style="font-size:15px;"> The patient watched her closely, and Cheyenne realized Arlene was still staring at her from the other side of the room.
“Arlene, is something wrong?” she asked.
The nurse shook her head slowly.
Cheyenne questioned the patient, did an exam and ordered a drug screen, all the time aware that the nurse continued to watch her a little too closely. It rankled.
While she waited for the test results to come back, Cheyenne sat down at her workstation and struggled with the memories. As she often did, she planned to drive to the cemetery with a bouquet of flowers from the grocery store.
And then she would sleep through the day. After that, she had vacation for two weeks, which she desperately needed.
She checked her mail slot in the E.R. callroom. There were the typical copies of old lab reports and hospital memos, a request for her to stop by her director’s office before she left on vacation.
No problem, she could do that. Jim had a shift today. Besides, it wasn’t as if she had plans to do anything but sleep. With the physician shortage in the past few weeks, she’d worked several extra shifts in March, half of them nights. It kept her occupied, but it also kept her tired, especially combined with the insomnia caused by her frequent nightmares.
Jim walked past her desk. “You ready to talk to me in a few minutes?”
“Let me finish up a patient and I’ll be there.” He was obviously serious about something. Might as well see what it was.
Dane heard the familiar crunch of gravel announce the arrival of a macho engine. Opening the barn door, he saw the big red pickup floating in a cloud of dust, and the mayor of Hideaway behind the steering wheel.
This was not the best possible morning for Austin’s kind of company, but then, Dane couldn’t think of a time when he would welcome this man. Too much ugly history came between them.
With a final glance at Willy and Blaze hovering over the cows in the milking room, Dane strolled from the barn and ambled up the incline toward the house, catching a whiff of dust in his nostrils. They could use a good rain. In fact, he wouldn’t mind if the sky chose this time for a cloudburst.
Austin Barlow lit from his truck like some cowboy hero alighting from his trusty steed. Minus the hat, for once. At forty-two, Austin had a full head of auburn hair with barely a streak of white, while at thirty-eight, Dane knew his silver-blond hair was already more silver than blond. His beard had even more snow in it. His father had been the same way.
“Morning, Austin.” Dane reached out a hand, bracing himself for the man’s exaggerated grip. He didn’t wince when his knuckles squeezed against each other. “Breakfast will be ready in about thirty minutes. It’s our Saturday special—”
“No time for that today, Gideon, we’ve got other things to worry about.” The man loomed a little too close and tall, a sure bet he had conflict on his mind.
Dane suppressed a groan. At six feet even, he was barely an inch shorter than the mayor, but he’d never learned to intimidate quite so well. “Time for a cup of coffee?”
“I need to know where your boys were last night.”
Not this again. “All snug in the house as soon as the milking was done.”
“You know that for sure? You have padlocks on all your outside windows?”
Don’t react. “I have squeaky floorboards, and I’m a light sleeper. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, Austin?”
The mayor kicked at a rock with the pointed toe of his boot and gestured across the lake toward the town of Hideaway. “Someone set a boat afire on the new dock last night.”
Dane sniffed the air. He’d caught the scent earlier, but several neighbors heated with wood stoves and fireplaces, so he’d thought nothing of it. “Was anybody hurt?”
Austin shook his head. “Edith Potts called the county sheriff this morning—she found her cat lying on the front porch, shot through the side.”
That was even more disturbing. In spite of Austin’s suspicions, the fire could have been an accident. The cat could not.
“Know anybody who’d do those things?” Austin’s gaze combed the outskirts of the ranch.
“Not a soul.”
“What about that new boy you got last month? Black kid with that stupid mop-head hairdo. What do you know about—”
“I know where Gavin was last night, Austin. Don’t try to drag my kids into—”
“Didn’t I hear somebody calling him Blaze? I hear he’s not doing too well in school.”
“He’s just settling in.” Temper, Dane. Control the temper or suffer the consequences. “I’ve told you before, my kids aren’t delinquents.” They were just unwanted teenagers who’d fallen between the cracks in the social system.
“Yeah? How long were you in the hospital when your kid Bruce Wickman ran over you with the tractor?”
“That was seven years ago,” Dane said curtly. “He was here by mistake.” Bruce was still a touchy subject between them. One of several.
“How do you know your little Blaze isn’t a mistake?”
From the corner of his sight, Dane saw “little Blaze” walking up the hill with Willy—all five feet ten inches of brawn. Time to get rid of this joker before tempers flared or feelings got hurt.
“Austin,” Dane said, forcing an edge to his tone, keeping his voice low, “I appreciate your coming out to check on us, but your fears are unfounded. Why don’t you wait until the sheriff checks out the source of the fire before you start pointing fingers in our direction again?”
“Don’t blow me off like—”
“It seems I remember you were the most outspoken against the new boat dock. If the sheriff knew that, he might be more likely to check you out.”
“You know I wouldn’t—”
“And didn’t you and Edith Potts have some heated words a few weeks back about her property line?” Most of the time Austin Barlow was easy to handle. He hated bad press.
“Hi, Mr. Barlow,” Willy called.
Austin turned and looked the boys over, nodded, then turned back to Dane.
“Thanks for coming by, Mayor.” Dane opened the truck door and stepped back. “Sorry you can’t stay for breakfast.”
Dr. Jim Brillhart was seated behind his minuscule desk in the director’s office by the time Cheyenne arrived.
She slumped into the empty chair across from his desk. “So, what’s up, Jim?”
He hesitated for a full
