Just Down the Road (36 page)

H
ARMONY
C
OUNTY
H
OSPITAL

T
INCH CAME AWAKE ONE PAIN AT A TIME.
H
E’D BEEN IN
enough bar fights to recognize each injury. Cracked ribs, stitches on the side of his head, a lip that tasted of dried blood, and a half dozen more.

“Be still, Mr. Turner,” someone close to him said. “I’m almost finished.”

“Doc?” He knew it would hurt too much to open his eyes, so he just guessed. She had a kind of hurried sound to her voice when she was nervous or trying to act all professional.

“Yes, it’s Dr. Spencer. I’m just checking your side. You’ve lost a great deal of blood, Mr. Turner.”

Tinch shoved his pain aside and tried to clear his mind. Something was wrong. She hadn’t talked like this to him since before their first kiss. Everything that had happened in the darkness washed back over him. Waking to tell Jamie to run. Meeting the men with rifles loaded. Being
shot. Being beaten. Waking at the sound of Noah McAllen yelling at him.

“Jamie?” Tinch needed to know that the men who had beaten him hadn’t found the boy.

“He’s fine,” Addison said as she touched his hand. “He’s outside in the waiting room with Noah at his side.”

Her touch had been light, her voice still formal, almost as if she didn’t know him or the boy. Tinch remained still as she bandaged his side. He sensed more than heard others in the room.

His entire body felt heavy. If he could have, he would have pulled her against him and told her how much she meant to him.

The familiar sound of machines beeping and clicking reminded Tinch that he’d be out of this place as soon as he could walk. He hated hospitals. The sounds. The smells. If he could just wake up, he’d find a way to get out, but all he seemed to be able to do right now was listen.

“You did a good job, Addison,” a man’s voice sounded from several feet away. “This fellow will have very little scarring thanks to you. Your skills are meant for much more than sewing up cowboys who’ve been in gunfights.”

The man with Addison sounded older, twice Addison’s age. Tinch couldn’t place the voice, but the accent definitely didn’t belong in Texas.

He felt Addison’s touch on his arm, a gentle pat as if to say she was close. “Mr. Turner wasn’t in a gunfight. He was protecting a child from men who meant him harm.”

“Whatever.” The man’s voice sounded bored. “Can we move on? I really don’t have much time and I have to talk to you. I didn’t fly halfway across the country to make rounds with you.”

“No, you don’t,” Addison whispered as she tucked the sheet back over Tinch’s arm. “We’ve nothing to say. You wasted a trip. I’ve told you that several times on the phone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear. The sooner I get you out of this hick town the better. You’ve proved your point. Now it’s time you come back where you belong.”

Her hand was back, moving along his arm as if she needed to hold on to him even though he could offer her no support. “Tinch,” she whispered.

He felt her brushing his hair off his forehead, and he moved slightly into the warmth of her fingers.

“Tinch, are you awake enough to hear me?”

He nodded.

“The sheriff wants to talk to you. Can you answer a few questions?”

“I’ll try, Doc.” His voice sounded broken and rusty.

“I’ll go find her.”

They moved away, Addison saying something to the man in the room, and Tinch could no longer make out the words.

An hour later, when he woke again, he wasn’t sure he hadn’t dreamed the strange conversation he’d had with the sheriff. She’d asked him questions, but the answers kept getting jumbled up in his mind.

Slowly he molded his hand into a fist. He was stronger now. Less groggy.

Blood seemed to be pumping in his veins again. The blinds were closed and machines created a dull buzz. He heard the door open and close almost silently, and then Tinch felt a small hand slip into his.

“Hello, Jamie,” he whispered. “Glad you’re here.”

“You don’t look so good, Uncle Tinch. Your lip is all puffed up and one of your eyes is funny colored.”

“You should see how it looks from this side.” Tinch laughed, then groaned in pain. He tried to open one eye. “You all right?”

Jamie nodded. “I didn’t like what they did to you. I wanted to run and tell them to stop, but I remembered what you said about staying in the rabbit hole until I knew it was safe to come out.”

“Rabbit hole?” Noah asked from somewhere behind Jamie.

“That’s what we call this little spot halfway between our place and the doc’s. It looks like flat land from our porch,
but when you get to it, you see it’s a little bump in the ground where the dirt piles up high enough to hide a person. I could look between the weeds and see the porch. If anyone came near, all I’d have to do was roll down in the hole a few inches and no one could find me.”

“Pretty ingenious,” Noah offered.

“Tinch says it’s an old Apache trick.”

“Jamie?” Tinch interrupted. “You stay with Noah until I get a little better. You understand? Go with no one but Noah or the sheriff or Doc.”

“I understand.”

Tinch wanted to ask where Addison was and when she’d be back in, but his brain felt like someone had poured pudding inside it. Thoughts could barely move forward enough to be voiced.

He knew there were details he needed to ask about, things he should know, but right now it seemed enough just to know that he was alive and Jamie was safe. The rest could wait.

T
RUMAN
F
ARM

B
Y THE TIME
R
EAGAN MADE IT TO THE PROPERTY LINE
fence at the back of the orchard, she was covered in mud and her hand was bleeding. In the distance, she heard the sound of a siren, then a moment later, one, two, three shots in rapid fire from the house.

No one but the two guys left by the van driver was there. They wouldn’t have any need to shoot a lock off anything, and no one was there to try to stop them.

So, why the shots?

Reagan fought down a cry as she realized why. They’d killed Old Dog.

Every ounce in her wanted to go back and fight, but reason told her she had to survive first. If the driver hadn’t gone back for his partners, the men left behind would come looking for her after they searched the house. If they noticed her truck keys, they’d probably widen their search
and head toward the orchard. From there, they might see her. She had no idea why they were here, but she knew they were trouble. Bad trouble.

As she moved along the fence line, she heard a car and looked down the road in time to see the sheriff pull into the farm entrance with sirens blaring. Two highway patrol cars were ten feet behind her.

Reagan smiled, almost wishing she could run back through the orchard in time to see the men’s reaction. She didn’t know why they’d decided to come to her place so early, but she had a feeling they’d be leaving in the back of one of the cars.

She watched the road. It bothered her that she hadn’t seen where the van had gone. If he’d come toward Lone Oak Road, she would have heard him. From the front yard of the old house, he could have taken a half dozen turns. The orchard, the barn, one of Jeremiah’s storage barns for the old tractors he collected. There was even a rough road that circled round the new orchard behind the house and ended up almost at the entrance to the farm.

Logic told her she wasn’t out of danger yet. She’d learned a long time ago that trouble doesn’t always need a reason to come calling. Her one and only plan right now was simply to stay out of their way.

Reagan climbed over the stile Jeremiah had installed just in case folks wanted to steal a few of his apples. Half the people in town admitted to the theft, including the sheriff. Reagan always thought her uncle was proud of that fact. He said once if he’d plant watermelons, his farm would be the stealing capital of Texas.

Trying to shake mud off her, Reagan walked toward town. She wanted to know what was going on at her place, but not enough to get between the cops and those guys. Trying to give them the benefit of a doubt, she thought they might just be lost. Only someone asking for directions usually didn’t come before dawn or shoot the watchdog.

A diesel engine barreled down the road toward her. Reagan looked up to see Big heading straight for her.

“Rea!” he yelled as he jumped from his truck. “You all right?”

“I fell down.” She felt like a child holding out her hand to show him the small cut. “What are you doing here?”

“Noah called me and told me you needed me.”

“But …”

Big lifted her into the truck. “I don’t know any answers. Noah just said when I found you to bring you straight to the hospital and, from the looks of that cut, I figure that’s just where you need to be.”

H
ARMONY
C
OUNTY
H
OSPITAL

T
YLER WASHED UP AS BEST HE COULD IN THE WAITING
room bathroom, then walked down the hall to the maternity ward.

It was far too early for visitors, and Tyler knew he had to get home and clean up properly before anyone saw him with his pajamas on beneath his coat. Only he couldn’t leave without saying good-bye to the baby. He had to see her one more time. He’d wave. He didn’t figure she’d wave back, but he wasn’t sure.

He stood in the nursery window and watched Autumn’s tiny baby sleeping with her little pink cap down over her ears. He’d be forty-six his next birthday—well on his way to fifty, he thought—and this was the first time he’d been part of a birthing. True, the two firemen, Willie Davis and Big Biggs, had done most of the work, but he had taken his turn at holding Autumn’s hand tightly during a few contractions.
Once they moved to the delivery stage, both boys had gone in with her to help, but Tyler took sole duty of pacing.

He must have walked ten miles before Big rushed out to tell him everything was going well. Near the end, both firemen joined him, and then finally the doctor came out with the news. Eight pounds four ounces. Tyler had no idea if that was big or small for a newborn, so he asked, “How much did you weigh when you were born, Big?”

Brandon “Big” Biggs sat down on one of the couches and took a deep breath. “I feel funny,” he said, just before he rolled onto the floor, out cold.

Tyler watched in amazement as nurses, hearing the thud, rushed in to help. They managed to roll him over and prop the back of his head on the couch cushion. After two bottles of water and a cold towel, one very tall nurse announced that he’d simply fainted.

Everyone talked at once, saying things like they were glad he hadn’t toppled in the delivery room, and one said she thought the big guy looked cute spread out like a bear rug in the waiting room.

When everyone left except the tall nurse, who was still patting Big’s hand, Tyler finally got a word in. “All I did was ask him how much he weighed at birth.”

The nurse had a kind smile. “I’m not due on until five. I just came up, when Big called, to see if I could be of help. It appears the best thing I can probably do now is take this one home.”

Tyler agreed, though he doubted Big needed any help getting home. He lived only half a mile away and, though he looked a little pale, her constant patting seemed to have helped him recover.

The nurse helped Big to his feet. “Mr. Wright, will you tell Willie what happened?”

Tyler nodded, noticing Big had to lean on the pretty nurse.

“And Mr. Wright, you could go home too. Autumn worked hard tonight. She’ll sleep for a few hours and so
will the baby. You should get a few hours’ sleep yourself and then come back in the morning.”

He shook his head. “I’ll wait until one of the girls from the office gets here. Just in case she needs me.”

Tyler stood watching them go. He couldn’t leave. Not yet. Not till it was morning. Then he’d go man the office while the others came. He couldn’t leave and face his apartment alone.