LOVE OF A RODEO MAN (MODERN DAY COWBOYS) (23 page)

To Sara, it looked as if Frankie threw herself at the bull’s side, supporting her weight with one arm across Rambo's back, wrenching at the cinch entangled around Mitch’s hand.

Then at last Mitch was sliding free, and Sara’s heart seemed to stop as she saw him tumble dangerously down between the kicking hooves.

In the moment she should have used to dance away, out of the Brahman’s path, Frankie grabbed desperately at Mitch’s shirt and yanked him to safety.

At the same instant, the bull’s massive head jerked back toward her, the long blunted horn connected with her cheek, and Frankie’s scream was drowned in the terrified cries of the crowd.

Her body flew weightlessly through the air, the full force of the bull’s mighty head and neck tossing her like a rag doll up and down again into the dust.

Sara felt the world begin to spin, felt blackness at the edges of her vision as the terrible scene stretched on and on, and she tried to get her legs to move, to carry her toward her sister, lying motionless and bleeding in the dust, toward Mitch, trying dazedly to struggle to his feet, arm hanging helplessly at his side.

Cowboys and clowns were filling the arena in a frantic attempt to run Rambo into the exit chute, and after several abortive tries, the Brahman finally charged out of the arena and the gate was shut firmly behind him.

“Doctor, we need a doctor,” the announcer was gabbling hysterically. “Where’s the ambulance? First-aid people, please, to the arena immediately.”

Then Sara was over the fence and inside the ring.

First-aid people were converging on the area where Frankie lay absolutely still, and Mitch was running across the ring, ignoring two men who tried to restrain him.

Horror washed over Sara in waves as she drew closer to Frankie. Her sister’s face had a jagged tear, starting under her eye and laying the flesh open all the way down to her throat. Bright red blood was welling up and pulsing rhythmically out.

Sara’s legs threatened to buckle as she got nearer and nearer to her sister.

Was Frankie even breathing? The blood, there was far too much blood —

An ambulance screamed to a halt and a medical team leaped down and came racing over, surrounding the fragile figure sprawled in the dirt, hiding her from Sara’s view.

A hand closed over her arm. It was Mitch, covered in grime and barely able t
o walk. His other arm hung grotesquely at his side, obviously broken.

“Mitch, oh Mitch, are you... do you think she...”

But the anguished look in his eyes silenced her. “It was all my fault, every damn bit of it,” he said through clenched teeth, agonized remorse evident in every syllable. “I was a fool, a bloody fool to even try. Oh, God, Sara, I’m sorry. I’m so damn...”

Before she could find breath to reply
, he staggered and his eyes stopped focusing on her.  He was about to pass out.

“C’mon, Mitch, you need to see a sawbones, old buddy,” one of his cowboy friends urged, and several more all but carried him over to a waiting car. They didn’t try to load
him in the ambulance; most cowboys were superstitious about riding in what they labeled the “meat wagon.”

Sara made a move to follow them, but Jennie and Dave and Gram were suddenly all around her, and Gram was holding Sara’s arm as if she couldn’t stand up alone.

Frankie’s inert body was being loaded onto a stretcher, and Jennie was sobbing in Dave’s arms.

Ruth and Wilson came running, and behind them half the town poured into the arena.

Everything was chaos. The car containing Mitch and the ambulance began to move away, siren wailing.

Before Sara could think clearly again, both Frankie and Mitch were gone from her.

At the hospital, a part of Mitch welcomed the agonizing pain of having his dislocated shoulder put back in place and his broken forearm set and put in a cast.

The physical hurt consumed him, so that at least for a while he didn’t have to think about anything else, and when the procedure was finally over with and Mitch growled that he wasn’t staying in any hospital, he was going home, the doctor simply gave him a shot of something that knocked him out until an entire night had slipped past without his knowing.

He opened his eyes and Sara was there, sitting beside him holding his good hand. He closed them again and saw vividly the crumpled form of Frankie, body broken and what had been a lovely face split open now, bleeding into the dust.

With sick and awful c
ertainty, he knew that he’d destroyed the chance he’d had for happiness. How could Sara go on loving him, knowing what he’d done to Frankie? Worst of all, how could he live with himself? He’d wrecked it all the moment he’d climbed onto that bull. He’d been playing some macho game at the rodeo, and a beautiful woman had paid.

Sara’s sister had paid.

“Frankie? Is Frankie...?” he demanded urgently, opening his eyes and forcing himself to meet Sara’s gray gaze.

“They flew her to Sp
okane. She has a broken collarbone, a couple of fractured ribs, and she needs...” Sara’s best efforts to control her voice failed, and she dissolved into exhausted tears.

“She needs plastic surgery for her face. It’s a mess. Mom’s gone with her, and we won’t know for several days whether...”

Sara couldn’t go on, and she didn’t have to. Mitch knew exactly what she was trying to say. They wouldn’t know whether or not Frankie’s face would be deformed for life.

Because of him
. Because he’d been a proud and stubborn fool, thinking only of himself. She’d paid for his stupidity, and he wasn’t sure he could stand the pain it caused him now.

The deep, sick ache in hi
s shoulder and arm grew incredibly worse as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and wound the sheet around himself. He cursed in a low, steady stream as he moved, head swimming, stomach rebelling, toward the locker in the corner of the room.

“Where’re my pants?”

“Mitch, what are you doing? Get back into bed, the doctor…”

Sara tried to hold on to his good arm, but he shook free and moved away from her.

“I’m getting out of here, Sara. Can you drive me back to the ranch?” His voice was remote and cold, as if she were a stranger.

“Mitch, your arm—I’m calling the nurse.” She moved to press the call button by the b
ed, and he turned on her so ferociously she froze before she could touch the button.

“Don’t treat me like some stupid kid,” he grated at her. “If you can’t drive me home, say so and I’ll call a cab. But get it through your head that I’m leaving. Now.”

Sara swallowed hard and told herself not to be hurt. After all, he was in pain and most likely still groggy from whatever the doctor had given him. Silently she helped him retrieve his clothes, his boots, his Stetson.

“Your mom and dad were here till late last night. Your mother said she was going to help Gram at Bitterroot this morning and would come by the hospital about noon to see you. Why don’t you let me take you there? We could have some lunch, relax by the pool...”

He shook his head impatiently and cursed under his breath when she had to carry some of his things for him.

When he’d paid his bill and signed himself out, she flinched in sympathy when his lips grew white and his face stiff as he bumped his shoulder slightly climbing into her car.

“Mitch, darling, I’m sorry,” she said, and leaned across to press her head comfortingly against his good shoulder, and he moved deliberately closer to the window and turned his head away from her.

“What the hell have you got to be sorry for?” he snarled, and she missed the pain in hi
s voice and heard only the sarcasm. After that, she simply drove him home.

When they arrived at the ranch and she made a move to get out of the car, he said, “Don’t bother coming in, Sara,” and then climbed painfully out and slammed the car door. “Thank you for the ride,” he said, already moving away, just as if she were some stranger he was dismissing.
“I’ll get the rest of my gear later.”

Sara spun gravel all the way down the drive, her feelings shifting from fury at his rudeness to raw hurt at his cruelty. Her face burned with embarrassment at the way he’d treated her, and her chest hurt with suppressed emotion.

She’d left Floyd to manage everything alone at the office just so that she could be at the hospital. She’d wanted to show Mitch that for once she was there beside him when he needed her. And this was how he reacted.

By the time she stormed through the door of the clinic, anger had the upper hand.

Floyd was waiting at the front door. “Doctor, I’m so glad you’re back, there’s a terrible emergency,” he announced, and Sara snapped impatiently, “For heaven’s sake, Floyd, skip the dramatics and just tell me what it is.”

Dozens of possible calamities with animals raced through her head, and it took a moment to adjust when Floyd said dolefully, “It’s the electricity. I plugged in the sterilizer and every fuse in the place blew, I tried replacing them, and the whole panel started smoking, so I had to turn everything off. I’ve called the electrician, but he’s not come. There’s no lights and the instruments aren’t sterile, and the fridge holding the vials of medicine needing to be kept cold is starting to defrost. And you can hardly see your hand in front of your face in here.”

“Call the electrician again, right now.” She shut the front door and leaned her back against it.

A glance into the murky waiting room revealed half a dozen pets waiting patiently with their owners despite the gloom.

“The man says he won’t come unless you personally guarantee him payment. He says the last time he was here, the owner never paid him for the job,” Floyd announced.

“Tell him... tell him I’ll pay him. Just tell him to hurry
.”

If the electrician charged very much, she wouldn’t have enough for her other expenses. But she couldn’t manage without electricity. Sara glanc
ed up at the stain on the ceiling where the roof had been leaking. In the bathroom, the plumbing was faulty. The roof needed replacing. She’d listed all the things wrong with this place the day she’d signed the lease, she remembered now. Nothing had been done, although her invisible landlord was still raising her rent.

All the frustrations of the morning suddenly beca
me focused.

Sara marched into her office
, pulled out her cell, and dialed the number of the lawyer, Martin Leskey, and when he came on the line, Sara didn’t give him a chance to launch into any long-winded speeches. She related the message from the electrician, reminded Leskey that she’d asked for repairs and coolly demanded that something be done immediately...this morning, before she paid any electrician’s bill.

“I understand your concern, my dear, but I must warn you that my past dealings with the owner have been less than satisfactory, and I’m very much afraid...” Leskey droned.

“Who, exactly, is my landlord?” Sara interrupted.

“The property
is leased from Equity Holdings,” Leskey said.

“Damn it all, I know that,” Sara exploded. “Give me the name of the person. I’ll phone and deal with him directly.”

There was a rustling of paper, and Sara could imagine Leskey meticulously sorting through his voluminous file folder. “Very well, I see no reason, even though she doesn’t want to be bothered. After all, these are emergency circumstances, ahhh, here we are.” Martin cleared his throat and Sara chewed her thumbnail impatiently.

“Crenshaw is the name, E. Crenshaw.”

Ugly visions of a cat named Queenie made Sara shudder. It couldn’t be the same Emily Crenshaw, it was impossible. The name was just coincidence. Emily Crenshaw was nearly destitute. Wasn’t she?

“What does the E. stand for,
Martin?” Sara inquired. An incredible, unbelievable suspicion was growing within her.

“It stands for Emily. She’s an extremely eccentric elderly person, I must warn you...”

“I know her,” Sara said weakly. After a long pause, during which her painful dealings with Emily Crenshaw flashed before her eyes, Sara finally became aware again of Martin, breathing patiently...and silently, for once, into the other end of the receiver.

“Mr. Leskey, you told me once that if I ever needed legal advice, you’d be happy to help me. Well, I do now.”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Is it possible for you to inform Emily Crenshaw that my business is suing her for the bill she hasn’t paid for treating her cat, and also that the amount of the electrical repairs will be deducted from my next quarterly payment on the lease?”

“I see no reason why not. I’ll get on it immediately.” Martin actually sounded as if he might enjoy the hassle he’d undoubtedly endure with Emily Crenshaw. “I admire your spirit, Dr. Wingate.”

“One last thing. Did
Doc Stone know that Emily Crenshaw owned this building?”

“Oh my, yes. Do
c had numerous problems with that lady over the years. Yes, he knew indeed.”

Sar
a clicked the phone off. She’d been made a proper fool, and Doc hadn’t said a word.

With shaking hands, she tapped out another number
.

“Stone here.” Doc’s raspy, impatient voice sounded in her ear, and Sara had to take a deep breath before she could say a word. She felt like going over and giving Doc a shot of something lethal, she was so furious with him. Without any preamble, she blurted, “You knew Emily Crenshaw wasn’t poor, you knew she owned this damned building. For all I know she probably owns half of Plains. How could you let me make such a fool of myself?”

Doc’s dry chuckle came over the connection. “So you found out about poor Emily, did you? I wondered how long it would take. She’s a bad one, a proper con artist.” He sounded amused and absolutely unconcerned. “Everyone in Plains has had some dealing with Emily over the years, and every one of them got stung.”

“It was vile of you not to tell me. Why, I never got a red cent out of her for that operation, and Floyd and I got scratched half to death by her rotten cat.” Sara’s voice was trembling with barely controlled passion.

“Yes, well.” Doc’s voice became serious. “It was bad of me, I’ll grant you that. But you see, young woman, I was making so many mistakes just then and you were so self-righteous. Half the damned county was telling me what a wonder the new woman vet was. I felt it was only fair that you made a mistake that one time. So I instructed Floyd not to say a word, and old Emily and her cat did the rest.” Ironic amusement filled his voice again. “Don’t feel too bad, young woman. I spayed the damn thing for free, years back. Still got a scar on my wrist.”

It took a moment, but Sara
’s sense of humor finally surfaced. The joke was on her, and she probably deserved it. Like all young people starting a career, she’d thought at times that she knew everything.

A
small giggle escaped her, and suddenly, she and old Doc were laughing uproariously. It was the first time she’d ever heard Doc Stone really laugh hard.

When it was over, Sara ventured to ask Doc about his eyesight.

“There’s some newfangled technique they’re going to try on me. I’ll either end up instantly blind or have fairly good vision again. They put permanent lenses right in your eye, or something. The procedure’s slated for next week.”

Sara quickly thought of all the encouraging things she might say and discarded them. Doc would just grunt and hang up in her ear.

“Well,” she finally said, “if it works, I warn you I’m not selling you this business back again. But if you ever want a job, you could try me.”

His grunt came, but it was amused rather than angry. “You need an old, experienced vet around there, young woman. Keep you from being taken in by the likes of Emily Crenshaw, if nothing else.” His voice sharpened. “I heard about young Mitch Carter and his tussle with that bull. Your sister was injured too, wasn’t she? How are they?”

All the laughter that had filled her moments before disappeared. “Frankie needs plastic surgery, and Mitch...he broke his arm just above the wrist. He’s, ahh, he’s fine, though.”

He wasn’t fine at all, and neither was Sara, but that wasn’t anything she could explain.

Doc grunted, and then, as if it was hard to get the words out, he said, “Hear you’re plannin’ on marrying that Carter boy. When the time comes, and if this danged thing works on my eyes, I’ll take over the practice for you for a week or two. As a wedding present,” he added gruffly. “Just don’t delay the marriage too long, I’m not getting any younger,” he added in a sour tone, and then, before Sara could say a word, he hung up.

Floyd came to announce the arrival of the electrician just then, adding that the man wanted a check in advance. By the time the lights went back on, Sara owed him fifty dollars more than the rent plus the proposed increase.

Emily had probably won another round.