve got good instincts. You’re a good judge of people.”

  She scowled. Was that true? And if so, why did she doubt Brad? Why did she doubt herself?

  “If you’re honest with yourself, you do,” he added.

  She shook the thought away, almost relieved to turn her mind back to more immediate problems. “Well, maybe I’m not being honest. Maybe I’m lying through my teeth. Maybe it was me who …” She closed her eyes and exhaled shakily, ashamed of the way she’d felt about Sophie in the past. “She can get under a person’s skin.”

  He laughed. “You going to take the bullet for the boy now?”

  “There is no bullet.” She was immediately angry again. When had she become such a loose cannon? “Because he didn’t do it!”

  “Dammit, Case,” he said, voice as calm as his expression. “I told you I know that.”

  She scowled. “Just because I believe in him?”

  “No,” he said and let the seconds tick silently away before he continued. “Because he believes in you.”

  She stared at him, trying to straighten out the kinks in his logic, the uncertainties in her own mind.

  He shook his head as if amazed that she didn’t understand. “He might hate every bone in Sophie’s well-groomed little body, but hurting her would hurt you.” He shrugged. “He wouldn’t risk that.”

  She stared at him a second. The second turned into a lifetime. She drew a long breath through her nostrils and studied him, head tilted, until she felt a modicum of peace steal through her. “When did you become a nice guy, Dickenson?”

  He laughed. “You are whacked out, aren’t you, Head Case? You’d better be careful or next thing you’ll be telling me I’m not a poopy face anymore.”

  For a moment she almost considered making him admit that he’d grown up. Grown nice. While she had just gotten bitter and … She shook her head and glanced toward the front desk, where the nurses had gone back to gossiping and laughing. “Why don’t they tell us something?” She wrung her hands. “And how can they laugh when Sophie’s life hangs in the balance?”

  “Come on,” he said and took her fingers in his. “You’re overreacting.”

  “Overreacting?” She forced a laugh. “Are you nuts?”

  “Probably,” he said. “And a poopy face.”

  She huffed some sound between laughter and tears. “She’s unconscious.”

  He shook his head. “Hell, in rodeo that’s not even considered an injury. Once Nate Gennings came off his bull-dogging horse headfirst. Was out for a week.”

  She tilted her head and searched his face for some sign of hope. “But he was okay?”

  “Said it was the best rest he’d ever had.”

  She scowled at him and opened her mouth, but he interrupted her.

  “And Groat Tilbert. His heeling horse went straight over backward. He was pinned under the saddle horn for a half an eternity. That old dog was out for a coon’s age.” He paused.

  “And …”

  “When he come to he was smarter than ever. ’Course …” He made a face. “That ain’t saying a heck of a lot in Groat’s case.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m afraid he was always smarter than me.”

  She smiled a little. “Were you ever knocked unconscious?”

  There was almost a moment of seriousness in his eyes, but it passed like the flight of a dove. “Every other week or so.”

  “And you’re okay.”

  Maybe he was tempted to make a joke, but he resisted. “I’m okay.” He nodded toward the hospital room. “She will be, too.”

  “Promise?” It was a stupid question, like a two-year-old to her daddy, who could make anything better, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Couldn’t pull her gaze from his.

  “Promise,” he said, and taking that half a step that remained between them, lowered his lips toward hers.

  She felt the kiss coming, felt it in her fingertips, in her soul, in every tingling nerve ending.

  “Excuse me.”

  Casie jerked her gaze to Dr. Jacob, who was walking toward them. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks. “Is she awake?”

  He shook his head. “No. I’m sorry.” He was tall, skinny, young, with an Adam’s apple that bobbed when he talked and a long white coat that made him look even skinnier and younger. “We did a CT scan. There doesn’t seem to be any internal bleeding, and as far as we can tell, the spinal cord is uninjured. Her vital signs are …” He paused a second, wobbled his head. “… decent.”

  “Decent?”

  “Her blood pressure is a little lower than we’d like to see, but it’s not life threatening at this time.”

  Oh God. “At this time?”

  “I’m afraid there’s nothing else we can do right now. But we’ll keep you apprised,” he said and turned away.

  “What are you talking about?” she demanded. “You’re a doctor. There must be something you can do. She’s unconscious.”

  “We’re monitoring her vital signs, and I’ll be available for the next six hours or so. But right now I have to see to my other patients. Please excuse me.”

  “Excuse you!” she said, but she was talking to his back, charging after his swinging lab coat.

  Colton reeled her back in.

  “Case.”

  She found his eyes. Her own stung with tears. “She’s just a kid,” she hissed.

  “I know.”

  “Just a little girl.”

  “I know,” he repeated, and suddenly she was crying. He pulled her against his chest. His hand felt warm and broad against the back of her head.

  “I should have been watching her.” The words were muffled against the wear-softened fabric of his work shirt.

  “You can’t be there every second.”

  “I never should have let her work those horses alone.”

  His hand paused on her hair. “Do you think that’s how she got hurt?”

  She drew a long, shuddering breath through her nose. “She had the grullo out of the barn when I left.”

  “Damn.”

  “I know.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and pulled away from the shield of his chest. “I should have stayed with her.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  She shook her head, but he gripped her arm, squeezing gently. “It’s not.”

  “Well …” She drew a shaky breath. “I …” She cleared her throat, feeling foolish. “Thank you.”

  He stared at her a second. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “For what?”

  “For making me feel better.”

  “Case,” he said and turned toward the window, body tense. “If that horse hurt her it’s my fault.”

  “No.” She blinked at him, surprised by this lack of logic. “No, it’s …”

  “More than it is yours, anyway,” he said solemnly. “So I don’t really think thanks are necessary.”

  She exhaled carefully, glanced at the hallway down which people in lab coats kept disappearing. “How about thanks for keeping me from jumping the doctor, then?” she asked.

  He stared at her a second. A corner of his mouth twitched up. And suddenly she could breathe again. As if she’d been waiting to see him smile.

  “Good God, Carmichael,” he said, eyes bright, “when did you become such a she wolf?”

  Sh
e snorted and turned toward the window. “I just … I’m worried, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, well … you should get some rest. She’s going to need you when she comes to.”

  She found his eyes again, saw the assurance there, and laughed out loud. “I can’t rest.” She shook her head. “But I probably should get home. I’ll take care of things quick and come right—”

  “Now who’s nuts?”

  “What are you talking about? I have to come back.”

  “You’re not going home. I’ll take care of things at the Lazy.”

  “But if she was working with the grullo, he’s probably running wild somewhere.”

  “I think I can handle one wormy weanling.”

  “And Angel—”

  “I can handle her, too.”

  “But—”

  “Stay here, Case. Rest.”

  “Rest.” She laughed, though she was exhausted. “Where?”

  “I’ll find you a bed,” he said.

  “You can’t just find me a bed. And even if you could I can’t afford—”

  “Case,” he said, touching his fingers to her lips. “This is a hospital. There are dozens of female nurses roaming these halls. I’m a rodeo cowboy. If I can’t get a free bed, I’m gonna hang up my damned spurs.”

  CHAPTER 28

  “Cass.”

  She sat bolt upright at the sound of her name. Bradley was leaning over her bed. She blinked, trying to get her bearings. Beige walls, beige drapes, beige coverlet. Memories rushed in on her. Sophie!

  “How is she?” Her voice croaked with disuse. Despite everything, she had slept like the dead.

  Bradley scowled at her. “Just relax for a minute.”

  Her breath stopped in her throat. “Relax …” She tossed the covers back and froze, muscles losing their mission as a dozen inconsequential details flashed through her mind. She’d slept in her jeans. There was a hole in her sweatshirt. “Has she—”

  He nodded. “Listen.” His face was very serious, his hand firm on her arm. “We have to talk.”

  “No.” Terror whispered through her, more substantial than the world itself. She shook her head, knowing what he was going to say. “No.”

  “You’ve got to tell me how this happened.”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t …” She felt tears flood her eyes. “I just went out to check the ewes. I should have … but now …” She put her hand over her mouth as if she could hold back the pain, the fear. “How am I going to tell her father?” She couldn’t help remembering Clayton’s blank stare after her mother’s passing. His stoicism had continued, seemingly impenetrable, but there had been a chink in his armor, a chink that allowed his heart to be pierced, a hole to be left in his life. She knew that now.

  “That’s what we have to talk about,” Bradley said. “Are you adequately insured?”

  Maybe it would be the same with Philip Jaegar as it had been with Clayton. He’d pawned Sophie off, seeming relieved to be rid of her, but perhaps he didn’t realize how much he loved her, how much he’d miss her until she was gone.

  “Cass!”

  “What?” She jumped, nerves as taut as barbed wire.

  “Are you insured? God, Cassandra, wake up. This could be serious. We could lose everything.”

  She blinked. “We …” She shook her head, hoped she was dreaming. “A girl’s dead and you’re worried about …” A tear slid down her face. It felt hot and heavy. “What’s wrong with—”

  “She’s not dead.” His tone was dismissive, his brows low over his sea-foam eyes. “Not yet, anyway. But these concussions can be tricky. There might be memory loss. There might be …” He shook his head and held up a hand as if explanations weren’t worth the effort. “The point is—”

  “What?” Something was coiled up tight in Casie’s chest. “Wait. She’s not dead?”

  “She woke up a few minutes ago, just before I got here, but that doesn’t mean they won’t try to hold us accountable.”

  “She’s awake?” She jerked toward the door, but he caught her arm, spun her toward him.

  “Cass, you can’t talk to her right now.” His voice was very low.

  She blinked at him as if she were dreaming. “What are you talking about? I’m not going to—”

  “I’ve contacted an attorney.”

  “An attorney for—”

  “He agrees with me. Said it would be best to keep quiet until you have council. Whatever you do, don’t admit culpability.”

  “Culpability?”

  “That includes apologies. An apology is as good as an admittance of guilt. I know the farm isn’t bringing in a lot of revenue right now, but land prices are escalating and—”

  “Land prices …” She felt as if she were in a bad play. “What do land prices have to do with …” She shook her head again. “What are you doing here?”

  “I went to the farm to see you. The girl said you were here.”

  “What girl? Emily?”

  He shook off her question. “This could be extremely serious, Cass,” he said and tightened his grip for emphasis.

  She stared at his fingers. “Of course it’s serious. Sophie’s been injured,” she said, and yanking her arm from his grasp, jerked toward the door.

  The light in the hallway seemed too bright, too invasive. She hurried toward Sophie’s room.

  “Cass. Cass!”

  She knew Bradley was following her, but she didn’t stop. In a moment she had pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  Sophie Jaegar turned toward her. The three women standing by her bed in multicolored scrubs did the same.

  “You’re awake.” Casie’s voice sounded distant and faint to her own ears.

  “This isn’t a good time,” said a dark-haired woman in a lemon yellow smock. “Dr. Gibson was just about to—”

  “How’s Blue?” Sophie’s lips were pursed, her face somber.

  Casie shook her head, took another stumbling step into the room. “Sophie.” She touched the girl’s hair and felt her own throat tighten. “You scared me half to death.”

  Sophie’s brows lowered even farther. “I’m fine. How’s—”

  “I’m so sorry,” Casie said and pushed a stray strand of glossy hair behind the girl’s ear. “I should have stayed with you.”

  Sophie’s shoulders dropped a little. She exhaled. “I’m fine,” she said again. “How’s Blue?”

  “Blue?” Casie laughed. Her head felt light with relief. She sat down on the bed and reached for the girl’s hand. “I don’t think this is the time to worry about Blue.”

  “But he’s fine, right?”

  “I’m sure he is.”

  “What do you mean, you’re sure?”

  “I haven’t been home yet. I came right—”

  “You haven’t been home? How long have I been here? What—” she began and sat up abruptly, but the woman in the white smock put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Relax, honey. We need you to just take it easy for a while.”

  She pushed off her hand. “How can I relax when—”

  “The colt’s fine.”

  Casie turned toward the door just as Colton stepped past Bradley. His boots were dirty, his jacket frayed, but there was something about his presence that seemed to release the aching knot in her chest. “He was a little disappointed that you weren’t there to give him his breakfast.” He smiled down at her, dark eyes gleaming. “I know Case is a slave driver, kid, but if you needed to sleep in, you should have just said so.”

  “We really can’t allow this many people in the room,” said the dark-haired nurse.

  “I’m a doctor,” Bradley said.

  “Sophie! Soph!” Philip Jaegar came through the door like a storm trooper, face pale, perfect hair tousled. “Thank God you’re all right.”

  Casie hurried to her feet to make way, but Sophie held her hand just a second longer before relinquishing it for her father’s. An IV pierced her lightly tanned skin.

  “My G
od, Soph, you scared me out of my mind. What happened?” he asked.

  Sophie shook her head. For the first time since they’d met, her makeup was imperfect. “It’s no big deal. I was working with the grullo and—” She shrugged and scrunched her face. “I guess things are a little blurry.”

  “Grullo?” Jaegar lowered his brows and glanced at Casie. “What’s she talking about? What happened?”

  Bradley scowled at him. “Ms. Carmichael has nothing to say until her counsel—”

  “She was working with one of the colts,” Casie said.

  “Colts …” Jaegar shook his head. “You didn’t have her handling those wild—”

  “Don’t say any more,” Bradley warned.

  “I shouldn’t have left her alone,” Casie admitted.

  “She was unsupervised?” Jaegar said. “With an untrained animal?”

  “I was training him,” Sophie said.

  “I’m sorry,” Casie said again.

  “Sorry! Are you crazy?” Jaegar asked. “She’s just a kid. Did you think I was paying you so she could do your work for you?” He turned to face her full on, but Colton stepped between them.

  “Settle down,” he said. His voice was very low. It rumbled comfortingly in the sizzling tension. “Let’s just simmer down a little.”

  “Who the hell are you?” The charming Philip Jaegar was long gone. The worried father had arrived at last.

  “I’m Colt Dickenson,” he said and offered his hand. Jaegar stared at it a second, but good manners finally won out, and with their return his face softened a little. Colt’s lips curved up a little. “So you’re Sophie’s dad.”

  “Yes, I … Who are you?”

  Colt smiled that slow grin of his. “Just a friend of the family. Your girl’s got a way with horses.” He gave his head a regretful shake and stuck his left hand in the front pocket of his jeans. “I shoulda never left those animals at the Lazy. I was going to pick ’em up, take ’em home, but when I saw your daughter with that colt …” He shrugged.

  “They’re your horses?”

  “Yeah.” Colt nodded. “I was hauling them up to Canada.” He glanced around at the faces, but the expressions were blank, devoid of understanding. “To slaughter,” he explained, expression solemn. “But Casie here …” He shook his head. “She couldn’t bear to let ’em go. Guess she thought she could save them. She’s always had a soft heart.”