Branding A Legacy (A Silver Star Ranch Novel)

by Bellus, HJ

  His comment can’t be further from the truth, but with my shoulder throbbing, the hollers from Weston, and the blade held to Jose’s neck, I can’t find the words to argue back.

  “Your granddad screwed over my family back in the day, and not to mention your old man knocking up my wife.” Saint lands a punishing blow across my cheek. “It’s time you get what’s coming.”

  Saint steps to the side giving me full view of Jose. He gives his man a nod that has Jose under a knife. Shrieks and cries fill the air when the shiny silver blade slices across his skin. My head swims fighting to make sense of everything when my eyes roll back.

  “Wake his ass up now.”

  My arm is twisted further behind my back causing me to drop to my knees and bringing me right back to reality. Streams and streams of deep red liquid flows down Jose’s chest. He gurgles, fighting for air, as his escaping breath has no hope of living, but it never stops him from fighting for his next breath of air. After several minutes of him fighting to live he finally collapses in a slump in the man’s arms.

  “Next,” Saint demands.

  Weston is brought around the front of the truck. His face is already bloody and swollen.

  “No.” My cracked lip stings when I finally fight to say a word. “Not him. Me. Come for me, Saint, you fucking coward.”

  His laugh is piercing and fills the night air. It’s a sound I know I’ll never forget. He sends another nod to the two men who have Weston.

  “No.” I protest over and over as I watch my best friend drop to the ground from the brutal force.

  His screams of agony are lost in my pleas for them to stop. They never take out a knife to finish him off as fists and boots fly. Flashes of silver fleck before my eyes but I refuse to understand the situation, and when Weston’s body goes limp underneath their torture, I give in letting the inevitable reign.

  2

  Clover

  “All on-call nurses down to the ER stat.”

  I finish documenting the chart in front of me before the intercom message fully sinks in.

  “Clover, that’s you. Get.”

  I look up to the doctor I’m following for the next month. Mistake after mistake today, and now this.

  “Is it a meeting?” I nearly roll my eyes at the stupid question that leaves my lips.

  “Go,” he roars.

  My clogs hit the ground as I sprint for the ER. They all said that the internship would be the most exciting part of your career, but for me in this small-scale hospital, it’s been nothing but a nightmare. It doesn’t help being hundreds of miles away from home.

  When I push open the swinging doors to the ER, I’m surrounded by chaos. My body freezes as several voices shout over others while blood covers several scrubs and the floor. I’m paralyzed when the graphic scene assaults me. You see this on the television shows and in textbooks, but it’s something you’d never think of experiencing first hand.

  “Clover.” The head ER nurse grabs me by the wrist and stuffs a pair of latex gloves in my hands. “Apply pressure to his head wound.”

  My hands tremble as I fight to get my fingers in the gloves. The patient lets out a groan of pain, taking me back. His face has been beaten beyond recognition with several open wounds covering his skull. All of his clothing is ripped and shredded. His body goes in and out of seizures.

  “We need an airway,” the doctor screams.

  “What about the other victim?”

  “Dead on arrival,” a paramedic reports.

  I focus on the job, steadying my nerves and narrowing in on the science of the job. My hands cover the bleeding wounds on the patient’s skull. Several streams of blood pour from his head and I do my best to cover all of them.

  “Hold steady, Clover.”

  I watch the doctor and nurse fight to open an airway. When the tube nearly reaches its destination the patient flat lines.

  “Stand back.” The doctor holds the paddles up, charging them before he applies them to the bare chest of the patient. The sound of the flat line fills the room leaving little hope. My hands itch to get back to work on him.

  We all sit in silence as the doctor fights to save the man’s life. Shock after shock provides the same result.

  “Ten twenty-six time of death.” He pulls the gloves from his hands in defeat. “I’ll go talk to the families.”

  I remain frozen, staring down at the lifeless body and wonder for a second what more could I have done, and then thoughts race through my mind. He’s someone’s son, brother, husband, and I just watched him take his last breath.

  “Clover.” I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Clover, you can go back up to ICU.”

  I turn to look at the head nurse, Paisley, who’s been a second mom to me since arriving in town last week.

  “No one should experience this on their first night.” She tosses her mask down to the ground. “Hell, I’ve never seen something so horrible in the last twenty years.”

  My sight goes back to the lifeless body that’s been brutally mutilated lying on the table and my thought automatically goes to his mother. My stomach takes a leap, forcing me to hold back a gagging sound. The swinging door opens up, derailing my spiraling thoughts. The doctor walks back in followed by two men. I should remember his name, but there have just been too many new faces.

  “Maverik and Merek, I warned you it’s not pretty. Just need you to identify him.”

  I’m not sure what’s more painful—the dead man or the grief-stricken men standing before me. They’re men of men dressed in cowboy hats, boots, and western shirts. Both tall, fit, and sharp-looking even through the distress displayed on their faces.

  The one on the right cringes when he peers down at the man.

  “Don’t look, Merek, turn away now.” The man, who I have figured out to be Maverik, shoves the other man back from the table. “It’s Weston.”

  His voice hitches in his throat but no tears flow from his eyes. Maverik must know the guy lying lifeless on the metal table yet shows no emotion. I want to scream for the poor victim. Someone needs to know their loved one is gone.

  “How do you know, Maverik?” The doctor steps up to the man, placing his hand on his shoulder.

  “The tattoo on his forearm.” He runs his finger along the skin of the man, retracts his fingers, and then shudders. “When they were sixteen, Weston got his ranch’s brand and Marvel got ours.”

  Merek then drops to his knees and begins pounding the tile with his fists. The doctor and Maverik help him to his feet, and all of a sudden I feel like I’m a peeping tom in a scene where I don’t belong.

  “Merek, there’s still hope. Hang on,” the doctor reassures him.

  “Hope? How in the hell do we hold out fucking hope?” His voice drips with rage and uncontrollable anger. “We lost Granddad tonight. Challis called right before we got the call about the accident.”

  “Merek, no one else has passed away here this evening. Just the two from this accident.” I hear the doctor offer to Merek.

  “Challis called and said he was pronounced dead.” Confusion along with relentless tears cascade down Merek’s face as he fights for oxygen and his next words. “He’s dead.”

  The doctor turns to Paisley and demands, “Find Old Man Slatter now.”

  “Marve Slatter?” I ask.

  “Yes.” The doctor eyes me up and down as if silently asking who the hell I am.

  “He’s up in ICU.” With all eyes on me suddenly, I’d give anything to blend into the walls.

  “Clover, take the Slatter boys up to their granddad.” Paisley turns to the two men. “You’ll be expected to follow all the rules of the ICU. No strong arming, boys.”

  I don’t miss the stare she shoots my way, letting me know not to get pushed around. She already has me pegged for a pushover and a softhearted freak. It’s one of the reasons I entered the nursing field, because I love taking care of others. I’m now learning that the ER and trauma is not for me at all.

  “Walk,” Me
rek growls in my face.

  “Merek Slatter, I’ll whip your ass just like I did when I used to babysit you.” Paisley pulls him by the arm and heads for the swinging doors. “I know you’re hurting, worried, and upset, but keep your damn head on your shoulders.”

  “Thanks, Miss P.” Maverik hugs her quickly before following me.

  “Elevators or stairs?” My tongue feels ginormous in my mouth, making my words sound weak, feeble, and most of all pathetic.

  “Quickest fucking way,” Merek says.

  The elevator dings and the doors slide open to an empty elevator. “Elevator.” I nod to them.

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry, it’s not a good time.”

  “It’s fine. I understand.” I press the button to the third floor for the ICU. “Your granddad’s heart had to be shocked, but it’s keeping a steady rhythm now.”

  “Why would Challis say…” I hear Merek start but he doesn’t finish his question before Maverik sucker punches him in the gut.

  “Enough, Merek, your temper won’t help shit right now.”

  The elevator crawls at a snail’s pace. I feel the sweat beads begin to form on my forehead as each second ticks by.

  “Where is he at, Merek?”

  “That bastard has him and is fucking toying with us,” Merek answers.

  “You go to Challis and confirm Granddad’s condition. I’m calling the sheriff,” Maverik states.

  “Okay.” Merek leans back on the elevator wall scrubbing his hand over his face. “Where are Ella and lil’ Mav?”

  “They’re downstairs in the lobby. She just texted me. I told her to stay there until I came down to get them.”

  The elevator dings, the door slowly separates, and the men exit without another word. The pain coating their voices was amazingly intense. My heart hurts for all involved and I don’t even have a clue who they are.

  A brunette, who I assume is Challis, goes flying into Merek’s arms crying and trying to talk all at once. Not one of her words is coherent until he sits on a couch and places her in his lap. He begins to tenderly brush back her hair and talk to her in a soothing voice. I had no clue he had it in him.

  “Calm down, Verde.”

  “He’s not dead. My phone died,” she whispers.

  He tucks her face into his chest and begins to rock her. He sends Maverik a nod before I turn my back and fight like hell to remember what I should be doing. Then I remember seeing Maverik’s arm was bleeding through some bandages.

  “Sir, you should really go back to the ER and get that checked out.”

  He stares at me blankly, so I point to his arm.

  “Clover?”

  “Yes.” He catches me off guard as I peer down to my name badge that’s flipped the wrong way only showing the back of it. The elevator then dings loudly and we all turn to see a very pregnant blonde beauty step off of it, and that’s when all the pieces fall into place.

  I remember it like yesterday. It was the first job I had here in town when I moved here to be with my uncle and cousins. I worked at an OB doctor’s office and it only took me a few short weeks to realize it wasn’t my cup of tea at all.

  I was there when Dr. Philips told Maverik and his wife, whose name escapes me at the moment, they’d be having a boy and a girl. It was the one moment at that job that was really special and life altering. Just to see the joy covering their happy faces and the excitement that filled the room was electrifying.

  My vision then goes back to Maverik’s bloody arm. It looks like it could be a deep wound from all the blood still oozing through.

  “Maverik.” His wife is in his arms before I have a chance to convince him to get his injury taken care of immediately.

  “Clover.” I turn to see the charge nurse with her hands on her hips standing outside one of my patient’s rooms. She hasn’t been the friendliest, but I love working on the ICU floor and am determined to win her over.

  “Coming.” I turn back to the couple that is deep in conversation. I don’t even try to interrupt them as I see she is beyond pissed about his bleeding arm.

  I jog over to Martha and get ready to explain everything to her.

  “Clover, you need to take that man into a room and get his arm cleaned up.”

  “Okay.” She kind of throws me for a loop since I was preparing for my ass to get shredded.

  “You’ve done a great job tonight. All of your charts and patients are taken care of and then we pulled you downstairs into that mess.” She runs her hands over her tired face. “This isn’t a normal night but means a lot that you can keep up.”

  “Thank you, Martha.” I curse my damn unsteady, shaky voice that makes me sound like a frightened little kid.

  “Take him into room twelve and get his arm cleaned up. Call me in when it’s clean and I’ll take a look.”

  “I can walk him back downstairs. I just came up the elevator with him.”

  Martha lets out an over-exaggerated laugh that causes me to step back from her.

  “Oh, honey, if you think you’re going to pull a Slatter out of this room then you’re not as smart as I thought you were. Those two boys over there run their own show and won’t leave their granddad.” Martha pats my shoulder. “But really good job tonight. Just go get him cleaned up and then we will see if he needs more than stitches and call up the doctor.”

  My guts churn as I turn back to the scene I must conquer and know my only saving grace is Ella, or at least that’s what I think her name is. Merek is beyond fucking scary, but Maverik may just be all right with Ella at his side.

  “Um, if you go to room twelve I can take a look at your arm.”

  The towering man looks down at me as if I have two heads.

  “What?”

  The tone of his voice is harsh but nothing compared to Merek’s.

  “Your arm.” I gesture one more time.

  This time he looks down and it’s as if he knows and damn near surrenders to me. I know he’s trying to keep his very pregnant wife appeased and not worry her as he bends down gently whispering into her ear and standing upright to face me. It’s like he’s a completely different animal when he’s around her. I remember the day of the ultrasound and the tender caress coating his voice.

  The same tones come from him as he eases her down to a comfortable seat in the waiting room and then instructs his son, at least I assume it’s his son since he looks like him, to stand by her. His chivalrous ways causes goose bumps to travel up the length of my spine. The days of princes rescuing the princesses from the castles have long since ceased, but standing before me, during the most traumatic night of my life so far, may be a real life, living, walking, and breathing prince.

  “Thank you for not alarming my Ella,” he says as he settles his large frame on the edge of the table.

  “No worries.” It comes out easy and relaxed. It may be the first time that I muster up the ease in front of a conscious patient to hold a conversation. I know it’s why I love the ICU so much. The patients are out and never make me feel uncomfortable. Shit, as sick and demented as it sounds it’s the truth.

  “My little brother is missing.”

  The statement is strange and dark, and I can only nod. A nod that doesn’t fit the conversation, but I fight like hell not to make the situation awkward.

  “Maybe out with a friend?” I offer as I unwrap the makeshift bandage from his arm.

  “No, it’s not that.”

  The wound to his arm is deep and much worse than the bandage presents. It’s a miracle it stopped bleeding as much as it did. It seems the bleeding was contained just in time. The large cut lays diagonal across his palm, stopping right above his wrist.

  I’m not sure if it’s his cowboy toughness or adrenaline running through his veins from the scene we both just witnessed downstairs in the emergency room, but a wound like this would cause anyone to drop to their knees.

  “I thought that man was my little brother.”

  I continue to pour the cleaning solution over his
wound, trying to get it flushed as best as possible for the doctor to take a look. It will definitely require stitches and possible surgery to prevent nerve damage.

  “Excuse me?” I look up into his sad brown eyes.

  “That was his best friend who was dead on the table. His name is Weston. Marvel was with him.”

  “I’m so sorry. Do the cops know he’s missing?”

  “Yeah.” The tone of his voice is deflated and hopeless. “The law really doesn’t matter in this situation.”

  The amount of pressure I apply to his wound would cause anyone to squirm in pain, yet he remains still as a statue. I choose to change the subject.

  “So, your granddad is a fighter? Came in all but dead?” I have his arm all prepped for the doctor to come in and check it out. “He told us all he had a lot left to fight for.”

  My last words cause a smirk to spread across his face. “Yeah, he is a stubborn old fart. How’s he doing?”

  “Stable now after we got his heart going again.”

  “Shit.” He uses one hand to scrub over his face. “I never knew growing up would be this difficult.”

  “Yeah, it sucks.” I smirk back and remember all the damn reasons I left my hometown, and, hell, even state. “I’m going to go grab the doctor. Want me to send Ella in?”

  “Sure.” He nods and then tosses his large black felt hat to the floor. “More than likely she’d just barge her way in otherwise.”

  The warm tap water rushes onto my fingertips as I wash up before preparing to call the doctor in. “Yeah, she probably would.”

  I might not know a lot or have seen many things in my life, but I know the look of determination, and his wife Ella had that stamped all over her face.

  “Thanks.”

  His single word takes me back. It’s something I wasn’t expecting from him.

  “Um…you’re welcome.” I grip the handle to the door and look back at the poor man. He’s beat up physically and mentally. It’s a hard picture to grasp seeing a grown, strong adult belittled and sitting hopeless in front of you. “I’m sure they’ll find your brother.”