by Beth Alvarez
He stomped a few times to settle his boots, then slunk out of the bunkhouse.
Waiting until evening to make progress wasn’t ideal, but Felicity knew she couldn’t expect the world to stop turning just because she needed it to stop. Not even in little Holly Hill.
She stood, examining the room until she saw the bed that must have been Kade’s. She hadn’t been there to see him since he’d moved into the bunkhouse, but she’d done his laundry long enough to recognize the blue plaid shirt hanging from the headboard. Trailing her fingers over the fabric, she leaned down to pull his box of belongings from under the bed.
Even at home, he never left anything incriminating where someone might happen across it. His extra weapons, his books and trophy photos, even his Keeper’s business cards were kept hidden in drawers and storage boxes. Felicity knew where they were, but there was little chance of anyone noticing them. She didn’t expect anything suspicious in his box here, but there were a few useful things in it. She pocketed his phone charger and a few small other small things, pausing when she found one of Thaddeus’s black cards tucked between pages of a hunting magazine. She pulled it out and took it, too. That way, no one would happen across it by mistake.
Rising, she dusted off her knees and headed for the door. She barely set foot outside before she froze.
A familiar car sat next to hers in the gravel drive.
Nick. Was he looking for Kade? Or waiting for her?
Breathing deep, Felicity took long strides toward the fence instead of the vehicles, fixing her eyes on Rico and James.
The older of the two cowboys looked up, offering her a pleasant smile. Rico always had a comforting warmth about him. She smiled in return. “It’s been a while since I ran any deliveries out here. Mind if I visit for a minute?”
“Well, if you wanted to run deliveries, maybe you shouldn’t have opened that pretty little bakery on the town square,” James teased. He rubbed his nose on his sleeve, turning to hang a clean saddle atop the fence rail.
Rico didn’t look at her again. “Lot of visitors today. Second time Foster’s boy has been out here in a week.”
Felicity crouched and sat on her heels. “Is he looking for work?” Playing dumb seemed the safer option. She’d grown used to cobbling together half-truths to cover for Kade, but she didn’t like it, and she wasn’t good at lying. She didn’t know what the cowboys knew about Nick’s previous visit to the ranch, but she was sure they didn’t know what he’d done to Kade.
“Doubt it. He was looking for Colton, last time.” James glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
Or maybe they did. Maybe the secret wasn’t as secure as she thought. She gulped against the uneasiness in the pit of her belly.
Rico cleared his throat. “Now, Miss Felicity, you know I don’t mean to pry, but...” He trailed off, his attention turning to something beside the barn.
She followed his gaze, that lump of uneasiness in her middle growing just a bit bigger when she saw Marshall and Nick looking her way.
“We gonna have a problem?” James intoned.
“I don’t know,” Felicity said.
Movement on the porch caught her eye before she could say anything else. Brady stepped out the front door with a coffee cup in hand, but he lurched on his feet and the coffee sloshed over.
James flew to his feet, running across the gravel at the same time as Marshall.
Rico caught Felicity’s arm, helping her to her feet. They sprinted to the house together, just as Brady staggered into James and clutched at him for support. He still clung to his coffee cup, though most of the liquid was gone.
“Sorry, sir,” Brady mumbled as James eased him down to sit on the porch. “I don’t think I can work today.”
“Pete’s sake, Brady, what were you drinkin’?” James took the coffee cup from his hand, glancing into it before putting it aside.
“Truth be told, I didn’t drink anythin’. Easier to get you boys to feel sorry for me if I’m hung over than if I’m sick.” Brady’s hand went to his hip and Felicity felt a flicker of panic.
That gunshot wound. It hadn’t been bad, but he hadn’t seen anyone for it, either.
“I tried to drink some of that coffee, Marshall,” he continued, “but I don’t think it helped. Think it made it worse, actually.” His hand drifted to his stomach and he squeezed his eyes closed.
Felicity slid forward, pressing a hand to his forehead. He was too warm, if only just. “What are you feeling, Brady?”
“Dizzy,” he groaned. “And sick. Sick to my stomach, I mean.”
“And a fever,” she murmured.
The cowboys exchanged worried looks.
“Tetanus?” Rico suggested.
Marshall shook his head. “Wouldn’t make him queasy, I don’t think.”
“Whatever it is, he probably needs to be seen.” Felicity stood up, glancing to her car. It was alone again. While the rest of them fussed over Brady, Nick had left. Somehow, that upset her even more than that he’d shown up in the first place. “Can you walk, Brady? I can take you.”
“I’ll go-” James started, stopping short when Brady lifted a hand.
“Let Felicity take me. She won’t make fun of me in the emergency room.” He cracked a smile, but it faded as soon as he got to his feet. Unsteady, he leaned against both James and Rico on his way down the porch stairs.
“If you need someone to go with the two of you, Felicity...” Marshall began.
She mustered a smile of her own. “Thank you, but I think we’ll be okay. I’ll call you as soon as we find out what’s going on.”
The men helped Brady into the car, where he hunched forward and held his stomach. Felicity hoped it didn’t get worse than queasiness.
“Need us to bring you anything before you go?” From the tone of his voice, James could have been discussing the weather, but his eyes were pinched and his mouth grim.
Brady shook his head. “I got my wallet. I should be okay.”
“You’d better be okay,” Rico said. “We can’t afford to lose another cowboy.”
“You aren’t losing anybody.” Felicity marched around the car, waving the men away as she climbed behind the wheel.
Brady squeezed his eyes shut as she pulled out of the drive. “I can’t go to the hospital, Miss Felicity. If they admit me...”
She nodded in understanding. There was still one more night of the full moon. If he changed after they admitted him, the hospital staff wouldn’t be the only ones in danger. “We’re not going to the hospital.” She adjusted her rear view mirror, trying to think of a solution before the inevitable question came.
“Then where are we going?”
Sucking on her lower lip, Felicity gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. “To the only person in Holly Hill who can help with something like this.”
SEVENTEEN
* * *
“WHAT IN THE world are you two doing?” Gertie hurried to the door, holding it open while Felicity helped Brady hobble in.
“He’s sick, Gertie. It might be bad. I don’t know what else we can do.” Felicity grunted under the cowboy’s weight and he murmured apologies. He put more weight on his injured hip, his face already pinched with effort.
“Take him to the hospital, you ninnies!” The old woman clicked her tongue in disapproval, but she flipped the shop’s sign to closed as she shut the door.
Felicity helped Brady to one of the chairs near the front, breathing a sigh of relief when he sat.
Despite the situation, Brady turned over the tag on the chair to see the price. He blanched, turning it over again.
“We can’t go to the hospital, Miss Gertie. We...” Felicity stopped short. She hadn’t considered what they’d say when they arrived.
“I don’t have insurance, ma’am,” Brady said.
Gertie threw her hands in the air. “Oh, for mercy’s sake!”
A bright flush colored Felicity’s cheeks. “I just thought since you were a nurse, back in the
day, maybe you could take a look.”
“I’m not looking at anything in the front room of my store, right there where the whole town can see!” Huffing, Gertie locked the door. “Come on, now. Back to the break room. Let’s see what you’ve done this time.”
This time? Felicity almost asked, then reconsidered when she saw the flustered look on Brady’s face. Biting her tongue, she offered the cowboy her arm, and the two of them hobbled on through the winding pathways of the shop.
Gertie’s break room was nestled in the very back corner of the building, beside a back exit Felicity suspected would be useful if any part of this went sour. The old woman went ahead of them and pulled a chair from the small table. “Sit down, boy. Let’s have a look.”
His brow furrowed with worry, Brady unbuckled his belt.
“Land sakes alive!” Gertie shrieked. “What kind of medic do you think I am?”
“My leg!” Brady shouted over her. “It’s my leg!”
“To be fair, you ought to have said that before you started taking off your pants,” Felicity said.
He shot her a dirty look, tossing his belt onto the table and sliding down his jeans just enough to hitch up his boxers on one side, exposing the gunshot wound high on his thigh. The flesh around it was an angry red, the edges of the swollen wound an ugly shade of purple.
“Good gracious, boy, how did that happen?” Gertie retrieved a white first aid kit from the cabinet beside the sink, then washed her hands.
“An accident,” Brady said.
“Pshaw. Nothing of the sort, I’d bet. You’ve been in Holly Hill your whole life. I know for a fact your daddy taught you not to play with guns.” Drying her hands on a paper towel, Gertie carried the first aid kit to the table and pointed at the chair. “Now sit and let me have a proper look at that.”
He scuffled closer to the chair, sitting down and stretching out his injured leg. The wooden chair creaked as he leaned back, resting one hand over his eyes and the other over his stomach.
Gertie pulled a pair of gloves from the first aid kit, shaking them out. “Not allergic to latex, are you?”
Felicity half expected a rude joke, but he only shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
“Good.” The old woman tugged on the gloves and gave them a good snap, then squatted next to the chair. She prodded around the injury, frowning to herself. Brady winced now and then, but stayed still.
“It is infected, but I don’t think it’s septic, or even close to it yet. Antibiotics would be helpful, but if you can’t get a prescription...” Gertie trailed off, hemming and hawing as she ran her finger around the edge of the bruising. “It’s a dirty injury, boy. I’m going to have to pick all of this open to clean it out. Is this animal hair? Didn’t you wash this at all?”
Brady grunted as she poked harder. “I wiped it down with alcohol, but it was already all scabbed over by then. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“If it’s not septic, what’s making him so sick?” Felicity asked.
“It could be septic, I could be wrong. Or it could be something stuck in there. What is this?” Gertie rubbed at the edge of the wound. “It’s sort of purple...”
Felicity and Brady exchanged a look over the old woman’s head. She knew she couldn’t push him; what he decided to tell her was up to him.
His mouth tightened and he covered his eyes again. “I was helpin’ Kade pull up some larkspur when I got... well, anyway. Could that be it? It makes cattle nauseated...”
Another lie. They seemed to swirl around every aspect of the life she had with Kade. But at least he’d shared something.
“Larkspur!” Gertie’s exclamation made both of them jump. “Mercy me, don’t I feel ashamed now.”
Brady grimaced when she resumed her prodding. “Why would you feel bad about that?”
“I told him to put some larkspur in his garden. Felicity, get in that kit and get some gloves, would you? You’re going to have to help me with this.”
Felicity wasn’t particularly squeamish, but she wasn’t a medic, either. Regardless, she retrieved a pair of her own gloves, wiggling her fingers into them. “I hope your idea of helping is me handing you supplies.”
“Of course it is. You’ve got a good hand with sweets, girlie, and I’m sure you’ll bandage up plenty of skinned knees in your time, but it’s best to leave this to an expert. Get me some gauze and that bottle of chlorhexidine.”
“Chlorhexidine?” Brady repeated. “You ain’t gonna knock me out, are you?”
“That’s chloroform, you mooncalf.”
Brady yelped. Felicity didn’t know what Gertie had done. She handed over the supplies, studying a water stain where condensation had pooled beside the vent in the ceiling.
“If that is larkspur poisoning that’s got you ill, you’ll be over it in a day or so,” Gertie grumbled, swabbing the wound clean. “And I expect Kade will have his tomfool self in here to be bandaged up next?”
“Kade’s fine.” At least, Felicity hoped he was. She pulled her phone out of her pocket every now and then, hoping she’d see a message from him. Nothing came.
“Well, isn’t that a miracle?” The old woman snorted. “Fool cowboys don’t have the sense God gave a goose. Is Kade the one who shot you?”
Brady fidgeted.
Gertie rolled her eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes. More gauze, girlie.”
“Squares or a roll?” Felicity held up both.
“Squares first. Then the antibiotic ointment in the yellow tube. And get me a bag from over there by the sink. I need somewhere to put these things.”
Felicity offered them one after the other, then hurried to the counter. She picked through the things on the countertop before checking cabinet doors. The bags were under the sink. She carried one back and held it open as Gertie deposited bloodied gauze into it. “How bad is it?”
“He’ll have an ugly scar no matter what we do. But I don’t think he’ll die, so long as he keeps it cleaned properly. You hear me, boy?” Jabbing him in the ribs, Gertie clucked in disapproval. “I’ll give you a mess of bandages and things to take with you, but I can’t do much more than that. Some herbal salves, maybe. If you’ve a mind to use them.”
“I’ll use anything that helps, ma’am.” Brady’s voice came out as a croak.
Gertie snorted a laugh. “Well, then, start with using your head.” She dabbed the antibiotic onto the wound, then wrapped it with gauze.
Felicity had the tape ready when she held out her hand. She plopped it into the old woman’s palm and took a step backwards. “Thank you for taking care of this, Miss Gertie. We all appreciate it.”
“And I’m sure you appreciate that I won’t be telling Sam about it, either.” The old woman gave her a hard look. “So long as you answer a question for me.”
“Depends on what the question is,” Brady muttered, tugging his boxers down over the bandaging and standing to pull his jeans up again. “I ain’t explaining how it happened.”
“I didn’t expect you would.” Gertie stripped off her gloves and tossed them into the bag, then knotted the bag closed and carried it to the trash can. “I am curious, however, how you ended up with an injury contaminated with larkspur. Even if that is the cause of your bellyache, one flower isn’t enough to make a grown man sick. Nor does it look like a blue paste crusted on somebody’s skin.”
The silence that fell was heavy enough to hurt.
Brady licked his lips, sliding his belt back around his waist. “I don’t know what to tell you, ma’am. It was Colton’s gun. You’d have to ask him.”
Gertie craned her head around to eye Felicity, then turned her attention to the sink as she washed her hands. “I see.”
A knot tied itself in Felicity’s middle and she added one more name to the mental list of people they had to tell. “I’ll make sure he talks to you about it as soon as...” She caught herself. She couldn’t go around telling people Kade was gone, either; that would only raise more questions. “As soon as he
can,” she finished.
“I know the two of you are busy,” the old woman said, “but I should hope not so busy that you start forgetting how to be responsible. Brady, you’re to stay off that leg for the rest of today, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Brady mumbled.
Felicity echoed the sentiment, then took off her gloves and washed her hands, too.
Gertie scooted sideways, opening cabinets and taking out jars full of herbs. Felicity tempered her curiosity, allowing herself to watch while the old woman measured different amounts into two smaller jars, creating new mixtures.
Brady didn’t share her inhibitions. “What are those?” He sounded a great deal like a child faced with a dose of medicine, inching backwards as if the distance would protect him.
“To help with the nausea.” Gertie fitted a lid to either jar, screwing them tight and holding them out.
The cowboy eyed them dubiously. “If those are some kinda witch potions-”
“Brady Hayes, if you think calling me a witch will gain you any favors, you’re lucky I don’t march over to talk to Sam Foster right now!” Storming across the small break room, Gertie grabbed Brady’s hand and jammed both jars into his grasp. “Raspberry mint and lemongrass ginger tea. You’re welcome, you ingrate.”
“Thank you, Gertie.” Felicity felt awkward to repeat it so often, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I’ll make sure he knows how to brew it.”
“You’d better. And make sure that man of yours comes to see me, hmm?” The old woman gathered the medical supplies back into their box. The sound of it snapping closed came with a certain sense of finality.
Felicity strained to smile. “Of course.”
The count just kept getting higher.
* * *
A light flared on, brilliant and blinding. Kade blinked and squinted against the brightness leaning back in his metal chair. “Little theatrical, ain’t it?”
“Practical, more than anything,” the man on the other side of the table replied. “It’s so I can see to turn on this one, just in case.” His hand reached beyond the glare, landing on a second lamp at the opposite corner of the table.
