Page 11

Chapter Eleven

“ T ext Lori,” Rory told his hands-free. He waited for the prompt, then went on. “Get brisket for bonfire on—shit!”

He damned near ran off the road in order to miss the bay mare standing in the middle of it, staring at him. He squealed to a halt, the tires throwing gravel.

He stepped out of the truck as soon as his heart stopped pounding, intending to get the bay out of the road and figure out which piece of LeBlanc’s fence was down so he could tell them.

The mare bobbed her head as if to say Good plan, dude . At least she wore a halter.

“Hey, sweetheart. Aren’t you a pretty girl?”

She nodded again and stepped toward him, then another two horses came up out of the culvert. Well, hell.

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket. “Call LeBlanc.”

The call went right to voicemail. Fuckkity fuck. “Okay, guys, we have to get out of the road.” He waved his arms at the newcomers, hoping to turn then back the way they came .

“Call Lori,” he told his damned phone, which had to be good for something.

“Hey, boss! ’s’up?”

“I’m almost at the LeBlanc ranch, and they have a fence down. I got horses in the road, and Matt isn’t answering. Keep trying his number, will you, and see if you can get someone out here to help me.” He could cowboy up, but he was no horse whisperer.

“No problem.”

He hung up and headed for the truck. He had rope in there and he could…

Another half dozen horses, these guys yearlings, came over, dancing and worried, snorting and tossing their heads.

What the ever-loving fuck? These guys shouldn’t even be pastured up here. What was Matt thinking?

Okay. Plan B. He got into his toolbox and found his roadside kit, setting out cones so anyone coming their way would slow down. Then he went for his rope, hoping if he got that lead mare the rest might follow.

A dog trotted down the road, barking furiously.

“You’re not helping, pup. Be quiet. Why couldn’t you be a border collie? Something quiet and useful. Herd, boy. Herd!” Rory cackled maniacally at himself. God, he cracked himself up. “Okay, sweet girl. You and me, we’re gonna save the day.”

He hadn’t been a savior in years, so it was probably about time.

Rory drew up a loop, glad that the old girl seemed pretty placid. The yearlings would be another matter altogether. They were obviously scared. Horses liked to know where they belonged.

“Okay, girl. Whoa, now.” He remembered his dad had a trick of distracting a horse’s attention with one hand and roping with the other.

He saw a truck heading down the road, moving way too fast, and he started moving quicker. Come on, come on and let’s do this . “Off the road, everybody!”

Rory swung the rope in wide circles, herding now instead of trying to catch. Even if the damned fool animals went the wrong way it was better than being hit. He shouted unintelligible shit, just needing the herd to move.

The yearlings went first, kicking and snorting, but running back the way they’d come.

“Good babies. Good deal. Off the road.”

The truck just kept coming. Like really fast. Jesus. Rory went a little nuts, charging at the damned horses until they all scattered back into the culvert, except the frickin’ mare that had some kind of fucking road fetish or had fallen in love with him or something.

Jesus Christ. There was a gun. Someone had a gun.

He shook his head, slapping the mare’s flank with the rope. “Move it. I have to get the goddamned dog, too!”

Her head tossed and she whinnied, then she reared up, the rope that was around her neck jerking and tangling around his wrist.

“Fuck.” He tried to stay calm, but the truck was drifting into the wrong lane like it was fucking aiming for them. “Come on, you bitch.” He ignored the grinding pain in his arm and used the snarled rope as leverage to drag her sorry ass off the asphalt.

“What the hell? McConnell? What the fuck are you doing?”

“He’s got a gun!” Jesus Christ. Rory screamed at Matt LeBlanc, hoping the man understood. “He’s got a gun!”

He dragged the mare down the culvert, putting himself in front of her, even though he was pretty sure she was too big to hide.

Three shots blasted out, and the mare took off, yanking him off his feet and sending him bouncing along the ground for what felt like forever. His arm was gonna pop right out of the socket. He knew it.

Then the rope snapped and he slid to a stop, every bit of his breath gone.

“McConnell! McConnell? Are you hurt? Did they shoot you?”

“Is…is the mare okay?” Rory wasn’t sure he could move, and he was terrified of looking at his hand. What if it was gone?

“She’s fine. Still running, I think, but back in the fence line.” Matt dropped to the ground next to him. “Christ.”

“Uh-huh.” He was going to stop dealing with these brothers. Every time he did, he ended up on the floor or the ground or—“Is my hand still there?”

“Yeah.” Matt helped him sit up. “It’s pretty cut up and bruised, but not even mangled bad. You got off easy.”

“Good deal. You got fence down?”

“Yeah. Someone cut the shit out of it. Your girl called in the cavalry. I got fifteen guys out here.” Matt checked him over quickly, but not rough by any means.

“Cool. Cool. I was coming to apologize to your brother.”

“Well, we’ll get you checked out. The cops should be on the way. I didn’t get a plate on the truck, but damn. They were frickin’ shooting.” Matt helped him to his feet, and he looked down at his jeans.

Well, fuck.

There was a lot of fucking blood.

Like whoa.

“It works better if you just don’t look.” Matt might have a point.

“Okay. Can you? Or someone. I’m real glad to have my hand, but if my dick is gone, I won’t have anything to use my hand for. ”

“No worries. Let’s get you to the ranch, man. We’ll clean you up and, uh, make sure you have all your parts.”

Okay. Okay, yeah. Except no. What if he was really hurt…?

Matt half carried him to the truck. “Thanks for coming out, Wacey. You got this?” Matt called over Rory’s head.

“We’re good, boss. We got it handled.”

“If the sheriff shows, send him to the house. This one needs cleaning up.”

“Yessir.”

“Your keys in the truck, McConnell?”

“I sure as shit hope so.” If not, they were gone.

“I do, too.” Matt chuckled, then lifted him up into the passenger seat.

Matt drove like a bat out of hell, and they blasted down the road, the asphalt burning.

“None of the horses got shot, right?” Rory leaned against the window, trying not to hurl.

“Don’t think so.” Matt grabbed his phone. “Brother? Brother, get the first aid kit. McConnell got shot at and dragged saving horses.”

All he could hear of Luke’s side of the conversation was the raised tone, but Rory had a feeling a ‘what the fuck’ might be involved.

“You know as well as I do that fucker cut it, but then someone came down shooting.”

That motherfucker. Rory didn’t even have to ask who they were talking about. It had to be Harris. Jesus, the man would stop at nothing.

Rory leaned his head back, eyes dropping closed. Well, at least he was the fucker land guy who’d saved the horses instead of the one who’d let them out.

The truck stopped and Matt jostled him up and into the house. “Luke? Where do you want him?”

“Put him in the kitchen, Matty. ”

Rory blinked, trying to get his eyes to work.

“You’re okay, man. Just shocky.” Matt got him sat down in a kitchen chair. “Dammit. Sheriff’s here. You got this, brother?”

Was LeBlanc speaking English?

“Got it.” Luke rolled right up in front of Rory, brandishing a wicked sharp pair of scissors. “Hold still, man.”

“Don’t cut anything off. I was coming to apologize.”

“I promise not to amputate anything but the jeans.” Luke smiled at him, sympathy plain.

“I’ll trust you. Just tell me my cock’s intact. Petty, I know, but a thing.”

Luke snorted. “That was one of the first things I asked when I woke up in a field hospital.” Luke cut off his jeans and eased them away. “Let me have a peek.”

“Jesus.” The sight of his ragged, bloody jeans was enough to make him consider immediate death. Now he knew why people were dragged to death as a way to intimidate peasants and shit. It was a hell of a way to die.

“Yeah. Tore the hell out of you. I have basic med training, but if your dick is falling off I’m calling an ambulance.” Luke peered into his boxers. “Hey, you’re in luck. No damage that I can see.”

“Thank God. I like it, and I intend to keep it.”

“Well, sure.” Luke chuckled. “Let me get some dressings and all. You have one cut bad enough I need to butterfly it.”

“I’m in your hands, and I don’t mean that in a naked sort of way. I was coming to apologize. I was sick as a dog that night. I think that beer was spoilt.”

Luke glanced over one shoulder at him, but didn’t say anything much while digging out first aid supplies. When Luke came back, he nodded easily at Rory. “I can see that. You sure did a quick change. Okay, this is gonna sting.”

“I promise not to scream like a fainting goat. ”

“Oh, feel free. I just don’t want you to kick me.” Luke laid what felt like a line of fire down one of Rory’s legs.

“Jesus.” He arched some, hissing. “I’ll be more sorry.”

“You apologized just fine by helping those horses. Matt told me a little. I appreciate it.” Luke glanced up again, as if checking to see if he was still conscious.

“I’m here. I swear to God Matt owes me a… Not a beer. I may never drink beer again, but really good coffee.”

“Yep. Maybe chili and cornbread.” Luke chuckled. “Since that was what we’re having. We’re out of raw hamburger and blue cheese. You have some abrasions on your chest I need to treat, and then I need to look at your hand.”

“Matt swore it was still there.”

“It is, and it looks like the rope burned you pretty good, but there’s none of the serious bloody swelling I’d associate with compromised blood flow. Trust me, if I thought it had really hurt the underlying tissue you’d be on the way to the hospital.” Luke was gentle but efficient. Admirable.