Chapter Twelve #2
Maggie stared, her eyes wide with shock and fear, at Rafe’s motionless form sprawled lifelessly on the dusty barn floor. Her heart thundered in her chest as if trying to escape, and she whispered a fervent prayer, “God, please don’t let him die,” her voice barely audible over the turmoil in her mind. Relief washed over her like a soothing wave when she caught sight of the two deputies striding into the barn. Their determined expressions were as sharp as their drawn weapons, firmly aimed at Frederick. The K-9 beside them was a menacing presence, its fierce gaze focused entirely on Frederick, sending a shiver down her spine despite his anger not being directed at her.
“I am leaving with her,” Frederick snapped, his voice cutting through the tension with a sharp, defiant edge.
Maggie watched as Jack’s lips curled into a confident, almost mocking smirk. “I don’t think you are,” he replied with a steely calm that belied the danger of the moment. “Trust me, it would give me great pleasure to shoot your ass.”
Frederick’s smile was a strange blend of bravado and uncertainty, a facade of confidence that was cracking at the edges. “You won’t shoot me.”
“You know, you’re right, I won’t, but this dog will take you down in a fucking heartbeat,” Jack retorted, his voice low and dangerously smooth. “Let go of her and step away.”
“Do as he says, or I will let this dog go, and you will get bit. Do it now! ” Declan yelled.
Maggie observed Frederick intently, reading the tumult of emotions and thoughts racing through his mind. She sensed his decision to flee the instant before he shoved her toward them, forcing Jack to catch her in his arms. Frederick then spun on his heels, desperation fueling his flight as he bolted through the barn, aiming for the back doors. Jack sighed in frustration, the sound heavy with unspent tension.
“Damn it. Are you alright, Maggie?” he asked, concern etched into his features.
“Yes, but Rafe…” Maggie replied, her voice tinged with urgency as she pushed away from Jack to rush to Rafe’s side.
“Maggie, call nine-one-one for an ambulance. Let Tank go, Declan,” Jack shouted, urgency driving his command as he sprinted out the door.
“Get him, Tank,” Declan said, letting the dog loose. Maggie watched as the dog surged past Jack, a blur of fur and muscle, as it chased after Frederick, with Declan hot on its heels.
She pulled out her phone, her hands trembling, and urgently dialed for an ambulance. Her eyes darted to Rafe, and fear gripped her heart at how alarmingly pale he appeared, like a ghostly figure devoid of life.
“Maggie?”
Startled, she glanced up to see Fred sprinting toward her, his face a mask of concern. He dropped to his knees beside her, breathless and wide-eyed.
“Is he alright?”
“I don’t…” her voice wavered as she shook her head, her mind a whirlwind of dread and uncertainty. “I don’t know. How did you know to come home?”
Fred’s eyes darkened with a mix of worry and guilt. “I came home a while ago. I saw Frederick slinking into the barn, and something didn’t sit right with me, but I didn’t know you were in here. When Rafe came back and entered the barn, I got anxious since Frederick never came out. I called the sheriff’s department.” His arm enveloped her in a comforting embrace. “I’m so sorry, honey. If I’d known he had you in here, I would have come in sooner. I just thought he and Rafe were having one of their heated arguments, but when that son of mine didn’t emerge, I knew I had to make that call. It didn’t matter what was going on between them. I’d had enough and wanted Frederick off my property.” He sighed heavily, his breath mingling with the tension in the air. “I’m so sorry.”
Maggie clung to him, her arms wrapping tightly around his sturdy frame. “Oh, Fred, none of this was your fault. None of it. You didn’t make him do the things he did. He’s a grown man, old enough to make his own decisions. Don’t burden yourself with this. I should never have married him. I just wanted to help my dad.”
Fred’s expression softened; his eyes filled with a deep-seated regret. “I know, but if I had maybe spent more time—”
“No.” Her voice was firm, yet gentle. “Nothing would have been different. Frederick might have turned out better if he loved this ranch, but he didn’t, for reasons we may never understand. You did the best you could. Parents can only do so much. How the child turns out when they get older is not a reflection on them. Even with the best parenting, there’s no guarantee a child will grow to be a good person. There are so many other influences in life. I truly believe that.”
The barn loomed around them, silent witness to their shared sorrow, as they held onto each other amid the chaos of emotions and the distant wail of sirens approaching.
Maggie sighed with relief when she saw the EMTs running into the barn with a stretcher, then Sheriff Sam Garrett followed them and squatted down beside her.
“Maggie? Where are Jack and Declan?”
“We’re here, Sam.”
Maggie looked toward the back doors to see Jack holding Frederick’s arm as he led him into the barn, his hands cuffed behind his back, but one arm was covered in blood. Jack stopped him beside Sam.
“Where’s Declan?” Sam asked.
“He’s putting Tank in the car and giving him a treat.” Jack grinned.
“That damn dog bit me,” Frederick snapped.
“You were told he would.” Jack shook his head.
Maggie watched as Sam ran his hand over his mouth to no doubt, cover a grin.
“Did you read Mr. Hancock his rights?”
“I did, Sam. He wants a lawyer.”
“Well, he’s definitely going to need one.” Sam stepped closer to Frederick. “You’d better hope he lives because I will charge you with murder.” Frederick shrugged and Sam clenched his jaw. “Get him out of here. This time there will be no early release for any reason.”
Maggie waited until Rafe was loaded on the stretcher, then she stood and hugged Fred.
“I’m going with him.”
“Alright, honey. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Okay, Fred.” She turned to face Sam. “Thank you.”
“No need. We’re just doing our job. I hope Rafe’s okay.”
“Me too.”
“I’ll be by the hospital in a little while.” Sam touched his hat then strode from the barn.
Maggie climbed into the back of the ambulance, took Rafe’s hand and watched as the EMT put monitors on him, the siren peeled as they drove toward the hospital.
****
Rafe’s eyelids fluttered open against a wash of harsh, fluorescent light. The steady beep of a heart monitor and the faint hiss of the ventilation system filled the small hospital room. He turned his head on a crisp pillow and groaned.
“Rafe?”
He squeezed his eyes shut, wincing as every pulse in his skull throbbed. When he opened them again, Maggie stood beside the bed, her brown hair pulled into a loose ponytail, worry etched in the fine lines around her dark eyes.
“Hi,” he rasped, voice brittle. He cleared his throat, then croaked, “Could I get some water?”
“Of course.” She fetched a plastic cup from the bedside table. Tipping the cup, she held the straw to his lips. “Slow sips.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
A teasing grin curved her lips. “You must be feeling better—your manners are showing.”
Rafe forced a laugh that tumbled out half cough, half groan. “Don’t make me laugh. Damn, my head feels like someone—”
“—hit you with a shovel?” she supplied; voice tight.
“Exactly. What happened?”
Maggie drew a chair close and sat. She described everything that had unfolded after he collapsed: the faces swirling above him, the frantic calls for help, the blur of sirens.
“I thought you were going to die, Rafe,” she choked out, voice quivering.
He reached for her hand, pale against his own. “I’m tougher than that.”
She let out a short, incredulous laugh. “I always knew you were hardheaded, but to take a shovel to the head and still be able to get up…” She shook her head, her ponytail swaying. “The doctor says it’s a concussion.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Just a few hours. They were keeping you for observation and to see if you’d wake up.”
“I want to go home.” His fingers drummed impatiently on the bedrail.
“I know, but it depends on how you feel.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine! You were smacked in the head—”
Her words were cut off by the soft click of the door. The doctor stepped in, a lean man in his forties, salt-and-pepper hair above a crisp white coat, a stethoscope draped around his neck. His expression was gentle but firm.
“I’ll be the judge of that, Mr. Marshall,” he said pleasantly.
“Really, doc, I’ll do better at home,” Rafe insisted, pressing a hand to his throbbing temple. “I hate staying here.”
“We’d rather not keep you unnecessarily,” the doctor replied, checking Rafe’s chart. “You’re coherent but expect one hell of a headache.”
“I already have it,” Rafe muttered, wincing as he touched his forehead.
“Do you have someone who can stay with you?” the doctor asked.
“Yes.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” Maggie asked.
Rafe met her gaze and flashed a smile. “Yep. You.”
She folded her arms, brow arching in mock indignation. Rafe felt a sudden urge to kiss her, but he winked instead. Maggie laughed. She turned back to the doctor.
“I’ll stay with him—just don’t be surprised if I bring him back and leave him on the doorstep.”
“Hey,” Rafe protested, then groaned as a fresh wave of pain knifed through his head.
Maggie and the doctor chuckled in unison.
“That’s what you get,” she teased, her eyes softening as she settled closer to the bed.
“Alright, Mr. Marshall, I’ll release you. A nurse will come in with your instructions and explain everything to you in detail.” The doctor, his expression serious yet reassuring, turned to Maggie. “Make sure you listen carefully to the instructions. Schedule an appointment with me if any symptoms worsen. He seems stable now, but with a concussion, things can take a turn for the worse. Also, no full-time work for at least two weeks. You can resume part-time work if you feel up to it within a few days, but don’t overdo it.”
“I’ll keep a close eye on him.” Maggie smiled, her eyes full of concern.
“Good enough. I’ll send a nurse in. Take care of yourselves.” With a final nod, the doctor exited the room.
“I’m a ranch manager; how can I not work?” Rafe grumbled; his brow furrowed in frustration.
“Just manage the ranch from the comfort of your home,” Maggie replied with a teasing smile.
“You’re a real smartass, you know that?” he retorted, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Yep. Seriously, Rafe, take it easy. Do you want to end up back in here? I already talked with Vanna, and she knows I’ll be off for a while.”
“Damn it. Alright,” he conceded, his voice laced with reluctant acceptance.
“You have to listen, hardhead.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled, a faint smile tugging at his lips as Maggie’s laughter filled the room.
After the nurse meticulously went over the discharge instructions, Rafe grudgingly settled into a wheelchair, a scowl of annoyance on his face and the nurse wheeled him through the hospital corridors, the sterile scent surrounding them, until they reached the exit and Maggie ran to get her vehicle. After pulling up, she helped him ease into the front seat, taking care to ensure his comfort, and began the drive to his home.
Rafe leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes in a futile attempt to find some rest, but every little bump in the road sent jolts of pain ricocheting through his skull.
Once Maggie got him home, the familiar scent of wood filled the air as he settled onto the plush sofa. Within moments, the exhaustion overtook him, and he drifted into a deep, healing sleep, the soft hum of the room a gentle lullaby.