He couldn’t dare tell her who he was. He was a bad person, raised by an even worse man. His first instinct was to run as far away from her as he could. If he'd had an ounce of energy, he would. There was no way the situation would end up well. If Garret found out he was there, they would all be in danger.
“Ezra?”
The sound of his name rolling from her lips sent his head spinning. He closed his eyes. She knew who he was and that in itself was a dangerous thing. He tried to move, but no part of his body was cooperating.
“Lie back. You’ve been shot. The doctor bandaged you up, but you’re going to need a good round of antibiotics to keep an infection from starting.”
“No doctors.” His head swirled again, and he opened his eyes for a moment. But the pain was just too much to bear. He closed them again. “No doctors,” he whispered. “Please.”
“You've already been seen.” Her words jumped around in his tired head. “The doctor said you should―”
“What doctor?” His eyes flicked open as the realization of what she was saying, hit him like an anvil. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. His heart leaped with fear. Any moment the police would be there, and he would be arrested. Taken in for questioning at the very least.
“Doc Evans. He’s a veterinarian, but he checked you out fully. He says, with some antibiotics and pain meds, you should be as good as new in no time.”
“A veterinarian?” His fears were dissuaded for only a moment. Clutching the couch, he tried to pull himself up to a sitting position.
“Cole?” she called, her raised voice vibrating through his head. “We need that medicine.”
“Coming,” her brother called back. The sound of boots clacked on the hardwood floors. “Sorry. I didn’t know if you wanted Ibuprofen or Tylenol. We have aspirin, too.”
“Give me the Tylenol.” She held out her hand. “We’ll alternate that with the Ibuprofen.”
Reaching out her hand, she helped him to a sitting position. The pain was so intense that he held his breath, trying not to scream out in agony. There was no way he was going to walk out of there on his own two feet. At least not until he’d recovered some.
“Here.” She held her hand out with a couple of small pills cradled inside.
With shaky fingers, he took them and popped them in his mouth. What he must look like to Charlotte all shot up and weak. Not exactly how he imagined they would meet again.
Cole handed him a bottle of water.
“Let’s get that shirt on him so he can lie back down.” Charlotte went around behind him, grabbed the clean shirt, and brought it gently over him until his head reached through the top. “Can you lean forward just a bit? Cole, steady him.”
Cole went to the front, pulled the coffee table closer to the couch and sat on the edge. “Grab onto my arms for support.”
Cole was only inches away. Still, it seemed a long way to bend his burning shoulder. Holding his breath again, he leaned forward. His shoulder screamed out in pain, but he refused to cry out in front of Charlotte.
As his back left the couch, Charlotte let out a gasp. The vivid sound of her sucking in her breath made him cringe inwardly as she pulled the shirt down over his back. Ezra leaned back as she came around the side. With shaky hands, she maneuvered his undamaged arm into the sleeve. Her face was as white as the clouds, her eyes just as stormy. Her mouth was clenched so tight her lips seemed to disappear.
He understood the reason for her shock, and it wasn't the bullet wound. She'd seen the many scars his father had left on his back. She didn't say a word, so neither did he.
“We'll leave the other arm inside,” she croaked. “I don't think we'll be able to get it in the sleeve.”
He wanted to reach out to her, let her know it was okay. That those wounds had healed long ago. But it was an awkward moment, and his groggy brain couldn't find the words.
Grabbing several throw pillows, she piled them up on the end of the couch. “Doc says to keep it elevated.” Her voice cracked as she spoke. “The wound, I mean. He said to keep it above your heart.”
Letting it go, Ezra cringed at the pain and turned his body to meet the pillows. He’d not felt so much agony since his father had created those scars with his leather belt. He'd long since been used to them, but it wasn't a pretty sight.
Suddenly, he felt exhausted. Like his body was taking over the function of his brain. He was so tired, he couldn't keep his eyes open another second.
“Get some rest. I’ll make you some soup.” Charlotte’s words were like echoes through a long tunnel as his mind went to a safe-haven where pain did not exist.
“I better get the horse back to the stable,” the other voice slurred.
Ezra willed the agony to subside as his body fell into a deep sleep.
“HERE'S THE PLAN. WE head to Phoenix in Bart's car. It's the most easily disguisable. We steal a car from an old . . . well, let's just say, the dirtbag has it coming. He deserves a nice long prison stay. Anyway, once we're in Scottsdale, we take out the Wells Fargo on Indian School Road. It'll be an easy job. Rhett, you and Ezra will hold the customers at gunpoint. Me and Bart will get whatever cash they got up front. No use trying for the big stuff. There won't be enough time. We got five minutes tops, in and out.”
“What about security?” Rhett asked, tipping his chair back as he flopped his feet on top of the old wooden table.
“I'll take care of them.” Garrett placed a hand on his gun belt and looked slyly to Bart.
Bart nodded, touching his own gun.
“It'll be an easy job. Once we get the money, we'll drop the car back off with Joe and jump into Bart’s. By the time we're back, the cops will be investigating him while we are splitting the dough. He's a dealer, and they won't hesitate to bring him in. It's an easy job with―”
“Now wait a minute.” Ezra stood. “You gonna kill a man over some petty cash up front?”
“Ain't no one said nothing about killing a man. We're just setting him up for a nice long ride to the pen.”
“The security guard. You plan on taking him out, don't you? And what about the customers? How many of them are gonna die?”
“You gone soft on me, boy?”
“You never asked me to kill a man before. What if there are women in there? Children.”
The others laughed as if Ezra was the crazy one.
“Ain't no one gotta die.” Garrett grinned evilly. “If they do what they're told, they'll be fine.”
“And the security guard? How you getting around him without killing him?”
“You just leave that up to me.”
The sight of spilled blood entered Ezra's head. No way he was going through with it. He stood and backed his way to the door. “I’m not doing it. No way. I’m done.”
A warm hand touched his arm, and Ezra flinched. He opened his heavy eyes. The most beautiful sight stood over him, wearing a light-blue top that set off the green in her eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a soft bun with a few wayward strands falling down into her face. As she leaned forward, one strap slid off her shoulder. Freckles dotted her tanned arms. Her smile made his sleepy heart skip a beat.
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired.” His eyes were thick with exhaustion, it was all he could do to keep them open. “How long have I been asleep?”
“A couple of days, off and on. Doc came by with some stronger pain pills and antibiotics. You don’t remember taking them?”
Ezra shook the grogginess from his head. “Not really.”
“Well, I’ve got you to eat a couple of times. Even got you up to use the bathroom.”
Ezra stared at her wondering if any of that were really true. He remembered none of it. “Must have been some good stuff he gave me. Hope it wasn’t a horse tranquilizer.”
Charlotte gave him that sweet smile that had melted his heart many times before. Only she’d never known just how she’d climbed her way into his heart over the years. He made sure of that. Ezra was the wor
st kind of scoundrel. He’d done too many things to ever be loved by someone so sweet and pure. Yet, there he was, staring into her beautiful green eyes wishing he could hold her.
“Nope. Just something strong enough to dull the pain. You talk in your sleep, you know.”
Ezra’s face burned with heat. Fearing embarrassment, yet wanting to know, he asked, “Yeah? What did I say?”
“It was all a bunch of jumbled words, but I did make out you calling for me a time or two. I thought you actually needed something, but when I came around the couch, you were fast asleep. You snore like a buzz saw.”
He was right, he didn’t want to know. “Probably wanting more of those good pain meds.” He pulled himself to a sitting position, marveling at how little pain he felt. “Where's your brother?”
“Don't do too much. You're still not healed.” She touched his hand, sending warmth throughout his body. “Cole’s out leading a trail ride. We only have four riders today. The summers are always rough for business.”
“A trail ride?”
“Yeah. When Daddy passed, we turned the place into a riding ranch. People, mostly tourists visiting Tombstone, come out to ride the horses. But with the high-heat, we’ve been a bit low on visitors. Comes with the territory.”
Ezra closed his eyes tight, clearing the drug-induced fog from his head before he spoke again. “I thank you for nursing me back to health, but I better be on my way.”
Charlotte placed a hand on his good arm, sending another wave of heat through his body. “Like I said, you aren’t healed yet. You still have a week’s worth of antibiotics, and as soon as those pain meds wear off, you’re going to be in a lot of pain.”
“I can’t stay. It’s not safe.”
Charlotte gave him a long look. “Ezra, if you’re in danger, we should call the police. They can―”
“No police.” He stood to his feet so fast that his head whirled and he fell back down to the couch.
“You're in no condition to leave. Please stay a little while longer.”
Unfortunately, she was right. There was no way he'd make it past the front door.
“A few days, then I have to go. But please, no police.”
Charlotte nodded as if she understood much more than he was saying. What did she know about the life he’d grown up with?
“Okay. A few more days, but Doc Evans says it could take months for you to heal fully.”
“I don’t have months.” His voice was harsh, and he willed himself to speak more calmly. “I . . . Charlotte, I can’t put you or your brother in danger.”
“What happened?”
His mouth twisted as he worked through the emotions. “I can’t say right now, but every moment I stay, I’m putting you in jeopardy.” He'd rather die painfully than put her in the way of Garrett Monroe. If he found out the no-account, do-gooding family, as he called them, had taken him in, he wouldn't hesitate to make trouble for them.
“Okay, then.” She turned away. “I have some work to do. I’ll be back shortly.” She left and returned a few minutes later with a bowl of soup and a cup of coffee. “I take it you can manage to feed yourself?”
He nodded.
By her clipped words and the set of her jaw, he could see she’d been upset by him not wanting to confide in her, but it was for the best. It wouldn’t be long before Garrett realized he wasn't lying dead in the desert somewhere, and when he did, he would make sure he finished the job. He’d had never been a violent person in particular, but he wasn't one to leave a job undone, either.
Ezra had made himself unfinished business. It would have been better for all concerned if he had died out there. Garrett would come looking for the body, and when his blood trail ended with hoof tracks that led to Charlotte's home, there would be trouble.
Garrett wouldn't start trouble for them if Ezra wasn't there. He was good at covering his tracks and wouldn't do something that would place him under the scrutiny of the Sheriff's Department.
He watched as Charlotte strolled out the door, allowing it to close heavily behind her. Wanting to call her back, but having nothing of value to say, he let her go.
He watched out the picture window as she stood, one toned arm resting on her slight hips, the other waving out to someone he couldn't see. Leaning up to get a better look, he saw Cole leading a team of four horses back to the house. Each horse carried a passenger holding firmly to the saddle horn. It looked to him like a family. A father, mother, and two young, giggling girls.
How did Charlotte make enough money to support her brother, the animals, and pay the annual property tax and utilities? How did they manage the ranch alone? Ezra would give anything to be able to help them in their struggle. But he was no freer to help than a runaway slave before The Civil War. He was a marked man, branded by Garrett Malone.
Closing his burning eyes again, he allowed sleep to take hold. It was no use trying to stay awake. His body needed rest if he were going to leave in three days.
Chapter 4—Charlotte
Charlotte put on a smile and waved as Cole and his group came in from the trail and up the dusty drive. Still seething inside over Ezra's childish refusal to tell her what happened, she tried to push it back for the moment.
She understood his fear of the police getting involved. But the law was there to protect citizens from tyrants like Mr. Malone. She'd known he would refuse help, it was why she hadn't called them to begin with, but someone had to stop him before more people got hurt or killed. What bothered her more than that was Ezra's refusal to explain why he was shot in the first place. How could she help him if he wouldn't open up to her?
Never had she met a more stubborn man in her life. How could he tell her not to involve the police and yet advise her in the same conversation that his being there was putting them in danger?
She had a mind to call them anyway. Whatever Ezra had done to anger Mr. Malone could be settled right then and there. He certainly wasn’t above the law. If they called the sheriff, he’d have to be arrested. She was determined to speak to Ezra again. She had to try and make him understand. But first, she needed to help the riders down and assist Cole with getting the horses unsaddled and watered.
“Did everyone have a good time?” she asked.
“I did!” the younger girl exclaimed. “We saw a jackrabbit and a coyote.”
“I think my bottom is numb.” Mr. Thompson rubbed his backside and climbed stiffly off his horse. “I’m too old for this.”
“If you all would like to follow me to the stable store, fresh-squeezed lemonade and complimentary cactus candy is waiting for you.” She helped the young girls down, grabbing the reins of their horses.
“Cactus candy?” The older girl, Cassy, wrinkled her nose. “Is that good?”
“I think it is.” Cole grabbed the reins to the other two horses as Mr. Thompson helped his wife down. “Charlotte makes the best cactus candy in town.”
“I want to try it!” Sandy, the younger girl said. “Can we feed the chickens, too?”
“You certainly can.” Charlotte smiled. “If it's okay with your parents, I'll let you help me collect some eggs, too.”
“Sure,” the mother answered, walking bow-legged. “I need to stretch my legs first.”
“I’ll get the horses cleaned up and watered.” Cole took the reins from Charlotte. “You go ahead and take care of our guests.”
Charlotte thanked her brother and headed back to the store her father had started building before he passed away. Her mother had wanted the place to be a small cafe and resort for the tourists to stay and visit.
Her father had never gotten the chance to complete it. Charlotte and her brother had turned the place into a small shop where people could relax after their ride and buy snacks and souvenirs.
She spent much of her available off time sewing memorabilia stuffed animals and cacti for their guests to buy. Each embroidered with the C&C Trails emblem proudly at the back or bottom.
Cole was good at whittling and
had made many wooden keepsakes for the shop. He'd invested in a small branding iron with the same markings so guests could remember their stay.
Every now and then, he'd find a dead scorpion or a snake rattle to encase in resin as a cool paperweight. The shop was small, but they made a good deal off of it year-round.
She led them inside, welcoming them to sit at the small seating area with table legs made from dead Cholla. The holey cactus skeleton gave off an old-west feel that their customers often enjoyed.
“Make yourself at home. I'll be right back.”
Charlotte left for the kitchen unit in the back that held a mini refrigerator, hot plate, and a small sink. Her vision had been to turn it into a real kitchen where she could offer a variety of lunch menu items to her customers like her mother had wanted. But without the funding, it had been only a dream. She pulled the pitcher of lemonade and a small plate of cactus candy from the refrigerator and brought it out to the family.
“Here you go.” She set the lemonade on the table. “Freshly squeezed from our very own lemon trees. And this―” She held out the plate. “As promised, is cactus candy. I make it from the cacti right here on the ranch.”
“What kind of cactus do you make it from?” Sandy asked.
“Probably the big Saguaro’s,” Cassy said. “Bet you can make a whole lot of candy with those.”
“Actually, you can eat the fruit of the Saguaro, but it doesn’t taste very good.” Charlotte puckered her lips into a sour face. “It's rather bitter.”
“A barrel cactus?” the younger girl guessed.
“The fruit from a barrel cactus is quite edible. It tastes something like a tart kiwifruit. But no, the candy comes from the Prickly Pear. Did Cole point some of those out to you?”
“I remember.” Sandy bounced in her chair. “It was the pancake looking ones right?”
The Cowboy's Forbidden Bride (The Blushing Brides Book 4) Page 3
