Conard county conspiracy, p.12
Conard County Conspiracy, page 12
“Now, here,” he said, holding her prescription bottle in front of her. “I know you can take these with some effort, but why don’t you just let me pop them in your mouth?”
She opened her mouth to say she could do it, but immediately felt two pills on her tongue. Well, now she had to drink.
With the pills washed down, she said, “You’re the devil after all.”
He chuckled. “Guilty. You want me to raise the back of the chair?”
As she felt his arm slip away, she wished he’d continue to hold her. How long had it been since anyone had held her?
As soon as she met the back of the recliner, she knew the answer to his question. “Up, please.”
He reached for the control switch on the end table beside her and raised her as smoothly and easily as if she was on a hospital bed.
How had she missed that earlier? Probably because she’d been so weary.
Mitch backed away and tugged one of the upright chairs over so he could sit facing her.
“Hurting?” he asked.
“A little,” she allowed, then wondered why she was lying. He’d just put two pain pills in her mouth. He already knew the answer. “I hurt like hell. When I woke I wanted to run from my body.”
“That’s awful,” he said. He leaned forward, took the water bottle from her and placed it on the end table. Then he put his elbows on his knees. “Just take a few to wake up and let those pills start working. Then we can discuss dinner.”
Dinner? The last thing she felt like doing was eating. The pain from her hands seemed to be shooting up her arms, like a living monster. This hurt worse than when she was in the hospital. Then she realized she’d probably been on something stronger than what was in the prescription bottle.
“It shouldn’t take longer than twenty minutes for the pills to start working,” Mitch said. “God knows I’ve had them a few times myself.”
Seeking distraction, Grace asked, “What for?”
“You really want the laundry list?” He sounded amused.
“I don’t know much about your life before we met.”
“True, I guess. I’m mostly forward-looking. Well, let me see. There was the time I got thrown by my mount, landed on some rocks and broke nearly half of the bones on my left side. I was twelve at the time, stuck in a bunch of casts, needing some surgery to put in pins.”
She drew a breath. “That bad?”
“I was good at accidents around that age. One of the worst was when I fell from the barn loft and broke my wrist. Damn thing was at an angle no arm ought to be. To get it back in line to be set, they had to put this torture device on me, pulling all my fingers hard while I did some caterwauling.” He shook his head. “That’s on the top of my list for miserable experiences. Cracked ribs hurt pretty bad, too.”
“It sounds terrible.” She felt the first stirrings of relief from the medicine. Thank God. “Accidents, huh?”
He shrugged. “Let a young boy loose on a ranch, and he’ll find some trouble. Fell into a pile of barbed wire once. Took my dad and two of his men close to an hour to cut me loose.”
“How in the world did that happen?”
“I was running and tripped. I also wasn’t being very cautious. Should have picked a better place to run.”
“Like you’d have been thinking about that when you were so young.”
“That’s how the young get some sense,” he answered. “From mistakes. My dad took it in stride. Mostly. The time I got thrown he wasn’t completely sympathetic. A boy on a ranch ought to know how to keep his seat better. Doesn’t matter if a snake terrified the horse.”
“So you fell near a snake? And I suppose you were too hurt to move?” The idea was scary.
Another smile appeared. “My mare kinda took care of that. Wasn’t much snake left after she trampled it good.”
“So that’s why the horse was bucking?”
“Yup. She saved both of us by killing it. Then she nuzzled me a time or two. My memory isn’t completely clear. After that she took off hell for leather back home. Let my dad know I was in trouble, then brought him to me.”
Grace thought about that as the pill begin to soften her pain. “I always suspected horses were smarter than we know.”
“I couldn’t agree more. She was a good old mare. And my dad was right about keeping my seat. It kinda stung when he said I didn’t have as much sense as my horse.”
Grace laughed. “That would sting.”
“When you’re twelve? Yeah. I had to admit Baby was getting skittish and I didn’t pay attention, just kept guiding her into danger. More sense than me for sure.”
“Horses will die for us,” she remarked.
“They sure will. Run themselves to death if we demand it. Go straight into battle.” He paused. “Feeling any better?”
“Think so. I’m getting a bit muzzy.”
“How about some coffee? Lila always has a fresh pot. After, we can talk about what you feel like eating.”
Coffee sounded good. It might even keep her from falling asleep. “Please.”
She hoped she’d be able to hold it between her hands. It had worked earlier at the barn raising She’d even managed a spoon. Basically she was working with two hands formed into claws.
Much as she hated to admit it, she was very glad Mitch had brought her home with him. She couldn’t imagine taking care of herself right now without help. She just hoped having her here wouldn’t burden anyone.
Mitch returned in quick order with a brushed steel mug. “It’s insulated, so be careful when you sip. The coffee’s a little hotter than my tongue would like.”
“No more burns for me, thank you very much.”
She was able to hold the mug between both her hands and draw in the aroma. Rich and nutty. He was right about the heat, though. She could feel it as she carried the cup closer to her face.
“It won’t cool as fast in that mug,” he said. “You already know that. Whole reason I got a cupboard full of them.”
“I have a few, too. But they have tops.”
“So does that one, but I didn’t want you to take a swig before you knew what you were getting into.” He pulled a top out of his breast pocket. “When you think it’s cool enough, I’ll put this on.”
He was so considerate, Grace thought. Little seemed to escape him.
A few minutes later, she brought the mug up and tested it with her lip. “I think it’s ready.”
He took the cup and pressed the top on it. “There you go.”
She accepted it and tasted the coffee, savoring it. Just what she needed.
“Now to dinner,” he said. “Lila made a great one, but she always does. She was thinking of you, too. Not much that you can’t eat with a spoon.”
All this caring might overwhelm her. She said so.
“Like I care? Damn, woman, I’m just thrilled you’re alive. Let me know when you’re ready to eat.”
A while later he said, “Lila went over to your house to get you some night things and a few fresh changes of clothes. She also said when you’re ready she’ll give you a sponge bath.”
“Oh my God,” Grace answered, her cheeks heating. “That’s too—”
“Too much,” he interrupted. “I know. Let me remind you she’s taken care of a family and she volunteered. Besides, in a day or two you’re going to start feeling like something that needs to be mucked out of a stall.”
That actually made her laugh. “You’re awful, Mitch.”
“I work on it.” He flashed another grin. “Much better than Lila telling me I have a God-given purpose. I don’t see ranching that way. It’s a job, like any other. I’m just luckier than most.”
She shook her head. “You do a great job looking after your animals. That’s not all luck.”
“Maybe not, but I’ve got this big spread. My great-granddaddy left it behind. Dad and I always felt lucky. You gotta have the land and this is damn fine land.”
She knew it was true. Her own place was blessed with enough water unlike so many around here. She and John had definitely been lucky to get it at auction for such a good price. Otherwise they’d never have had their flock, their life together on the land.
A wave of sorrow passed through her, then released her. She sipped more coffee and realized she wasn’t getting as sleepy on the pills as before. Getting used to them?
Then she noticed she was getting hungry.
As if reading her mind, Mitch asked, “Getting hungry now?”
“Amazingly, yes.”
He nodded. “Good. Lila would be upset if you didn’t eat at least a little of her chefery. I can recommend the stone soup. Easy to eat with a spoon.”
“Stone soup? Really?” There couldn’t be stones in it.
“That’s what she calls it. A bit of most of what she has in the fridge and the cupboards. Trust me, it’s always an adventure and surprising how she can make all that taste good.”
He frowned a little, evidently in thought. “There’s some mashed potatoes. Some fruit salad that has pieces small enough to eat with a spoon. That salad is the best. She makes it from fresh fruit.”
Grace was impressed with the splendid smorgasbord he offered her. “You choose,” she said after a moment. “I can’t decide. Everything sounds good, even stone soup.”
He chuckled at that. “I know. Really? All right, I’ll come back with the first course.”
He paused in the doorway, looking back at her. “Like I said, she was thinking of you when she made dinner. Small pieces.”
Grace was touched, if a little embarrassed that the woman had gone out of her way. This was the kind of thing she always tried to avoid.
Mitch returned with a deep bowl, not a soup plate, putting it on a TV table in front of her. Beside it he placed a napkin and spoon.
“Don’t worry if you dribble a bit,” he said. “Whenever I eat soup, I always swear there’s a hole in my lip.”
That relaxed her because she shared the feeling. Before she began to eat, she took the napkin and tucked it in to her collar as best she could.
“Good idea,” Mitch remarked. “I’ve often talked about finding an adult-sized bib.”
The soup was every bit as delicious as he’d promised. Grace had no idea what Lila had cobbled together, but it was the best soup she’d ever tasted.
Shortly after she finished, however, she fell asleep sitting up.
Her day was done.
Chapter 10
Over the next few days, Grace came to accept that she couldn’t have gone home by herself. Lila took over her bandaging according to Grace’s discharge instructions, patiently smearing on the gel. At last the day arrived that her fingers could all be bound separately. What a relief!
Lila would sit with her for a while, chatting about irrelevancies, then head back to her domain, the kitchen. Marvelous food came out of that kitchen, every kind of baked good, from croissants to pies and cobblers. Grace was sure she was going to plump up.
Mitch went out every day to look after his operation and to help finish her new barn. She still couldn’t get over that. How had she come to have such good neighbors?
“It’s simple,” Mitch answered when she mentioned it. “You’re part of the ranchers’ family. All of us are.”
Mitch had taken to eating his meals with her. As she had begun to back off her pain medication, she joined him in the kitchen, sometimes with Bill and sometimes with all three of the hired hands. Conversation was generally light, mostly talk about cattle. Grace listened eagerly, feeling she had stepped back into part of the life she had lost.
Then Bill said, “Grace, your new barn is finished. I hope you’ll get to see it soon. It’s so great that I’m thinking we ought to burn down ours.”
“Don’t you dare,” Mitch said with a laugh.
Bill and the others laughed with him.
The roast beef was perfectly done, the mashed potatoes a scoop of heaven and the broccoli impeccably cooked. “You’re a wizard, Lila,” she offered sincerely.
“Just you wait until I really rev up. Bet these guys never expected to eat fancy cooking.”
“This is pretty fancy,” Bill remarked.
Grace watched Bill and Lila, thinking that Mitch might be right about the two of them. Something in the way they looked at each other. She dipped into the food on her plate again, savoring every mouthful and enjoying having nearly functional fingers again.
The mess on her hands, which she saw every time Lila changed her bandages, was bad but healing. She suspected that they were going to be tender for some time to come. That was down the road, however, and she was enjoying being able to hold a fork again, even if not the way she used to.
“Tell me about the barn, please,” she asked when the conversation flagged. The four men were clearly on a wavelength together, an easy flow of talk between them. She enjoyed listening but was still curious.
“It’s something to behold,” Jeff said. “Don’t see too many new barns in these parts. Almost a shame it’ll have to be painted.”
Painted? Grace hadn’t thought about that, and her stomach sank a bit. Paint for a building that big would be monstrously expensive.
“Or,” Mitch interjected, “she could just let it age awhile. Maybe until the wood silvers a bit.”
Jack laughed. Bill answered, “Boss, you know how long it takes for wood to do that?”
“I do. I also know how a freshly painted barn would look in these parts. Like a damn lighthouse.”
Grace laughed, too. He was right about that. Her own barn, the one that had burned, had been all silvered with age but still usable. How many years ago had it been built? She had no idea.
Jeff spoke again. “Aw. Here I was thinking we could gussy it up with some bright red paint. White trim.”
Jack looked at him. “You want to go all New England?”
“Hey,” Jeff answered. “These days most new barns look like Quonset huts, all built out of steel. Which doesn’t last as long, you ask me.”
“Don’t believe I did,” Jack retorted.
Another round of laughter ringed the table.
“Well, I never did like rust all that much,” Jack continued. “Whatever they make them barns out of, it still rusts eventually. Like those the ones you got to park all the heavy equipment and vehicles in.”
“Then don’t burn my wood barn down,” Mitch said. “Otherwise you’ll be patching metal more of the time.”
Jack feigned a frown. “I stay on a horse better than a ladder.”
More laughter. Grace thought about how easy it would be to slip into this camaraderie and forget everything else. It wrapped around her like a warm blanket.
After dinner, Lila settled her back in the recliner with a hot cup of coffee and a piece of peach pie. Grace wished she could help the others with cleanup, but that was impossible right now.
Still, she apologized to Lila. “I’m sorry I can’t help with the dishes.”
Lila put her hands on her hips. “I got four healthy men out there taking care of it, and well they should, if they want me to keep cooking. Besides...”
Lila’s face softened. “Honey, you ain’t gonna be doing much with those hands for a while. Even after the bandages come off, they won’t like hot water. And I really don’t want my pots and pans washed in cold water. Like I need to tell you that.”
Lila sailed away, probably to spend more time around Bill.
Grace looked at her hands. Lila was right. She’d had burns before, much smaller, but hot water was like holding a match to them. God, would she ever be able to stand on her own two feet again?
* * *
Time passed, although far too slowly for Grace. The days fell into a routine: breakfast in the kitchen, usually with Lila and Mitch, then Mitch setting out for a day of work. Before long, Grace would be settled in the living room with a cup of coffee, the TV remote and a book.
Despite what Mitch had said about watching TV so rarely he couldn’t find the remote, there was a large flat-screen enthroned over the fireplace. Not that she’d ever seen Mitch turn it on, and she wasn’t inclined to. Daytime TV rarely offered her anything she cared to watch. She knew because she’d tried it for a while after John’s death, seeking distraction. However, it hadn’t provided any.
Her own channel selection had been limited, but Mitch had a satellite dish out back that looked big enough to track the stars.
The thought amused her. A remnant from years past, she supposed, that still worked.
Time dragged anyway. Holding a book fatigued her sore hands rapidly. She still took a pain pill from time to time but they no longer made her sleepy. God, why had she never appreciated how much hands did? How often they were needed even for the simplest things.
She had begun to take walks outside. Sitting around so much was weakening her, and stretching her muscles felt good. The sun kissed her skin with heat, the breeze tossed her hair around, but before long her eyes began to water. The sun was too bright. Damn, she needed a cap of some kind. Sunglasses. Blue eyes sucked when the sun was really bright. An eye doctor had told her once that they didn’t block the light as well as darker eyes.
Before, she’d been mostly content with solitude. Now she found herself eagerly anticipating Mitch’s appearance in the late afternoons. He’d shower, then come to keep her company.
The amazing thing was that he hadn’t become bored with her. Instead he’d sit with her, telling her about his day, asking her about hers. She rarely had anything to offer, but he could make amusing stories out of the mundane matters of operating a cattle ranch. Or some story about what the sheep were up to.
Listening to Mitch, she wondered why she’d never noticed the sheep antics he reported. Maybe she hadn’t been paying close enough attention.
“The spring lambs are developing a real sense of adventure,” he told her. “Into everything, according to Zeke and Rod. You’d think they were young goats.”
