Bulletproof Heart

by Sheryl Lynn

  She blinked back tears. “I don’t know. Will Joey be all right?”

  “Probably. You Rifkins are a hardheaded bunch. I’ve patched him up for worse after a bull ride.”

  Dr. Nelson wasn’t given to false optimism. Emily’s smile widened. “When can I see him?”

  “His body temperature is still below normal. I’ve got to keep an eye on the brain swelling. Worst case, we’ll have to transport him to Denver.”

  “Brain surgery?”

  “Worst case, Emily,” he said kindly. “Now, like I said, we’re calling the sheriff. He’ll have to figure out how this happened.” He nodded at Reb, who stood in a corner with his hat pulled down low and his hands in his pockets. “Who’s your friend?”

  “My hired hand.”

  “Hired or not, you treat him like a friend and lean on his shoulder. Go on over to the café and get some decent coffee. Give me another hour to get the boy warmed up. I’ll be able to tell you then if we need to transport him.”

  She waited until she and Reb were seated in a back booth at the Humbolt Station Café before telling him what the doctor had told her. Reb’s anger showed in the icy flatness of his eyes and the tension in his forehead. She loved him all the more for his quiet rage.

  “You saved Joey’s life,” she said. “I couldn’t have found him without you.”

  The waitress, a chunky woman in her fifties whom Emily recognized but whose name she couldn’t recall, brought coffee to the table. As she set the cups before them, she said, “Sorry to hear about your brother. Is he hurt bad?”

  News traveled fast around the valley. Emily figured by nightfall every person within thirty miles would know more about Joey’s condition than she did. “Dr. Nelson said he’ll be all right.”

  “The old Double Bar R,” the waitress said, shaking her gray head. “I swear the place is cursed. Your dad and mom dying the way they did. Tuff going sour. If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. Old Garth never had any luck.”

  Though the woman’s words were mild, her tone held disapproval as if Emily were somehow to blame. “We’re fine, thank you,” she said, staring at her coffee cup.

  “Might be a chore staying that way.”

  Opal, Emily remembered. The woman’s name was Opal. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Opal shrugged. “Way I hear it, your own brother is gunning for you. Can’t say as I blame him too much. Robbing his birthright the way you did.” She chuckled humorlessly. “Yep, you’re turning the valley into a regular ‘Dallas’ TV show. But then, what can you expect? What goes around comes around, I always say. Garth was one old man you shouldn’t have messed with.”

  Emily gasped. “I did not steal the Double Bar R.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Reb slid out of the booth. He reached into his pocket and fished out two dollar bills. He coolly left them on the table, then held out a hand for Emily. “Come on, Emily. Coffee’s rotten here.”

  Wounded and embarrassed, Emily took his hand, allowing him to lead her out of the café.

  Opal called to her back, “Go around murdering old men in their sleep, what do you expect? Roses? A round of applause?”

  Outside, Emily zipped up her parka. It felt as if every person passing by in a car or truck stared at her. She jerked the hood over her head, down low on her brow. The road was clear of snow, wet and steaming, and water poured off the roofs of buildings. Humbolt was a tiny town, most of the buildings converted from what once had been a minor hub of the DenverSanta Fe railroad. Narrow-gauge railroad tracks crisscrossed the road. “I hate this place.”

  “Don’t let her get your goat.”

  “It’s not just her, it’s everybody.” She was grateful for Reb’s kindness, but humiliated because he now knew firsthand what some people thought of her. “Plenty of people have accused me of murdering Grandpa. If they don’t think I killed him, then they think I tricked him out of the ranch. Maybe I will sell out to Claude. Fifty bucks, and the Double Bar R is his.”

  Reb wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her just as a sheriff’s patrol car pulled into the hospital parking lot. Deputy Tim Patterson got out and looked around. Emily stepped away from Reb and raised a hand in greeting.

  “I have to talk to him,” she said.

  She strode across the street to the hospital. The deputy waited for her at the door. “Hello, Tim. I guess you heard what happened?”

  Tim nodded.

  “Where’s Mickey?”

  “Checking the scene,” Tim mumbled. He opened the door for Emily and nodded in the direction of the café. “Who’s that?”

  “A cowboy Joey hired. He drove me into town.” She pushed through the doorway. “Dr. Nelson thinks Joey was shot. I think Tuff did it.”

  Tim took a chair in the corridor. He rested a clipboard on his thigh and held a pen ready to write. “Can you give me your statement?”

  Emily disliked talking to Tim Patterson. His face never revealed any emotion, and he rarely made eye contact. He grunted more than he talked, and when he did speak, it was rarely more than a few words. Nevertheless, she told him how Joey had ridden off to search for Tuff and how his horse had come home alone. Tim offered no clue about what he thought of her story.

  Dr. Nelson appeared while Tim was finishing writing the statement. “We’ve got Joey’s temperature up, and he’s stabilized. He’s still unconscious, but he’s responding well.”

  “Can I see him?” Emily asked, ready to go to her brother whether the doctor said it was okay or not.

  “Not a problem,” the doctor said. “And what about you, Tim? How’s your head? As long as you’re here, I can take a look for myself.”

  Joey was the only patient inside the four-bed room. Emily hurried inside, glancing at the nurse who was checking the monitors. Her hair was as red as Dr. Nelson’s.

  “You must be Emily,” the nurse said. Her name tag said Jennifer. She had a cute smile to match her cute, petite figure. “Your brother will be fine. Dr. Nelson is really good.” She stroked Joey’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about his appearance. The swelling in his forehead and eyes is perfectly normal. Had to shave his head, though. Too bad. He has nice hair.”

  “And he’s vain about it, too.”

  Joey looked worse than awful. His face looked as if he’d gone head-to-head with an angry bull. Rows of stitches closed the wounds on the top of his head and behind his ear.

  Jennifer brought a chair to bedside. “He’ll be okay, Emily, trust me. The worst part was how cold he was, but he’s warmed up nicely. This hospital has great equipment, and Dr. Nelson is the best.”

  “You’re very kind, Jennifer. You’re new in town?”

  “Not that new. I started working here three months ago. I love it. I grew up in Denver.” She smiled. “My dream has always been to live in the mountains so I can have some land and a horse. And ski season is just around the corner. I can’t hardly wait. I just love working here in Humbolt. Everybody is so nice and friendly.”

  “Welcome to the valley.”

  “Do you ski, Emily?”

  “A little. I’m way out of practice.”

  “We’ll have to do something about that. Have you noticed? There’s a real shortage of people our age around here. I have to go all the way into Grand Junction for any nightlife.”

  Emily nodded agreement, uncertain about Jennifer’s effusive friendliness, but liking the young woman anyway.

  “You and I should make a date for a girls’ night out,” Jennifer said. “It’ll be a blast.” She picked up a tray and left the room.

  Emily stroked Joey’s hand. He had so many blankets on top of him that she couldn’t tell whether or not he was breathing. She hoped for his sake it hadn’t been Tuff who shot him. That would be a betrayal from which he’d never recover.

  “Oh, Joey, I’ve been so worried about you. You’ve gone through so much, it just isn’t fair. But you’ll be all right. I know you will. I don’t know if you can hear me, but in case you can, th
en now is the time for you to listen. Claude offered to buy the ranch. If that’s what it takes to keep you safe, then we’ll work something out. I feel funny about selling. I can’t think of the Double Bar R as my own. I’m just a caretaker—”

  Tim Patterson entered the room. He hung back near the door, staring at the clipboard he held up before him.

  “He’s still unconscious,” she said.

  “Well, then, I have to stay,” Tim murmured.

  The last thing she wanted was the deputy hovering over her during her visit. She rose. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  She went in search of Reb, and found him waiting in her car. She rested her forearms on the open driver’s window. “He’s still unconscious, but he’ll be all right.”

  Reb closed his eyes and heaved a long sigh of unmistakable relief. Her love for him tightened another notch.

  “I’m going to stay with Joey,” she said. “Go on back to the ranch and find Claude. Have him follow in his truck so you can bring my car into town and leave it for me. Bring my purse, too.” She reached through the window opening and touched his face. “Thank you so much. If he’d been out there much longer, he’d have died. I’ll always be indebted to you. Always.”

  “Your dog found Joey, not me.”

  She smiled wryly. He couldn’t accept her gratitude any easier than he could accept her love.

  Another patrol car pulled into the parking lot. Emily said, “It’s Mickey.” She wanted to kiss Reb, but doubted it wise. “Claude probably has a million chores to do, so don’t worry about being in a hurry getting my car here. Be careful.” Reb drove away just as Mickey stepped out of his car.

  As she joined the sheriff, he asked, “Who was that?”

  “Hired hand.”

  Mickey stared in the direction Reb had gone. “At the ranch?”

  “Joey hired him. He’s good with cattle.”

  “I’m surprised you’d let Joey hire one of Tuff’s buddies.”

  She cocked her head, unable to grasp his meaning or why he’d say such a thing to her. “He isn’t one of Tuff’s friends. His previous employer sold out, so he was passing through, looking for work. He’s never met Tuff.”

  “I’m positive he visited the jail a while back. Big boy, black hair, real blue eyes. You know me, I never forget a face.” He snorted in disgust. “Darn Tuff tried to turn the jail into a party house. Never again, I’m telling you, honey, never again. From now on no prisoner gets a visit from anybody other than relatives and attorneys. I’ve got a list of suspects fifteen miles long who could’ve helped Tuff bust out of jail.” He nodded firmly and focused his pale gray gaze on her face. “I ought to check that hired hand out for you.”

  “It isn’t necessary.” Doubt crept in, stealthy as a bull snake hunting mice. Reb had dropped into her life as if from thin air, an angel who appeared when she needed him most—not long after Tuff was thrown in jail. He’d helped Joey and Claude with the ranch, and he’d helped her search for the duffel bag, the very bag he swore must contain drugs so she must not involve the police.

  Reb had avoided the sheriff, too. And he had deftly turned aside her mild inquiries about his life, hinting that his past contained things better left unsaid. She’d fallen in love with him—spilled out her heart and soul to him, and she trusted him with her life.

  And now Mickey, who never forgot a face, was insisting that Reb had visited Tuff at the jail.

  “Emily?”

  “Joey’s going to be fine.”

  Her non sequitur caused him to peer curiously at her.

  Her hand fluttered to her throat. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m having a conversation in my head. I’m such a mess, I can’t think.” She turned away, not wanting to reveal to him the confusion plaguing her. On the third floor of the hospital, light gleamed yellow through century-old glass. A person passed by in wavery silhouette.

  She remembered seeing two men standing in front of the window in the bunkhouse in the middle of the night. Was it Reb and Tuff?

  “It’s wet out here.” Mickey looked glumly at his boots, their usual dandy shine now dulled by mud. “You already gave your statement to Tim?” He grasped her elbow and led her back to the hospital. On the wide brick veranda, he stopped.

  Tell him, she thought, tell him everything. Reb, the duffel bag, the money, the man she thought she saw in the bunkhouse with Reb.

  You’re so beautiful, Reb’s voice purred silkily in her head. You’re too good for me…an amazing woman. She saw him holding Joey, saw the worry shining in his eyes.

  Mickey was telling her something. “…until we pick up Tuff.”

  She nodded as if she understood what he was saying.

  “Looks like Joey waited out the snowstorm in that old cabin on the back of your property. I found blood, but no sign of a fight and not a trace of the perp who shot him. Until I get the situation sorted out, I don’t want you staying alone at the ranch. You can bunk in my spare room. Are you hearing what I’m saying, honey?”

  Emily pressed a hand over her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mickey. I’m frazzled. I can’t seem to concentrate.”

  “I’m posting Tim to keep an eye out for Joey. I want you in protective custody, too. Like I said, you can stay at my place.” He showed an open, empty palm. “No strings. I won’t pester you. I promise.”

  She reached for the door handle. The ornate brass was icy. “I’ve got to see Joey.”

  Mickey followed her to Joey’s room. Tim sat on a chair by the door, his arms folded over his chest. Jennifer stood next to Joey, taking his pulse while timing it with her wristwatch.

  Jennifer set down Joey’s wrist and scribbled a note on the chart. She flashed a wide, dimpled smile at Mickey. “Hi, Sheriff. And how are we today?”

  Emily caught the gleam of interest in his pale eyes. His shoulders straightened, and his lanky step turned into a strut.

  “I’m fine, honey. How about yourself?” He smoothed his thick hair with the flat of a hand. “And how’s the boy?”

  As Jennifer launched into her perky spiel about how well Joey was doing, Emily got the distinct impression the sheriff and the nurse were both willing to deepen their acquaintance. Tuning them out, she sat beside her brother and covered his hand with her own. In the short time she’d been out of the room, his color had further improved and the swelling around his eyes didn’t look so ominous.

  Reb had, saved his life. Without Reb she’d still be flailing around in the snow, trying to find tracks where her unschooled eyes didn’t know to look. If she’d been alone, she never would have been able to get him atop a horse. He’d have frozen to death by the time she reached help.

  If Reb had actually visited Tuff at the jail, then it explained why he kept avoiding the sheriff. What other lies had he told her? What truths hadn’t he told? Lies by omission were lies all the same.

  Or was Mickey lying? Reb had asked her once if she trusted the sheriff. At the time she’d laughed at him. She trusted Mickey as long as she could see his hands and she wasn’t confined in too tight a space with him. Mickey had no reason to lie to her about Reb.

  She eased hair off her face, enough to see that Mickey was preoccupied, leaning a shoulder against the wall while he flirted with Jennifer.

  What about the duffel bag? Emily wondered. Reb didn’t want the police knowing about it. She thought of the fears she had mentioned—about drugs and losing the ranch to federal raiders. Reb had played upon them, embellishing them with perfect logic and dire predictions. Mickey wanted to pretend the duffel bag didn’t exist. Her every mention of it had brought only dismissal, as if he didn’t want her even thinking about it. Did Mickey want the bag for himself?

  And how come Joey was the one lying wounded in the hospital?

  In the scenarios she’d imagined, Tuff had been the evil monster, and Joey the innocent. Yet he’d visited Tuff in jail every chance he got. He’d brought Reb home. He’d slipped something to Reb on the sly. Condoms, Reb had claimed in a touchingly embarrass
ing scene, but Reb never mentioned sexual protection when they made love. Why would a man have the foresight to get condoms then forget completely about them later?

  Now who could she trust?

  Mickey had to leave on a call. He promised Emily he’d return to take her to his place. She managed a wan smile in reply, but thought with her and Joey out of the way, it would be easy for Mickey to search the ranch at his leisure.

  After the sheriff left, Jennifer laid a comforting hand on Emily’s shoulder. “Would you like something to eat?”

  The mere thought of food made her ill. “No, thank you.”

  “He’s going to be all right, honest.”

  “I can’t eat anything right now.” She stared miserably at Joey until Jennifer gave up and went away.

  She sat alone with her doubts and suspicions and worries. Each time she heard a footstep outside the room, she eyed the door, hoping it was Reb. Mickey had to be wrong about seeing him at the jail. She loved Reb; he couldn’t be lying to her. If he came to the hospital, in full view of the deputy, then it meant her fears were ridiculous.

  Tim left the room so silently that she didn’t realize he was gone until she heard the door close with a soft whup.

  “Emmy?”

  Joey’s raspy croak made her jump. Hot tears filled her eyes, and she clasped his hand in both of hers. “Joey, oh, honey, I’ve been so worried about you.”

  He peered through swollen eyelids, his eyes glazed and unfocused. “Emmy?”

  “It’s okay, I’m right here. You’re okay now.”

  “Sorry,” he whispered. “Tuff…Tuff…”

  “Is he the one who shot you?”

  “Dead…” His battered face twisted in a grimace. His fingers tightened around hers. “I killed him, Emmy. I had to.”

  As his words sank in, her horror grew. “Shh, honey, you’ve got a head injury, and it’s a bad one. You’re delirious. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “Money’s gone…thinks you got it…sheriff. Don’t trust…Reb knows. Tell…you…everything. Sorry, so…sorry.” A tear leaked from the corner of his left eye. “Reb knows…”