KNIGHT IN A WHITE STETSON

by Claire King

  "They'll take care of her," he said. "You'll just be in the way." He smiled lasciviously. "Did you see the mammaries on that nurse? I'd like to bury my face in those for a day or two." Henry stared after the gurney as it disappeared into an examining room. "I should be with her. She might need me."

  Pete stopped a passing nurse. "Honey, if that girl that just came in wakes up, you let us know ASAP, will you? Her boyfriend here is a nervous little thing."

  The nurse puffed up like a sage hen. "I'm not your honey, buster."

  Pete winked at her. "Your loss. But you'll let us know, won't you?"

  She glared at him. "I guess."

  "Thanks, baby." Pete grinned foolishly. "I'll buy you dinner later, huh?"

  "Yeah. I'll invite my husband and my five kids along, too." She flounced off toward Calla's room. Pete shivered.

  "Five kids? Yikes. Imagine what it costs to feed them all. Come on, Doc. Let me buy you a cup of coffee."

  Henry allowed himself to he led across the entrance to the small waiting room. A pot of old coffee and a pile of papercups sat on a table in the corner. Pete poured two cups and handed one to Henry.

  "Sit down, for crying out loud. You look like hell."

  "Thanks." Henry took a swig of coffee. It burned all the way down. He watched a middle-aged male doctor enter Calla's examining room.

  "No, I mean it. You look like hell. What the hell happened out there?"

  "Some small-town lunatic named Dick Dupree tried to toss Calla off a cliff."

  "You're kidding."

  "Do you think that's something I'd kid about, Pete?" He took another drink from his cup and leaned against the open doorway, his eyes on the closed curtain of the examining room where they were keeping Calla.

  Was she still asleep? What was taking them so long?

  "You killed the guy, I presume?"

  "Didn't have to. He did it himself."

  "That's lucky."

  "Not for Calla. She watched the whole thing."

  "Too bad." Pete paused. "But she's tough. She'll get over it."

  "Probably." Henry tightened a fist around his cup. "I may not, though."

  "What do you mean?"

  "She was dangling off a two-hundred-foot sheer rock cliff, Pete. And that maniac was kicking her over. I watched her dig holes in the dirt with her fingers, trying to keep alive until I got to her." Henry shook his head bitterly. "I almost didn't. Every time I think about it, I want to puke."

  "Combat fever. It'll pass."

  "I screwed up, Pete. She could have died."

  "But she didn't." Pete gave him a boisterous clap on the back. "That's the important thing, isn't it?"

  "Don't try to cheer me up. Calla's not going to punish me for this, so I'm going to have to do it on my own. I expect you to help me."

  "Suit yourself. You suck."

  Henry almost smiled. "Thanks."

  The doctor left Calla's room. A nurse parted the curtain and crooked a finger at Henry. He handed his coffee cup to Pete. "Wait here. I want to talk to you about something later."

  "I live to serve you."

  Henry strode down the hall and yanked open the curtain. Calla was prone on an examining table, but her eyes were bright again and she was smiling at him.

  Someone had cleaned the abrasions on her face and arms, and, he presumed, the rest of her. She was draped in a loose, white hospital gown and covered lightly with a thin, cotton sheet. One swollen ankle was elevated but as yet unwrapped, and a nurse was expertly bandaging her right shoulder. Another nurse, a man, was hooking a saline bag onto an intravenous drip system that was stuck into the crook of Calla's arm.

  "Hey," she said.

  Henry nearly collapsed with relief. She looked almost like Calla again. She wasn't the gray-faced trauma victim she'd been in the helicopter. He gripped the side of her narrow little bed to keep himself from sliding to his knees.

  "Hey," he managed to reply.

  "Are you okay? You look terrible."

  Henry smiled. "You're not the first person to tell me that."

  "Did you call home?" Calla asked.

  "No. I sent Lester home in my pickup. He'll let them know what happened. I'll call them in a bit."

  "Good idea." She frowned, and Henry saw that the effort made her wince. "It's late, isn't it? They'll want to go to bed."

  "I don't think anybody is going to be doing much sleeping tonight, Calla."

  "You are. You look exhausted."

  "I'm fine, Calla."

  Calla looked at him skeptically, but decided not to pursue the argument. "Damn that Lester." She smiled wearily. "He was kind of a hero today, wasn't he?"

  "Yes, he was."

  "He'll never let me live it down, you know."

  Henry smiled again. "You'll probably even have to give him a pay raise."

  "A raise? Not likely."

  The male nurse shot a syringe filled with clear liquid into the intravenous tube. Henry watched carefully.

  "What is that?" he asked suspiciously.

  "For the pain."

  After a moment, Calla closed her eyes. "Mmm. That's lovely."

  Henry refocused on her. "How do you feel?"

  "Boneless. Skinless. I feel like a boneless, skinless chicken breast."

  Henry stroked her dust-matted hair back from her forehead. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

  "Henry, that was a joke," Calla said gently, her eyes still closed. "What's the matter with you? Everything is all right now. We're safe."

  He swallowed the sickening swelling in his throat. "No thanks to me. God, Calla, I'm so sorry."

  Calla opened her eyes and searched his face. "No thanks to you? Henry, I would be at the bottom of Tellum Canyon right now if it weren't for you."

  Henry pulled himself together with an effort. He waited a moment as the last of the nurses filed from the room. "We'll discuss it later. Right now, I want to know what the doctor said about your ankle and your shoulder."

  "No, Henry. I want to talk about it now. You saved me, Henry. You saved my life. You came to my rescue, just like I knew you would." She tried to scoot forward into a sitting position, but the effort made her wince and she fell back on the thin pillow. "I'm so sorry about stupid Clark. I knew the minute I saw him I couldn't go through with it. I'm sorry I hurt you, Henry. I'm sorry I scared you. I hurt me, too. Leaving you standing in the driveway … I thought it might actually kill me."

  She gripped his hand with her swollen fingers, kissed it. Henry noticed that two of her fingernails had been ripped from their bases. Nausea came to him in a wave.

  "And even though … even after I was such an idiot, the whole time I was out there with Dupree, I knew you would come. I knew that no matter where he took me and no matter what he did to me, you would find me. I knew it. I have never had as much faith in anything or anyone in my life, Henry. And I was right. You found me and you saved me."

  "Calla," Henry said very quietly, "what am I going to do with you?"

  "You'll think of something."

  She closed her eyes then, and sighed one of those breathy little sighs he loved. He kept brushing back her hair, content to watch over her as she slept.

  But she wasn't asleep. Eyes still closed, she took his hand. "Henry? He was wrong, wasn't he? Dupree? I don't have to pay anymore for Benny's and my mother's deaths. Do I? Because I want to be happy again." Henry felt his heart rend into tiny pieces. He wondered if it would ever come back together. "I want you. I don't want the ranch more than I want you. It's been a long time, Henry, but I do think I can be happy again."

  "You'll be happy, Calla. I swear."

  She smiled sleepily.

  "I believe you." Henry saw she was starting to drift on drugs and exhaustion. She yawned. "Do you think we could have a baby? I would like to have a baby."

  Henry kissed her. "We'll have twenty babies, Calla."

  "Twenty?" Calla closed her eyes again. "We could never afford twenty babies."

  There was a rustling
of curtains. Henry turned, expecting to see a doctor.

  "May I come in?" Pete stood, grinning like a Cheshire cat, at the entrance to the tiny examining room. His upper body was almost completely obscured by an enormous bouquet of flowers.

  "Hi, Pete." Calla grinned groggily. "I'm afraid I'm not naked. You might want to come back later when I'm undressed again."

  "I've come bearing gifts." He handed Henry the flowers without a glance in his direction. "Take these." He went to Calla's bed and clasped her hand in his with great emotion. "How are you, darling? I've been frantic."

  "I'm fine, Pete."

  "You're hurting her hand, you schmuck," Henry growled from behind the flowers.

  Pete smoothed the sore hand back onto the white sheet. "I was overcome."

  "Come off it, Pete."

  "You stay out of this, Mitch. This is between Calla and myself, right, Calla? You didn't even bother to bring her any flowers."

  "Where did you get this ridiculous bouquet, anyway?" Henry grumbled. "It fills up the whole damn room."

  "Ever hear of a hospital gift shop?" Pete shook his head sadly at Calla. "What do you see in him?"

  Calla looked up, met Henry's brown eyes. "Must be something."

  "Well, I'll step aside then, darling."

  "As if you had a choice," Henry muttered, his eyes never leaving Calla's. "Come on, Pete. Let her sleep." He leaned over Calla's bed, pressed a kiss to her battered forehead. "I'll be here when you wake up."

  He pulled Pete into the hall, shoving the flowers at a passing nurse. Without preamble, he said, "I want out, Pete."

  "You are out. Relatively speaking."

  "I mean really out. I'm giving Frank the formula research diskettes and the information I've kept on him. In exchange, I want him to forget I exist, and I want him to make sure the CIA and anybody else who might be nosing around forgets it, too."

  Pete narrowed his eyes at him. "You're jerking me."

  "No, I'm not. I can't go on like this. I'm not like you, Pete. I can't live this half life anymore. I want kids, a home. I want a life."

  "And you want Calla."

  "Calla is all that for me, Pete."

  "And you're willing to give up the formula for her?"

  "I found out today I'm willing to give up my life for her."

  "What about your famous moral dilemma? Frank's going to give the formula to the Pentagon faster than you can blink. Worse, if he figures out he can't live on a lieutenant colonel's pension, he may keep it until he retires and then sell it to the highest bidder. There's no telling what will happen to it, then."

  "I'm giving Frank my personal research disks, not mixing up a batch for him, Pete. There is ten years' worth of trial and error encoded into those disks. It'll take him years just to find someone who can break the code, much less calculate which of the formulas actually works. Frank won't be just retired by then, he'll be dead."

  "But in the meantime, he'll think he outwitted and outwaited the brilliant Dr. Johannsen?"

  "That's the idea."

  "You're a freaking genius."

  "That's what I've been told."

  The nurse poked her head around a corner and glared at them. "Keep it down, please. This is a hospital."

  "And I'm in need of some medical attention." Pete leered at her. "Now, you haven't got five kids, have you, honey? Look at your waist. I could put my hands around it." The nurse gave an exasperated groan and disappeared. "Wait, honey. I just want to talk to you a minute." Pete started after her, then turned back to Henry. "I'll see you around."

  Henry smiled. "Probably not. I'll have a courier send everything to the colonel at the lab."

  "He'll probably dance all over his office, he'll be so happy."

  "Wonderful mental image, Pete. I think your nurse is getting away."

  "Yeah." He peered down the hall. "See you, Henry."

  "Henry?"

  Pete grunted distractedly, his attention still on his nurse. "Well, it suits you. You always were an old-fashioned kind of guy."

  "I'm touched." Henry put out his hand, and Pete took it solidly in his own. "You've been a friend, Pete."

  "Thanks. I never did Heidi, you know. Too much the cold Nordic goddess for my tastes. But I'd do that cowgirl in a minute."

  "I'll take that as approval, I guess. But don't come to the wedding."

  "Yeah." Pete grinned. "I won't. Now, where did that nurse go? God, I love a woman in a white uniform. Maybe she'll let me play doctor."

  * * *

  Calla's homecoming was an elaborate affair. And a crowded one.

  A small swarm of well-wishers at the front gate greeted the rental car Henry had hired in Boise for the drive home. They waved and knocked on the windows as Henry eased the car into the gravel driveway.

  "They're smiling," Calla said warily, "so I guess that means they're not here to slap me around for losing them the only town banker, huh?"

  "I'll slap you around myself if I ever hear you say that again," Henry said.

  Calla snuggled into him. "Not once I heal up, you won't. I could whup you with one arm tied behind my back."

  Henry ogled her foolishly, making her laugh. "Speaking of one arm tied behind your back, you think we might try that sometime?"

  "You're sick, you know that? And you look like Pete when you do that."

  He nuzzled her ear. "Plus, I've been meaning to talk to you about your chaps."

  "My chaps?"

  He whispered, making her laugh. "Okay, I might do that."

  Lester opened the car door, cleared his throat with great ceremony, and waited while Henry came around to lift Calla from the car.

  "I can use the crutches," she told him. "Put me down. Everybody's watching."

  He ignored her and swept her up the back steps and into the kitchen. When he got her settled in a chair in the kitchen, Lester eyed her up and down.

  "Well," he drawled dramatically, as much to the burgeoning group of admirers swelling the kitchen as to his injured employer, "I guess this means you're not going to be much use to me around this place for a while." He shook his head mournfully. "Once again, all the work falls on Lester."

  "Come here, Lester," Calla said.

  Lester took a grave step forward.

  "Thank you for everything. I can't say as I love you any better after what you did for me, but I don't hate you any worse." She blew him a little kiss.

  Lester was stricken. "Dammit to hell. I knew you was going to make me pay for this," he shouted, stamping one dusty, boot-covered foot on the linoleum in frustration. "Twenty-five years of training, down the drain. Now I'll be expected to be nice to you all the time. Well, it'll probably kill me, is all. It'll probably kill me."

  Calla laughed, that wonderful belly laugh that had made him fall in love with her, Henry thought. He should be telling her that, soon. As soon as he could clear a path through her fellow Paradisians.

  He watched Calla like an overprotective mama while the crowd of townspeople milled around her kitchen, soothing and patting and gleaning every gram of gossip they could. When he saw her lashes dip to her cheeks and stay there for a moment too long, he shouldered his way through them to Calla's side. Where he belonged.

  Calla looked up at him gratefully.

  "Hey," she said.

  He knelt beside her.

  "You look tired."

  "I am, kind of. I've had a busy weekend."

  Henry smiled. "Yes, you have." He scooped her up out of her chair effortlessly and turned to make his way upstairs. Paradisians parted in front of him like sheep.

  "If I was her daddy, I'd put a slug in you before I'd let you carry my daughter around like that," someone shouted. The crowd laughed.

  Henry smiled and shook his head. "I'm just taking her up to bed."

  "Yeah," another voice rang out, "that's what we're afraid of."

  More raucous laughter.

  "This town loves a good party, doesn't it?" he whispered in Calla's ear.

  She leaned he
r head against his shoulder. "What town?"

  He carried her sideways up the narrow stairs and set her on her bed. The noise from the kitchen came through the floor, but Calla seemed not to notice. She yawned and stretched carefully.

  "I can't understand why I'm so tired. I never take naps in the afternoon."

  "I guess you're just lazy," Henry said as he kicked off his boots and slid cautiously into bed beside her. "You've been lying around for days."

  "Take your clothes off, Henry."

  Henry closed his eyes and burrowed his head in the pillow next to her. "You're in no condition for that."

  "You wish. I wasn't talking about that. You shouldn't sleep in your new clothes. I can't believe you bought us both new clothes just to come home in, anyway. We're on a tight budget around here, Henry."

  Henry allowed himself to float into sleep on the sound of her scolding. "I have a job," he reminded her.

  "I only pay you $850 a month, cowboy. And after the ranch is sold, you won't even have that job. You may have to go back to being a brilliant chemical doctor or whatever you are."

  "Calla?"

  "Yes?" She already had her fingers in his hair and was stroking his head gently.

  "You're not selling the ranch."

  She felt tears come to her eyes. She hadn't cried for years, and all of a sudden it seemed she was weeping every time someone spoke her name.

  "I am, Henry."

  "No. You're not."

  "Yes. I am. I have to. Dupree may be gone, but that balloon payment is just a few months away. I'll never raise the money in time."

  "Calla…"

  "No, Henry, listen. You think this will break my heart, but it won't. I found out yesterday what would break my heart and what wouldn't." She snuggled closer. "This won't."

  "Calla, do you think you could shut up for a second?"

  "That's rude. I always … oh, okay."

  "Do you remember the story I told you about leaving my patent for Perfect Soil with AgriFactor?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, you didn't think I just gave it to them, did you?"

  There was a short pause. Calla tried to wriggle over on her side. "Ow."

  Henry opened his eyes and looked reprovingly at her. "Be careful. You're not supposed to move that shoulder."

  "Stop mothering me. So, you're rich?" she asked.