Aftermath #2
In fact, the whole family probably thought Tim and the Montana Rider were two different people. Did Tim really distrust the Austins so much? What was the point of going around in disguise? Did he think bad guys would be more scared of him if he wore a mask and a hat?
Tim’s eyes were closed again. Hopefully he was just resting and hadn’t fainted.
The emergency people had better get here quickly.
If only it wasn’t such a long drive from town!
Maria kept her hold on the wound and prayed through gritted teeth.
“Lord, help him,” she prayed. “Let him be okay. Protect the ranch and the people who live here. Please.”
Finally, sirens blared in the distance. Help was on the way.
When the ambulance arrived, everything happened so quickly that it was a blur. The paramedics swooped in to take care of Tim. Maria watched, anxiety pulsing through her. Would he be okay?
Shakily, she explained things to the paramedics. They were cool and calm, as though they dealt with things like this every day. Probably they did.
“Are you going to ride to the hospital with him?” one of the paramedics asked Maria.
Maria still hadn’t talked to the police. They were arriving now, their sirens shrill. “I’d better stay here,” Maria said. “The guy who shot Tim might be out there, and I want to help the police as much as possible.”
As the police flooded in, the paramedics were getting Tim onto their gurney. Maria barely had a chance to look in his direction one more time, both worried and angry, before the police started questioning her.
Maria didn’t have much useful information. Somebody had tried to set fire to the bunkhouse. Tim had scared them away, but was shot and thrown from his horse. The arsonists had gotten away. They might be still on the ranch, or they might have gone. Maria had no clues.
Basically, they were in the same situation as before. Tim hadn’t even trusted Maria with the identity of the guy with the cow skull tattoo on his hand. In case it was helpful, Maria mentioned the tattoo.
“We know about that,” one of the policemen said. “We questioned the guy, but there isn’t any concrete evidence against him. Your foreman was trying to get it.”
So Tim had told the police, but he hadn’t told Maria. Of course. And the police wouldn’t tell Maria who the suspect was, either.
The officers went down to talk to the ranch hands who hadn’t gone to the party, leaving Maria alone at the house.
She had forgotten to call Uncle Russell.
She called him now, sitting down on the couch in the hope that it would calm her nerves.
The couch was smeared with blood. Maria’s hands were covered in it.
Poor Tim—would he be okay? The paramedics had seemed pretty sure.
Maria hoped they knew what they were talking about.
Uncle Russell was horrified. “We’re coming back there right away,” he said. “It’ll be about fifteen minutes. Are you safe? Is the house locked?”
Maria assured him that she was all right. But when she got off the phone, she double-checked the front door bolt and went to wash the blood off her hands. She found herself crying, tears streaming down her face.
Maria blew her nose and went to sit on her bed, a blanket pulled around her shoulders. This was the most awful night.
Outside, it was getting dark. The light outside the barn had come on.
Just last night Maria had looked out and seen the Montana Rider silhouetted against that barn light.
He had come to give her her glasses back.
That was a kind thing. She knew Tim wasn’t just an awful guy.
But why hadn’t he told her who he really was?
Did he expect her to just guess? How was she supposed to figure it out?
Scenes played in Maria’s head. Tim wrestling over those cookies she had tried to prevent him from taking, the first time she met him.
Tim managing two shopping carts. Tim daring her to jump over the creek and laughing at her when she fell in.
Tim at the rodeo, a marvel of power and grace on that explosively bucking bronc.
Tim smiling at her on the carousel while the lights of the fairgrounds went by. Tim’s big strong hand holding hers.
Without realizing it at the beginning, she had fallen for him. Even when the Montana Rider seemed so much more romantic and intriguing, it had been Tim who was real, steady, always there to help. She had grown to trust him when she trusted almost nobody else.
This was such a miserable mess, and Maria didn’t know what to do.
Why didn’t Uncle Russell and the rest of the family ever get here?
It had to have been fifteen minutes or more.
Hopefully those arsonists weren’t out burning down more of the ranch.
There had to be some way to stop them. Who was going to stop them though, when neither the ranch people nor the police had been able to do that up to this point?
Especially now that Tim was out of the way.
Why hadn’t he trusted her with his secret? Why had he deceived her? Now everything was ruined, and he was injured, and he still hadn’t told her who he suspected of sabotaging the ranch.
Maybe that was why he’d told Maria that he was the last person who ought to talk about finding someone trustworthy.