“Would your father stop being his friend because you and he kissed?” Sharon asked with a warm smile.
“No, of course not. Father values the time he spends with Colton... er, I mean Sheriff Blake.”
“I’m sure the sheriff knows your father enough to not worry then. It may just be that this is the excuse he needed to finally come to terms with how he feels about you.”
Half an hour later, Isabel walked out of the hotel restaurant with a full stomach and a slice of pie. She didn’t dare look across the street for fear Colton could be standing at the doorway, as he tended to do at times.
Before she could cross the street, Isabel hesitated as a horseman arrived at the jailhouse. He pulled a second horse on which a man whose hands had been tied to the saddle horn sat astride.
Colton and Frank ambled out, not seeming at all alarmed at the distressing situation. The three men spoke and gestures were made toward the captured one, but no one made to free him or help him down.
Finally, Frank reached up and unceremoniously yanked the tied man down. The man struggled just a bit since his hands remained tied to the saddle. Finally Colton joined Frank and together they untied the hapless man and half dragged him inside. The man who’d brought the prisoner into town then turned and crossed the street in Isabel’s direction. He either sought a place to sleep or food. Probably both.
“Sir,” Isabel started. “Who is that man you brought?”
“Harold Murphy. Wanted for bank robbery in many states.”
Her eyes widened. “Do you think he’ll escape from our jail?”
The man shrugged. “Miss, as long as I get my reward, I couldn’t care less.” Not seeming to be in the mood for more conversation, the man touched the brim of his hat and hurried inside.
Isabel’s heart thudded against her breastbone. The captured man inside the jailhouse was a dangerous criminal. What if he got loose and got ahold of a gun? She waited, unsure what to do, until finally it was impossible to remain still. With skirts in her free hand, Isabel raced across the street. The front door was open so she burst into the room not totally sure what she was going to do. At the moment, she hoped one more set of hands would prevent any tragedy.
There was scuffling and a loud yelp before the scrapping sound of metal against metal. She burst into the cell area.
The deputy stood outside the cell yelling at the prisoner who lay sprawled on the small bunk.
Colton let out a groan and looked to her with his right hand over the right half of his face.
“Is there something I can do for you Isabel?” Colton said, his voice flat and his uncovered eye moving from her eyes to her lips. The action alone brought butterflies to flutter in her stomach and the ground under her feet seemed to shift.
“What happened?”
When he lowered his hand, jagged scratches ran from his brow down to the top of his cheek. Blood trickled down until he pressed a rag to it and grimaced.
She put out a hand, but was too far from the wall, a piece of furniture, or any kind of surface. Thankfully, Isabel caught herself before falling sideways. “I came to...” Once again she looked to the prisoner, this time she glared. “I came to bring you this pie.”
Still holding the cloth to his face, in two strides he was beside her. Colton took her by the elbow and pushed her through the front office and out the front door. “Don’t ever come in here when you see a prisoner being brought in. All I needed was for him to have gotten a hold of you. What were you thinking?” He huffed seeming to grapple with self-control. “You know what? Don’t answer. You weren’t thinking. Always impulsive, that’s why your father has to ask someone to keep an eye on you.”
It felt as if he’d taken a knife and plunged it into her chest. All breath left and Isabel stumbled back. She couldn’t formulate words. Even if she’d been able to speak, whatever would have come out wouldn’t have been anything ladylike. The plate hit the ground when she turned on her heel and ran away.
When she rounded the building, it became impossible to breathe as sobs threatened. Isabel gulped in air. She had to get away, had to get home, lock the door and stay there until her father returned. To hell with the festival planning, any damn teas and more importantly, to hell with Colton Blake.
Chapter 8
No sooner did the words leave his lips did Colton realize he’d done irreparable damage. Any chance to ever marry, much less continue friendship with Isabel was gone until he apologized profusely. The truth was he’d been so scared of what could’ve happened that he’d lost his temper with her. What had possessed her to barge in when hearing a scuffle?
The answer of course was obvious. She’d been terrified for him. And he’d repaid her with insults.
Now he wasn’t sure what to do.
Frank walked out and looked to the pie plate on the ground. “What happened?”
All Colton could do was shake his head. “Have you ever said something so hurtful, there’s no coming back from it?”
“Yeah,” Frank said and raked his fingers across the back of his neck. “Miss Isabel?”
“Yeah,” Colton replied and stared straight ahead, not really seeing anything more than the image of Isabel’s round shiny eyes. He frowned. “Why don’t you go on home? I’ll spend the night here.”
“I don’t trust him,” Frank said looking toward the inside. “He’s up to something. I think I should stay and both of us keep an eye on him.”
There was little a man in a cell could do. Colton didn’t fear prisoners. It was whomever they had on the outside that was the problem. “I know what you mean.”
A judge would sentence the man within a week. As long as he and Frank remained vigilant, the days should pass without incident. “Go on, get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Night fell and Colton continued to try to come up with what to say to Isabel. Once Frank arrived in the morning, he’d go see her and apologize. The woman sent his emotions reeling. All logical thought escaped at the thought of any harm coming to Isabel. She was much too impulsive, did whatever came to mind not considering any consequences.
The sounds of horses’ hooves reverberated. Whoever rode through town were in a hurry. Colton lifted his head from his makeshift bunk and listened intently when the horses seem to come to a stop outside the door.
They were too quiet, causing the hairs on his nape to stand on end. Just as he jumped to his feet and pulled his shotgun from the wall, men barged into the jailhouse and shots were exchanged.
It was as if being stabbed with branding irons as Colton stumbled backward and slid down the wall. Crumpling to the floor, he slumped over.
Someone grabbed the keys from his belt, not bothering to check to see if he was alive.
With as many shots as he’d taken, it took all his will power to fight the darkness ebbing at the edges. The ability to speak or defend himself was nonexistent. It was a struggle just to breathe.
Through the fog of searing pain, the sounds of footsteps, the front door slamming, and horses stomping the ground seemed more like a hallucination than reality.
Colton wanted to fight. He didn’t wish to die. But the pain, the horrible smell of his blood draining and the knowledge he was dying made him welcome the comfort unconsciousness would bring.
Agonizing tearing sensations swept across his chest and legs and Colton tried to scream but his throat was raw and stripped of any moisture. Every inch of his body was wet with perspiration, but he couldn’t ask for water and instead concentrated on attempting to get away from whomever caused the pain.
The excruciating sense of his muscles being pulled apart blinded him and he silently begged to die. There were voices, deep ones and calm ones. The cool cloths used to wipe the sweat and tears did little to soothe and he shook his head side-to-side hoping to become rid of the relentless agony.
“Colton?” Someone spoke to him, but he couldn’t make out whom. “Can you hear me?” There was jostling and he groaned as each moment brought nausea
and pain.
“I’m sorry friend. This is going to hurt.” Whoever it was, he wanted to kill with his bare hands just to get them to leave him be and allow death to take the pain away.
Somehow the impossible happened and it got worse. It felt as if his flesh was shredded and fire poured into the wounds. Colton howled in pain. Every single one of his senses so in tune to what happened, it became overwhelming. Finally he succumbed to the darkness, welcoming the relief it gave.
Sounds of pings and footsteps competed with the sour taste of metal. A foul stench like that of rotten flesh could not diminish the flashes of bright lights that blinded him whenever he tried to open his eyes.
Every inch of his body burned so hot he was unable to withstand even the slightest movement. He whimpered, the sound more like a hiss since making any louder sound became impossible. When would it end? Why didn’t he just die?
Water was poured down his throat and he cried at the temporary relief. When darkness appeared along the edges of his subconscious, he welcomed it, and the thicker it became the more he gave in.
Finally with one last breath, Colton let go to the wonderful sense of nothingness.
The pounding at the door made Isabel jump with fright. It was early morning and she wondered who would come to see her at that hour. Did one of her students forget there were no classes for the next few weeks?
From her upstairs window, she peered out to find a very pale Scarlett waving frantically for her to come and open the door.
Her robe flew behind her like a cape when she rushed down the stairs to open the front door.
“Is something wrong?” Of course something bad happened. Why else would her friend be there so early looking as if she’d not had any sleep?
Isabel took Scarlett’s hand and pulled her inside. “What’s happened? Tell me.”
“Oh my goodness,” her friend said, wide eyes taking her in. “Well, perhaps you should sit down.”
The last thing she wanted to do was sit, but it seemed as if Scarlett would swoon, so she tugged her into the kitchen and led her to the table. Thankfully there was a pitcher on the table so she poured her friend a glass of water. “Drink this. Take a deep breath.” Isabel’s hands shook as she waited for Scarlett to drink the entire contents of the glass.
A tear trickled down the side of Scarlett’s face. “Colton... was shot last night. He was shot several times. He’s dying.”
The world stopped.
It was as if her body shifted without her, and Isabel had to fight to become herself again. Whatever it was Scarlett said could not be true. She’d just spoken to him. Fought with him actually.
Isabel finally gasped as her heart threatened to burst from her chest. “What?”
“A band of men came into town late last night. They came for the prisoner. Colton was the only one at the jailhouse. They burst in, shot him, and then broke the man out of jail. By the time anyone was able to get to the jailhouse to help, they were long gone.”
“I have to see him,” Isabel shouted. She wasn’t sure why, but speaking in a normal tone didn’t make sense to her at the moment. “Where is he?”
She hurried up the stairs to dress with Scarlett behind her.
“At the clinic. Emmett, Gladys, and I worked on him all night. Emmett sent word to both Owen and Evan. They are with him right now. He was still breathing when I left, but Emmett said it may not be long.” Scarlett took a shaky breath. “I thought it was best to come for you. The news is spreading and people are gathering at the chapel to pray.”
After yanking on clothes and grabbing a shawl, Isabel raced out the door. Colton couldn't die. He was the strongest, bravest man she’d ever known.
Every step toward the clinic was like a mile and Isabel both feared and was hopeful about what news waited for her upon arriving.
There were several people gathered in front of the clinic. Most were quiet with somber expressions. They stood waiting for any news without making a fuss or demanding to go inside. Everyone seemed to know this was not the time to disturb the doctors.
If anyone would have asked her who was present, Isabel wouldn’t be able to say as she tore past the crowd and into the clinic with Scarlett just behind. Scarlett hesitated to assure people she’d let them know if anything had changed.
The inside of the clinic smelled of blood and medicine. The odors made Isabel stop in her tracks and cough. Emmett and Evan looked to her without expression. It was then she noticed Owen slumped over the bed where Colton lay motionless. Owen looked to be asleep, his hand clasping his brothers.
“How is he?” Isabel asked in a whisper, her voice already shaking with emotion.
“Unconscious,” Evan replied motioning for her to move closer. “He lost a lot of blood.”
At the sound of voices, Owen jerked awake, his bloodshot eyes going directly to his brother’s face. “Colton.” At the sound of Owen’s voice, so much like Colton’s, Isabel choked back a sob.
“May I touch him?” she asked Owen who nodded.
Isabel cupped Colton’s jaw. His face was cool. The stubble of his beard tickled her fingers as she caressed it. He was still breathing, his chest barely moved, but it did and that was all that counted.
“Talk to him,” Owen said, his eyes not moving from Colton’s face. “I’ve been talking nonstop since I got here.”
“Owen, why don’t you go rest for a bit? Isabel and I will be here with him and I promise to come fetch you when he comes to,” Scarlett told Owen who had yet to look away from his brother.
Finally he nodded. “I’m going to go relieve myself, but I’ll be right back. I’m not leaving my brother’s side.”
Scarlett nodded in understanding.
Isabel leaned close to Colton’s ear. “This is the time to be stubborn, Colton. You best not let this beat you. We still have a lot to talk about. For one thing, this idea of getting married, which I’ve not agreed to by the way.”
His eyes fluttered and she gasped and looked over her shoulder, but both Evan and Emmett were talking and Scarlett had moved to the back entrance probably to speak to Owen once he returned.
“Colton?” Isabel whispered into his ear again. “I know you’re probably hurting. I promise to be nice to you and not argue until you feel better. Did you know that Mrs. Stevens said she thought you have been sweet on me for a while now? I found that bit of news very interesting.”
Once again his eyes fluttered, but he did not open them.
Scarlett neared and placed a hand on Colton’s brow. Emmett walked over with an instrument so he could listen to his chest and lifted the blanket to examine the gunshot wounds.
“How many?” Isabel asked, unable to finish the sentence.
Emmett met her gaze with his somber one. “Five.”
A gasp escaped and once again she looked to Colton’s pale face. “Where?” There was a bandage on his left shoulder and she’d caught a glimpse of another at the left side of his chest.
“Those two,” Emmett said motioning with his right hand to the shoulder and chest. “One on the side here and two just below in his stomach area.” The doctor motioned for her to back away. “I need to look at those, you may want to step back.”
“No.” She clutched Colton’s hand in both of hers. “I’ll look away, but I’m not moving.”
Emmett shrugged as his brother Evan neared. The physicians were of identical coloring, both with dark blonde hair and light eyes. Emmett was broader in the shoulders than his brother, but Evan was a bit taller. They spoke in low tones while lifting the bandages.
When they turned Colton to his side, he moaned and whimpered softly. Her heart constricted and tears sprung to her eyes. Once again Isabel spoke to him in his ear. “It’s all right, they’re just making sure you’re not bleeding. It will be over in a bit, just focus on my voice.” She began to tell him of the time she’d fallen out of a tree and broken her arm. After a while, he quieted but beads of sweat covered his face from the exertion.
Finall
y the exam was over and Isabel realized her face was wet from crying for him. She knew it was necessary for them to move him. If an infection ensued in the wounds in his lower abdomen, Colton would die in a matter of hours.
Owen lowered to a chair on the opposite side of the bed. “Thank you,” he said and let out a long breath. “I don’t know what I’d do without my brother.”
“You won’t have to find out. He’ll recover. The man is too stubborn to let something like this win.”
“That’s true.” Owen gave her a weak smile. “Doc said the longer he hangs in there, the better his chances of recovery.” Owen spoke into Colton’s ear. “You hear that, brother? One day at a time.”
By that afternoon, Isabel’s back, neck, and shoulders were stiff and aching. She’d barely moved from Colton’s bedside, except to drink a bit of tea and eat a little. Owen had finally gone to sleep on a cot beside the stove in the clinic. Too tired to remain upright, Emmett had gone to rest for a couple hours with plans to return and spend the night there where he’d keep watch while Evan slept. Everyone took turns by Colton’s bedside speaking to him.
As the hours passed, Isabel grew more hopeful. The troubling bit was that Colton had yet to come to. Every so often his eyelids moved just a bit or he’d grimace, but other than that he remained mostly unconscious. Both Emmett and Evan repeated to her or Owen that it was not a bad sign. They insisted his body required all the energy it could muster to heal itself.
Isabel chose to hold to the belief he was healing and continued taking turns with Owen to talk to him about all sorts of things. At one point they even laughed when one of Owen’s sentences didn’t make a bit of sense.
When evening came, Evan asked that Isabel leave the clinic, as they had to do some examinations of an intimate nature. Although wanting to know more, and not quite sure about leaving, she allowed Scarlett to guide her to the house.
Isabel, An Independent Bride Page 7
