Roped and Tied [Wayback, Texas Series]

by Mallary Mitchell

  "That bad?” Jericho spoke slowly. He felt like hitting something.

  "Look, that little red button there is for morphine. Don't be afraid to use it. It's metered so you can't overdose."

  "I can take pain,” he growled.

  "I don't want you to."

  "Do you know if Eden Sawyer is still here? She came in with me."

  How long ago had it been? Five minutes, an hour? He tried to sit up a bit, but the doctor stopped him.

  "Keep still. I'll tilt the bed a bit.” He did, angling the bed so Jericho was partially sitting. “I've sent for your brother. Your mother has also been admitted. He said he'd be back as soon as he got her situated. She's not handling this well and they had to sedate her."

  "Imagine that. Isn't every day you run your kid over."

  "As for Eden Sawyer, I imagine she'll be back here as soon as she gets stitched up herself. Was she with you when this happened?"

  "No. What happened to Eden?"

  "She had a small gash that needed stitching. Nothing compared to you. We don't see Eden much around here anymore. I wish she'd come back to the hospital. We need more nurses like her."

  "I want to see her,” he demanded in the most urgent tone he could manage.

  "I tell you what, lay back and rest and I'll try to find her."

  * * * *

  Eden took one last big breath as her final stitch was tied.

  "All done?” Craig Henson walked into the triage area where Eden was being treated.

  "Yes, sir.” A young intern made way for the doctor.

  "I'll take it from here.” Craig said, addressing and dismissing the intern with his simple statement.

  "See?” Eden held out her arm to Craig, inspecting the ten neat stitches in her left forearm as she did.

  Eden knew why Craig was here. In the years since Jericho had left, she had dated only one man. Craig was a nice guy and had finally gotten her to agree to go out. He was smart, funny, and treated her like a lady. He was everything she should want in a man and nothing like Jericho Farrell. But she'd ended things after just a few dates. Even so, he still looked out for her.

  She wasn't surprised he was here with that look on his face. It was the one he usually reserved for first year interns, but now she was on the receiving end of his patented “is-there-a-functioning-brain-in-your-head” stare.

  "My patient is asking for you.” Craig emphasized “patient” and sounded a whole lot like Captain James T. Kirk.

  "Oh? Which one would that be?"

  He looked at her stitches. “I am guessing you got this running to help Jericho Farrell?"

  "You know it's funny. I didn't realize I was even cut at the time. I guess I snagged it on the car. It had obviously been through more than one fender bender."

  "Do I need to admit you to mental health, Eden?"

  What could she say to explain? Why should she even try? She hadn't dated Craig very long. For all his wonderful qualities, he wasn't Jericho.

  "How is he?” Eden finally asked. He regarded her thoughtfully for a minute.

  "Both legs are broken. He's scheduled for surgery tomorrow for pins in that left leg and some knee reconstruction. Aside from the pretty devastating leg injuries, overall, he's in good condition."

  "I thought he was going to die.” She whispered. “I panicked and didn't assess the situation carefully."

  Craig sat on the edge of the examination table. “I thought you'd burnt that bridge."

  "So did I.” Burned, nuked it, wiped it off the face of the Earth. “I didn't ever plan to see him again.” She sighed.

  "Did you tell him about Jeb?” Craig looked every bit the doctor peering over his rounded wire glasses.

  "Yeah. I told him today."

  "Before or after the accident? Was that what caused it?"

  "After the accident. I told him while we were waiting for the ambulance.” She crossed her arms wincing as she pulled on a stitch. “Like I said, I thought he was dying. I never expected him to return to Wayback. He had a new life.” She ran her hand through her bangs. “How is he?"

  "This isn't going an easy recovery. A guy like him isn't going to accept limitations. I really feel sorry for him,” Craig confided.

  "It's bad, isn't it?"

  "He'll live. He'll walk again. But it's going to be a long hard road. He won't be riding any time soon."

  "He was leading in the standings.” She sighed.

  "So I've been told by every rodeo fan in the ER. And my son at least three times last Sunday.” Craig gave a huff. “You should go speak to him. Room 225"

  Eve nodded. She had dropped a bomb on Jericho and now she needed to do some damage control.

  She walked through the hallway, her former co-workers greeting her as she passed. She walked up to his door, steeled herself and went inside.

  Jericho was pale, his skin starkly white against the darkness of his hair. In the quiet of his room, with no one to see Eden ran a hand through a strand of Jericho's dark hair. “This is so unfair.” She put her lips on his forehead. “I am so sorry."

  His eye lids fluttered open. “Life's not fair."

  "I thought you were asleep."

  His eyes were such a beautiful blue, almost turquoise. Now they were dull and dilated from the pain medication. How many times had she stared into their depths? Too many to count, that was for sure.

  "I feel like a pin cushion.” He muttered and looked at his arm. “They've taken blood five times already."

  "Can I get you something?” Eden whispered

  "No, but tell me again what you said in the ditch.” He didn't smile.

  "This can wait until later. You look like you had a fight with a freight train."

  "Now.” He grimaced in pain as he struggled to sit up.

  "I told you that you have a son."

  "What's he like? When was he born?"

  "May first. You can do the math. He's yours."

  His eyes darkened even further. “I never asked if he was. If you had a child within ten months after I left, I fully accept that I'm the father. I know there was only me."

  Jericho shifted in the bed. Eden could tell each movement was causing great pain. His hand strayed to the morphine pump several times and several times he moved it away without pressing the button. Mr. Control. He always had to be the one behind the wheel.

  Her eyes locked with his. “He's mischievous. He has your eyes.” She looked down away from his pained expression. “And my hair."

  "Why ... Why didn't you tell me?” Jericho looked down at his arms and to the needles protruding from them.

  "You look like you're ready to pass out on me. This can wait."

  "Later, I'll pass out later.” He closed his eyes. “Three years, Eden. It took you three freakin’ years to tell me.” Jericho spoke softly, slowly, his voice nearly devoid of expression.

  "I didn't know I was pregnant when you left. I found out the same week you married Stephanie DeWalt. At first I couldn't find you. Once I heard about the wedding, I quit trying."

  He muttered unintelligibly. She couldn't understand what he said and didn't know if she wanted to have him repeat it.

  He looked away from her. “What's his name?"

  "Jeb."

  "I thought the worse thing that could ever happen to me was when my mom pinned me to that ditch with the bumper of her car. I was wrong. God, I was wrong.” He pushed the wheeled bed tray from his bed. “You kept me from my child, Eden. I didn't have a father growing up and you knew how much it bothered me. Did you really think I'd allow my kid to have to go through that?"

  "You were the one who left, not me. You knew where I was. I had no idea how to get in touch with you. Sure you can point a finger at me. Yeah I was wrong. But I did the best I could with the situation and if you don't like it, I'm sorry. It's done.” She looked at the blood pressure reading. She was upsetting him. “I'm not going to try to keep your son from you. As soon as you're better we'll talk."

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  Chapter Five

  Jericho didn't know how long he'd been unconscious. He'd been wheeled into the operating room earlier this morning. His head was fuzzy but clearing and he hurt. He squinted at the bright light of the hallway as the door opened.

  "How are we doing today, Mr. Farrell?” A nurse entered and changed the IV bag, then turned her attention to him. “Open your mouth. Let me take your temperature."

  Perspiration beaded on his upper lip.

  "You're in pain, aren't you?"

  "Yeah.” Yes was hardly adequate. Above his knees, his legs were on fire and he was strapped into some infernal machine that bent his left leg at regular intervals. He had been awake fleetingly several times, enough to have seen Dylan and Eden. At one point he thought Walton had been in the chair by the bed. He couldn't be sure now. His head might be clearer, but his body screamed in pain.

  He remembered the accident. And he remembered Eden's little surprise. He was a father. He had a son.

  The nurse looked at her watch and his chart, then injected a syringe of something that burned into the tube leading to his arm.

  "You people are evil.” he groaned. “I hate you."

  She just smiled and clicked the pain killer pump. “You'd hate infection more."

  "How long have I been out?"

  "All day. You had surgery early this morning. Do you remember that?"

  "Maybe a little. Look no more painkillers. I have to get out of here and back to work. I'm in a competition soon and..."

  "Let's worry about that later.” She leaned over and adjusted his pillows.

  Was that pity on her face? He frowned.

  "Worry about the rodeo later. While you're in here, you don't have to be a hero. We don't give prizes for he who endures the most agony. Don't try to tough it out."

  She walked out and he heard her speaking to someone. The door opened and Boyd Walton walked inside. Guess that hadn't been imagined after all.

  Great. Wonderful. The man hadn't wasted any time getting here. And he didn't waste any time speaking his mind.

  "Look Jericho, let's face facts. You won't be riding for the rest of the season. You have some very serious breaks. So let's talk about options, here."

  "I'm fine. I'll miss this one, maybe Richmond. The legs will heal,” he argued.

  It was a lost cause, though. He could see it in Boyd's eyes.

  "Yeah, they'll heal, but you will have months of physical therapy. I've talked to the doctor and our doctor on staff. As it is you'll be lucky if you have a next season."

  Jericho's chin jutted in defiance and pressed his head against the pillowcase. His eyes closed slowly and tightened. He could do this. A few weeks off and he'd be up and running.

  "No. Boyd, I'm fine."

  Boyd cut him off. “No you're not."

  Jericho was used to calling the shots. But now he wasn't a winner. He was broken.

  "You haven't made my job easy this week. Stephanie has been working overtime to make you look good. First the shouting match with that Sawyer woman last weekend, which made it onto the sports channel by the way, and now this. Why in the world did you have to come back here?” Boyd stood and walked to the window.

  "Is Stephanie here?” If so, he wanted to be sedated even more.

  "No, she's at the office trying to put a positive spin on this whole thing. She is presently working on getting you transferred to a Florida hospital."

  "Wait, who says I'm going to return to Florida? After what you've just told me basically, I'm fired..."

  "I did not fire you Jericho,” he said.

  "You took every bit of input I might have..."

  "Listen to me, Farrell, this little vacation of yours is costing me a bundle. We were on top. We were going to take that title this year and now ... now we'll do good to finish in the top twenty for the season. Why in the world did you have to make contact with these people?"

  His face fell. He had known Boyd was heartless. He just hadn't realized how heartless until now.

  "My grandmother, the woman who raised me, died."

  "She was already dead by the time they called. Face it. These people are losers, Jericho. You're not. The best thing you can do is get in the jet, go to the rehab center Stephanie has waiting for you in Florida and get your priorities back in order. Maybe you can still work with the horses."

  "I'm not going to Florida. I'm staying here."

  "If you stay here, your place with my organization is not guaranteed."

  Now the man was threatening him. Fine. He clenched his jaw, his anger carefully in check. “Not a problem."

  "Where in the world would you stay here? Bubba's Motel?” Boyd Walton had a derisive sneer as he shook his head.

  The door had opened and Eden was standing there. “I'm sorry didn't know you already had a visitor.” She was holding his son.

  How much had she heard? By the grim set of her mouth and her flushed cheeks, a great deal. And here she was charging in to protect him.

  "What are you doing here?” Boyd Walton looked down his nose at her. “Ready to spray him with mace again?"

  "Why she is here is none of your business."

  "If you stay, you are making the biggest mistake of your career.” Boyd warned.

  "Fine. I quit."

  "You can't quit. We have a contract."

  "I can and will. There is a clause in that contract that has a proviso for circumstances like this. I quit."

  Boyd backpedaled now. “Now don't make any rash decisions. You're not thinking clearly."

  Eden stood silent. It had to be killing her not to speak. He was certain that she would have been a very gifted and feared school teacher. She could flay a person with a few well chosen words.

  But she was silent. Amazing. Their eyes met and locked. How was it the woman who had become the bane of his very existence was suddenly his only ally?

  "I am thinking quite clearly. I am staying here.” He held Eden's gaze as he made the assertion.

  "I made you, Farrell.” Boyd Walton hissed. “I can destroy you. No one will hire you after I'm finished."

  "I think you overstate yourself.” Eden finally spoke. “My father would hire him back in an instant."

  Boyd shot Eden a dark look. “Call me when you come to your senses.” Boyd walked out of the room.

  Eden waited a full minute to speak. His eyes were riveted to the boy.

  "Jericho, this is Jeb.” Eden brought the child close to him. “Jeb, say hello to your father."

  Jeb looked at him. He was quite obviously pouting. “No.” Jeb looked down at him. The kid had piercing blue eyes.

  His son. His kid.

  "He's a stubborn little fellow.” Eden smiled. “Say hello,” she ordered.

  The little boy looked his way, but didn't say a thing. He just had a look of complete determination on his face. The kid—Jeb—definitely had a mind of his own.

  "Please,” Eden begged.

  "It's okay.” Jericho watched the child—his child. The little cuss was mad about something. He could tell. He knew his own facial expressions. Jericho shook his head and laughed. Maybe his life wasn't over after all.

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  Chapter Six

  His room was filled with fruit and flowers. He had so many he'd asked the nurses just to give him the cards and to please share the wealth with other patients who didn't have any. In a few days he'd be released. To where he didn't know.

  Eden had offered her place. It already had a ramp. She'd had it installed after his grandmother's stroke. She also already had a full house with Dylan and his darling daughter living in the basement.

  His choices were pretty much down to Eden's and an assisted living facility, though. This sucked.

  He focused on the flowers and the cards and not the doctor who was changing a dressing on his leg.

  "Your fans and family are certainly concerned."

  For the first time in his life, Jericho was contemplating the merits of shaving hi
s legs. Of course he couldn't reach them. But at least he wouldn't have to endure having his hair ripped out by the roots whenever his shrink wrap bandages were removed.

  "I talked to your mother.” Dr. Henson spoke after jerking out another forty or so hairs. Why couldn't they have shaved the whole area? Instead it was only strategic little spots. “She needed the reassurance that you were going to pull through and not going to do her physical harm. I told her unless she got within arm's reach she was okay.” Dr Henson gave him a little smile. “Eden came by and brought some things. And about five hundred fans are out in the parking lot. You're causing quite a stir, Mr. Farrell."

  "Sorry."

  "I heard what transpired with Mr. Walton. That was rather heartless of him."

  He nodded. “He's a businessman.” That sounded better than what he was thinking about Walton. Boyd was the one who didn't want to get within arms length.

  "Eden and your brother spoke to me. They want you to stay at her house when you get released. Which, by the way, will probably be day after tomorrow.” He kept snipping and pulling until he'd removed the whole bloody mess.

  His leg looked like sewed up hamburger. Black and blue hamburger.

  "Great.” Craig smiled. “This is healing fast."

  Right. Forget about wanting any breakfast.

  "I don't think I'm staying with Eden.” He tensed as the doctor prodded.

  "That's a good idea,” the doctor agreed.

  "How well do you know Eden?” Jericho asked.

  "We dated a few times.” He never looked up from his task.

  "You dated? Eden?"

  "Yeah, and I know something about her. She is a good person. She is an excellent nurse and she's a devoted mother. Very few people who want to go into the medical profession have a natural gift for it. She does. She loved being a nurse. It was a difficult decision for her to stop nursing after Jeb was born."

  "I was considering her offer. Her house has wheel chair accessibility. I'll need medical attention. She's a nurse. And if I need someone big to help me in and out of the wheelchair, Dylan is living in her basement."

  "It's completely up to you.” Craig seemed to barely hold onto his composure. He handed him a brown paper bag. “She dropped this by."