by Jodi Thomas
“May I help you?” Tyler asked out of habit.
“I’m here to get Autumn Smith. I’m taking her back where she belongs.” He puffed up like a rooster as he stood. “And nobody, including you, old man, is going to stop me.”
Tyler was taken off-guard by the stranger’s manner and by being called an old man. “What makes you think she’s here?” he asked, stalling for time while he tried to figure out what to do. No one had ever stormed the gates before.
“I found out her car had been impounded and they said she was in the hospital. The cop didn’t want to tell me where the hospital was until he found out I was her husband.” The man looked around as if trying to figure out what planet he was on. “One of the nurses at the hospital said she was working here.” The rooster glared at Tyler. “What kind of a place is this anyway?”
“It’s a funeral home,” Tyler said. “And I’m the owner.”
“Well, you don’t own Autumn. She lives with me and it’s time for her to come back where she belongs.”
“I wasn’t aware she had anywhere to go. She never mentioned a husband.” Tyler tried to stay calm, but the man looked like he belonged on a WANTED poster. His hands were fisted and blood pumped rapidly in the veins of his neck. Tyler wouldn’t have been surprised if he snorted like a bull and charged forward. “I would think if she wanted to live with you, she would have called you to come get her.” Tyler felt like he was trying to reason with a post.
The stranger made a move toward Tyler. “I’m through talking.”
Tyler jumped backward, hitting his leg hard against the hallway table and knocking a lamp over. The hundred-year-old glass shade shattered into tiny diamonds over the polished redwood floor.
“Autumn!” the man yelled. “You’d better get your butt out here before somebody gets hurt!”
Autumn appeared from the hallway leading to the kitchen. She looked frightened, but she carried a broom like a weapon.
“There you are, bitch!” He forgot Tyler and took a step toward her.
“I’m not going back with you, Leland.” Her voice shook as she raised the broom. “You are not my husband. You just moved into my place and started ordering me around like I was some dog you found on the street.”
“That’s bull. We were sleeping together. If you didn’t have me, you’d have nobody!” he screamed. “Your own family kicked you out!”
She shook her head. “You raped me the first night we met. Thanks to you, I was so drunk I didn’t even fight, and the second time when I said no, you hit me. After that I was too scared to fight and too dumb to run. But I’m not scared now. I don’t want to go back.” She swung the broom. “Do you hear me? I’m not going back.”
Tyler pressed against the wall, trying to choose his time. His hand brushed over the hallway phone no one ever used. Slipping the receiver off, he dialed 911, then moved to where he thought he could dive in front of this stranger if he got any closer to Autumn. Tyler had no hope he’d win in a fight, but maybe he could give Autumn time to run.
Leland smirked. “That was no rape. I just like it a little rough and you played along. I told you I’d let you keep that bastard you’re carrying.” He took a jab at her, hitting her hard in the stomach. “If you carry it full term.”
Tyler reacted. He jumped at the man, knocking him to the ground. On his side, Leland couldn’t swing, and Tyler managed to get off two blows before the bull made it to his knees and grabbed Tyler around the neck.
As Tyler fought for air, he heard the fire truck bell ringing and a police siren. Both were only two blocks away and must have reacted at once to his 911 call.
Leland heard them also because he dropped Tyler and tried to stand. “Come on!” he shouted at Autumn. “We’re getting out of here. I came looking for you, not trouble with the law.”
“No.” Autumn swung the broom at Leland, connecting with a loud thud across his back. Once. Twice, before the broom cracked and splintered.
Tyler gulped for air, then charged hard, as he’d always thought he would if he had to fight for his life. He caught the bull around his knees and pushed his whole body weight forward.
Leland wavered as if in a strong wind and toppled forward, leaving a head-sized dent in the paneling.
Tyler wasn’t sure in what order everything happened after that. It seemed to avalanche over him all at once. Two firemen, Willie Davis and Brandon Biggs, he thought, shoved their hands beneath his arms and picked Tyler up as if he weighed nothing. They must have carried him to a chair in the parlor, but he didn’t remember much about that part. Suddenly they were working on him like he was a dummy at first-aid training.
He could hear a deputy reading Leland his rights.
When Tyler turned his head enough to look, he saw Deputy Phil Gentry sitting on the bull of a man as he cuffed him. The EMT named Charlie bumped his way inside and yelled, “Do we have a real emergency, or are these two just ice-skating again?”
Phil told him to shut up and see about Autumn.
Tyler didn’t see Autumn at first, and for a moment he thought she’d done what he’d hoped she would do and run, but then he saw her bushel of hair at his knee. She was kneeling beside his chair crying.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Wright. I’m so sorry.”
Tyler felt like every spot on his body hurt. Besides his throat, and the leg that hit the table, he had scrapes all over him. But he managed to ignore all that and say calmly, “This wasn’t your fault. Let the EMT check you out. Don’t worry about this; right now we need to worry about the baby.”
“Baby?” both the firemen said at once.
Tyler looked at both the young firemen. In the few years they’d been volunteering, a few kitchen or grass fires were all they’d probably handled. “The intruder”—he felt no need to say anything about Autumn’s personal situation—“hit her hard in the stomach.”
Autumn looked up at both. “He would have killed me,” she said with tears streaming down her face, “if Mr. Wright hadn’t stopped him.”
Deputy Gentry stood, pulling Leland to his feet. He pointed with his head toward the firemen. “Do you think you two can help Charlie get her and Mr. Wright to the hospital? I’ve got my hands full with this one. Any man who’d hit a pregnant woman is going to get our special cell.” He shoved Leland along. “Sorry I haven’t had time to clean it since the drunk threw up in it last night.”
Tyler wanted to say he didn’t need to go to any hospital, but he was fighting to keep the room from spinning.
Willie knelt beside Autumn and asked her if she’d like him to carry her to the ambulance. He promised her it would be easier on her than trying to ride on Charlie’s gurney. Brandon Biggs helped Tyler stand, but didn’t offer to carry him. Phil shoved the handcuffed intruder out the door, telling him how much he hoped the guy would try to run.
Autumn slipped her hand into Tyler’s for just a second and whispered, “Thank you.” Then she let the firemen carry her.
Two hours later they were back in the Wright Funeral Home kitchen. Tyler had enough painkillers in him not to feel anything. They’d x-rayed him all over. Dr. Spencer told him simply, “The good news is you’ll live. The bad news is you’re going to feel like hell tomorrow.” Then, the very proper young doctor grinned and added, “Heroes often do, I understand.”
He’d frowned at her, wondering what she meant. He wasn’t a hero. If the firemen and deputy hadn’t arrived, it would have been only a matter of minutes before Leland stepped over Tyler’s body and took off with Autumn.
About the time he was beginning to think Dr. Spencer was all right, she’d added, “Mr. Wright, I suggest you take off a little weight. The next time you get in a fight, you might be in here with a heart attack.”
Next time, he thought. He’d lived forty years without getting into a fight. What were the chances he’d get in another one? But he’d told her, “I’ll do that.” Now, over a homemade chocolate-pecan pie, he was trying to come up with a weight-loss plan.
The two young firemen were eating and talking to Autumn as if Tyler were invisible.
“Autumn, you really need to learn self-defense,” Willie said. “Then you wouldn’t have to take any crap off some ex-boyfriend.”
“Yeah,” Brandon said. “Willie and me would be happy to come over and teach you.”
“I couldn’t ask for your time.” Autumn almost glowed beneath their attention.
Willie downed another bite. “You could pay us back in food. I’ve never tasted a pie this good. I’ve been living at the fire station for three years eating my own cooking, and it’s bad.”
“Believe him, Autumn.” Brandon added, “Trust me. It’s really bad. You’d probably be saving his life by having him skip a few meals he’s cooked.”
Autumn smiled. “Well, self-defense couldn’t hurt, I guess, and the doc said I need regular exercise.”
“Seems like a really good deal,” Brandon encouraged. “You feed us some evening and we’ll give you a lesson. Even a woman your weight could throw a man my size if you know a few tricks.”
Autumn looked at Tyler, and he nodded slightly. It seemed like a good idea right now to have two more men close. None of his staff would have been of any help even if they’d been here. For the price of a few meals, he’d like to have these boys around.
He saw that Little Lady was sleeping in her dog bed. When he clicked his fingers, she rushed over and waited for a treat. “Where were you, Lady, while the fight was going on?”
Willie laughed. “Maybe she’s a lover and not a fighter.”
“Yeah, like you.” Brandon poked Willie in the shoulder.
When Brandon poked him back, Willie and the hundred-year-old chair Tyler’s grandmother had brought over from Italy toppled.
Everyone laughed, including Tyler. Maybe it was time for a change, he decided. Might as well start with the furnishings.
Before he had a chance to slip Little Lady a treat, Autumn dropped a bite of something from her fingers. Little Lady instantly snapped it up. For a woman who wanted nothing to do with the dog, she was acting as if sometime this week the two had formed a truce.
Chapter 29
TRUMAN FARM
REAGAN WATCHED NOAH SITTING OUT IN THE YARD IN one of Uncle Jeremiah’s ancient lawn chairs. Everyone else had wandered back into the house for supper after watching the sun set, but Noah remained alone in the dark.
Jeremiah stood beside her, leaning heavily on a cane. “Winter’s about over. I imagine we’ll be getting into spring tornadoes before long. They say men half a world away run with the bulls through the streets. Out here on the plains we do the same thing every spring, only with twisters.”
She smiled at him. He always pointed out the downside to every season. “You’d think you would be able to predict the weather after watching it for ninety years.”
“Not true. I didn’t start watching until I was in my twenties. Give me a few more years to study it. I’m already as good as those guys on TV.”
She put her arm around his waist, steadying him. In a few minutes Foster would come with the chair and make him sit, but Jeremiah was tough; he pushed his time on his feet as far as he could every day.
Tonight, he let her help him a little as he continued to stare at Noah. “You know, during the war, I saw men who acted like your feller has this past week.”
“He’s not my feller, he’s my friend,” she corrected. “But that’s not important. What do you mean?”
Jeremiah just watched for a while, then said his thoughts. “He’s mighty brave, don’t you think?”
“Foolishly so. There aren’t many who’d climb on a bull one time much less several times a week. He’s had so many cuts and broken bones he carries a medical folder with him, just to save the emergency rooms time.”
“Does he talk about going back?”
She nodded. “Constantly.”
“Does he talk about when?”
She paused, surprised by the question. “No,” she finally said. “He doesn’t. Foster says he’s healing fine, so it shouldn’t be too long.” She frowned. “Though he still says his back keeps him awake even if the doctors can’t figure out what’s wrong. For Noah, rodeoing was always his dream. Now it’s his life. Maybe that’s why he seems so sad. He can’t wait to go back to it.”
Jeremiah patted her shoulder. “When I was in the war I saw men brave like Noah. They were always up, always helping others make it, always ready for the fight. Then, one day, one battle, they snapped. For some of those soldiers their wounds weren’t all that bad, but one day they just couldn’t go back into battle. Maybe they saw the end.”
“What happened?”
“Some went home. Some got talked back into staying in the fight. They ran into battle just like before, yelling and fighting their hearts out.”
“What happened? They became heroes?”
“A few. Most became dead. I think if you see your end and don’t change your fate because of honor, or fear, or maybe just because you can’t see another road, you might as well run all-out toward it.”
Reagan gulped down a sob. “What can we do?”
Jeremiah shook his head. “I think that’s why he wanted to come here. To figure it out. To find another answer. He’s got a lot of pressure to go back on the road. Living up to his father’s reputation, having the whole town thinking he’s living their dream, knowing he might never get the money to have that ranch he’s always planned if he doesn’t ride.”
Reagan knew her uncle was right as she watched Noah cuddling his broken arm and staring out into the night . . . into nothing.
“If he weren’t brave and proud, it wouldn’t be such a choice.”
Reagan turned her face into her uncle’s worn flannel shirt and silently cried. “You’re wrong about him leaving. You’re wrong.” She whispered the words, wanting to make them true. “He wants to go, he just doesn’t know when. He’s not afraid.”
He patted her shoulder. “I hope so, child. Lord, I hope so, but for some, young or old, when the death drum sounds there ain’t nothing to do but march to the beat.”
Chapter 30
THURSDAY
MARCH 11
DENVER DIDN’T MAKE IT BACK TO HARMONY FOR ALMOST two weeks. He felt like he’d flown around the world and back. Part of his delay was work, but most, he admitted to himself, came because he didn’t like the possibility that his grand affair with Claire might be over. If her family all knew, it was only a matter of time before someone let it slip. He wasn’t sure what she’d do, but he had a feeling whatever happened wouldn’t be good.
Claire liked being a person of mystery. It was both part of the image as an artist and part of her personality.
She’d left one message on his phone about being tied up for a while. Saralynn was going through another surgery, minor this time, and Claire wanted to stay in rehab with her.
Denver talked to Gabe and was told the family held out little hope that Saralynn would ever walk on her own. They’d been through this a dozen times. New doctors, new hope, and never more than slight improvements. Claire was the only one who never gave up, and Saralynn . . . well, for Saralynn, it was just a way of life. She never complained.
For the first time Denver realized that he wanted to be with Claire and Saralynn during this time. He wanted to hold Claire’s hand and make Saralynn laugh. Only he hadn’t been invited. Gabe checked in every few days, keeping him up on how Liz was coming along with the pregnancy and letting Denver know that Claire and Saralynn were back home.
A little after nine on Thursday morning, Denver called Gabe as he drove from the airport to Harmony.
“I’m inbound,” Denver said simply when Gabe picked up the phone.
“Glad to hear you’re back. Liz went with her mother for a doctor checkup and then they planned to eat lunch over at Winter’s Inn.” Gabe sounded frustrated. “So I’m home worrying about her.”
Denver laughed. “Do you ever let her out of your sight?”
“No,
” Gabe admitted. “Not if I can help it. She’s threatening to file charges on me for stalking. I tell you, some days it’s hell being married to a lawyer.”
“I’ve got to pick up some groceries.” Denver laughed at how pitiful Gabe sounded. “How about meeting me in an hour at Buffalo’s? We’ll have some wings and beer and I’ll catch up with what’s been going on in town.”
“Sure,” Gabe said. “That’s the one place in this town I know I won’t run into my wife or mother-in-law. Buffalo’s sounds a great deal better than the B&B.”
He laughed. “Any other day I wouldn’t be too sure Martha Q wouldn’t be at Buffalo’s. Years ago she was the queen of that bar. They say she picked up more drunk cowboys there than the bouncer. Word was once they sobered up and didn’t run fast, she married them.”
“Surely not sweet little old Martha Q?” Denver used his best southern drawl.
“You haven’t been around here long.”
Denver didn’t argue. Two or three days home at a time was usually all he got. This time he had until Monday. “Do you think Claire knows I’m home?” Somehow it felt good to be able to talk about her directly with Gabe.
“Sure. I mentioned it to Liz this morning and she’ll tell her mother, who, of course, will say something in front of Claire.” Gabe laughed. “I swear, Lieutenant, only women should be in the CIA. They got a network you wouldn’t believe. To give one example, Aunt Pat found out that Noah McAllen was hiding out over at the Truman place because he didn’t want his sister to know he got hurt again. Pat didn’t tell Alex because she knew the McAllens were on the first real vacation they’d had in years and Alex was bound to call and tell them. So Aunt Pat climbs in the cart when that nurse, Foster Garrison, comes over to the ranch house to start Saralynn’s exercises. She rides over to old Truman’s farm and says she’s there to help.”
