shook his head. “Mostly since Dad’s passing last year.”
“He could still be grieving.”
“I thought about that, but I think it’s something else. That’s why I’d like you here. If I suggested he see you, he wouldn’t. He’s like Dad was. He won’t admit when he’s not doing well—physically or emotionally.”
“I’ll do what I can.” Caitlyn scanned the pastures and buildings. “It looks like he’s keeping the ranch up.”
“Yes, because the foreman we’ve had for years does a great job. I didn’t have a chance to talk with him on Sunday, but I will soon. He’s probably gone for the day. I don’t see his truck by the barn.” He rarely avoided an issue that needed to be dealt with, and he couldn’t avoid Sean any longer. “Let’s go.”
Before Ian and Caitlyn reached the front door, it opened. Alice, petite with sal-and-pepper hair pulled into a bun, waited in the entrance. A frown carved deep lines into her face.
“Sean’s in his room. I heard a crash followed by sounds like stuff being smashed against the wall and floor. When he didn’t answer my knock, I tried my master key. He must have a new lock. I couldn’t get in. I’m afraid he’s hurt.”
As Ian headed for the staircase, he asked, “How long has he been in his room today?”
“I heard him come home midmorning. I was in the kitchen and didn’t know until I heard a crash from the foyer. He knocked over a table by the staircase.” Alice gestured toward an empty place along the wall. “A leg broke as well as the lamp and the bowl on it.”
Drunk, no doubt, since he’d been drinking yesterday. “Did you see him then?”
“No, but I heard his door slam shut when I came into the front hall.”
On the stairs, Ian pivoted toward the older woman. He didn’t want Sean to blame Alice for him being here. He didn’t know what to expect from his older brother anymore. “We’ll handle this.” As they ascended the steps, he grabbed Caitlyn’s hand. “I won’t take no for an answer. I want you to stay in the hall. If my brother attacks me, call the sheriff.” He passed her his cell phone. “Use my recent-calls list.”
Ian approached the door and knocked. “Sean, it’s Ian. Let me in.”
After a full minute, he repeated his request, waited twenty seconds, then put all his power behind a kick right under the lock. Nothing happened. He did it again. On the third attempt, the door flew open.
As he moved into the trashed room, Caitlyn sidestepped until she could look inside, but she didn’t go in.
It appeared as though no one was in the bedroom. Ian’s heart thumped against his chest, adrenaline pulsing through his body as he scanned the chaos of items smashed into shards on the carpet, all the objects on the tables and dresser swept onto it too. One nightstand had toppled over.
When Ian rounded the king-size bed, he found his brother on the floor, lying on tousled sheets, blood staining the white linen.
When Ian stiffened next to Sean’s rumpled bed, Caitlyn came to the entrance with the phone in her hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Call 9-1-1.” Ian knelt beside the far side of the bed.
As she punched in the numbers, she hurried into the room. “What happened?”
Ian reached down to check Sean’s pulse and breathing. “He’s unconscious and has a head wound.”
Caitlyn reported the emergency, then returned Ian’s phone. “It looks like someone tore this place apart. Do you think he interrupted a robber?”
Ian carefully rolled Sean onto his back, then glanced around. “Check the window to see if it’s unlocked.”
Caitlyn inspected the locks, then turned back to Ian. “Unless he let them into the room somehow, no one got in here by the window.”
He hovered over his brother, removing a sheet tangled around Sean’s feet. “Maybe he got up, tripped on something and, when he went down, he hit his head against the corner of the nightstand.” He examined the piece of furniture. “There’s blood on it.” When he shifted his attention to Sean again, he leaned down and sniffed the air. “He reeks of alcohol.”
“I’ve never seen him drinking liquor.”
“He hasn’t since he crashed his car into a tree when he was a teenager. He broke an arm and a leg. This is new, or he’s kept it a secret.”
Caitlyn covered the short distance to the trash can and picked up a bottle of whiskey. “Is this what he’s been doing up here in his room?”
“Probably, but last night he left the house and came home this morning. I’d say he was drunk then, since Alice said he knocked over the table in the foyer.”
Sean groaned and tried to curl onto his side.
Ian stopped him. “Sean?”
His brother moaned, resisting Ian’s attempt to keep him faceup. “What in the—” He struck out at Ian.
“Sean, it’s me. Ian.”
Sean blinked his eyes open. “Leave me alone.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
Sean’s gaze fixed on Caitlyn. “What’s she doing here?”
“I’m here to help,” she answered.
“I’m fine.”
Caitlyn moved closer, half expecting him to leap to his feet and demand she leave, but she would stay if Ian needed her. He’d been there for her earlier. She would be there for him now. “I’m not leaving until the paramedics check you out. You have a nasty bump on your left temple, and it’s still bleeding.”
Sean tried to lift himself up on his elbow, but instead, he closed his eyes and fell back, wincing. “Leave me alone. I don’t need any help.”
“Well, you’re going to get it whether you need it or not.” Ian rose. “I’ll get something to stem the blood flow.”
Caitlyn squatted down where Ian had been. “You may have a concussion. If so, you need to have it looked at. Are you dizzy?”
“No,” Sean said, his eyes still shut.
“Does your head hurt?” Blood oozed from a gash on his temple, and she leaned closer to examine the injury.
“No. I. Am. Fine.” Sean’s dark eyes popped open, his pupils enlarged. “Leave. Now.”
The anger she glimpsed in his eyes wasn’t directed at her but at Ian, who had returned and was standing behind her. With gauze in hand, he knelt again beside his brother.
“We
