Chapter 7
The brothers were still reeling from his last comment when the nurse escorted them out, and they immediately headed for the waiting room to discuss what they’d just learned.
“I’ll get the coffee,” Asher muttered, and turned toward the vending machines in the waiting area.
“I’ll get some breakfast sandwiches,” Dylan offered, and followed.
Gunner grabbed napkins and then headed for a table.
As soon as they were gathered, they looked at each other in disbelief.
“That last comment. What the hell?” Gunner said.
Dylan shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I have no idea.”
Ash cupped his hands around the warmth of the coffee cup, staring down into the dark-brown liquid.
“That’s a cup of coffee, not a crystal ball,” Gunner said. “What do you know that we don’t?”
“I know Mom didn’t like Pearl, but I never knew why.
Maybe once upon a time, Pearl was in the running for Dad’s affections before Mom showed up.
But right now, we need to talk about what he said before that.
Two men attacked him in the bar. High possibility that it was the same two men who’d come a week earlier asking if the bar was for sale. ”
“I’ll run a search on those two names, but if Dad thought they were fake, then it may come to nothing,” Gunner said.
“The car they were driving matches the description of the one Pearl saw driving away that night, so I’m saying it was the same two men,” Asher said.
“Likely with the fake names,” Dylan said.
Gunner nodded.
“The big question is, why would someone want the Tumbleweed bad enough to kill for it? And why would they assume that killing Dad would even give them access to it afterward? We’re still in the loop of ownership,” Dylan asked.
Asher’s eyes narrowed. “What if they didn’t know about us?
And why would they want access to the place?
I think their identities will give us answers.
We all worried about what might happen to Dad after Pete Brandt’s death resurrected the big story about the missing money.
Who is still living that has a grudge to settle? ”
Gunner nodded. “Give me a few minutes to write up my notes on what Dad said, and I’ll email them to your laptop. Then you can send it to Reddick as Dad’s first statement.”
Asher nodded. “Yes…but breakfast first, before the coffee and the microwaved sandwiches get any colder.”
“Then what?” Dylan asked as they began opening their sandwich packets.
Ash frowned. “I think we need to go home and get busy. It’s hard to investigate something long-distance. The scene of the crime is always the best place to start.”
“Is it safe to leave Dad alone?” Dylan asked.
Gunner frowned. “As long as he’s in ICU, I’d say he’s fine. We leave word no one visits him but us.”
“Yes, okay,” Dylan said. “But I’ll be the one coming back every day to check on him. He might remember more as he becomes more alert, and I’ll be there to hear it and pass it on.”
Asher looked up and grinned. “Good thinking, Dylan. You would have made a good cop, too.”
“Oh hell, no,” Dylan said. “I’ll stick with hammers and nails, not the bad guys and guns. Besides, I’ve got Angie to go home to. She makes my world go ’round.”
“Okay then. Check-out time at the hotel and then home,” Asher said.
“I’ll keep my room just in case,” Dylan said. “The weather is iffy this time of year, and the roads might become impassable for a time. I’d rather be snowed in with Dad, instead of knowing he was on his own.”
“Then when we get back to Crossroads, you keep the SUV to drive back and forth,” Gunner said. “We’ve got Dad’s truck to use if we need wheels.”
“Finish up eating,” Asher said, pointing to their food. “I have some people to talk to here first, and then we’re gone. I want in that bar. I need to see where it happened.”
* * *
A short while later Asher and Gunner had checked out, leaving Dylan’s room active. They loaded up their bags and headed home.
“It’s going to be weird going home without Dad there,” Dylan said.
“And we have some housecleaning to do before it’s safe to bring him home,” Asher added.
Dylan’s phone rang, ending their conversation. It was Angie, needing verification on a decision she was about to make, so Asher took the opportunity to text Nora.
Dad woke up. He’s continuing to improve.
We have new info and we’re all on the way home.
Hope you had a good night’s sleep. Wish I could be with you and help you finish up at your house, but we have some serious issues to solve here before my life is my own again.
Call or text me any time. I will be at your doorstep if you need me.
We’re keeping Dad’s progress under wraps for now. It has to do with keeping him safe. If the shooter thinks Dad has yet to wake up, he won’t be inclined to try and finish the job.
* * *
Nora was in the hardware store, picking up some small hinge screws.
Fixing loose hinges and recaulking windowpanes weren’t part of her skill set, but she was getting there.
Her phone signaled a text as she was heading to the checkout counter.
When she saw it was from Ash, she went ahead and checked out, then got into the car before she stopped to read it.
Finding out that they were coming home was both exciting and worrisome.
From the tone of the message and their previous conversation, she understood what wasn’t being said.
They were going to begin a serious investigation into the attempted murder, which may or may not become risky to them, as well.
But just knowing they were going to be residing only a few blocks apart made her heart skip.
She sent back a response, and then headed home.
Best news ever! Understand the seriousness of what comes next. My lips are sealed. Looking forward to random visits. You know where to find me.
Asher smiled when he got her response, but said nothing.
Discussing her with his brothers wasn’t going to happen.
He didn’t want their input, and he didn’t want the teasing that would ensue.
They were grown-ass men until they got together, and somehow, they always reverted to the old childhood ranking of him in charge and being the referee for them.
* * *
Nora went home with her purchases, unloaded them on the counter and quickly replaced the screws in the cabinet doors she’d found missing, then went outside to reapply caulking to the window she’d heard rattling.
She had just finished and was turning around, when she tripped on the edge of a brick border around an old flower bed long devoid of flowers.
The tube of caulking went flying, and there was nothing to grab hold of to break the fall. She hit knees first, then hands down to keep from face-planting.
Within a heartbeat of impact, she felt a sharp, burning pain in the palm of her left hand and screamed as she jerked it back. Even as she was scrambling to her feet, she saw the piece of glass embedded in her palm, and the blood oozing out around it and groaned.
“Oh. My. God. What next?”
She started to pull out the shard and then guessed it would exacerbate the bleeding.
So, she made a run for the back door, then into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of kitchen towels and lightly wrapped them around her hand.
“Purse, I need my purse,” she mumbled, then ran to get her purse and car keys.
She didn’t stop to lock the door, and she didn’t even have her phone.
She just got in the car and headed for the ER, driving as fast as she dared.
By the time she arrived, she was in tears. The shock of the accident was passing, but this felt like the last volley from a long-fought war. She grabbed her purse and ran inside, but the towels were as blood-soaked as her clothes, which startled the ER nurses to come running.
“Nora! What happened?” Peggy asked.
“Tripped in the back yard and fell. When I got up, this was in my hand.”
“Dr. Sherrod is on-site today. Let’s get you back in an exam room and clean this up,” Joan added.
As they were walking her down the hall to an exam room, Nora began seeing spots before her eyes and felt her legs getting weak. “I think I’m going to pass out.”
“We’ve got you, honey. Take deep breaths and relax. You’re going into shock. Forget the chair. Let’s get her on the bed,” Joan said, and then pulled up the guard rails while Peggy went to get the doctor.
Joan had a pan of water and antiseptic, and was washing off the blood and dirt from Nora’s hands and fingers when Dr. Sherrod walked in.
“Peggy tells me your name is Nora. I’m Dr. Sherrod. You’ve had quite a nasty fall. Let’s see what we can do about fixing you up, okay?”
Nora couldn’t stop the tears, and was afraid to open her mouth for fear she’d choke on the sobs she was suppressing, so she just closed her eyes and nodded.
She felt the burn when they removed the glass, and heard the warning that the shots to numb her hand might hurt. She shut her mind to what they were doing and saying, and kept telling herself it would soon be over, and thought about Asher.
The man he’d become was intimidating. A beautiful face of planes and angles.
Eyes long since adapted to squinting against the sun’s glare, the wind, and the heat.
Tall enough to see what was coming, and hard-headed enough to face it head-on.
And when they made love, it was like flying and falling, and still wanting more.
The Kingstons were West Texas born, like her and her people.
They were used to the hardscape of High Plains living.
Never quite enough grass and water. Sunsets unlike any place else on earth.
Blizzards that killed men and cattle alike.
Snakes in the grass, and snakes wearing boots.
Few stayed by choice, and only the hardiest survived.
This little cut on her hand was nothing to the scars life had left on her heart. She kept telling herself she needed to stop crying. That this was ridiculous. But this was one unexpected pain too many to let go.