Half a Cowboy

by Andrew Grey

  Chapter 10

  THIS WAS a bad idea. Ashton glared as Ben got into the sheriff’s vehicle with him. “He’s going to be fine,” Reg said as he slid into the passenger seat of Ashton’s truck. Ashton got in as well. “I’m more concerned about you right now. Don’t think I can’t see the pain that you’re in. I’ve known you too long. When was the last time you saw a doctor?”

  “A couple months ago. I have a choice—either I learn to live with the pain or they can make it stop. But they’d either use powerful pills or they’d remove the leg. I don’t like either option.” Ashton yanked the door closed harder than he needed to. “So I live with it. The only thing I’ve found that gives me any relief is Ben.”

  “Magic hands?” Reg asked.

  “You don’t know the half of it.” He tried for humor, but it fell flat. There was too much tension in the air for anything to be funny right now. “Let’s get over there and see what the hell is going on.”

  “Now you’re talking. Once this is over, you and Ben can hibernate until spring and then ride off into the sunset together, or whatever it is you real cowboys do. I’ll go back to running the company we started together.”

  Ashton started the engine. “Are you pissed about that?”

  “No. Your life is here—I can see that. And mine is back in our office in California. I know that too. I love what I do there.” He thumped Ashton on the shoulder. “I just wish I still had my best friend out there working with me. But I understand. You and I have been through too much to let a guy or a job, or even a company, come between us.”

  Ashton nodded, suddenly unable to speak, then pulled out and followed the sheriff and his deputies as they turned out of his driveway and made the turn east toward Henderson’s ranch. He cleared his throat. “We need to stay back and let the sheriff take the lead.”

  “I know. As much as I want to be the one in charge, I know that’s not smart.”

  Ashton understood the way his friend felt. Even though Ashton was part of this team, if the shit hit the fan, there was shit-all he could do with his leg the way it was. And unfortunately there was a very good possibility that shit would be flying.

  Ashton turned into Henderson’s driveway and parked next to the sheriff about fifty feet from the low, simple ranch-style house. The windows in front all had curtains drawn, and the front door was closed. The once-pristine snow around to the side of the house was covered with tracks, looking as though someone had been trying to get the lay of the land.

  He was about to hop out of the truck when the windshield cracked.

  Ashton ducked beneath the dash, Reg on top of him, as another shot rang through the truck, shattering the windshield completely. Holes appeared on the spidered glass, and cold air descended on them.

  “Jesus Christ, I wasn’t expecting that kind of reception,” Reg swore as he got out his gun. One of the house windows off to the left was broken, and the curtains fluttered inside.

  “Don’t shoot,” the sheriff said loudly from his car, his voice coming through where the windshield used to be. “We don’t know who else is in the house or who’s doing the shooting.”

  Another shot had the sheriff dropping to the ground, and using the car door as a shield, he took a single shot, then another in defense.

  Then there was silence. Ashton opened his door, stepping out behind its protection, and moved slowly around to the back of the truck. “Ben, you okay?” he asked.

  A head appeared from between the seats in the sheriff’s car. Ben was white as a sheet, but he nodded and kept his head down.

  Ashton watched for movement in Henderson’s house. Another shot rang out, and he pressed closer to the truck. A deputy went down in the snow on the passenger side of the sheriff’s car, and Ashton’s good foot slid out from under him. He landed on the packed snow between the two vehicles, able to see under the car.

  “Sheriff, I’ll try to get to him,” Ashton said. He pulled himself upward in time to see Ben get out of the car on the other side. “Stay down,” Ashton told him as more shots rang out, reverberating over the landscape.

  Ben ignored him, helping the deputy into the back seat of the sheriff’s car.

  Ashton pulled open the other door and helped get the man inside and lying on the seat. “How bad is it?”

  “I don’t know,” Ben answered.

  “It’s my side,” the deputy whimpered. “I’m going to be okay, right?”

  “Yes, Wilbur, you are,” Ashton said.

  “Wilbur, can you call for more help? We’re pinned down out here,” the sheriff called out, returning fire. Finally the shots from the house stopped. “I have support coming, but we need someone around the back of the house.”

  Reg was suddenly there. “I’m on it. I’m going to get out of here and then come around the side, using the barn as cover. I’ll text as soon as I’m in place. Just keep them busy.” He moved back to his truck, then slowly backed it out of the driveway.

  Ashton held Wilbur as the sheriff and deputies laid down cover fire. Ben covered the wound and put pressure on it.

  “I wish I had a first aid kit.”

  “There’s one in the trunk,” Wilbur said as Ashton’s phone vibrated, probably with Reg’s promised message.

  Ashton carefully backed out, a shot bouncing off the car near his head as the sheriff popped the trunk. He grabbed the first aid kit, then returned to the back seat. Ashton ignored the searing pain running up and down his leg as he helped Ben look after Wilbur.

  Blood had seeped through Wilbur’s shirt. Ben had his jacket and shirt open, and Ashton handed him some large bandages as more shots rang out. A cry from inside the house reached Ashton’s ears right after one of the sheriff’s shots, and then it grew silent once more and stayed that way.

  Ben got the bandages on the wound, applying pressure. Wilbur hissed but remained conscious, which Ashton hoped was a good sign.

  Sirens approached, multiplying quickly as more help arrived. Thankfully, there was relative quiet, at least for now.

  “You’re going to be all right, deputy,” Ben said. “The bullet seems to have gone right through your side. The bleeding has almost stopped, so it’s likely nothing vital was hit. Don’t try to move, though. Hopefully we’ll have an ambulance here for you soon.” He lifted his gaze, and Ashton smiled at him. Damn, who’d have guessed Ben would be so good in a crisis?

  “I need help in here,” Reg called from the front door. “It’s clear. Shooter under control.”

  Ben looked as though he was going to answer Reg’s call, but the sirens drew closer, and then additional emergency vehicles pulled into the yard. Ben backed out of the car so Wilbur could be seen to.

  “You need to look over his leg as well,” Ben told one of the EMTs, pointing at Ashton, and before he knew it, he was settled in the back of an ambulance so he could be examined.

  Ashton glared at Ben, who sat with him.

  “Did he hurt his leg during his heroics?”

  “I don’t think so,” the EMT said with a wink. “But he does need to take it easy. I know that isn’t likely to happen. He’s a rancher, and they never know what’s good for them.” She gave him one of those “boys never listen to anyone” looks.

  “Do you know what’s happening now?” Ashton asked Ben, who nodded.

  “Yeah. They’re bringing someone out of the house. I think it’s Mr. Henderson.” He swallowed. Ashton tried to see, but the angle didn’t allow it. “I think he’s alive, but I don’t know anything more than that. The sheriff is inside taking charge of things. Reg is in there with him.” He peered out the door. “Now he’s coming out, so maybe we’ll learn a little more.” Ben motioned him over, and Reg appeared in the doorway.

  “Is he okay?” Reg asked the EMT.

  “He’s going to be fine. But I will say that Ashton here would benefit from some PT.”

  “He’ll get it,” Ben told her. “I intend to see to that.”

  Ben’s and Reg’s gazes met, and Ashton wondered what
the hell he was in for. Reg was bad enough on his own when he got going, but he and Ben were probably going to drive him crazy until Ashton did what they wanted.

  “That would be a miracle,” she quipped and turned to Ashton. “I’d tell you to listen to these men, but you probably won’t. It looks like you reinjured some muscles, so let yourself rest for a while.” She shooed them out of the ambulance.

  Ashton leaned on Ben as he made his way back to where what was left of his truck was parked off to the side.

  A light snow had started to fall, and Ashton groaned. He was probably going to have to buy a new truck. The old one had been on her last legs, and judging by the way steam now escaped from under the hood, she was pretty close to being dead. “Sheriff,” he said as they approached. “How bad is it?”

  “We have one body inside that we’re going to need Ben here to identify. Henderson was shot, but from what he said, it wasn’t by us. It seemed as if the man he’d thought to be his ally turned on him once we arrived.”

  Ashton didn’t wish Henderson any ill will. Well, okay, maybe he did. But he hadn’t wanted the guy shot.

  “Do you want me to look at him?” Ben asked.

  “I’ll bring out a photograph once we’re done.” Sheriff Holmes shook his head. “This is ugly. And with a deputy injured too. The investigation into what we did is going to take months.”

  “You did nothing but carry out your duty. I’ll testify to that if you need it.” Ashton felt weaker, and his leg hurt even worse now that he had weight on it again.

  “You’d best all go home. I’ll come by once things are wrapped up here.”

  ONE OF the sheriff’s men dropped Ashton and Ben back at the house, where they were greeted by the dogs all squirming for attention. Ben got Ashton settled in a chair and then went to feed the dogs. They followed him as though he had liver in his pockets. Ashton would gladly follow Ben just about anywhere as well.

  By the time Ben returned, Ashton was finally comfortable in the chair, and the pressure in his leg was easing. “You did amazingly well with Wilbur.”

  “I took a few nursing classes before switching to massage therapy. And though I wasn’t a professional, I knew we had to stop the bleeding or there could be complications. The snow and cold would only work their worst on him.”

  Ashton held out his hand, and Ben took it. “You were amazing under fire. I’d have been proud to have served with you.”

  “Ashton….” Ben turned away, glancing down.

  “I mean it. You were cool under pressure in a way a lot of people aren’t.” He squeezed his fingers, wondering what he was going to do when Ben woke up and realized that being stuck with him was more effort than it was worth. Ben was vital, warm, and strong. Damn, the way he’d taken charge and helped Wilbur was stunning. He was brave. That was the only word that came to mind. He’d been cool as a cucumber in the way he handled things.

  “I think I was too focused on helping the deputy to worry about anything else.” He came closer. “When I think about it now, I’m wondering if I have some kind of death wish or something. Maybe I need to have my head shrunk to find out what’s wrong with me.”

  Ashton tugged him down. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re strong. Don’t you realize that?” All those years living with Dallas had honed Ben, burnishing him into someone stronger than he realized—calm under pressure so that he was able to render first aid to Wilbur in the back of the sheriff’s car while they were still under fire. That took guts, a lot of them.

  “We made a good team,” Ben told him, leaning over the chair.

  Ashton’s heart beat faster, and warmth spread through him as anticipation built. He wanted Ben’s lips, and as he drew nearer, Ashton slipped his hand around the back of Ben’s neck, sliding his fingers through his soft hair. Ben was amazing, and he closed his eyes just as their lips met in a kiss that was probably meant to be gentle, but didn’t stay that way for more than two seconds.

  Ben drew nearer, pressing hard, his lips tasting Ashton’s, his tongue taking control. Hell, Ben almost tried to climb into the chair with him. Not that Ashton would have stopped him. Heat poured off both of them, and Ashton’s jeans grew so tight, he was afraid the damned things were going to cut off circulation to his balls—and he was going to need them, from all the signals Ben was sending out. The pain in his leg receded until he barely felt it. His entire body and mind centered on Ben and the amazing things he was making Ashton feel.

  Ashton would give almost anything to have the euphoria of this moment last forever. Ben pulled away, their gazes locking, and Ashton put his foot down, intending to stand. He had hoped to be smooth, but his leg had other ideas, and they ended up on a heap on the sofa.

  “Okay, guys, I know it’s your house and all, but….”

  They froze, and Ben hid his face in Ashton’s shoulder. Honestly, Ashton had forgotten that the others were in the house. He was going to be very happy once he and Ben could be alone in the house and they could make love anywhere at any time. He slowly sat up, letting Ben do the same.

  “Sorry,” Ben said gently. “We got a little carried away.” He sighed softly, and they sat together quietly like chastised children until Clay and Lisa shook their heads, sharing a look, and went into the other room with their computers.

  “You know, if you’re going to act that way, the least you could do is offer to let others have some fun too,” Clay quipped from the kitchen. Ashton was relieved they hadn’t scarred the intense security officer for life.

  “WHAT’S THE latest?” Ashton asked as he pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, joining Ben, the sheriff, and Reg. Coffee had already been poured, and the others sat staring at one another.

  Ben pushed away a photograph as he entered, nodding slowly. “That was him.”

  “Henderson is in bad shape. We’re hoping he’ll pull through. Thankfully there was no one else in the house. His wife was visiting her sick sister. I called over this morning, and she is on her way back.”

  Ashton felt sorry for her. Leola Henderson was a nice lady. He had always liked her, even if he didn’t get on with her husband. She certainly didn’t deserve this.

  “Toranelli shot him,” Reg explained. “That was pretty clear to me as soon as I got inside.”

  “Did you shoot Drayton?” Ben asked.

  Reg shook his head. “That shot came from outside. The bullet will need to be matched to determine if the sheriff or one of his deputies shot him. I turned in my gun for examination.”

  “Henderson is unconscious, so there’s nothing coming from him,” Sheriff Holmes added.

  Ben pushed his mug away. “So we’re right back where we started after a fucking gunfight and three people shot.” He lowered his gaze to the table with a soft sigh.

  Ashton wanted to tell Ben that it was all right, but Ben had a right to be frustrated. Ashton felt the same way, but he needed to keep his head. Instead of saying anything, he threaded his fingers through Ben’s.

  “The person Dallas sent here is out of the picture. Dallas is also on the run from the law. I’d say that he has much more pressing matters to deal with than worrying about you,” Ashton whispered. “We aren’t going to let our guard down, but given a little time, I think we can put this behind us.”

  Reg nodded his agreement. “I don’t want to say this is over just yet, but hopefully Remington will have more concerns elsewhere and he’ll leave us all alone.”

  Ashton hated that one man had brought so much misery and heartbreak to their town. He squeezed Ben’s hand, knowing he was taking all of this hard. Somehow Ashton had to help Ben see that none of this was his fault.

  “Did you get anything out of Henderson? Any idea why he would team up with someone like Toranelli?” Ashton asked.

  “No. Henderson was conscious for only a few minutes,” Sheriff Holmes answered.

  “Is there anything more any of us can do to help you?” Ashton asked.

  Sheriff Holmes paused. “No. I think I need to t
ake things from here. There is going to be a mountain of paperwork to fill out, and I’ll have independent investigators looking things over. You should all just remain vigilant.” He set his mug aside. “Dallas Remington is a snake, and he’s going to find himself cornered very soon. That’s when he’ll be at his most dangerous. He probably still has people he can call on. Guys like him rarely go down easily.”

  Ashton knew that was true.

  “If I were him, I’d have slipped across the border,” Clay offered.

  Ashton nodded his agreement.

  “I doubt it,” Ben said. “Dallas has set some teeth on edge on the other side of El Paso, and there are people down there who wouldn’t be too happy to see him.”

  Ashton turned to Ben. “I thought you didn’t know much about his organization.”

  “I don’t,” Ben protested. “Last year a friend asked me to go with him to El Paso for a few days for a conference.” He lowered his gaze. “It was for comic books and things like that. Dallas didn’t want me to go without him, so I told him he could come along if he wanted. Then I told him where it was, and Dallas said that part of the state wasn’t welcoming to him. At the time I didn’t think anything about it. But now I’m guessing that he probably has enemies down there and just across the border. The more I learn about him and his business, the more things that I never understood about his behavior seem to click into place.” He shivered. “I keep wondering what else I know. But right now it’s still just random stuff that doesn’t fit together. It’s frustrating.”

  Ashton could understand that, but he found himself looking at Ben a little differently. He hoped that was all there was to it. Ben had spent a lot of time with Dallas, and a small part of Ashton’s mind wondered if Ben’s loyalties were where he thought they were. How much did Ben know, and what—if anything—was he hiding? Ashton hated that he had these thoughts, but years as military policeman had instilled a necessary sense of wariness. “We’ll keep watching and will call if we see or hear anything. Reg and the guys will stay for a while yet, and we’ll all keep alert.”