Quinn (31 page)

He lifted his cup in a salute. “That was the plan. I take it you approve?”

“I do. I love it. Except that last night I had the strangest feeling that one of our furry friends was watching us.”

“You, too?” He paused. “Something woke me through the night. I listened, but couldn’t hear a thing. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.”

“Exactly.” She nodded.

He grinned. “Probably some jealous wolf that figures I got the prettiest female of the pack.”

They shared a laugh.

Cheyenne sighed. “I wish we could hide away here forever, and never—” She looked up at the ringing of her cell phone.

Catching Quinn’s dark frown, she muttered, “I know. We agreed to leave these in the truck. I forgot.”

He glanced over. “You could ignore it.”

“I could. Of course, it could be Chief Fletcher.”

He shrugged and she reached for her phone.

The masculine voice on the other end sounded frazzled. “Cheyenne, this is Rusty Perry. You’d better meet me in town. I’m on the way there now, heading to Dr. Walton’s clinic with Micah Horn.”

“Micah? What’s happened?” Fear had her voice hitching in her throat.

Quinn hurried to stand beside her and they both listened as Rusty’s voice went on. “I swung by your place to post the building permit and found Micah lying in the snow outside the bunkhouse, which was still smoldering.”

“Smoldering?”

At Cheyenne’s sudden gasp Quinn spoke for both of them. “Another fire?”

“A big one. The bunkhouse is burned to the ground. I don’t know how the old man made it out, but he’s in bad shape.”

“How bad?” Cheyenne was already scooping up her boots with one hand while holding the phone up with the other.

“He’s conscious, but just barely. Besides being half-frozen, he’s almost incoherent. He keeps babbling, but I can’t make heads or tails of what he’s trying to say. I’ll leave that to the doc. You’d better get to town as soon as possible.”

“Yes. Thank you, Rusty. And tell Micah—” Cheyenne’s voice broke, and she had to stop and swallow the lump in her throat several times before she managed to say, “Tell Micah I need him. He can’t leave me. He has to hang on.”

“Will do.”

By the time the line went dead both Quinn and Cheyenne were frantically pulling on the last of their clothes and snatching up whatever they needed to take with them for the long drive to town.

As they climbed into the truck, Quinn looked over and squeezed her hand, feeling the tremors she couldn’t hide.

“He has to be all right. He’s all the family I have left in the world,” she said through her tears. “Oh, Quinn, I can’t lose Micah, too.”

T
he drive to town was the longest of Cheyenne’s life. She sat as still as death, her mind playing through images of her childhood, with Micah encouraging her to ride her first pony and, later, showing her how to saddle her first mare. Micah teaching her how to bake corn bread. Micah driving the big hay wagon on her first high school date, when she and her friends from town planned a hayride.

Micah was as much a part of her life as her father and brother had been. Micah Horn was her teacher, her uncle, the grandfather she’d never had. The thought of him lying alone and injured in the freezing night, with no one around to comfort him, tormented her.

When at last she and Quinn drove through town, she kept her hands clenched so tightly the knuckles were white from the effort.

Quinn parked the truck in front of Dr. April Walton’s walk-in clinic. Parked beside them was Rusty Perry’s truck.

Quinn hurried around to hold the door and take Cheyenne’s hand in his. She was so cold he closed her hand between both of his, hoping to lend her his warmth, as they walked into the clinic.

Rusty got to his feet and hurried over. “The doc’s with Micah now.” He gave a shake of his head. “I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. There it was, the bunkhouse burned to the ground, and that tough old man lying there. His clothes had been burned so badly, I thought I was seeing a pile of rags, until he started moaning. Even while I was getting him into my truck, he was mumbling and muttering and waving his hands. He was like a wild man, grabbing my arm, trying to make me understand his ravings. But all I could make out was some gibberish.” He laid a hand over Cheyenne’s. “I’m just glad I stopped by your place when I did.”

Her tone was low with emotion. “You saved his life, Rusty.”

“I’ll leave that to the doc.”

Hearing voices, the doctor stepped from one of the examining rooms and hurried toward them.

The doctor indicated the room she’d just vacated. “Cheyenne, Micah Horn is in here.”

“How bad is he?”

The doctor’s voice lowered. “It’s too soon to speculate. He’s an old man, suffering not only from hypothermia but from a nasty blow to his head. He was probably hit by falling debris, and he’s lucky to have escaped before the building collapsed.”

“I want to see him.”

As Cheyenne started to turn away, the doctor put a hand on her arm.

“I must caution you. He seems extremely agitated. I’ve just given him something to sedate him.”

Cheyenne barely heard her words as she forged ahead and hurried into the room, with Quinn and the doctor trailing behind.

When she paused beside Micah’s bed, Cheyenne looked over at the doctor with alarm. “Why is he wearing this mask?”

“It’s oxygen. I’m hoping to clear his lungs of the smoke he inhaled during his flight from the burning building.”

Cheyenne laid a hand over his and leaned close to whisper, “Micah. It’s Cheyenne. Can you hear me?”

He stirred, and she saw his eyes trying to focus.

“Thank heaven you’re alive.” She could feel tears welling up and she blinked hard, trying to cover the rush of emotions that swamped her at the sight of him lying so battered and helpless.

When he recognized her, his hand clawed at the mask and he tore it aside.

His voice was as raspy as a rusted old gate. “Chey… honey… listen. You need to know…”

Though his lips were moving, the words were little more than a jumble of guttural sounds.

The doctor hurried over to return the oxygen mask to his nose and mouth.

She turned to Cheyenne. “Until the sedative takes effect, I think you ought to step outside. I’m concerned about this extreme agitation.”

“But he’s trying to tell me something.”

“No doubt. Maybe it’s about the fire and how it started. It could have been a spark from a fireplace, or a forgotten cigarette.”

“Micah didn’t smoke cigarettes. Only a pipe.”

“Ah. A pipe then.” The doctor paused. “He may have dropped it in his sleep and he’s carrying guilt.”

“I don’t care how the fire started.” Cheyenne could feel herself close to tears. “I just want him to live.”

“I’m doing the best I can, Ms. O’Brien.” The doctor efficiently steered Cheyenne toward the door. “If you’ll wait in the outer office, I’ll call you in when I have my patient properly sedated and I’ve completed my examination.”

Cheyenne dug in her heels. “But I want to help.”

“Right now, your presence is a hindrance. He’s becoming too agitated.”

“All right. I understand.” With a last look at the old man in the bed Cheyenne turned away and reluctantly walked from the room.

As she did, Micah snatched aside the mask yet again. And though he tried to speak, all he could do was fall into a fit of moaning and coughing before mercifully falling silent.

In the waiting room Rusty looked up hopefully. “How is he doing?”

Quinn spoke for Cheyenne, who was too upset to say a word. “Right now he’s in some pain. Dr. Walton says he needs rest, but she thinks he’ll survive.”

The building contractor let out a deep sigh of relief. “That’s good news.” He looked over at Cheyenne. “If you’d like, I could head on up to your ranch. If any of your wranglers come down from the hills, they’ll need to know that Micah survived.”

She shot him a look of gratitude. “Thank you, Rusty. I appreciate it.”

When he left, Cheyenne’s fingers worried the edge of her parka as she began pacing the length of the room and back.

After several long minutes Quinn caught her hand and drew her down to the chair beside his. “You’re going to wear yourself out.”

She avoided his eyes. “I can’t stop thinking that I was gone when Micah needed me.”

“You had no way of knowing what was happening. For all you knew, he could have changed his mind about staying in the bunkhouse to drive up in the hills with the wranglers.”

“I wish he had. Oh, Quinn, I wish he’d gone with Wes and the wranglers.”

“It’s been a long winter and spring. He said his old bones were aching. He probably figured a night alone would give him a break from the routine.”

“But don’t you see, Quinn? For the past months he’s been worrying about me whenever I’ve been alone on the ranch. And now, when he was alone, I wasn’t there for him.” She looked down at her hands. “I was… with you while he was suffering.”

“So that’s what’s bothering you?” Quinn wrapped his arms around her and gathered her close. Against her temple he murmured, “Listen to me, Cheyenne. You’re no more responsible for this accident than Micah is. Despite all that’s happened, or maybe because of it, you have a right to get on with your life. Micah would be the first one to tell you that you have every right to be happy.”

Tears sprang to her eyes and she pushed a little away to look at him. “How do you know what I’m thinking? Are you reading my mind?”

He gave her a knowing smile. “You’re as transparent as glass.” He touched a finger to her quivering lips. “I know you’re feeling guilty about not being there for him, but when Micah recovers he’ll tell you the same thing I’m telling you now. This is not payback for a night of loving. The fates are not going to slap you down every time you find a moment of happiness.”

She gave a deep sigh. “My mind tells me that you’re right. But my heart says something different. The way my life has been going, I’ve started to believe that I’m living under some sort of dark cloud. Everything and everyone I love is snatched away from me.”

They both looked up sharply as the doctor stepped into the room.

Cheyenne was on her feet at once. “How is he?”

“Resting comfortably. He has a concussion from a huge bump on his head. I’m guessing he was struck by falling timber. The blow was enough to knock him unconscious. But the good news is, his lungs are clearing and I feel certain that by the end of the day he’ll be breathing without oxygen. Judging by the bruises and burns on his arms and legs, he was trapped in the burning building for some time before he managed to extricate himself and crawl to safety. This could be the cause of his agitation. Until the sedative kicked in, he was suffering delusions, fighting imaginary demons.” She shook her head. “He may be old, but he’s as strong as a bull. That man was fighting for his life.”

“Oh, thank heaven. I was so afraid—” Cheyenne surprised herself by bursting into tears.

The doctor touched a hand to Cheyenne’s shoulder. “If you’d like, you can sit by his bedside. I’ll warn you,
though, it could be a long vigil. I gave him a strong sedative that will keep him asleep for hours.”

Cheyenne nodded, struggling to find her voice. “It doesn’t matter how long before he wakes, I need to be with him.”

The doctor turned to Quinn. “Feel free to stay, too. But you may want to bring something from the diner while you’re waiting.”

“Maybe later.” He caught Cheyenne’s hand. “Come on. Let’s make ourselves comfortable in Micah’s room.”

Cheyenne held back. “You don’t have to stay with me. You have ranch chores to see to.”

“And enough family to pick up the slack while I’m gone.” He led her toward the room. “If you’re staying, I’m staying.”

He paused to turn to the doctor. “Will you be here?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be in and out, and so will my assistant, Margie. My office is attached to the clinic, but the buzzer on the desk in the outer office alerts me if I’m needed here. I’ll be looking in on my patient from time to time, but whenever he wakes I’d like to know. Just press that buzzer and I’ll be right here.”