by Sharon Sala
I won’t look. Good Lord, what’s wrong with me? The man is in pain and all I can do is stare at his...
“Oh, my God, your leg.”
Lane cursed beneath his breath. Hearing the shock in her voice made him almost afraid to look, but he did. Expecting to see bone sticking out of flesh, or at the least, a knot beneath the muscles that bespoke fractures, he was faintly relieved to see that it was only a gash. Granted, the wound ran from the middle of his upper thigh to just below his knee.
“It’s just a cut. Give me something to make a pressure bandage, then go for help,” he said.
“What if you pass out? You could bleed to death before I get back,” Toni countered.
“Lady, if you don’t quit talking and start moving, I'm going to bleed to death, anyway.”
She flushed. Once again, her lower lip slid slightly out of position. Her brother Justin called it a pout. Toni considered it nothing more than an expression of disgust.
She packed his wound with all the bandages that she had, then after fastening them on his leg with several white towels, she leaned back and sighed. There was nothing else she could do for him here. If he bled through these towels, then nothing was going to stop the flow.
He was so pale around the mouth, and he’d grown so quiet that Toni feared he might have lost consciousness again. Before she thought, she brushed a lock of thick black hair away from his forehead and leaned over to whisper in his ear. “I'll hurry,” she said. “Don’t give up.”
She hadn’t expected him to answer, let alone hear her. But before she could straighten up, she found herself staring down into a well of blue so pure it almost made her cry.
“Lady, I don’t know the meaning of the word.”
She gasped and straightened, then an odd thing happened. For the first time since she’d fished him out of Chaney Creek, they connected. She smiled. And he smiled back.
Chapter 3
Minutes were precious, but she wasted no more than necessary as she changed her shoes. Her clothes she could bear, but the sand in her wet sneakers was rubbing her feet raw.
Anxiety for the man in her bed gave way to relief as she saw the new red pickup pulling off the road and into her driveway.
“It’s Justin. Thank God,” she muttered, and ran out the door to meet him.
“You won’t believe what I did last night,” she said, waving her arms above her head and talking with every step. “And I need to borrow your truck.”
“I came to see how you weathered the storm,” he said. “And I don’t mind if you borrow my truck, but what’s wrong with yours?”
Before she had time to answer, Toni saw the smile slide off of her brother’s face.
Justin looked over his baby sister’s shoulder to the porch beyond. He grabbed Toni by the arm and yanked her around to face him, his eyes blazing. “Antonette Hatfield, just what the hell did you do last night?”
His question coincided with the discovery of the handcuff that was still locked around her wrist. If she hadn’t been in such a panic, she might have considered getting nervous.
Toni groaned beneath her breath as her brother yanked her about. She didn’t have to ask what had sparked his fury, she could see for herself. Her “fish” was standing on the front porch, and except for the “brief” cotton briefs and the matching half of her handcuff, he was as bare as God had made him.
“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” she said, and spun out of his hands. “Stay with him. For God’s sake, put that bandage back on his leg before he bleeds to death. My phone is out, so I'm going into Chaney for an ambulance.”
Toni grabbed the pickup keys from Justin’s hand and, moments later, was on her way to the neighboring town, leaving Justin to deal with the stranger she’d left behind.
Then anger slid out of Justin Hatfield as quickly as it had come, as he took a longer look at the big man on the porch. He saw beyond the obvious to the bruises and the horrible cuts that had started to weep a steady stream of red.
“Hey, buddy.” Justin caught Lane just before he staggered off the porch. “Let’s get you back inside. Then you can explain why you're naked as a jaybird in front of Antonette.”
Everything was confusion inside Lane’s head, but one thing had connected. Now he had a name to go with that muleheaded woman and her big dark eyes. Her name was Antonette.
“My head hurts,” he muttered, vaguely remembering being put to bed. He didn’t remember getting out of it, but when he found himself in the hallway of a strange house, trying to find a door, instinct had led him toward the sounds of voices. “I was a...I need to...to make a call.”
Justin grunted with effort as he tried to navigate the staggering man back through the doorway. “Come on, big fellow. As soon as I get you back in bed, you can call everyone in town.”
Lane shuddered as darkness began to envelop him. He never even felt the softness of the mattress at his back, or the gentle way in which Justin Hatfield replaced the bandages that he’d mindlessly removed. Blessedly, he was out for the count.
* * *
Toni sat in the hallway near the emergency room of Chaney Clinic and listened to the low rumble of voices beyond the curtains. She would give ten good acres of land to know what they were saying, but she knew that wasn’t going to happen. She was a woman. It didn’t matter that he was her piece of Chaney Creek flotsam, or that she’d fished him out of the flood with great danger to herself. All of a sudden, she didn’t belong.
“So, what else is new,” Toni muttered to herself. She’d spent her entire life knowing that she didn’t quite fit in.
Loose hair tickled the back of her neck, and she remembered that she had yet to brush it. Grooming would have to wait, but she could redo the clasp holding it away from her face. With that thought in mind, she lifted her hands toward the back of her neck, and in doing so, caught the dangling edge of the handcuff chain in her hair.
“Good grief.”
When she tried to free herself, she succeeded only in tangling it more. From the way that it felt, she would have to pull the spot bald to get herself loose.
“Damn,” she muttered, and wondered how long she could fake holding her head without looking ridiculous.
“Here now, Toni girl. Let me do that.”
Sheriff Dan Holley’s voice was familiar, but she hadn’t been expecting him. Then she remembered the stranger’s claim about being a lawman and wondered if he might have been telling the truth.
“Don’t fidget, girl, just be still, and I'll have you loose in a jiffy.”
Toni gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. It would seem that she was doomed to experience humiliation upon humiliation.
To her great relief, the sheriff easily freed the chain from her tangles, then unlocked the cuff that encircled her wrist.
“Thank you, Dan,” she said, and was equally grateful that he hadn’t bothered to ask her how she’d come to have it on there in the first place.
When the handcuff fell loose in her lap, the emotion that swamped her should have been relief, but that wasn’t what she felt as her last link to the man behind the curtain had been severed. It was loss.
“What are you doing here?” Toni asked.
“Got a fax this morning. You know, those things are a real wonder, and that’s a fact. You get hooked up to a phone just right, and you can get everything over them things, even pictures.”
Toni sighed. It took Dan Holley forever to get to the point.
“What does that have to do with why you're here?”
“Oh, that. Well, it seems a U.S. marshal’s plane went down somewhere over the Smokies.”
“What was it carrying?” Toni held her breath, waiting for the answer.
“Two marshals, three prisoners and two pilots.” Dan Holley slid a finger beneath his hat and scratched, then settled the hat back in place without mussing his hair. “Don’t suppose that fellow you brought in had any ID on him?”
Toni shook her head.
Dan
Holley grinned. “Didn’t think so. Heard he didn’t have on much of anything when the ambulance got to your house.” He glanced down at the handcuff, then back up at her. He’d made his point.
Toni flushed and then glared. It was hell living in the same town in which you’d been born. Everyone knew everyone else’s business.
“He’s been hurt pretty bad,” she said, ignoring his teasing. “He has lots of bad cuts and bruises. Something could even be broken. It’s all he can do just to stand up.”
“Heard he’s big. Real big,” the sheriff said.
Toni rolled her eyes. “You aren’t telling me anything new. I didn’t think I would ever get him out of the water, let alone myself.”
Holley frowned. He picked up Toni’s hands and turned them palms up, then whistled slowly at the raw, chafed areas across the center.
“What do you mean you pulled him out of the water? What in blazes were you doing in there to begin with? Chaney Creek is still in flood stage.”
Toni shrugged. “I went in after him.”
Dan Holley’s mouth dropped. Before he had time to respond, the curtain parted and the attending physician in charge came out.
Toni caught a glimpse of bare leg, bare torso, a curve of stubborn chin, and then the curtain fell back in place. She shuddered. There had been an awful lot of gauze and bandage on what little of him that she’d seen.
“How’s he doing, Doc?” Holley asked.
Dr. Bennett saw the handcuff lying in Toni’s lap. “If you don’t mind, Sheriff, I would appreciate your removing the other half of that thing from my patient.”
The sheriff slipped through the curtain with the key in hand. Because of his occupation, he’d often used his voice authoritatively. It carried well. Toni listened intently, hoping to finally hear something important regarding her stranger’s condition, but she heard nothing beyond a soft chuckle and the sound of metal falling onto tiled floor.
Moments later, Dan Holley came out and dropped the other half into her lap. He grinned. “Want a souvenir?”
“I want some answers,” Toni grumbled. “Was he able to tell you his name?”
“He didn’t have to,” Holley said. “Along with that fax, we got pictures of all who were aboard. There were two men of nearly equal size on that plane. One was Emmit Rice, a criminal bound for the federal correctional facility in Lexington, Kentucky. The other was U.S. Marshal Lane Monday. You got lucky, girl.”
Toni felt herself going limp. “Are you saying he’s the marshal?”
Dan Holley nodded. “Got himself quite a reputation as a hard-nose, too. But I guess that’s what it takes to get his kind of job done.”
“Oh, my.” It was all Toni could think to say. But her thoughts were another thing altogether. His name is Lane. Lane Monday.
Then the curtain parted, and Toni stood. The air stilled around her. Voices and people faded until she forgot that they were there. She forgot everything, and everyone, except the man lying on the bed. His eyes were closed, his face in repose. She started toward him, and when she did, his eyes popped open as if he sensed the approach of someone new, and Toni found herself staring down into pain-filled eyes that were so blue they looked translucent.
“How are you feeling?”
Lane started to nod, and then reconsidered the movement when pain rocked the back of his neck. He licked his lips and decided that it would hurt less to talk.
“Better.”
Sheriff Holley gave Toni’s shoulder a companionable thump as Justin moved to the foot of the bed.
“You've got Toni to thank for pulling you out of that flood,” Dan said. “I still don’t know how it was accomplished. You're a big ol' boy, and that’s a plain fact.”
Justin’s laugh was short. “Shoot, nothing’s too big for Toni. She can take care of herself and anything else that comes along. She’s as strong as an ox.”
Lane blinked. She? He was getting confused. And when the woman he knew as Antonette paled and turned away, he knew that somehow the words had hurt her. Maybe this Tony fellow meant something to her.
Toni’s voice was a couple of octaves below shrill. “Thank you for reminding me, Justin. You really know how to make a woman feel special.”
Disgusted with herself for letting them know that the words had hurt, she hunched her shoulders against the humiliation she felt, and stalked away from the bed and out into the hallway while blinking back tears.
Why did her brothers see fit to remind her on at least a weekly basis that, as a woman, she was too tall, too strong and altogether too capable for a man to feel needed? She sighed, then leaned against the wall and contemplated her shoes. If that was what people who loved her really thought, then it was no wonder she was close to being an old maid. To a stranger, she must be just shy of a geek.
“What the hell did I say?” Justin asked as he watched Toni’s angry flight, and ran a hand through his hair.
Sheriff Holley shrugged. “You sort of belittled her part in saving this man’s life, that’s what you did,” Holley growled. “Damn it, Justin, she didn’t just throw some rope around him and haul him out of the water as if she were landing a damned fish. She told me that she went into the flood after him. Hell’s bells, you fool, your sister could have drowned trying to save this man.”
Justin paled, but it was nothing to the shot of adrenaline that raced through Lane’s system. Before the sheriff could think to move, Lane had him by the wrist.
“I thought you told me someone named Tony pulled me out of the water.”
The sheriff nodded. “I did. That’s Toni with an i, not a y.“ He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “Antonette Hatfield might be on her birth certificate, but she’s been Toni as long as I've known her.”
“My sweet Lord.” Lane couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Unaware of the sheet he was wadding in both hands, he stared out the doorway through which the woman had disappeared. “That little bitty thing pulled me out of a flood?”
Justin grinned. “Oh, Lord, you really did get a lump on your head. You've got to be seeing things to think Toni is little.”
Lane almost glared at the smirk on the man’s face. “Mister, I don’t remember your name, but I do remember who and what I am. I'm six inches over six feet tall. The last time I weighed myself, the scales only went up to two-fifty, and the needle went off the mark. You add that to deadweight and the force of a flood, and I don’t know how the hell she did it. From where I stand, when I'm standing, she doesn’t look that big to me.”
In the hallway, Toni gasped. She’d left the room, but she hadn’t gone so far as to be unable to hear what was being said. If she hadn’t overheard it with her own ears, she wouldn’t have believed it was true.
Lane Monday had stood up for her. He’d even chastised Justin for making fun of her size. No one had ever done that for her. Suddenly the experience became too much to bear. She hid her face in her hands and bolted for the ladies' room. There was no way on earth she wanted anyone to see her cry.
Minutes later, while drying her hands and face, she heard Justin’s voice outside the ladies' room door.
“Toni, Toni, are you in there?”
She yanked open the door and gave him what she hoped was a cool, disdainful stare, noting with some satisfaction that he seemed worried.
“What do you want?”
“I'm sorry, honey.”
Toni refused to relent. “For what?” she asked. “For thinking I’d spent a wild night in handcuffs with a naked man, or for calling me a moose in front of God and everyone, then laughing about it? Exactly which thing are you apologizing for?”
“Well, hell. I damn sure didn’t call you a moose.”
Toni rolled her eyes. “Your apologies stink, Justin. I hope you're better at telling your wife you're sorry than you are at telling me.”
Before he could answer, Toni stalked away, her head held high, her shoulders straight.
“Damn woman,” he muttered dryly.
Toni ret
urned to the emergency room just as the doctor was issuing orders that Lane Monday didn’t seem to like.
“Look, Mr. Monday, I know, as you just reminded me, that nothing is broken and that your concussion is mild, but you have numerous stitches in several places. They have to be tended. And you strained ligaments in your knee. At this point, you cannot take care of yourself without help. You really should be admitted to a hospital, at least for a few days. I recommend the one in Knoxville. It’s closest and will give your leg time to heal.”
Lane’s chin jutted mutinously. “I lost a good friend in that crash, as well as two, maybe three, prisoners who’d been given over to our care. Until I know that Emmit Rice is dead, I won’t rest. I'm praying that the S.O.B. burned with the plane, or is floating facedown somewhere in a river, but we have no way of knowing that until the bodies at the crash site are identified. I'm not lying flat on my back while people do my job for me, and that’s a damned fact.”
“He can stay with me.”
It was hard to say who was most shocked, Toni for saying it, Justin for hearing it, or Lane for considering the offer.
“Now see here, Toni—”
“Shut up, Justin. You've already said enough to me and about me for one day. Look at him, for God’s sake. He’s flat on his back and in pain. And look at me! I'm the moose who can take care of herself, remember? Exactly when do you expect him to jump my bones, while he’s crawling from his bed to mine, bleeding all the way?”
Justin flushed.
Dan Holley reentered the room and walked unwittingly into the argument. “I just got off the phone with your superiors,” he told Lane. “They said to tell you they're real sorry about Bob Tell, and very glad that you're all right, and not to worry about anything except getting better. They're sending people to go over the crash site. They'll coordinate with the FAA, and we'll have this wrapped up in no time.”
“I may be missing a prisoner,” Lane warned. “He was the only one I didn’t see before I got out of the wreckage. Emmit Rice is dangerous. If you find him alive, don’t assume he'll go quietly. He'll die before he’s recaptured, and he'll take someone with him when he goes.”
