Roped and Tied [Wayback, Texas Series]

by Mallary Mitchell

  "Well, it's good to know where I stand.” Jericho acted as if he didn't care what she thought and watched her walk toward the exit. “Are you going to be here a minute? I didn't intend to make her mad. Maybe I can say something."

  Jericho didn't miss the warning in his brother's eyes.

  "Yeah, but if it were me, I would not go after her."

  Jericho nodded then, followed Eden.

  "But when have you ever listened to me?” Dylan spoke loud enough for him to hear.

  Jericho ran out the door. She hadn't gone far. He grabbed Eden's arm.

  "Hey wait."

  She turned her eyes narrowed. “Get your hands off me."

  "I have something to say,” he said.

  "Oh? About what? About betraying me and my family? About deserting us? Oh wait, maybe about getting married when you'd never even broken up with me? You could have at least told me it was over.” He could practically see the steam coming from under her sensible blouse and tan jeans. Her hair had been up in a neat twist but was now escaping the confines of the clip. He could imagine Medusa-like snakes hissing at him from the end of each little curl.

  "Last time I saw you, Eden, you threw my clothes at me and told me to get out of your house. You hit me in the head with a shoe. I thought that kind of said it all."

  She stiffened. “You could have told me about the deal with Walton before you slept with me, not after.” She spoke through clenched teeth. “There is nothing, and I repeat, nothing, I have to discuss with you. You are of as little consequence to me as I quite obviously was to you."

  "I never meant to hurt you."

  "Hurt? Me? You must have me confused with someone else. Why would you ever think you hurt me?"

  This wasn't working. He lowered his voice. “Look, I didn't mean to make you mad. I am here to apologize. I could be spending my time with any woman I wanted right now...” He stopped. Talk about saying the wrong thing, but it really got her attention. Eden turned on him with a deadly calm.

  "And I should be honored you have chosen me? I am not impressed by that handsome face of yours or those lame lines. I know what you are."

  "Okay, fine.” He snapped back at her. The woman was totally unreasonable. “I thought I should say something for old time's sake. You know back when you didn't mind slumming with me. But that was then, I guess."

  "Yes, that was then. You used to be decent."

  God help him, she made him angry. He walked around her. “And you used to be hot. You've really changed."

  "I hope you fall off your next horse.” She spat the words at him. “Now, get away from me or I'll make you wish you had.” She dangled her key chain before him clamping her fingers around a little canister. “I have mace and I will use it."

  "Eden. Jericho. Guys, you need to play nice.” Dylan rushed toward them. He put a hand on Eden's shoulder and spoke in a soft but firm voice. “You two, cut it out. You're drawing a crowd."

  Jericho looked back to the arena. People had stopped to watch the altercation. He took a step back from her.

  Eden composed herself. “Goodnight.” She walked away and this time he didn't attempt to follow.

  "You're right, she hates me.” Jericho admitted.

  "Yeah, I told you. I live with the woman, I should know.” Dylan answered. “Come on Jericho. There's a guy who wants an interview. I told him you'd be glad to talk to him."

  "Wait. You live with Eden?” Talk about a gut punch.

  "Yeah,” Dylan nodded. “It's only a temporary thing until my house is finished. They have the walls up now."

  "So are you two involved?” Not Eden and my brother. He felt sick.

  Dylan came to a dead stop. “Are you insane? No way. I love her, but not in a romantic sort of way. She's like a sister to me, a really annoying sister. Grace and I got kicked out of Grandma's house when she died. Eden has taken us in for a bit. Me and Eden! I pity the poor fool who ends up with that wildcat."

  * * * *

  Eden closed her eyes and hung up the phone. Three days had passed since the fiasco at the Yellow Rose. How could she have lost her temper?

  "Another call from one of Jericho Farrell's many concerned fans? Just imagine what would have happened if you'd maced him.” Her brother, Matt, thought this was amusing. He lounged at her door.

  She'd had calls from townspeople who had caught all or part of her and Jericho's shouting match since she'd gotten back home. Inquiring minds insisted on all the details. They would just have to be curious.

  She looked over at Jeb who was sleeping on the couch by her desk in the farm office. He was such a little angel. How that irritating man could have fathered her adorable son she would never understand.

  Matt seemed to read her mind. “Flush him. Jericho is bad news. Don't you dare tell him about the boy."

  He should know he's a father. You need tell him.

  She chewed her lip. “Matt, wouldn't you want to know if you were a father?"

  "I would know if I was a father.” He sneered. “He didn't care enough to stick around and find out.” Matt walked out the door.

  Dylan had given her Jericho's number. It was in her pocket. She withdrew the slip of paper and ran her finger of the numbers. She should call him.

  She threw the paper angrily into the trash can. How could she even consider calling Jericho? She pulled it out and looked down at the numbers. How could she not call him?

  Dylan had been quite vocal with his opinions. Now that Jericho had returned, he needed to know about Jeb.

  Like it was that easy. She had wanted to tell him when she found out she was pregnant, but it had been just a few days after Jericho's marriage. She didn't want him to feel obligated. If he hadn't cared enough about her to stay in the first place, why should he really care anyway? She closed her eyes. After what he'd done to her, how could she consider letting him back in her life? But then how had she ever let him go?

  But this wasn't about her; this was about her son and a boy needed a father.

  Not even her dad had any suggestions. Usually he had quite a bit to say about her life but he'd been amazingly quiet on the entire issue. Of course, he had been silent about Jericho since he'd left.

  The ringing phone startled her back to reality.

  "Hello?” She picked up the receiver on the third ring.

  "Eden! I need you to come over to the barn. Now.” It was Dylan.

  "What is it?"

  "There's been an accident."

  She drew in a quick breath. “Not Dad?"

  "No, no. He's not even here.” Her relief was short lived. “It's, um, Jericho. He's hurt. Eden. He doesn't look good."

  She felt the rush of horror to her toes. How often had she wished for horrible things to happen to the man? The tension in Dylan's normally sedate voice was alarming. “Look, please, just get over here. We're at the barn entrance."

  Guilt, she hated it. Jericho had been the one to leave. He'd been the one to get married three weeks after leaving here. Why should she feel guilty because she hadn't contacted him when she'd found out she was pregnant?

  She found Matt and put him on baby sitting duty. Jeb was still sleeping. Minutes seemed to stretch as she sped out the door. Fifteen long minutes had passed by the time she pulled to the side of the road across from the late model sedan. The front end protruded from the blanketing kudzu which swallowed the back.

  "Thank God.” Billie Jo sniffed. “He's been saying your name over and over.” Her pupils were unusually large.

  "Are you okay?” Eden put a hand on Billie's shoulder.

  "No, but I'll get there. I promise you I'm not drunk, Eden. I haven't done that in a long time, you know I wouldn't lie.” The rushed words were defensive and shaky. “I was trying to kill a bee and next thing I know I was in the ditch. The ambulance is on the way. Dylan's with him now.” She paced chewing a fingernail. “I told him not to try to push me out.” She huffed. “I do hope they get here in time.” Billy Jo collapsed into a series of sobs.

&nbs
p; Icy fingers of fear grabbed at Eden's spine. She didn't want him dead. She never had wanted him dead. Maybe cursed with an incurable itch in an embarrassing location, but not dead.

  She ran over to the ditch, her feet skidding in her slick-bottomed shoes. Oblivious to the rugged roadside, she kicked them into the weeds. How often had she wished for this? She had wanted to see him suffer. Wish granted.

  "Oh God."

  He was pinned to the back wall of the ditch, on the driver's side of the car. A sob caught in her throat. No, this was not what she wanted.

  She prayed silently urging the ambulance on, making her way down the embankment. She half-slid, half-walked until she reached Jericho. She pulled a shaking hand to her mouth.

  Dylan squatted by his brother's head.

  "Is he conscious?” She asked.

  "Yeah, and he's really mad.” Dylan patted her shoulder. “I'm tired of hearing him cuss. Stay with him. I am going to see what's keeping the ambulance. They must have stopped for gas or something.” Dylan shook his head and rolled his eyes. He walked back to where his mother sat in the bed of his truck.

  "Jericho? I'm here.” Getting no response she ran her hand over his cheek rubbing lightly just as she did to wake his sleepy-headed son each morning.

  He looked up and froze. “What are you doing here?"

  "Dylan called. You were asking for me."

  "Really? I doubt that. Then again, you're probably enjoying this.” He grunted in pain.

  "I never wanted to see you hurt—despite anything I may have said otherwise. Is there anything I can do to help?"

  He rolled his head away from her. “Go. I don't need any help. No thank you."

  She didn't leave. She couldn't.

  He slowly looked to his left side then his right. “Kudzu. I hate kudzu. There's probably a snake in here. Shoot, with my luck there's probably a whole den of them and I'm pinned down for them to bite me. Why did I come back here? This town is cursed.” His eyes were pained but alert. She scurried above his head and over to his left side. Blood seeped above the chrome of the bumper. She thought for a moment then started unbuckling her belt. He smiled stiffly.

  She had been trained how to handle emergency situations, but men under cars hadn't been covered in her nursing classes. She would do the best she could and slowing his blood loss was a place to start.

  "I appreciate the thought, but now's not the time, sweetie.” His voice went up by degrees on the sweetie. The pain must be incredible.

  "Ha. Ha. Real funny. It's for a tourniquet. I'm a nurse, remember? I nearly spent six months working in the ER."

  "Six months, huh? You're a real pro. Where do you work now?"

  "I work in the farm office."

  "Yeah, you're qualified to provide emergency assistance. If I need something faxed I'll let you know."

  "Since my son was born I've worked for my dad, so I can keep Jeb at the office with me. But I am a nurse, and I know what to do. The ambulance will take a bit."

  He looked at her with a tight mouth and lowered brows.

  She continued her speech in spite of his look of disapproval. “And since I don't want you to bleed to death, I am going to attempt to slow this blood flow.” Her voice was sounded calm, sedate, when in actuality she was terrified.

  Eden slid the leather between the back of his leg and the kudzu, which was not an easy task since she had to move about at such awkward angles. She grabbed the end reaching between his legs to do so.

  "You just don't take no for an answer, do you?"

  Eden raised only one brow as Jericho kept talking.

  "If it's my femoral artery this is not good."

  "It's not your femoral artery. Wrong place.” Not to mention that he'd have been dead by now. She shuddered at the thought. “This is going to hurt.” She tried to get the belt as tight as possible on his thigh and his hand tightened on her upper arm.

  "Enough. Why don't you just go get a two by four and beat me with it?"

  "Sorry."

  "It's okay, after you feel so much pain what's a little more? Eden, if they don't get here and I..."

  She took his hand and looked him straight in the eye. “Don't even consider that. This is slowing the bleeding. You're going to be fine. This is not a critical injury.” She tried to sound assured but a sob caused a hiccup.

  She eased her feet down into the kudzu beside him. She prayed a rattler truly wasn't down there, then she prayed the ambulance would hurry, but most of all she prayed Jericho would live. Eden felt tears rising.

  "I am sorry for the things I said the other night.” She sniffed.

  Jericho extended his hand to her hair where her neat little French twist was coming undone. “Me too."

  "I really don't want you to die.” Her voice broke in a sob, then, the tears came gushing.

  "Eden, shhhh. As you said, I'm not dying. Good grief, don't cry like that.” His thumb wiped her tears gently.

  She lifted her face to his in time to see his brave grimace. He hissed as the car shifted a bit.

  "I wanted a life, Eden. I wanted to be more than the son of the town drunk and, maybe the way I did things was wrong. I know I hurt you, and I am sorry."

  "We were both young. We both made mistakes.” She agreed and received a wary, worried look from Jericho.

  He interrupted. “Can you do me a favor?"

  "Sure.” She whispered this time without a smile. She had to tell him about Jeb.

  "Take my wallet and my keys out of my pockets if you can get them. They're both in that left pocket there.” She reached her hand into his pocket gingerly. “Hold on to them, you'll need the insurance card in the emergency room."

  Blood was still seeping. Eden wondered if she should tighten the belt around his thigh more. In the distance she heard the siren. Help was on the way.

  She felt around and put her hand in the pocket slowly.

  "Careful.” He shifted a little.

  She removed his wallet, keys and an unopened pack of cigarettes.

  "These will kill you.” She shook the pack.

  "Yeah.” He gave a little laugh. “And riding rodeo won't. Thanks for getting that. I definitely prefer you digging in my pockets to some big EMT named Billy Ray. If I wasn't in so much pain, I'd be enjoying myself."

  She looked up slowly. There were crinkles around his eyes. Here in the middle of a roadside ditch, he was teasing.

  "Jericho, I...” Their faces were so close, their breath mingled. She didn't know why she tilted her chin up, but he met her more than halfway, crushed her lips to his.

  After all these years, he still could kiss her senseless.

  Eden smiled with tears in her eyes and put her forehead to his. His eyes were closed. The ambulance had just arrived. She could hear Dylan shouting.

  She had to tell Jericho about his son. It was now or never. She took a deep steadying breath and the words rushed out. “I want you to know you have a son."

  The smile faded from his face. Blue eyes widened. “What?"

  "Let me finish. Since you've cleared your conscience, I need to clear mine. We both were young and in hindsight I should have told you. But you got married and...” She looked at his face for any reaction as she spoke. “I just wanted you to know, Jeb is yours, your son.” She whispered and waited for him to say something, but his mouth just hung open.

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  Chapter Four

  "Eden?” Jericho's eyes groggily opened and he lifted up on his elbows. As the room came into focus he could see people walking by the door of his room in colorful scrubs. A steady beep indicated his heart was working fine. To his left was an IV stand with something dripping steadily into a tube connected to the vein in the bend of his left arm.

  He knew the place, Wayback Trauma Center. He'd been stitched up here quite often in his younger years after fights at the Blue Bug. He was certain he was still banned from the local bar.

  A man in a pair of bluish-green scrubs entered the room and grabbed a m
edical chart from the clear acrylic box on the side of the wall. The face was familiar and his ID badge read Dr. Henson. Henson ... nothing came to mind. The pain killers in his bloodstream were making his thoughts fuzzy.

  "Good, you're awake."

  As soon as he spoke, Jericho recalled him. “I remember you. Craig Henson. You were a couple years ahead of me in school."

  "Yeah. It's good to see you, Jericho.” Craig laughed. “Although not under these conditions, of course. I'd much rather catch you in the arena. You know, my son is a big fan of yours. He won't believe you're one of my patients."

  "Really?” Jericho was mildly surprised. “Most kids like the bull riders."

  "Not mine. He likes the roping."

  "Would he want an autograph?” Always think of your public first. His ex-wife had been in public relations and that was one of Stephanie's little rules. He tied to focus on the doctor and his conversation.

  "He would love one."

  Jericho looked around the room for a newspaper, a notepad ... anything.

  "Here.” The doctor laid down a paper towel. “That'll work."

  "What's his name?"

  "Jason"

  Jericho wrote a little note to the kid then handed the paper to the waiting doctor. “So what's the prognosis? Will I be ready for the next rodeo?"

  "Well...” The doctor gave a sigh. “We need to talk."

  Okay, that didn't sound great.

  "The X-Rays of your chest and pelvic area look fine, but the legs...” He lifted the heavy gauzy pad that had been placed over the bleeding left leg.

  "Both legs are broken,” Craig paused politely for Jericho's curses. “The right leg is a fissure fracture which isn't good but as far as broken bones go, it's not too bad. It will heal just fine. Your left leg took the brunt of the impact. You have an external gash from the metal of the car. When the bone broke the jagged end caught a blood vessel and there's knee damage which is going to require a bit of reconstruction. We've got the bleeding stopped now.” The doctor paused. “Internally, everything else seems to check out okay, but there won't be any riding and roping in your near future. I'm sorry."