A Man with a Past by Mary Connealy
TWENTY-FOUR
Wyatt had never in his life lain down while the sun was still up.
If his ma could be believed, though in this she might’ve been exaggerating, he’d given up napping before the age of two, before the age Wyatt could remember, so his memory of naps, or the lack thereof, fit what he knew of himself.
And yet here he was, waking up from a nap while golden sunlight streamed through the windows.
Worse yet, surrounded by people who weren’t napping but were instead talking endlessly, or so it seemed to his tired ears.
He needed to get up and slip outside to get to work. To that end, he moved.
The pain came roaring to life along with the memory of what was going on.
“I’ve been shot?” The words slurred, but they came out well enough.
The whole room fell silent and whirled to look at him. He thought they should have been looking at him already, considering the bullet he’d taken.
He remembered it all. Not who’d shot him. The bullet came from . . . from . . . behind him. He’d heard something. Thought it might be Cheyenne. He’d turned, and the bullet had struck. He hadn’t seen anyone though. He’d been shot by someone under cover.
The cowardly, evil work of a rabid skunk, and whoever’d done it needed to be put down just like they’d do with the skunk.
Except, of course, the skunk would’ve only done it because he was sick and out of his head. Whoever had hidden themselves and taken that carefully aimed shot had no such excuse beyond evil.
“Wyatt, you’re awake!” Cheyenne was at his side in seconds. She rested a firm hand on his upper arm and squeezed, very gently, but he saw her pleasure and worry.
Cheyenne and Win, his childhood tormenters. And he’d tormented them right back. His grown-up friends and family, yes even Win. A sister of the heart and now, married to his brother Kevin, a sister in fact.
Falcon and Kevin looked at him from behind Cheyenne, their eyes a match for their concern and relief.
Then Molly came over and somehow, without saying a word or laying hands on anyone, shoved them all back. She slid an arm behind his head, met his eyes, and said, “Drink some water. You’ve lost a lot of blood, and you’ll need plenty to drink.”
Lost a lot of bloodsounded serious.
“How bad is it?” He realized he couldn’t move his left arm. Not an inch. He glanced down and saw it strapped to his body by someone who was serious about tying him up.
For all that he was surrounded, it was Molly he asked and who answered, the rest of them letting her take charge.
“You’ve been shot in the chest. The bullet was through and through. It didn’t hit anything vital, your heart or lungs. It may have broken your collarbone, only I think the fall off your horse did it because the wound is lower, and the bone seems to be snapped clean, not fragmented like a gunshot. It’s going to take time for it to heal. We kept you down in the kitchen—”
“I’m in the kitchen?”
Molly nodded. “You’re on the kitchen table.”
“Can I get up to my room?”
“In a little bit.” She gave him a kindly smile. “We’ll need to clear the table before supper, so you’ll have to move.”
That made him smile back, or at least he thought he did. If his thoughts didn’t quite reach his lips, it was because he felt like he’d been run over by a stampeding herd of wild mustangs.
“D-did you doctor me, Molly? Like you did Win?”
“Yes. I’m a schoolteacher by training, but I think I could have a solid career as a doctor, considering the need in this town.”
“It’s mostly just the need here on the RHR. You can be our doctor. You already are.” A stab of pain almost lifted his head off his shoulders.
Then his eyes fluttered closed even though he had no intention of taking another nap.
He heard Molly’s voice in the distance, added to a few others. Cheyenne, maybe. But it was such a muddle he didn’t even try to figure out what they’d said. He just wished they’d be quiet so he could sleep. Yep, with the sun up and everything.
“He’s passed out again.” Cheyenne reached for his good shoulder. Molly grabbed her wrist before she could try to wake Wyatt up.
“Let him rest.”
Cheyenne yanked against Molly’s grip. Suddenly furious with her for denying her more time with her brother.
Falcon’s arm came around her waist and lifted her off her feet, swinging her around. “Calm down,” he said, quietly, into her right ear. “I know you’re worried sick. I know you love him. And I know Molly’s right. You know it, too.”
Gritting her teeth, Cheyenne resisted the urge to fight, to take out her terror on all of them.
Because she did know Molly was right. Falcon was right. It was a fool’s move to wake up a sick man. To shake an injured man. But for one moment she’d been desperate to see those bright eyes, the flashing sparks of gold in the brown.
She quit struggling and patted Falcon’s strong arm around her belly. “I know you’re right. Let me go.”
He did, but he stayed where he was.
Almost as if he was blocking her way to Wyatt.
Almost as if he didn’t trust her.
Almost as if he knew her pretty well.
“Uh-oh.” Falcon’s eyes went wide. He said a single word. “Ralston.”
The crazy faded from Cheyenne’s eyes, and she winced. “We left him out there, tied up.”
Falcon looked around the room. “We need to decide right here, right now, no one goes out alone again. From now on, we take a herd of cowpokes with us. Plenty of folks to return fire. These fools are vicious cowards. It’s a thread through the whole business, shooting from cover, picking off people with their backs turned. We should’ve never let Wyatt go haring off alone but, well, but who’d’a thunk a woman’d do such a thing?”
Falcon shook his head and looked at Cheyenne. He felt so guilty for letting Wyatt ride off after Mrs. Hobart alone. He saw the regret in Cheyenne’s eyes to match his. “I know Cheyenne here is a tough, knowing woman. It shames me to think I didn’t worry enough about another one.”
“There’s a chance it wasn’t Mrs. Hobart.”
All eyes turned to Win.
“Did you know her at all?” Kevin asked.
With a shrug, Win said, “I’ve met her, of course. I wouldn’t say I knew her really, not personally. She was a good cook. She kept the house tidy.”
Falcon said quietly, “I got the notion there was something between her and your pa. More than a boss and his cook.”
Cheyenne’s head whipped around in a way that surprised Falcon. He’d’ve expected Win to be upset, but Cheyenne looked shocked. Win just looked worried, sad even. Considering she didn’t care much for her pa, that didn’t make a lot of sense. But Falcon had more things to do than worry about women and their fussing.
“Now that Wyatt’s tended, we need to get Ralston,” he said.
“He’ll’ve gotten loose by now,” Kevin said.
Falcon gave his head a little sideways tilt. “When I tie a knot, it stays tied a good long while.” Then he paused because, though he thought it was true, he didn’t really know. “I searched him for hideout knives. If he’s gone, he’s either been eaten by wolves or in cahoots with someone else.”
“Mrs. Hobart,” Cheyenne said through a tight jaw.
“Might be, if she knew where to hunt him up. We reckoned she was running to join him when she realized we were on to Ralston’s thieving. But she went a different way. Says to me she didn’t know where he was. If they’d partnered up, it might be Ralston had taken off, not just from us and Hawkins, but from her, too.”
He looked at Cheyenne. “Let’s go bring him in if we’re not too late.”
She gave a tight nod of her head and went to get her gloves and hat.
“Wait a minute,” Kevin said. “You just said we aren’t supposed to go out alone anymore. Go get a posse from the bunkhouse.”
Falcon was a step behind Cheyenne, heading out. He paused to look back at Kevin, at all of them, and said, “I didn’t mean Cheyenne and me. We’re tougher than all of you and the bunkhouse put together. No one’s gonna sneak up on us.”
“You say that,” Molly snapped, “just like a man who didn’t recently get knocked into a river by a sneak attack. A man who now can’t remember a blessed thing about himself before he came out of the water.”
Falcon gave a little shrug. “True enough. But I’ve got Cheyenne with me now. The two of us together can handle anything.”
He strode out. His moccasins silent as he left.
Someone had put all the horses up. The Hawkins hands had gone home.
Cheyenne had her horse saddled and was dropping a bridle on his when he caught up to her.
“I’m right, aren’t I? Or do you want to take a crowd along?”
Cheyenne’s dark eyes flashed at him. He could tell something had her extra upset. And considering she’d been furious most of the time since he met her and was half-mad with worry over her brother, he had a hard time imagining what else was chewin’ on her.
“Just saddle up, Falcon. I’ll take care of you.”
He snorted but got to work.
They were galloping out of the yard in minutes.
The two of them alone.