Chapter Twenty-Eight
Josie was humming nervously to herself in the kitchen. Restless energy had filled her limbs all day. Last night’s kiss had left a fire burning in the pit of her stomach.
She hadn’t seen Cash much today, but he had smiled at her this morning.
And at breakfast, he hadn’t taken his eyes off her.
She’d known it, but she hadn’t dared look back at him—not when her skin was still burning the way it had the night before.
She’d been a little scared, unsure if she could trust herself only to look at him.
Maybe they were turning over a new leaf. Maybe this time, he wouldn’t grow distant all of a sudden. But she was still wary. They’d just taken one step forward, and now she was expecting three steps back.
Her nerves had driven her to clean more thoroughly even than she normally did. Now, the house was still. She enjoyed the stillness. The quietness. Samuel was down for his nap, her chores were nearly complete, and she was giddy with a spark she’d never seemed to have for a man before. Ever.
It was different. And she liked it.
She continued to hum as she took her apron off and hung it up on the look.
“Josie! Help!” A voice from outside ripped through the silence—Luke. His panicked cry was followed by the clatter of frantic hooves.
Alarmed, Josie ran to the window, but she didn’t see anything there. The hoofbeats weren’t the rhythmic sound of a horse approaching. These were hurried. Quick. Thundering.
Remington? Is he back? A shudder went through her, but another “Josie! Now!” told her otherwise. They wouldn’t call for her if it would put her in danger.
She ran to the front door and out onto the porch to see dust—clouds of it—flying up from the road that led to the yard, nearly shrouding the horse that was barreling toward the house.
She knew horses. She’d grown up around them, read their movements, and she’d seen enough here on the ranch to know that something was wrong.
This was panic. The horse was spooked.
She could hear its frantic whinnying already, and she could tell even before she was able to see that it was Ruby. She jumped down the porch steps in a jog—a jog that broke into a full-blown run as she saw the limp form slumped in the saddle.
Cash.
Luke and Beau were already running toward Ruby, startling chickens that scattered and squawked, but Josie was closer. “Josie, get Ruby’s reins!” Luke yelled.
Josie darted up to Ruby and quickly snatched her reins, turning her in a tight circle, but she shied and tossed her head, ears pinned, whites of her eyes flashing. An iron, metallic smell filled Josie’s nostrils—blood. The scent of it was driving Ruby into a frenzy.
Josie turned sharply, and a horrified gasp escaped her as she saw the leg of Cash’s pants was soaked red.
“What happened?” she cried as Luke and Beau reached her. She had a million questions, but it didn’t seem they knew any more than she did.
“We don’t know!” Beau looked more afraid than Josie had ever seen him. “Luke, grab his waist! Steady him!”
Josie held the reins tightly, trying her best to hold Ruby still as Luke tried to unsaddle his brother.
But Ruby was wide-eyed with panic, spurred on by Josie’s terror.
Both of them were feeding each other’s fear.
Josie didn’t even realize how tightly she was gripping the reins until her fingers began to sting.
“The leg!” Beau snapped, taking the reins from Josie as the spooked horse shuddered beneath Cash’s weight. “It’s bad! Right in the back of his thigh! Put pressure on it!”
Luke was still trying tug Cash out of the saddle as quickly as he could manage. Josie was at his side in an instant. “Let me get him down!” he yelled. “Josie, move!”
She hadn’t even realized she was gripping Cash, fingers clenched tightly around his blood-slicked pant leg. Sobs wracked her chest, so loud she could barely hear them.
Then Luke’s hand landed firm on her shoulder. “Josie, you gotta let us get him off the horse.”
She stumbled back, gasping for breath.
“What happened?” Hank’s voice rang out from the bunkhouse, hoarse and urgent.
“Cash was shot!” Beau hollered. “He’s bleeding bad!”
Still sobbing, Josie turned to see Hank come barreling toward them, kicking up almost as much dust as Ruby had.
He was running hard, hat flying off his head, boots hammering the ground nearly as loud as her pounding heartbeat in her ears.
She’d never seen him move so fast. Never seen that kind of panic in his face.
Like a father racing toward his wounded son.
“Josie! Take the reins!” Beau shoved the leather roughly into her hands. He and Luke worked fast, gripping Cash’s limp body as they wrestled him off the saddle. Josie saw the way he tensed, jaw clenching against the pain even though he was barely conscious.
Ruby was frantic, spooked by the scent of blood now smeared down her shoulder, screaming to get away.
The second they got Cash off her back, he let out a guttural groan, and she reared, lashing out in terror.
A panicked cry tore from Josie’s throat and she stumbled back, barely avoiding the sharp hooves.
“Easy, girl!” Luke took over, snatching Ruby’s reins, coaxing her away from the others, turning her in tight circles again. “Josie, help Beau!”
“I got him,” Beau gritted, looping an arm under Cash’s shoulders. Josie was at his side in a moment, bracing his legs, and Hank was there, too.
Cash was deadweight, pain dragging him down, but his fingers still curled weakly in Josie’s sleeve before Hank finally pried him free.
“Get him inside,” Hank ordered hoarsely. Then he took Ruby’s reins from Luke. The mare was wild-eyed and trembling, blood smeared into her coat. Hank steadied her with firm hands, whispering low under his breath before turning her head toward the barn.
“I’ll clean her off!” he called back over his shoulder. Josie caught the flicker of anguish in his face, the way it twisted as his eyes flicked to Cash’s body one last time before turning around. “Take care of him!”
Then he was gone, leading Ruby away in a hurry toward the barn.
Luke slid his arms beside Josie’s, supporting Cash’s weight. “I’ve got him!”
Josie forced herself to pull away.
She followed Beau and Luke as they barreled up the front steps. She nearly tripped over herself as she rushed to her bedroom, snatched up the sewing kit on her bedside table. Her fingers fumbled as she tore open the latch, scattering supplies across the bed.
She darted over to Cash’s room across the hall just as they lowered him onto the bed on his side, wounded leg on top. Luke cursed under his breath. He pulled out a knife and cut Cash’s pants at the top of leg while Beau pressed a spare shirt to the wound.
Josie clambered onto the bed, sobbing for breath. Luke pressed a flask into her trembling hands. “For him or for you,” he muttered.
Josie didn’t know which of them needed it more.
Her fingers flew over Cash’s torn pant leg, ripping away the fabric to expose the gaping wound. His blood, hot and sticky, soaked her hands, sending a wave of intense dizziness over her for a moment. Bile rose up in her throat. Her hands trembled.
She had mended broken bones. Closed wounds before. But nothing had prepared her for this.
For seeing Cash like this.
His skin was cold and clammy under her touch, his breathing desperate and labored. He was alive, but barely conscious. The coppery tang of blood mixed with sweat and dirt, was a scent that would be etched into her memory forever.
She hated it. Hated it more than anything.
“Boil water,” she told Luke in a sharp plea. “And get me more towels. A lot of them.”
He obeyed without a moment’s hesitation. She kept talking. “Beau, hold his ankles. I don’t want to run the risk of him thrashing.” She needed to get a good look at it.
It was a nasty wound—deep, bloody. But it hadn’t struck the bone—or the artery. “The bullet went through,” she said in relief, pressing the shirt back on his leg, praying that Luke would hurry.
A moment later, he came dashing back into the room with a large bucket. “Put it on the bedside table,” Josie ordered. She had to work quickly. They had to stop the bleeding.
But the wound beneath her grip was seeping relentlessly. Cash groaned weakly. His body began to spasm, his eyes fluttering in a desperate battle.
She had no idea how much blood he’d lost. But it was a lot—too much. “You’re gonna be okay,” she whispered desperately, trying to muster up every ounce of strength she could.
His fingers twitched, weakly reaching for her, clinging to her sleeve again like she was his only anchor. “Josie…” he whispered.
There was a note of something like tenderness in his strained voice, and it gave her a flicker of hope that he hadn’t lost too much blood.
Blood had never bothered her, but this blood did. This was Cash.
Josie took a deep breath and poured the flask Luke had given her out over the wound.
His body convulsed and every muscle clenched, and she winced in sympathy.
She knew from past experience that the alcohol would sear through him like a blaze of fire, painful, unforgiving.
But they couldn’t risk infection. Sewing him up would do nothing to save him if the wound wasn’t thoroughly cleaned.
She watched as veins protruded from his neck and his face scrunched in pure agony.
“I’m so sorry,” she wept as she tugged out her needle and thread.
She worked quickly, frantically, hoping that she could somehow stitch some of the life back into him.
Every time her needle pierced the skin was another promise that she would somehow save his life.
“Keep goin’, Josie!” Beau encouraged from behind her. “You’re doin’ just fine.”
She hadn’t sewn up a wound in a long time. Years. And it was never anything quite like this. Not this bad. Pa had asked her to doctor him up when he got hurt sometimes, but nothing he’d suffered was even close to a bullet wound.
When she finally pulled back, Cash’s face was a ghostly pale color.
“He might have lost too much blood…” She trailed off in a sob.
“Stop,” Beau said from behind, pulling her into a sharp hug. “He’s still breathing. And he’s not bleeding anymore.”
“But—”
“He’ll make it.”
Josie wished she could share Beau’s conviction. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She had watched too many people she cared about die. She didn’t want to see it again. She turned away and hid her face in Beau’s chest, tears staining his shirt.
“You did great,” Luke said solemnly from across the room. Josie pulled away and wiped her eyes to see him holding his hat, looking down at the floor. “I’ll let Hank know the bleeding’s stopped and ask him to pray.” He turned and walked out.
Josie nodded weakly. She leaned forward again and brushed a damp strand of hair from Cash’s forehead. His eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t react to her touch. It felt like her entire world was crumbling.
“Do you know what happened?” she asked, not daring to take her eyes from his face.
“No,” Beau said with a deep, helpless breath. “But I’m gonna find out.”
Josie listened as his heavy boots left the room, grew quiet. The front door opened and closed.
She was alone.
She leaned close to Cash’s ear, her hands on either side of his head. “You idiot,” she breathed out, her voice raw. “If you wanted to distance yourself, you could have just gone off to brood—not die on me.”
Cash swallowed, his weak fingers moving to brush hers ever so lightly. “Not… gonna… die.”
Tears blazed hot in her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she should kiss him or shake him. But it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that he was still alive.