When the Dust Settles

by Mary Calmes

  When he walked around the corner, I swung the poker at the back of his head, caught him in the neck, and he tripped forward noisily into the room, screaming for help before falling over the couch that matched the chaise and clunking his head hard on the coffee table.

  I scrambled for the gun he dropped, but Straw Hat was there, jumping me from behind and driving us both out into the living room into another wall.

  “Stef, get to the kitchen and let Bella in!” I yelled.

  He bolted by me, Daisy Dukes right on his heels, with Button-down bringing up the rear. I tripped him, even though I was grappling with Straw Hat, who then caught me in the shoulder with a knife I didn’t know he had.

  “You fuck!” I swore at him, enraged. It was a nine-inch switchblade, not legal at all, and I was thankful it was buried in my rotator cuff instead of my heart.

  I swung with my still-good right arm, caught him in the jaw with my fist, and when he stumbled back, I kicked him in the knee and saw it bend the other way, hearing the pop at the same time. His scream was deafening in the small space, and I left him writhing on the floor.

  I knew the gun was somewhere in the sitting room, but I also knew that Baseball Cap was out like a light and Straw Hat was in way too much howling pain to go looking for it, so I bolted after Stef, moving fast down the hall, made it to the kitchen, and was there greeted with the lovely sight of Daisy Dukes, standing next to Button-down beside the counter with her hands up. Both were there, frozen, not moving as a very pissed off Bella stood in front of them, snarling, hackles raised and head down, ears back, and lips curled up so teeth and gums were visible. She was not fucking around.

  “Good girl,” I said as I staggered in, seeing Stef on the phone as Wyatt lifted his head, blinking and bleary.

  “Ungen,” Wyatt said when he saw me, smiling big and leaning out a little for me to take him. Ungen was me: uncle and Glenn without the L the sweet little boy had trouble pronouncing.

  I wanted to grab him but I couldn’t; my left arm had stopped working. I couldn’t lift it at all, but more troubling was all the blood. Grabbing a dish towel from the handle of the oven, I pressed it above my heart and leaned on the counter to steady myself.

  “Can you call off the dog?” Button-down said. “She’s freaking us out.”

  “No,” I snapped. He’d tried to kidnap a baby but the dog was being a psycho? Jesus.

  “Is my boyfriend okay?” Daisy Dukes asked, tears welling up in her eyes. “Did you kill him?”

  “I’m your boyfriend!” Button-down gasped.

  Poor bastard. He’d been so used.

  “Mr. Holloway?” she prodded.

  How did she—ah… it took me a second in all the excitement. “I’m not Rand Holloway.”

  Her and Button-down’s eyes got huge.

  “I’m his teeny half brother,” I added with a cackle, watching with great satisfaction as they both turned a lovely shade of white.

  “Ohmygod, you’re bleeding,” Stef croaked.

  The towel was getting a bit damp, it was true. But more importantly, I had just thought of myself first as Rand’s brother instead of his cousin. Amazing how many things had changed so quickly.

  Stef moved into me then, into my space, just closed the distance between us and put his head on my good shoulder as Wyatt wiggled and complained because he was getting crushed between us. “Thank you for saving me and my son.”

  “You could’ve,” I assured him, because I knew the man well. “We both know you’re scary as hell.”

  “I will be,” he said icily, turning to look at Button-down and Daisy Dukes. “I’ll put Wyatt on the counter and you watch him while I go get my baseball bat upstairs.”

  Thank God all the guns Rand owned were on his saddle with him, very far away from home. I was guessing that the two people in front of me would have been in trouble if Stef could have gotten his hands on a firearm. To say he did not look happy was the understatement of the year.

  “Is the sheriff coming?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s good,” I told him. “’Cause I think I’m gonna pass out.”

  The last thing I heard was Wyatt calling my name.

  Chapter 7

  WAKING UP in the hospital was never fun. Waking up with a stressed-out Stefan Joss was just odd.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I asked. It came out all croaky because my voice was weird. I needed some water.

  “Oh thank God, you’re awake,” he whispered, deflating with relief, leaning forward in his chair to take hold of my hand and wrist and give me a brave smile.

  “For crissakes, Stef, I just lost some blood,” I groused. “I’m not dyin’.”

  He stood then, leaned over, and hugged me tight. I let him clutch at me for a second before I told him to get the hell off.

  “You fainted,” he barely got out, eyes swimming with tears.

  “Shit,” I grumbled. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

  He sucked in a breath. “I’ve never seen anyone pass out from blood loss before.”

  “It sneaks up on ya.”

  His mouth fell open. “It’s happened to you before?”

  “I grew up on a ranch, Stef; of course it’s happened before.”

  “Oh God,” he moaned. “I really don’t know if I even want Wyatt to learn to ride a horse.”

  I snickered. “I reckon that decision’s been made already, huh?”

  He shrugged, like, perhaps.

  “Speaking of horses,” I began.

  “Juju’s in the stable at the Red,” Stef told me. “She’s fine. I had Elliot, one of the new grooms, make sure she was all settled in.”

  “I’ll get her moved as soon as I get outta here.”

  “Or you could just leave her where she is.”

  There was that possibility, with changes, a thaw in my and Rand’s relationship for one, to consider. But I didn’t want to talk about that. “How long was I out?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Almost two hours.”

  “Oh, that ain’t bad,” I said, grinning at him.

  “Not bad?” His gasp and how big his eyes got told me he was a bit horrified.

  It was nice, how worried and scared he was, but really, I’d been out longer when I was thrown while breaking broncs or riding bulls or the time I was riding a new horse while barrel racing and he drove me into a wall when I overcorrected.

  “It really ain’t,” I assured him, reaching out to touch his cheek and give him a little pat. “But so yanno, I’m all right now, so can I have some water?”

  He had to call the nurse to ask—he wasn’t taking any chances—and after he did, a young RN with a name badge saying “Paisley Chambers” showed up, with a perky little blonde ponytail and pink scrubs. She explained, even though I knew already from Stef, that I’d been out a couple of hours, but my color was back and I looked much better.

  “We had to give you some fluids and glucose to get your blood sugar up,” she said sternly, her voice full of authority for one so young, giving me the judgmental brow. “Why were you dehydrated and why aren’t you eating?”

  So I explained about the cattle drive and then lied and said I normally did eat but hadn’t been just for the day but how I should have, what with being in the saddle the whole time.

  “Yes, you should have,” she agreed. “Now, I’m sending a meal up in here, and you better eat everything on that tray, ya hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I agreed.

  “Good boy,” she said with a smile before telling Stef that she’d find the doctor and that yes, I could have some water. Not a lot, but some. I was not to overdo.

  Once she was gone and Stef poured ice water into the little plastic tumbler for me, I asked him the obvious. “Who in the hell were those people, Stef?”

  “The guy in the long-sleeved shirt, his name is David Lawrence, and he’s one of my former students from the college.”

  I waited for him to go on, sipping my water.

&nbs
p; He cleared his throat. “The girl is Kree Walton, and they wanted to—”

  “Oh, I know what they wanted to do,” I told him. “They wanted to kidnap Rand Holloway’s child and hold him for ransom.”

  He nodded.

  “So what, this David just called you up out of the blue?”

  “Yeah, he said he needed a reference letter, and… God, Glenn, it’s just—” He inhaled sharply. “He was one of my teaching assistants, you know? Why would I ever have cause to doubt him?”

  “No, you don’t blame yourself for that, Stef,” I insisted. “None of that’s on you.”

  “I feel really stupid.”

  “For wanting to help out an old student?”

  His eyes searched my face. “You could have been killed.”

  “So could you,” I volleyed, not bringing up the fact that Wyatt had been in danger as well. “But we’re both fine, so let’s not fuss on it no more.”

  His smile was beautiful. “Yes, Glenn.”

  I tipped my head as I looked at him. “You realize the security out there at the ranch is about to go through an overhaul, don’t ya?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, I already had this discussion with Mr. Holloway half an hour ago when we talked.”

  I chuckled. “Is he on his way back?”

  He grimaced as the door opened and a cute little candy striper brought in my late lunch of hospital food complete with hot tea, apple juice, and milk. I thanked her, and as I started in, could not help smiling over at Stef as he flopped into the chair and told me that Fort Knox would have nothing on the Red Diamond once Rand was done.

  “You and Wyatt,” I sighed, “are the two most precious things in the world to him. How could you expect anything less, Stef?”

  “I guess if you think about it that way,” he said softly, looking at me hopefully. “Then it’s sweet all the changes he plans on making.”

  “Sure,” I agreed, with a grin. “I doubt it’ll feel like a prison at all.”

  “Oh God.”

  “Maybe tell him to go easy on the barbed wire and motion sensors and automatic lights huh?”

  Apparently I wasn’t as funny as I thought I was.

  WHEN STEF tried to call Rand for the second time, he was out of range which made sense. There were so many dead spots out on the prairie—which was why it was just dumb luck that he’d gotten ahold of Everett the day before—and since Rand had loaned his satellite phone to Charlotte when she was on a trip to Paris with her mother, Stef didn’t have that to get back ahold of him on. So he couldn’t talk to Rand again and I couldn’t talk to Mac. I hoped Rand shared with the guy I was ready to start a life with that I was fine, but I had no way of knowing.

  To get back at me about the prison cracks, when Stef returned later Saturday night to check in on me, he told me that he’d called over to The Bronc and told whoever answered the phone that I was stabbed but in stable condition at the hospital in Hillman.

  “You ass,” I whined. “Do you know what’s gonna happen now?”

  He only smiled and nodded before he turned on the TV and started flipping channels.

  “They’re all coming,” I told him.

  “Not tonight they’re not,” he said cattily. “Visiting hours are over, they can’t get in.”

  “Then how come you’re here?”

  “I’m family, asshole.”

  Nice. “Shouldn’t you get home to your kid?”

  “He’s with Morgan and his wife, he’s fine.”

  “I don’t know Morgan whoever.”

  “Morgan Sowers, he’s our new blacksmith, he’s a really nice guy.”

  “What if they drop him on his head?”

  “Morgan’s wife is the pediatrician out on the Red; I’m not really worried about it.”

  “Rand just can’t keep collecting people Stef, law enforcment’ll start to think he’s a drug lord or some shit.”

  He turned off the TV and twisted around in his chair to look at me. “So?”

  “So what?”

  “Did you bond with the boys?”

  I stayed quiet.

  “Did you and Rand and Zach work things all out?”

  I grunted.

  His eyebrows lifted before he smiled. “You did.”

  “We had us a bit of a come to Jesus meeting, yeah.”

  “And?” He prodded me.

  “And I might come visit the Red a bit more often.”

  He looked so very pleased with his scrunched up eyes and lips pressed tight together and clasped hands.

  “It’s a work in progress, right?”

  “Yes. Good. I’m so glad.”

  “You like putting the Holloways back together, don’t you, Stef.” He’d done it with Tyler and his family.

  “I do,” he admitted. “Your father and you, Rand, and Zach are next on my list.”

  I would not hold my breath.

  IT WAS early the next morning, just after visiting hours began, as I knew it would be, when my bed was jostled and there were whispers of “shut the fuck up,” and “you’re gonna wake him up,” before I did, in fact, open my eyes.

  The room was crowded with people—way more than I was sure was allowed—and ten or so of them surrounding the bed so I couldn’t even see the door of my room. “Shit,” I grumbled, squinting up at all of them. “Why aren’t you guys gettin’ ready to open The Bronc? Sunday’s one of our busiest days.”

  A wall of noise came at me, everyone speaking at once, each voice trying to be louder than the last.

  “Stop,” I half yelled before turning to look at Josie, who was closest to me, both of her hands on my right forearm, squeezing tight as she sucked in breath after breath. Only when I studied her face did I notice that her eyes were red and puffy.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake, you can see I’m fine.”

  She sniffled. “You were hurt. When Mr. Joss called the restaurant and Kev took the call, it scared the hell out of all of us.”

  Which had been Stef’s intent. He was going straight to hell if he didn’t watch it.

  “We were all really worried,” Callie said tightly, and I watched her bite her bottom lip.

  “You’ve never passed out before,” Kevin explained, coming around the girls to stand on my left and touch the bandage there. “And you never had to be taken nowhere in an ambulance.”

  “I’ve done both of those things many, many times,” I corrected. “Y’all just never knew me when I was working the ranch.”

  “Your doctor said you lost a lotta blood,” Shawnee chimed in from where she was at my feet, ignoring my comments entirely. “Your doctor told Bailey that between the stitches in your side and the stab wound, you had to stay here a couple days.”

  “Which means I’ll be out first thing tomorrow morning,” I explained.

  Lots of exhaling and smiles, they were all visibly relieved and happy.

  “How did you talk to my doctor?” I asked Shawnee.

  “Oh, I didn’t, Bailey did. You know how persuasive she can be when she wants something.”

  I was well aware. She looked all sweet and soft on the outside, but inside she was all tiger. “Is that who’s at the restaurant?” I asked, turning to Kevin. “Bail?”

  “Yeah, it’s her and Jamal, Sandy, Esteban, Marco, Deshaun, Kelly, and oh, we might have a problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  Callie and Kevin exchanged worried glances.

  “What?”

  Callie took a quick breath. “Well, it turns out that the resort is being sued for racial discrimination.”

  “Okay, and? What does that have to do with us? You already told me that our staff should be in an ad for—what is it?”

  “The United Colors of Benetton,” she stated with a smirk.

  “Which is a good thing.”

  “It’s a very good thing,” she agreed. “You have probably the most racially diverse staff in the entire county, boss.”

  “Sexual orientation as well,” Shawnee made sure I knew. />
  “And so,” Callie rushed out, wanting me back on point, “Gillian comes by yesterday—”

  “Who?”

  “The new director of personnel.”

  She and Kevin knew the hotel people; he was good with remembering all their names and titles and schmoozing with them, and Callie was good at trading food for service, so we always had people at the bell desk or with the concierge we could call on to help our guests. I was crappy at the things they both excelled at, and that was okay, as neither one of them knew the ins and outs of contracts or managing the facility or paying the bills.

  “Go on,” I directed her.

  “So apparently they have a corporate visit next week and she wanted the HR people to come talk to us.”

  “Why?” I was confused.

  “So they could pretend that we’re actually part of the resort and they could use us, our team, to satisfy their diversity quota.”

  That made no sense. “That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard. All they have to do is see that we’re not affiliated with the hotel to know that’s crap.”

  “She’s hoping they don’t look beyond the fact that we’re on their property. And she did say that if the suit goes forward that they might cut us loose, as we’re not part of the regular businesses that comprise the entire chain of resorts,” Kevin explained.

  “Mitch Powell owed Rand, and for that, we’re in.”

  “But if it’s bigger than him, if it’s Mr. Powell’s board voting to overrule him, we could be off the resort property and would need to find new digs for The Bronc.”

  It was odd, but neither he nor Callie or anyone else in the room looked particularly concerned over the news that we might have to move. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

  “For crissakes, Kev, it’s like pulling teeth.”

  He grinned at me. “But last night, after Bailey got off the phone with your doctor, she called Mr. Joss because she was told he was in here with you, and she wanted to know how you looked.”

  She was very thorough.

  “And they got to talking, and she told him about the situation with the hotel since he’s the one that worked out the original tenant agreement with Mr. Powell, and he told her that if the resort evicts us from the property, then they are contractually obligated to pay to relocate us, including building us a new Bronc if no suitable structure can be found.”