“It’s for the toast,” he explained, leaving the glass in front of her.
“Good evening, everyone,” a voice boomed over the speaker system. “Welcome to the annual Cattlemen’s Ball in the beautiful Pavilion Hotel.”
Jordan focused on the stage, where a man resembling a chunky John Wayne, cowboy hat and all, was speaking. Her eyes diverted to the frozen cow next to him, which still looked pretty good for being dangerously close to stage lights.
“Before we dig in,” the speaker continued, “I’d like to thank Cooper Harrison and all the great people down at Beef Daddy’s for this wonderful food. It goes without saying they serve the finest barbecue in Texas, bar none, and it comes to us at a price that will allow us to write the biggest check in the history of this event to the dedicated people at Southwestern for their cancer research. Now if I can get you to raise your glasses, let’s get this party started.”
He lifted his champagne glass in the air. “Here, here. To a better economy, to putting all the thieving cattle rustlers behind bars, and to a prosperous year for cattle raisers across the entire state of Texas.”
Jordan raised her glass for the toast, surprised by the overwhelming cheer of approval. These were serious cowboys who obviously loved what they did for a living.
“Now sit back and enjoy your evening.”
Remembering how good the food was when she and her friends had splurged on takeout for their Friday night card game not too long ago, Jordan looked past Rusty to Cooper. “Do you own Beef Daddy’s?”
The taller cowboy’s eyes lit up like a grass fire in the middle of a Texas drought. “Yep. With the new restaurant in Abilene, I now have barbecue joints all over Texas.”
Jordan heard Rusty huff. His dirty look quickly changed back to indifference. Is there bad blood between these two? She filed that info on her mental laptop.
“It’s so good because he pays top dollar for the finest cuts,” Blake said. Despite his best attempt to sound southern, Jordan picked up on a northern accent.
“As the guy who programs my computers and deals with my financial records on a daily basis, Blake would know,” Cooper said, giving a thumbs-up to the shorter man.
Jordan took a bite of the brisket, surprised it tasted even better than she remembered. “I’ll have to make it a priority to come by your restaurant more often.”
“You do that,” Cooper said. “Matter of fact, why don’t we just plan on you coming by in the next week or two—my treat. Afterward, I’ll show you where we make all the food.”
Jordan wasn’t surprised to see Carole Anne glowering. Turning back to Rusty, now on his third Scotch and water, she smiled seductively, hoping Cooper’s fiancée would think she was only interested in her own date.
Rusty raised his glass once again. “To good friends, both old and new,” he toasted, never once looking Cooper’s way, reaffirming Jordan’s initial observations that there was history between them. By the way Carole Anne’s eyes sparkled when her gaze met Rusty’s, it seemed obvious what that history involved, although the blond woman looked more like Cooper’s type than Rusty’s.
Like I have a clue what either man prefers in a date.
And she wasn’t the only one who had caught the look, judging by the way Cooper was glaring at Rusty with nostrils flared and eyed narrowed. For a minute Jordan thought he was about lose his cool before Rusty chugged the last of his drink, then began coughing violently.
“Are you okay?” Jordan asked, ready to pound on his back or do the Heimlich maneuver if necessary. She’d taken a mandatory first aid course in her early college days when she’d worked part-time in a day care center. As long as a choking person was still making sounds, the best treatment was to do nothing, which was what she did.
She leaned closer, handing him a glass of water. “Take a sip.”
Wide-eyed, he grabbed the glass and did as instructed. A few seconds later, his face muscles relaxed, and he attempted a smile. “Thanks. Something must have gone down the wrong pipe.” He set the glass on the table and reached for the replacement Scotch the crooked-nosed waiter had just brought over.
Despite Rusty’s best effort to remain calm, Jordan noticed beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Without thinking, she reached up and wiped them with her napkin. His eyes questioned her.
She’d have to be careful not to lead him on. She had no idea where her relationship with Alex was going, but she wanted a chance to explore it. With him in El Paso, this was already proving to be a problem.
“So, Jordan, what do you think of the party so far?” Santana asked, breaking the intense moment.
She forced herself to look his way. “My readers will definitely hear about the excellent food.”
My readers. How great that sounded, although she would have preferred the sort of followers who were more interested in the local high school football play-offs than how rich Texans schmoozed under the glare of a frozen-solid cow.
Sweating profusely now with his breathing rapid and shallow, Rusty grabbed the edge of the table with both hands. “I’ve gotta get some air.” He sprang from his chair in a single motion.
“Do you want company?” Jordan asked, concerned.
Her first aid class never addressed this, but she could at least go outside with him in case he needed something.
Besides, she could use a breath of fresh air herself. The thought of sitting with Santana and Cooper without Rusty running interference didn’t excite her.
He nodded gratefully, and for the first time Jordan detected a slight hint of fear in his eyes. Like the gentleman he was, he waited for her to go first.
Halfway across the room, a woman reached out and grabbed his hand. “Hey, stranger, you’re not leaving already, are you?”
Petite, with jet-black hair that curled around her face in a stylish bob Jordan had seen only in magazines, the woman zeroed in on Rusty, her expression turning from playfulness to concern.
“Are you okay, honey?”
Rusty’s breathing now came in short bursts. “Yeah, Brenda Sue. I just need a little air.”
He broke free of her grip but not before Jordan noticed how the fingers on her left hand delicately caressed the inside of his wrist. One finger sported a huge wedding band with a diamond twice the size of Carole Anne’s.
A little hanky-panky going on between these two? Jordan added another entry to her mental laptop.
She had to reach back to her high school track team days to keep up with Rusty as he bounded out the ballroom door, practically sprinting through the lobby and into the brisk Texas night. Once the cool October air hit him in the face, he sucked in a deep breath and made his way to a wrought iron bench. Plopping down beside him, Jordan waved off the valet attendant who inquired about calling a taxi.
“I can’t feel my tongue,” Rusty said, his voice unable to hide his panic. “What’s happening to me? I can’t feel the entire right side of my face.”
She grabbed his hand and immediately felt his racing pulse. “Take a couple of deep breaths, Rusty. I’m sure this will pass in a moment.” She hoped her voice hid her growing concern.
Suddenly, he slumped on the bench, his body falling into hers, convulsing. Jordan’s scream for help was swallowed up by the raucous crowd arriving from some NASCAR event, all wearing DALE AERNHARDT shirts. Easing him to the ground with the help of one of the new arrivals, she ran back inside the lobby, shouting for a doctor. When no one responded, she raced into the ballroom, charging through the double doors and upending a waiter with a tray full of dirty dishes. The calamity drew everyone’s attention.
“Help! I need a doctor.”
Two men rushed toward her. Without a word, she turned and ran, praying they could help Rusty. As soon as they pushed through the revolving door, she pointed to the area beside the bench. Her heart dropped from her chest to her stomach.
Rusty lay still on the ground, a trickle of whitish spittle seeping from the left side of his mouth.
CHAPTER 3
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br /> The rest of the night was a blur of activity. The two gentlemen knelt beside Rusty and began administering CPR for what seemed like an eternity before Jordan heard the sirens approaching. She’d seen enough episodes of Grey’s Anatomy to know the outcome wouldn’t be good.
When the paramedics arrived and took over the emergency procedure, one of the doctors touched her shoulder and shook his head. “I’m sorry, miss. There’s still no pulse, but maybe the paramedics will be able to revive him with a defibrillator.”
Unable to hold back her tears, she allowed the older gentleman to take her in his arms while she cried silently. How could a man like Rusty be so vibrant one minute and dying the next?
By this time, it seemed as if the entire ballroom of people had packed the lobby, all trying to catch a glimpse of the drama in front of the hotel. Jordan stayed as close to Rusty’s side as she could without distracting the technicians, who now had him hooked up to an IV and were loading him onto a gurney.
“Who’s with this man?” one of the attendants asked.
All eyes turned to Jordan, and she stepped forward “I am, but…”
“Jordan?”
She recognized the voice before she felt the hand on her shoulder. Twisting around, she faced Bella, who was waving her purse in the air, trying to get the attention of their limo driver among the mass of people scurrying around the hotel entrance.
“We all came to the party with Mr. Morales,” Bella explained to the EMT. “We’ll follow you to the hospital. You’re going to Tarrant County General, right?”
The technician nodded, then climbed into the driver’s seat and sped off.
Bella turned toward the hotel entrance and spotted Lucas making his way through the crowd, and she waved. “Lucas is as distraught over this as I am and will want to go straight to the hospital. Rusty’s been with Santana Ranch since he was a young boy, and Lucas has a special place in his heart for him. You can either go with us, or we can call a cab for you.”
A deep sadness washed over Jordan, thinking about Rusty. “I’d like to stay with you, if that’s all right.” She glanced over at the taxi line that snaked all the way back into the hotel. It would be well into the wee hours of the morning before she got home, anyway. Although there was nothing more she could do for Rusty, not that she’d been any help to him earlier, she felt she owed it to him to be there in case a miracle happened and he regained consciousness.
Bella patted her shoulder just as Lucas came up behind them, his eyes red and swollen. For a second, Jordan contemplated putting her arm around him to comfort him before remembering his previous behavior toward her. She’d have to empathize with him from a safe distance.
He fell into Bella’s arms, sobbing.
“I know how much you love him,” she said, stroking his back. “We have to hope for the best.”
Jordan’s concentration was diverted when the woman Rusty had called Brenda Sue rushed out of the lobby, screaming hysterically.
“Ohmygod! It can’t be Rusty. Oh God, not Rusty.”
The doctor who had been so comforting to Jordan minutes before rushed to Brenda Sue’s side and kept her from running after the ambulance. Seconds later, he handed her over to another man, who cradled her in his arms and whispered something in her ear.
Jordan was unaware she was studying the couple until the man looked up and met her gaze.
Is that a hint of a smile tipping his lips?
Quickly, he looked away and whispered something to Brenda Sue.
The crowd closed in around Jordan, bombarding her with questions. “What happened? Will he make it?” Over and over, they drilled her until the police arrived.
The officer in charge addressed the crowd. “Let’s back up, folks, so the drivers can pull up in an orderly fashion and get you all home.” He jerked around when a commotion broke out in the taxi line. One partygoer who’d had one too many was causing a scene trying to cut in front of everyone.
Just then, the Hummer pulled up, and Jordan followed Bella and a still-sobbing Lucas to the car, where the driver waited with the door opened. Before getting in, Jordan took one final look at Brenda Sue and the man she figured was her husband huddled on the same bench where Rusty had slumped only minutes before. Brenda Sue was still crying, and from the look on the man’s face, he was not too happy about her public display. She’d bet money Brenda Sue and Rusty had been more than friends.
Rusty with Brenda Sue and Carole Anne? If her gut feeling was right, the man got around.
Lucas finally stopped crying halfway to Tarrant County General and stared silently out the window. As soon as they arrived at the ER, they were rushed into a waiting room and told the doctor would be with them shortly. Jordan didn’t have a good feeling about any of this but was afraid she’d only upset Lucas even more if she voiced her concerns. If ever there was a time to be quiet, it was now.
An hour later, two young doctors in scrubs walked into the waiting room.
“I’m sorry. Despite our best efforts, we weren’t able to save Mr. Morales,” one of them said, his expression full of sympathy.
The sound that escaped from Lucas’s lips was heartbreaking, and he crumbled into Bella’s arms once again.
“What happened to him?” He finally asked when the sobs quieted and he could speak.
“We don’t know. It could have been a heart attack or stroke. We’ll have to wait for an autopsy.” The doctor turned to Jordan. “I was told you were with him when he collapsed. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
He sat down beside her and flipped open a notebook. “Did you notice Mr. Morales acting strangely prior to his death?”
“A few minutes before he had the seizure, he said his entire face was numb,” she answered, wishing she didn’t have to relive it.
“Whose idea was it to leave the ballroom?”
“His. He said he needed a little air.”
“Do you know of any underlying medical problems Mr. Morales had that might have brought on his death?”
“I only met the guy less than four hours ago,” she explained. “I’m no medical expert. He could have had anything wrong with him, and I wouldn’t have known it. Why don’t you ask the two real doctors who tried to save him?”
“We’ve got the EMT report,” he replied gently. “I just wondered if there was something you might have seen since you were there when he seized.”
She shook her head.
He stood up. “We’ll try to get answers for you as soon as we can.”
When the doctors left, Jordan sat quietly with Lucas while Bella made arrangements with the hospital staff for the body to be transported to a Connor funeral home following the autopsy. Hearing her worst fear verbalized had left Jordan in shock. The sweet thoughtful man who had been so alive one minute was now dead. And she had been powerless to prevent it from happening.
Finally, Bella returned. “There’s no need to stay here any longer, so we’re going to start back to Ranchero now, Jordan.”
Jordan nodded, then stood up and followed them out to the car. Once settled, Lucas immediately reached for the Blue Label Johnnie Walker and poured two fingers into the glass. He downed the liquor in one swift motion. Visibly upset, he refilled the glass, his hands shaking. He took a sip before asking if either of them wanted a drink. Both Bella and Jordan nodded.
“Could I have more of the champagne?” Jordan asked, knowing the Scotch would set her insides on fire.
When he handed her a nearly full glass, she took a couple of big gulps, then leaned back against the seat to let the expensive Cristal do its thing by warming her insides and calming her emotions.
Her mind raced back over the last few hours, searching her brain for any sign she might have missed before Rusty’s seizure. Other than the shortness of breath, he really hadn’t complained of anything inside the ballroom. Not until he sat on the bench did he mention his numb face and tongue. She’d watched her grandmother live through angina attacks before a major heart attac
k killed her. Nana always had chest pain but never complained of numbness around the face and mouth.
And she’d never had a seizure.
Jordan remembered how she’d panicked when Rusty went into convulsions. Could he have had epilepsy? She’d never been around anyone with the disorder, so she had no idea if the symptoms that precede an actual seizure matched Rusty’s.
She caught Santana staring at her.
“It would be nice if you’d come out to the ranch for the memorial service and the luncheon afterward,” he said, more as a statement than a question.
“Of course,” she replied, wishing she could say no without feeling guilty.
All she wanted to do was forget about tonight. Although she barely knew Rusty, her first impression was that he was a nice guy. She wondered if that would’ve changed if she’d had more time with him, remembering how sitting near him had given her goose bumps.
By the time the limo pulled to the curb in front of Empire Apartments, Jordan had finished her second glass of champagne. Thankfully, there had been little conversation during the hour’s drive back to Ranchero.
Before getting out of the car, she reached for Santana’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Lucas. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”
He held her hand a little too long before releasing it. “I’ll call you in a few days to tell you when my driver will pick you up for the memorial service.”
She nodded and got out of the car. She would attend the services. She owed Rusty that much.
Jordan showered under a spray of the hottest water she could stand, then quickly dried off and slipped on a COWBOYS T-shirt and a pair of running shorts, her usual sleep attire. It was much too late to tell any of her friends about Rusty. With the exception of Ray and Lola, none of her apartment pals made it past the ten o’clock news.
Funny that the two oldest residents were Empire’s night owls, but even their lights had been out when the limo pulled up to the curb.
Climbing into bed, she wondered whether Brenda Sue had calmed down or was now suffering through a totally sleepless night. And what about Cooper and Blake? She’d only caught a quick glimpse of them after the police arrived, but unlike Brenda Sue, they hadn’t looked too grief stricken. When Cooper whispered something in Blake’s ear, they had both laughed. That was just after the ambulance arrived.
Beef Stolen-Off Page 3
