by Jodi Thomas
She shook her head as she gulped for air and moved closer to him.
They watched silently as four more snakes were pulled from the Jeep. All were longer than four feet. This was no nest. They’d been planted in the hot vehicle and they didn’t look too happy about it. The windows had been rolled up. Towels for them to hide in had been piled in the backseat.
When Cord pulled off his belt and tied it around his forearm, Nevada saw the bite marks as blood stained his cuff. “We need to get you to the hospital.”
“You drive. I’m not sure I won’t pass out.”
They headed to his truck. He’d only seen one man with a snakebite before. He was a day laborer on his dad’s farm. Cord had been about seven, but he remembered how sick the man looked before they got him to town.
Nevada stopped shaking as anger built in her. She drove so fast he figured a poisonous snakebite might be the least of his problems. Neither talked. They both knew what was at stake.
She pulled into the emergency room drive before either said a word.
“Can you make it in?”
“I can.” Cord was giving serious consideration to a prayer of thanks for surviving the drive. One good thing, she’d taken his mind off the bite. He’d read in books that anyone bitten should remain calm. Fat chance of that. He took a deep breath, testing to see if he had any trouble breathing. No problem, but his arm was starting to swell and he had no feeling in his hand.
She jumped out of the truck and ran around to help him out, then pushed him into the empty emergency room.
While the nurse took him back, Nevada stopped to fill out paperwork. He could tell she didn’t want to leave him, but she was starting to make him more nervous than the dripping blood from the two bite marks.
“I’ll be fine, Babe,” he yelled over his shoulder as they led him away.
“You’d better be.” He could hear the anger in her words and knew if he died on her she’d never forgive him for breaking their bargain.
Dr. Addison Spencer was waiting for him with shots ready and a list of instructions taped to the wall.
He took one look at the shot and said, “I didn’t know you were a gunslinger, Doc.”
She smiled in that this is going to hurt you more than it does me kind of way as she pulled his already unbuttoned shirt off his shoulder and shot him.
Cord flinched. “Hey, Doc, aren’t you supposed to say ‘Make a fist’ or something?”
“I didn’t want to waste time. Snake venom can restrict your air passages.”
“After that shot, it’s going to take me a while to breathe normal.” Cord watched her carefully in case she reloaded.
While she worked, a conversation passed through the curtain that acted as a door to the emergency area. One woman’s voice said, “Strange couple, if you ask me.”
Another said, “I’ve heard he’s violent. Almost killed a deputy about ten years back.”
The first laughed. “Well, I heard she tried to kill her last husband, so they’re probably evenly matched.”
Cord growled.
The first voice from the hallway added, “I’m surprised a rattler would even bite him. They usually don’t attack their own.”
Dr. Spencer laughed, drawing Cord’s attention. “You that mean, cowboy?”
“Probably,” he answered, realizing she was far too bright to buy into gossip. “I’m working on it.”
“My fiancé, Tinch Turner, was over at the vet’s this morning working with your horse. He said the vet told a different story. Said he heard you and your wife slept with the horses to make sure they were all right.”
Cord frowned. “Don’t tell those ladies, you’ll ruin my rep.”
“Your secret’s safe with me, cowboy.” Without another word, she began cleaning the wound.
Cord decided he liked this no-nonsense doctor.
When Nevada found him fifteen minutes later, he’d already had two shots and the wound had been cleaned and bandaged. He’d been ordered to wait on the examining table, and the nurse would be back to check his heart rate.
He felt like a fool with his feet swinging off the table and his shirt open. They’d offered him a hospital gown, but he told them he’d as likely wear pink PJs as a gown. In truth, he felt fine. He hadn’t even wanted to lie down. Once the fear wore off, Cord felt like everyone was making a big deal over nothing. His arm ached, but it was no longer swelling and he had most of the feeling back in his hand.
For the first time he realized how frightened Nevada looked. “I’m all right, but they cut up the sleeve of the shirt you bought me. I really liked the way you put my initials on the cuff. I’m sorry about messing it up.”
Nevada pressed as close as she could get to him. “I don’t care about the shirt, Cord. I care about you, you idiot.”
He looked up into her beautiful blue eyes and smiled. “You do?”
The meaning behind her words seemed to hit them both at the same time. Somehow during the past month they’d changed from two almost-strangers who’d made a bargain to something different, and neither really knew what it was.
She leaned down and kissed his lips softly. “Don’t you dare die on me. I didn’t really think I would, but I like having you around, Cord McDowell.”
It wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, but he’d take it. He slid his unbandaged hand into the hair at the back of her neck, pulled her close, and kissed her soundly, then whispered, “I thought about it, but I figured you’d really storm if I cut out on the bargain.”
Her hand moved through the hair on his chest as her cheek rubbed against his. They didn’t know how to say the right words about how much the other meant to them. He’d never used a word like love much, and she’d used it so often it no longer held any meaning.
She moved between his legs and wrapped her arms around his neck. He circled her waist with his bandaged wrist and pulled her close enough to feel her heart beat against his. When he caressed her soft breasts beneath the silk of her blouse, he decided if the poison wasn’t out of his system it was probably running double time through his veins about now.
“I thought I’d die when I saw that snake; then when you were bit I swear my heart completely stopped.” She gulped for air. “I think I finally found something more frightening than snakes. It’s thinking about you hurt and knowing that it’s somehow all my fault.” She pulled his face close to hers. “This is my fault, Cord. I know it.”
“No. It’s not. Whoever’s doing this may want to hurt you, but it’s not your fault. We’re going to get through this. Me and you, Babe.” Any doubt that they were in this fight together was gone, and they both knew it.
She leaned into him and kissed him softly on the mouth. A thank-you kiss. A promise. A bonding of their own special kind of loving.
Cord forced the words. “As soon as my heart slows down a few hundred beats a minute, how about we go back to those blankets in the barn?” He could think of one place where they had no trouble communicating. “Or, I think it looks like rain. We might want to take a nap over at my farm.”
“I don’t want to sleep.” She smiled.
“Me either,” he answered.
She tortured him by wiggling against him again. “Are you saying you want my body?”
“I want all of you.” Including your heart, he thought as his hand moved over her hip. “It’d take more than a snakebite to slow me down.” He needed to be alone with her more than he needed air right now. “How about we go back and send Ora Mae home? We could tell her the doctor ordered bed rest.”
Nevada kissed him tenderly, but her body seemed to be begging to be handled with passionate touches. They’d made love enough to know what the other liked, and right now Cord was thinking he liked everything about her. Something about being scared half to death made him feel totally alive. He could read every move she made, and he had no doubt he could give her just what she wanted.
Cord was almost lost in pleasure when he heard boots stomping their way down the ha
ll and knew their time together was about to end.
He managed to push her away a few inches before the room filled with half a dozen of his men. They were all talking and cussing at once. Most had been out working cattle when they heard about the snakebite. Cord swore the smell of cows followed them into the hospital room.
Jackson slapped his hat against his leg. “Someone’s trying to kill you, Boss, and we’re not going to stand around and let that happen.”
“No, not me,” he answered. “They weren’t trying to kill me.”
He looked at Nevada, who paled seeing the truth in his words. “No one drives the old Jeep but me,” she whispered as her hand gripped his shoulder. “The snakes were meant for me.”
If she’d taken the Jeep by herself, it would have been midmorning and no one would be around to help. Two or three bites and she might not have gotten to help in time. Before, everything had seemed like accidents, but no longer.
“The snakes had to be brought in from somewhere else,” one of the men volunteered. “We haven’t seen a rattler that big around the ranch in years. And four of them together. It wouldn’t make sense. Someone took the time to catch them and put them in there.”
Everyone started talking at once about what needed to be done. Cord listened as he thought. They were right, of course; the snakes had been planted, but by whom? Again the same facts came back that he’d faced yesterday after the horse had been poisoned. Whoever did this knew the ranch, knew that Nevada drove the Jeep, maybe even knew she was afraid of snakes. If she hadn’t noticed the rattlers for a few minutes, she might have been driving; fast, of course. Then the Jeep would flip on the narrow road and kill her. The snakes might even crawl away before anyone reached her.
He made his mind go through all the men who’d been fired the first day he came. They’d been mad at him, not at her. A few had cussed when he’d fired them, but none looked like he wanted a fight. What would be the point? Cord wasn’t likely to hire them back.
That left only one person: Bryce Galloway, or maybe someone he’d paid to plant the snakes. Galem had mentioned once that Bryce said once that he’d never let her go. Maybe he’d always thought they’d get back together eventually. When Cord married her, that option vanished.
Cord thought about how Nevada had asked him to marry her. She hadn’t wanted a husband; she said she wanted his last name. Could she have been that afraid of Galloway? Was that the real reason she’d married him? The reason she said she wouldn’t explain?
Only Bryce came from a wealthy family. He had relatives in the state senate and an uncle who was a judge. Everyone in the state thought she married up on her third try, and half the people in town still thought that Nevada and her wild ways drove Bryce away. Maybe she thought Cord was the only man who’d be on her side if a fight came. Remembering the way the cowhands had ignored her when she’d walked into the bunkhouse that first Monday after they married, Cord decided maybe Nevada had guessed right.
But why him? She could have hired bodyguards and lawyers. Even though the ranch was losing money, she still had resources. Why marry the dirt-poor farmer next door? What had made her take a chance and believe that an ex-con would stand with her when trouble came?
If she knew it was coming at all?
He looked at Nevada, knowing that sometime soon he was going to have to ask the one question she’d told him never to ask. Why’d she marry him?
Dr. Spencer came into the examining room and demanded that all the cowhands leave. They were polite, even respectful, but reluctant to move. When she finally promised she’d let Cord go as soon as she was through examining him, they wandered off. Two offered to take his place if she’d examine them, and one asked her for a date before Cord reminded him that the doc was engaged to Tinch Turner.
All the town knew of Tinch’s ability with his fists. The hospital had seen its share of his sparring partners after a bar fight. Only Tinch had settled down once he met the doctor. The cowboy and the city-girl doctor were an odd couple. Almost as odd as Cord and Nevada, Cord thought.
Finally only Cord, the doc, and Nevada were in the room.
“He’ll need to take it easy for a few hours,” Dr. Spencer said. “If his arm starts to swell or he experiences chills or sweats, I want him back in here.”
“You treat a lot of snakebites, Doc?” Cord asked, just so she’d stop reading from a printout he felt sure she’d hand him when he walked out.
“You’re my first. Most people who see snakes walk around them.”
Cord reached for his hat. “I’m fine, Doc. You did a great job and I’ll take your advice from now on, but I got to get back to work.”
She looked like she might argue with him, but then she smiled as if she’d dealt with stubborn fools before. “Get some rest, Cord.”
He put his arm around his wife and said, “I’ll do that, Doc. My wife is taking me straight home to bed, aren’t you, Babe?”
Chapter 30
APRIL 11
MARTHA Q DIDN’T LIKE THE IDEA OF LEAVING RONNY IN her grief, but the girl was in good hands with Mr. Carleon watching over her. They were busy notifying all of Marty’s friends and relatives that the graveside service would be at dawn tomorrow. After his accident and long stays in the hospital, most of those he knew had drifted away. Except for three men, all others made excuses as to why they couldn’t come. But the three friends who’d carried him off the mountain after his fall said they were on their way. Mr. Carleon called them Marty’s knights.
Ronny looked like she was moving through water. Her face was pale and her hand shook now and then. Only she kept busy, as though if she were to stop and take a deep breath the sorrow would catch up to her and smother her completely. Nothing anyone said or did would take the pain away. Mr. Carleon was doing what he could. He walked with her through the hardest day of her life.
Martha Q had never known great love like that, and as she watched Ronny, she felt both thankful and cheated. She’d known passion and lust, but love was mostly just a word she used. She hadn’t cried when her father died until she found out her sister inherited everything. Her mother passed on after ten years of swearing she was “about to.” Martha Q felt like she’d been holding her breath for years waiting for death to show up, so when her mother stopped breathing it came as no surprise. Two of her husbands had died after long illnesses, leaving her more relieved than heartbroken. She had no children or pets she liked. So grief was something usually a few pounds of sweets could cure.
And there was certainly no time for a great love in her life now, Martha Q decided. She needed to get back to her place and have a talk with the three little widows. The sheriff had told her about Bryce’s complaint, and it was only a matter of time before one of the widows broke and spilled the beans that Martha Q had come up with the idea to follow Bryce Galloway.
Martha Q’s part in the plot would be exposed. Bryce would probably sue her, or worse, kill her. After all, he had to start somewhere, and she was always around. She still had the feeling he was secretly a serial killer in training. He might act all sweet and polite, but she wasn’t fooled. She’d played that part herself now and then and knew all the lines.
It would be an even greater crime if he killed her right at a point in her life when she’d found a man who might be interested in her. It had been years since her last real flirtation. Her pen pal in prison really didn’t count, since half of his love letters were blacked out. She thought about asking if they could send the deleted half to her anonymously so she could at least dream, but she doubted the correctional system had much interest in her longings.
Martha Q knew she was getting ahead of herself thinking that Mr. Carleon might be interested. After all, all he’d ever touched of her was her hand and, at her size, that didn’t amount to even five percent if she measured interest by the pound. The kiss he’d hinted at after their almost-date in the kitchen was no more than a peck on her cheek.
She knew she shouldn’t, but she just had to drive ov
er to the funeral home and talk to Tyler. He was busy planning all the details for Marty’s graveside funeral, but surely he’d have a few minutes to visit with her. First, he was the only man who would listen to her problems, and second, she wanted to check on Kate. The woman must be insane to get pregnant in her forties. Didn’t Kate realize that Martha Q was too old to have a friend who was having a baby? Hell, as her best friend, Martha Q should probably give her a shower.
She was thinking about having a stay-at-home shower when she pulled up to Wright Funeral Home. She’d invite women over forty and tell them if they didn’t want to come, they could send two gifts and stay at home. Kate would get a ton of gifts and Martha Q wouldn’t have to waste time thinking of dumb games to play.
She climbed out, already making her list of who wouldn’t come to the shower. Of course, she would leave Dallas Logan off the list, even if they did go to high school together. There was no excuse for Dallas disowning her only child, Ronny. The woman had always had rocks for brains, and now they were mold-covered.
Not feeling like the climb up the front steps, Martha Q went around to the kitchen door and tapped. Autumn, the housekeeper and cook, answered the door, a fat little baby in her arms.
Martha Q grunted. The world was exploding. If people didn’t stop having kids, Harmony would have to change the population sign again.
“Morning, Mrs. Patterson. How can I help you?”
The girl was just too cheery for Martha Q’s liking. People in funeral homes should at least look respectfully sad, not like they’d just been laughing.
“I need to see Mr. Wright.” Martha Q pushed her way in. The smell of warm gingerbread made her offer a quick smile to the cook.
“He’s not here, but you could talk to Kate. I was just about to make her lunch, and I know she’d be happy if you joined her. It’s no trouble to make an extra plate.”
Martha Q decided she always did like Autumn. Even if she did have a baby, at least she had the good sense to be able to cook. “What are you having for lunch?”
