Give Me A Cowboy. Jodi Thomas
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Bonnie Lynn said as she slipped into the kitchen.
Laurel tried not to look at the rotting food and dirty dishes scattered around. The place was so busy it looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in weeks.
Just outside the back door, Dan stood in the rain. Bonnie Lynn was at her side as they stepped onto the tiny back porch. “What is it?” Laurel yelled over the rain and the kitchen noises behind her.
“It’s Darnell, miss. He’s hurt. I don’t know what to do for him.”
Bonnie Lynn’s hand caught Laurel’s arm before she could step into the downpour. “Wait, miss. Take my cape.”
It took all her control to stand still as the maid wrapped a cape over her shoulders. She pulled the hood up and Dan offered his arm.
“Where is he?” Laurel asked as she matched the big man’s stride.
“In the old barn down by the corrals.”
“What happened?”
“One of the men who work the stock said he saw three cowhands kicking something in the mud. He didn’t know it was a man until he almost fell over him when the cowhands walked away. We got him in the barn, but he’s bleeding, Miss, and I wasn’t sure what to do.”
“What about the doctor?”
“Rowdy wouldn’t hear of us getting him. He says they’d disqualify him if they knew he was hurt.”
Laurel could barely speak. Fear blocked her words. “Did he tell you to come find me?”
“No, miss. He’s going to be madder than hell when he figures out I come to get you, but I’m hoping you can talk some sense into him.”
“But why me?”
Dan smiled. “I seen the way you looked at him that night at the dance and the way he looked at me when I was holding you. I didn’t think it was nothing much until I saw that basket of food this morning on his porch. A man don’t pack a basket with lace napkins, and the food was too hot to have come all the way from town.” He helped her over a mud hole and added, “It made sense it came from the Captain’s place, and I knew if it was one of your sisters he liked that’d make my friend dumber than a warm cow patty.”
She looked away so he wouldn’t see her smile.
“Meaning no disrespect against your sisters.”
They stepped into the sudden silence of the barn.
“If you won’t take offense,” Dan said as he pointed to the loft, “I’ll swing you up.”
She nodded and she was lifted up like a child.
For a moment she saw nothing but hay, then, in the corner, a tiny light flickered.
“Bring another lantern,” she called down to Dan and ran toward Rowdy.
He moaned as she tugged his shoulder and turned him onto his back. Blood and mud were everywhere.
“Laurel,” he whispered, then tried to push her away.
“Stop it.” She shoved back. “Be still. I need to see where you’re hurt.”
“Pretty much all over,” he mumbled.
“Then let me look.”
She wasn’t sure if he passed out or just decided to follow orders for once. He crumbled like a rag doll.
The light wasn’t good enough to see, but she could feel. Laurel tugged off her cape and pressed her hand against his heart. It beat solid and strong. She took a deep breath and began to move over him, feeling the strong muscles of his body beneath his soaked clothes.
When she touched his left side, he jerked in pain but didn’t cry out. None of his limbs seemed broken but warm blood dripped from his bottom lip and nose. A cut sliced across his forehead close to his hairline and a knot as big as an egg stood out on the back of his skull. By the time Dan arrived with the lantern, she felt safe in believing Rowdy wasn’t going to die.
When Rowdy opened his eyes, she said, “You need to see a doctor.”
“No,” he answered.
“But…”
“No,” he repeated.
Dan knelt on one knee. “I figure whoever did this was trying to take Rowdy out of the competition. I don’t think it was anything personal. If we take him to a doc, he’ll be out no matter how it happened.”
“But he can’t ride tomorrow like this.”
“He has to. I heard one of the judges say if he places even third tomorrow, he’ll win best all-around.”
“No. His ribs could be broken.” She pulled his shirt away and saw the dark bruises already forming.
“Stop talking about me like I’m not in my right mind.” Rowdy swore as he forced himself to sit up. “I’m riding tomorrow. End of discussion.”
“I say no. It’s not worth risking your life.”
He stared at her. “If I don’t ride, I’ll be risking both our lives. I’m not willing to do that.” He closed his bruised hand over hers. “I’ve been hurt far worse than this. I can ride tomorrow.”
Laurel shoved the tear off her cheek. “Dan, can you get him home?”
“I’ll borrow a wagon and have him there in an hour.”
“Good. Stay with him until I get there. I’ll bring bandages and all the medicine I can find.”
If the big man thought it strange that Laurel Hayes was crying over Rowdy, he didn’t say a word. He helped her get him downstairs to a wagon. She pulled all the blankets from her buggy and packed them around him.
When Dan brought his horse and Cinnamon to the back of the wagon, she whispered her thanks.
“Ain’t nothing he wouldn’t do for me,” Dan answered, then hesitated before adding, “He’s a good man, Miss Laurel.”
“I know,” she answered. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She watched the wagon move into the rain and then walked back to the hotel.
Bonnie Lynn met her at the kitchen door. “Your father is looking for you.”
She handed Bonnie Lynn back her cape and stepped into the hallway. She could hear her father yelling.
He’d lost at poker and was too drunk to notice the mud on her clothes. All he wanted to do was go home. When they reached the barn, he borrowed one of his men’s horses and had two of the cowhands ride with the women.
Her sisters complained about the lack of blankets until the men offered an arm around them. Laurel sat in the back too worried to be cold. She ordered the man driving to go faster, but he was in no hurry to get home. The road seemed endless.
When they finally made it, she ran in the house and up the stairs. Minutes later she was dressed in her wool riding clothes and leather jacket. Tossing all the supplies she could find in a bag, she started out of the house.
At the front door she almost collided with her father and one of his men.
“Where do you think you are going?”
Laurel knew better than to tell him the truth. She might be twenty, but he’d think he was well within his rights to lock her in her room if he thought she was leaving. “I’m going to check on my mare.”
“At this hour?” He wasn’t sober enough to figure out why her story made little sense.
“I couldn’t sleep. I think the mare might have hurt her leg.” She lifted the bag as if to prove what she was doing.
The cowhand laughed. “The horse isn’t the only one hurting tonight.”