Melissa Cutler - Cowboy Justice

“That valley is miles from our homestead,” Amy said. “How likely is it that Junior and his friends didn’t know whose property they were on?”

Bitch we warned you flashed through Rachel’s memory. Meyer Jr. and his friends knew exactly where they were.

“I’m not at liberty to divulge the details yet, but I have reason to believe they were targeting your farm specifically,” Vaughn said.

“Why?” Kellan, Amy, and Jenna said in unison.

Vaughn tightened his tie. “That’s what I aim to find out. For now, sit tight. I see no reason to send your guests home early.”

“I’ll stay at their place tonight, watch over everyone. But you keep us posted on any developments,” Kellan said.

“Will do. I’m going to get on with the investigation, but I’ll be close by.” He fished a business card from his shirt pocket and brushed past Kellan and Amy to set it near the hospital’s clunky phone at Rachel’s bedside without once meeting her eyes. The business card was pointless. She knew his every phone number by heart.

“One of my deputies will be on watch outside your door tonight,” he said on his way out.

She balked. “I can’t see how that’s necessary. Wouldn’t it be safer for everyone involved if your deputies were all out looking for the suspects instead of holding one back to babysit me?”

For the first time since Kellan, Amy, and Jenna entered the room, he looked directly at her. “We’re doing this my way, Ms. Sorentino. You’re getting the guard. I’ll be in touch.”

Turning on his heel, he pushed out the door.

“I think a guard’s a good idea,” Jenna said.

Rachel chortled. “If that quack of a doctor had cleared me to go home, we wouldn’t even be discussing it.”

Amy stood at the foot of her bed, her arms on her hips, grinning sagely at her. “Not all doctors are quacks.”

“Glorified mechanics, every last one of them,” she countered. “They listen to the rattle in your engine, make assumptions about the diagnosis, replace a screw or a belt, and overcharge you for the honor of their service.”

Jenna frowned and tightened her grip on Rachel’s forearm. “You’re not thinking of escaping while the guard’s looking the other way, are you?”

Right. Like Rachel was entertaining the notion of pulling her IV out and sneaking off in the dead of night in nothing but her hospital gown.

“Tempting as that idea is, I think I’ll concede the point to the sheriff.” She couldn’t bring herself to call him Vaughn in front of her family, afraid a hint of their intimacy would seep into her tone.

Jenna blew her nose. “What happened out there in the Parillas Valley? How did you end up in a shootout against four men?”

Rachel rubbed her face. What could she say to make her sisters understand? Vaughn hadn’t mentioned the graffiti, so Rachel wasn’t sure if she was at liberty to. To complicate it further, her sisters didn’t know about the other graffiti she found around the ranch, or the other vandals she’d successfully scared off with warning shots. They’d probably find out soon enough, and when they did, they’d probably give her hell for not telling them. But she was too bone-weary to get into a dust-up over it now.

“Vau—” She bit her lip and started again. “Sheriff Cooper told me not to talk to anyone about the details of the shootout. I don’t know if he suggested that for our protection or for the good of the investigation. Let’s just say, when I shot those men, they had it coming.”

“Why? What did they do? You’re scaring me,” Amy said.

Geez, Rachel needed to stop flapping her lips. All this talking in obscurities and half-truths was making her head spin. “Nothing to be scared about. I’m sure the sheriff deputies will find the other suspects soon. Everything’s going to be fine.”

A nurse bustled past Jenna and Amy, a pink tray balanced on her hand with three paper cups. Meds, Rachel hoped. She sat up as much as she could. Her sisters scooted out of the way. As if she were a waitress, the nurse held the tray out and described the pills in each cup like they were dessert options at a restaurant. Rachel downed the ulcer med first, followed by the horse-pill—sized antibiotic.

She tried to turn down the pain med—she’d had enough of feeling like an idiot for one afternoon—but Jenna and Amy’s protestations were loud and impassioned. When Amy threatened to hold vigil at her bedside until she took the pill, Rachel caved. She loved her sisters, but she was ready for some peace and quiet.

The nurse left after checking Rachel’s IV.

“What happened to Lincoln?” Jenna asked. “Did he bolt when the men shot you? Should we send the farmhands out looking for him tonight?”

She couldn’t shield her sisters from the painful truth of Lincoln’s fate forever, or herself for that matter. She picked at a corner of the tissue box. “He was hit by a bullet.” Her throat tightened up. No way in hell was she going to cry in front of her sisters, but it hurt so badly, the knowledge that she’d lost her closest friend. “I had to . . .” Her eyes pricked with moisture. She shoved her tongue against her cheek and held her breath, fighting the grief.

“You had to put him down,” Amy finished quietly.

“Yeah.”

Jenna leaned over and gathered Rachel in a gentle hug. “I’m so sorry.”

Rachel patted her back and felt Amy on her other side, her arms around them both.

Rachel hugged them as much as her waning strength allowed. She wasn’t real good at expressing it in words, but her family meant more to her than anything in the world. More than the farm, more than her own happiness.

She’d dedicated her life to sheltering her sisters from one calamity after another, worked her fingers to the bone to keep the ranch running from the time she could get herself onto a horse, and filled the role of their parent when their mom and dad fell short. Even when all she wanted to do was retreat into herself, she stuck it out for them.

There was little she could do to shelter them from the mess she’d caused today.

A sudden pang of suffocation coursed through her. “I need time alone.”

Jenna and Amy pulled away, looking hurt. Shit. She never could seem to say the right thing to them. Sometimes their feelings were as fragile as tissue paper. “I’m sorry,” she amended. “I just—my arm hurts, and I’m tired.”

“Come on, Amy, Jenna. Let her get some rest,” Kellan said.

Jenna and Amy nodded. They flittered around the room, smoothing her blanket, refilling her water glass, and asking her a zillion questions about whether or not she wanted the television on or the blinds closed or extra pillows. Rachel worked hard to be patient, but the feeling of suffocation wouldn’t abate.

Kellan must’ve sensed her growing agitation because he spread his arms wide and herded her sisters toward the door.

“We’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Amy called over her shoulder as Kellan shuffled her into the hallway.

“Can’t wait,” Rachel called with a wave.

As soon as she was alone, she took a breath, then swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her whole body ached, but she pushed through it, knowing she had only a small window of time before the pain med kicked in and she lost her ability to form a coherent thought.

Dragging her IV, she padded into the bathroom and flipped on the light. The mirror was cruel. She looked like she’d spent the past year living in a forest. Dirt was everywhere, in the creases of her earlobes, coating her scalp, stuck in her teeth, and lodged in wrinkles on her face she didn’t even know she had.

With a groan, she rinsed her mouth out, then grabbed a handful of paper towels for a quick wash that turned into a long wash. She kept scrubbing until she felt halfway human again. Once done, she braced her hands against the sink and stared at her reflection.