Rocky Mountain Cowboy

by Tina Radcliffe

  “Good. The CT appears normal. However, you’ll want to restrict your activity for the next week. No horseback riding until you’re cleared. We’ll give you a checklist of symptoms that might indicate you need to come back in to the emergency room or the clinic immediately.”

  “No horseback riding?”

  “No. I know that seems restrictive, but we certainly don’t want another concussion before this one heals. We’ll reevaluate when you come in for a follow-up in the clinic.”

  Rebecca was silent as Sara’s gentle fingers probed the length of the wound.

  “I think we’re looking at about twelve stitches. First you’re going to feel a little needle prick as I administer the anesthetic.

  “Doing okay?” Sara asked a moment later.

  “I’m good.”

  “This is going to be to the left of this scar you already have.”

  Rebecca tensed as Sara inspected the ugly vertical line.

  “Who did that last suture job?”

  “It was a teaching hospital in Denver. I believe the physician was a student.”

  “Oh, goodness, let’s hope he didn’t decide to go into surgery. You might want to consider having a plastic surgeon evaluate the other incision line for revision. We can do much better that that.”

  “It’s no big deal,” Rebecca murmured. She was silent as Sara worked, praying against all odds that she wouldn’t mention the ugly mark on her arm again.

  “Tying off the sutures now. I promise you this one will be pretty. I crochet in my spare time.”

  Rebecca couldn’t resist a smile.

  “All done. Let me help you sit up.” Sara removed her gloves and assisted her to a sitting position.

  “Looks great,” Rebecca said, as she inspected the thin, flat line of sutures.

  “Thank you. Keep it clean and dry. You can cover it loosely to protect the area. I’ll give you some ointment and extra gauze pads and tape. Apply the ointment to the area once a day, sparingly. Then, as I said, I’ll see you in a week in the clinic for follow-up.”

  “Okay,” Rebecca said quietly.

  Sara washed and dried her hands at the sink. She grabbed the clipboard chart. “I want to talk to you about the X-ray results.”

  “My X-rays?”

  “You have no new fractures.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  Sara met her gaze. “Rebecca, your X-ray shows indications that the right arm has been broken several times. In at least one of those events, the bone was not properly set.”

  Rebecca began to tremble “Yes. A few accidents.”

  “The scar on your arm?”

  Rebecca turned her head away and closed her eyes tightly, waiting for what she knew would come next.

  “I’m required by law to report suspected cases of abuse.”

  “Why?” she whispered. “Nick is dead.”

  Sara inhaled sharply and put her hand on Rebecca’s shoulder. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

  Shame washed over Becca as she stared at the pattern on the hospital gown. “Please, please, don’t tell anyone.”

  “There’s no need for me to. The threat is gone. There are laws that protect your health-care privacy. However, I am going to give you a card. I want you to get counseling.”

  “I’ve had counseling. With God’s help I’m healing.”

  “Take the card. You never know. If there’s anything I can do...”

  “Thank you, Sara.”

  Rebecca hid her face as Sara finished writing on the chart.

  “Rebecca, I am looking forward to getting together. Will I see you at the Fourth of July barbecue?”

  “I guess I forgot about that.”

  “You have been gone awhile. No one forgets about my father’s barbecue. I’ll look for you.”

  She nodded, waiting for shame to engulf her again as the door quietly closed behind Sara.

  Yet this time words of scripture bubbled up from inside.

  Do not remember the former things, nor consider the things of old.

  “Oh, Lord,” she prayed. “I’m ready.”

  * * *

  Joe paced the emergency department waiting room of Paradise Valley Hospital. He glanced one more time at his watch.

  Sure the place was busy, but it had been an hour since the last update from the nurse. He’d called Joan Anshaw, and she was on her way home. He’d also stepped outside and had a long conversation with God. Basically he’d negotiated what he considered a real good deal. If He’d take care of Becca, Joe would plant himself in church on Sundays.

  Desperate times predicated he stoop lower than usual. And he was definitely desperate.

  Joe ran a hand over his face. When he raised his head, he noticed a door open in the examination area. Hopeful, he stepped closer.

  Finally a nurse appeared. When she turned around, he could see that Becca was the patient in the wheelchair she was pushing.

  Becca’s gaze met his, and she offered him a small pitiful smile. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her clothes were covered with mud. The bruise on her forehead was now a purple beacon. Joe released his breath in a whoosh and shook his head, saying a silent prayer of thanks.

  It only took a minute to pull his truck around.

  “Maybe I should lift you,” he said as he opened the passenger door.

  “No. I can get in by myself.”

  “I won’t bite,” Joe murmured.

  “Says who?”

  “I know lots of people who will vouch...” He paused. “Okay, maybe only one or two.” Joe smiled as he carefully closed the door behind her before jogging to the driver side.

  “I can’t believe they released you,” he said, as he backed out of the drop-off zone.

  “Joe, I’m fine. They wouldn’t have discharged me if I wasn’t ready to go home.”

  “Okay, but you’re going to rest.”

  “Now you sound like my mother,” she said as she fastened her seat belt.

  “I happen to recall that your mom is a pretty terrific person, so you can try to insult me all you want. You’re still going to rest.”

  Becca began to laugh. “That wasn’t an insult. Simply a commentary. And yes, my mom is still amazing.”

  “Finally we agree on something.” He paused. “How many stitches?”

  “Twelve.”

  “Twelve! You won’t be doing ranch work anytime soon,” he growled.

  “Someone a little grumpy?”

  “Maybe so. I tend to get grumpy when I’m irritated.”

  “Why are you irritated?”

  He glanced at her and frowned, shaking his head. Because my heart was ripped out of my chest when you flew off that horse. That’s why.

  They were silent as his truck smoothly headed toward Gallagher Ranch.

  “Are you cold?” he finally asked, his voice gruff.

  “Maybe a little.”

  “I brought your sweater. Abi’s idea,” he said. “Don’t want you to think I’m going all thoughtful on you.” He reached in the backseat and handed it to her.

  “No, of course not,” she murmured.

  “I’ll turn on the heat, too.”

  “Thank you, Joe.” She awkwardly pulled the sweater over her shoulders. “Have you heard from my mom? Is Casey all right? They aren’t worried, are they?”

  “Joan will meet us at the ranch. I’ve been calling her with updates. Told her you landed on your head. She agreed with me that fortunately, since you’re extremely hardheaded, there’s no doubt you’re going to be fine.”

  Becca chuckled and turned to him. “Thank you, again.”

  “My pleasure. I do it for all my hardheaded friends.”

  “Do you have many hardheaded fr
iends?”

  “You’d be surprised.” He shot her a wink, feeling some of the anger subside. “Oh, and I have Julian tied up in the barn until I get back to the ranch, as a precautionary measure.

  “Tell me you’re kidding.”

  “I’ll let you decide.”

  “Do you happen to know where my phone is?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got it in a plastic bag in the backseat. The thing is covered with mud.”

  “Does it still work?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Joe cleared his throat. “Ah, Becca?”

  “Yes?”

  “What happened to your arm?”

  “You know what happened to my arm.”

  “I’m talking about the other scar.”

  Becca tugged the sweater even closer. “That was a long time ago.”

  “I didn’t ask you when it happened,” he said slowly and softly. “I asked you what happened.”

  “Joe, do we have to discuss this now?”

  He gripped the steering wheel tightly, struggling to hold back his anger. “Nick did it, didn’t he?”

  “It was an accident.” The words were flat. Rote. Like she’d said them a dozen times before.

  “What kind of accident gives you a scar like that, I wonder?”

  “Glass. Shards of glass. I tripped and landed on a glass-topped table.”

  She didn’t even stumble over the explanation. That more than anything caused a cold rage to start inside him.

  Joe hit the brakes, automatically stretching out his prosthetic arm to keep Becca from pitching forward. Then he carefully eased the truck off the road.

  His pent-up frustration was back, and it echoed in the truck, as he released a loud groan of pain. “Am I the only one who’s figured out that your husband was hurting you?”

  “No. No. No.” The words were barely a whisper. A slow tear wound its way over her check and landed on her shirt collar.

  It was Joe’s undoing. He unbuckled his seat belt and wrapped his arms around her, resting her head against his chest.

  The only sound was of the occasional vehicle passing by on the road.

  “Casey must never know,” Becca whispered against his chest.

  “Why haven’t you told Nick’s grandfather? Surely that would get him off your case.”

  She eased back in her seat and fiddled with the buttons on her sweater. “Judge Brown would never believe me.”

  “He still should be told the truth.”

  “No, Joe.”

  “If you don’t, then I will.”

  “Why? What good can possibly come of breaking an old man’s heart?”

  “That old man needs to stop harassing you. That’s why. I accidently picked up a call he made to you on your phone. Becca, he’s called you at least a dozen times. That’s plain crazy. He’s making your life miserable, and you don’t deserve this.”

  “Please. Please. Promise me you won’t tell him.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t make that kind of promise. What kind of friend would I be if I agreed to that?”

  “Joe, promise me you will not tell the judge.”

  He slammed a hand on the steering wheel, and she jumped.

  “Look what he’s done to you. You’re jumpy as all get-out these days. You never used to be like this.”

  “I’ve done it to myself. Besides, I’m not the same ‘me’ that you remember so well. That ‘me’ disappeared a long time ago.”

  “A long time ago. Yeah, I remember saying the same thing the day you showed up on the ranch. But you know what, Becca? I’m starting to realize that it’s not so long ago after all. And really, deep down inside, we haven’t changed as much as we’d like to believe.”

  She stared at him, her brown eyes round, her jaw set. “Joe?” she pleaded.

  “All I can say is that I’m not too happy to find out you think you need to have all these secrets. You and I will revisit this conversation again. After you’re feeling better and those greenhorns are on their way back to wherever it is they came from.”

  He started the truck and checked over his shoulder for oncoming vehicles. “Tonight, that’s pretty much all I’m willing to guarantee.”

  Chapter Ten

  Joe strode into Sheriff Sam Lawson’s office, turned on the fan and checked to be sure the door was shut tight.

  “Whoa. What’s going on?” Sam asked.

  “Becca is being harassed by Judge Brown.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I have proof,” Joe returned.

  “The man has to be seventy-five, eighty years old. Do you really think he’s got the energy to do that?”

  Joe shook his head and sank into a chair. “Yeah, I do. I’d probably be on the mark if I were to say revenge is the fuel that’s keeping that man alive.”

  Sam’s grimaced. “He’s probably found six dozen Bible verses to support his actions. The thing about bitterness is that it’s a disease that kills you by eating you from the inside out.”

  “You sound familiar with it.”

  “Saw it firsthand with my stepfather.” He gave a shake of his head. “What a waste of a life.”

  “I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t realize.”

  The other man shrugged. “I don’t talk about him much because I’m a little scared that after living with the guy for seventeen years, I might have the propensity to be like him.”

  “Not you, Sam. Never.”

  “I don’t know.

  “Trouble with this situation is that Judge Brown isn’t about to give up until he breaks Becca.”

  “That’s sad because his focus is on revenge, which means the other people in his life are ignored.”

  “No doubt.” Joe took off his Stetson, ran his fingers along the crown crease and put it back on. “I’ve got another issue needling at me, as well. I have reason to believe Nick Simpson was physically abusing his wife.”

  “Joe, that’s a pretty strong accusation.” Sam took a deep breath. “Not one that you can get much traction out of, either, since the man is dead.”

  “I know. It galls me that I know I’m right and Becca refuses to tell anyone. I’m certain that one look at her medical records would show a pattern of abuse. Typically they’re in and out of a variety of emergency rooms and urgent-care facilities. Women in that situation don’t like to seek treatment at the same place twice.”

  “How’d you get so knowledgeable on the topic?”

  “I called a counselor friend today. Same person I spoke with when I lost my arm.”

  “I didn’t realize you went to therapy.”

  “Yeah, my doctor basically delivered an ultimatum.”

  “Smart doc, if he realizes that’s the only way to get you to do anything.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  Sam narrowed his eyes, and his mouth formed a grim line.

  “What are you thinking?” Joe asked his friend.

  “I hate to even go down this road, but ninety to nothing this would explain the accident that killed Nick Simpson.”

  “You mean the abuse?”

  Sam nodded. “Something just isn’t right about how that all went down.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that, too. Every time I do, it makes me so angry I can barely see straight. I have to do something.” He met Sam’s gaze. “What would you do about Judge Brown if you were in my position?”

  “There’s nothing we can do inside the law, unless Rebecca is willing to file a complaint.”

  “Which she won’t do.” Joe stood and paced across the office. “Isn’t what he’s doing considered criminal mischief or something?”

  “No, that would be if he actually did damage.”

  “He’s doing
damage all right.”

  “Physical damage, I mean. Keying a car. Graffiti. Tire slashing. That generally falls under criminal mischief. While I would tend to agree with you, Joe, my hands are tied.”

  “Then I’m between a rock and a hard place.” He clenched his left hand. “There has to be a way around this.”

  “Go talk to him.”

  “She won’t let me. Arm wrestled me with tears.”

  “That’ll do it every time.”

  Joe nodded. “She’s not willing to open the door to her past again. Trouble is, it’s not going to go away on its own.”

  “Could you go talk to the daughter? Nick’s mother. Maybe talk around the topic until it’s clear she understands your point. That wouldn’t be breaking your promise, would it?”

  “That might work. I’m going to have to pray on it. There’s a lot of gray around this whole mess. Either way, I owe you one. Thanks for letting me talk this through.”

  “Naw, I owe you one. I should have gotten those city people lost instead of taking them to your ranch. What was I thinking? They’d still be driving around in circles if I wasn’t so hospitable. I’ve got to stop that. Being nice is my downfall.”

  Joe raised a brow as he slid back down into the chair. “What about that strawberry-blond writer who’s crushing on you?”

  “Well, I might make an exception for Miss Warren.” When Sam smiled, a glint of amusement shone in his eyes.

  “I suspected as much. What do you think about Abi?”

  “What I think is that I’ve got enough going on in my life. I don’t need a city girl. To that end, I’m doing my best to stay out of her way. The woman is smart, beautiful, yields a killer smile and, to make it worse, she’s nice. That’s a dangerously potent combination.”

  “Yeah, I heard you’ve been doing a lot of fishing lately.”

  Sam leaned forward in his chair and folded his hands on his desk. “I call that self-preservation. Fishing preserves my way of life. Besides, I like being single.”

  “Do you?”

  “Sure I do,” Sam said. “Don’t you?”

  “I don’t know anymore. Maybe my brother, Dan, has it right. Either way, sure is a lot of that stuff going around lately. You notice?”

  “You mean love and marriage?” Sam laughed. “There ought to be a vaccination for what causes that. Don’t you think?”