Authors: Kay Springsteen
Justin chuckled. "Nothing I didn’t already
see." He shook his head. "She doesn’t deserve to be your second
choice, son. And as long as you keep yourself walled off,
separating the pieces of your life you don’t want to talk about,
you aren't making her your first."
The breath rushed from Ryan's lungs with the
emotional sucker punch. "It's not like that. We haven't had
time—"
Justin's pointed stare halted Ryan in
mid-denial. There had been plenty of time, lots of opportunities,
he realized. He'd always found a way around the subject, reasons
not to talk.
"You know," his father continued, "Love
comes with a lot of things. Happiness, responsibility . . . fear.
Open up to her. If she loves you, she'll understand anything you
have to tell her. But don't smother her with everything you're
feeling right now, son. She isn't one who's going to take easy to
that kind of love."
Forcing himself to take a deep, calming
breath, Ryan asked, "Are you telling me not to see her
tonight?"
Justin shook his head. "I'm strongly
suggesting, son, that if you woke up from your nap, missed your
girl, and wanted to see her, maybe hold an enlightening
conversation, she'll take it a lot more kindly than the attitude
you're wearing right now."
The emotions gripping Ryan suddenly drained
out of him, and he nodded. Then he chuckled. "You're the second
person today to give me that advice."
"Really," Justin said in a droll tone. "Who
would be the first?"
Ryan drew a deep breath, blew it out.
Avoiding his father's sharp stare, he mumbled his answer.
"Sandy."
Justin's hearty laughter followed Ryan to
his car. "You know, a lady usually likes to get a call first before
a gentleman drops in on her. Gives her time to spruce up a
mite."
Ryan could feel the warm smile spreading
over his face as he reached for his cell and called up Sandy's
number.
****
Dusk was settling into night when Ryan
bulleted into a parking spot about as far away from the front door
of Valentine's as was possible. Apparently, the bar had become some
kind of town meeting place tonight.
The recent string of incidents had probably
generated enough interest to pull people away from their satellite
TV and backyard fire pits. Surprise, surprise. It was the sort of
excitement that generally gathered people together to talk and
analyze and keep score. If they were lucky, they would catch sight
of some of the players in the drama. Which could also explain their
choice to meet up at Sandy's place.
Ryan figured the crapstorm that seemed to
find him wherever he went would be something the locals discussed
for years. Small town gossip had never bothered him when he lived
in Orson's Folly as a kid. He'd certainly been the subject of it on
plenty of occasions. He had to admit it wouldn't bother him now.
Except for his family. Except for Sandy.
Ryan was halfway to the door when a figure
emerged from the shadows, extra large and moving fast in his
direction.
"Aw, crap." Ryan cut loose with a string of
curses under his breath.
"You stay away from my boy!" shouted Bull.
The blue-white light in the parking lot turned his angry red face a
deep purple.
"Bull, settle yourself down." Ryan tried
reason, though he wanted to use this as an excuse to pound the life
out of his old nemesis. "Ricky helped put out a fire at our place
is all. I told him thanks and he left."
"He's got no business out near your place."
Bull's gait was none too steady but his eyes held enough hatred to
overcome any drunk he had going on. "Unless you enticed him out
that way."
"I never met him, didn't even know he
existed until today." Ryan tried to stay calm. "He showed up,
helped out, introduced himself, and left. You don't want him out
our way, you tell him, not me."
Bull was swaying side to side, his hands
balled into tight and very effective-looking fists. "The boy's got
no call fighting a fire on McGee land."
Through narrowed eyes, Ryan assessed his
situation. Bull was bigger, meaner, and well past reasoning. He was
also blocking any avenue of escape into the bar. Didn't look like
the cavalry was going to arrive any time soon, either.
With a mental shrug, Ryan decided to go
fishing. If he was going to have to fight, at least he could get
some information. "Why not? Boy was just being a good neighbor.
You'd have done the same thing, wouldn't you, Bull? Unless you
started the fire." He thought about Brody Senior's threats from the
night before. "Or maybe old Brody decided to pitch a match our
way?"
Bull's bark of laughter rang across the
parking lot, but his forward motion faltered. "You don't know what
you're talking about."
"Don't I?" Ryan's gaze slid to the bar's
entrance, willing someone to step outside, preferably his brother.
"Your old man was full of threats last night."
Bull frowned. He looked in the general
direction of his truck. Ryan wondered if his adversary had been
aware of the threats his father had made. The information seemed to
throw him off balance.
"You know, you've got a good son there. Real
neighborly and helpful."
A startled expression flashed in Bull's eyes
just before his belligerent mask fell back into place. And that
flash made Ryan particularly curious, so he pushed a little
harder.
"If he is your son."
This time he hit pay dirt. Bull's roar was
one of an enraged animal. He charged, telegraphing his intent to
lead with his right, and Ryan easily ducked aside. But he was still
on the wrong side of the parking lot with Bull between him and the
door, and he couldn't duck those mean, meaty fists forever.
"Ricky's
my
boy!" Bull took a
step forward. "My brother had nothing to do with him. And you're
not touching him, McGee."
Bull's own anger was wearing him out and the
beer Ry could smell from several feet away was probably beginning
to work on him as well.
Crouching into a fighting stance, Ryan
circled back, holding on to his intent to keep his adversary off
balance. "I heard you and Brenda don't have any more kids, Bull.
What's the deal? Can't get it up or she won't have you?"
"Maybe I don't
touch
her
. I
don’t want anyone's leavings."
As far as Ryan was concerned, his suspicion
that Bull wasn't Ricky's father had just been confirmed. But Bull
seemed to snap at that point and he rushed.
Ryan edged to the right, found himself
blocked by Bull's quick sidestep. "How much does a hooker go for
these days?" he goaded.
"How much does that slut you're doing
charge?" countered Bull. A leer contorted his face. "How about I do
her and see whose name she calls out when she has a real man on
her?"
Ryan froze in place. "Not gonna happen." If
the fight wasn't going to be avoided, he might as well be the one
to draw first blood. Feinting with his left, he slammed Bull in the
nose with his right. His knuckles stung. Direct hit. Blood
spattered, then gushed. Ryan followed with a quick left to the jaw,
then another right, connecting solidly in Bull's left eye.
Bull spat a tooth onto the ground and rushed
Ryan, catching him in the middle and flipping him over his
shoulder.
Ry landed on his back, winded. Then Bull was
on him, pounding his fists into Ryan's face. The bigger man was
sloppy, though, and it was easy for Ryan to get an arm between
them. Bull's weight pinned him down, but Ryan was leaner and more
fit. With the next punch, Ryan moved his head aside so Bull only
punched the gravel. Then he used the opening to pop Bull in the
temple. Dazed, Bull toppled sideways.
Rolling in the opposite direction, Ryan
pulled himself to his hands and knees. He was almost to his feet
when Bull plowed into him again. Ryan lost track of how many kicks
he took to the ribs. The stomp to his chest made his vision dim
briefly. When Bull pulled back for another kick, Ryan grabbed his
leg and toppled him. The big man landed like a falling oak.
Ryan rolled back again and pushed to his
feet with a grunt, forcing back the tight sensation in his chest
making it hard to breathe. When Bull rushed him again, Ryan ducked
left and caught Bull's gut with his right. For a split second, Ryan
thought he might just pull out of the fight relatively intact.
Then Bull's punch caught Ryan in his
stitches. Excruciating heat barreled along his arm. Ryan grunted,
jerked back.
A knowing gleam entered Bull's eyes and he
struck again in the same place, then again. White-hot torture
rolled over Ryan in waves not stemmed by adrenaline. Bull took
advantage of the weakness to grab Ryan at the site of his injury,
twisting painfully, a malicious grin distorting his face.
Ryan slumped in Bull's big-handed grip,
struggling to get away from the fire in his arm. Holding him by the
injured arm, Bull hit Ryan in the face with a series of quick, hard
jabs.
"I'll give your slut the best time of her
life." Bull gripped Ryan's arm tighter, pushing his face so close
to his that Ryan was nauseated by Bull's stale, beer-laden breath.
"Then I'll do to her what I just did to you. Teach her a good
lesson. I'll make her forget you exist. And I'll do it whenever I
want."
One single thought spurred Ryan back to
life. Keeping Sandy safe. From his core, adrenaline kicked in and
Ryan mustered the energy to drag himself to his feet. Rage born of
fear pushed him past the threshold of pain. He rammed his fist into
Bull's gut. When the big man doubled over, Ryan clasped his hands
together and aimed the double fist to the bottom of Bull's jaw,
knocking him backward. A feeling of pure disgust coursing through
him, Ryan grabbed Bull by the collar, pulling him up and glaring
into his eyes.
"I. Don't. Think. So." He accentuated each
word with alternating left-right blows to Bull's face. "You sorry—"
With a grunt, Ryan rammed his knee home into Bull's unprotected
groin, staggering backward with the force of his own blow. Bull
collapsed to his knees puking.
From behind him, Ryan heard shouts. Gasping
for breath, he felt his head go light. Purple fog begin to overtake
his vision. He sagged to his knees just as a pair of strong arms
closed about him and lowered him easily to the ground. He looked up
into his brother's eyes. "What . . . took you . . . so long?" he
panted before the merciful blackness took him away.
****
Chapter Fourteen
Everything was going to be okay. Sandy tried
hard not to dwell on Ryan's phone call, and his cryptic request to
find them a secluded table where they could have a conversation
without too much distraction. Either he was ready to talk about his
secrets, or he was coming to break things off. The way things kept
swinging back and forth between them, she only wished she could be
confident it was option number one.
In the meantime, she tried to concentrate on
the story Justin had shared. How could she have lived in Orson's
Folly for six years and known none of this history? She closed her
eyes as the answer worked into her awareness. Because she'd had her
head and her heart wrapped up in a man who had died the year before
she came to the small town.
During a lull in serving, Sandy cornered
Mel. "Do you know anything about Bull having a brother?"
The younger woman edged sideways to peer
around Sandy. Was she seeking an escape route or trying to make
sure no one overheard them? The trapped look in Mel's eyes
suggested she'd rather do anything than answer the question.
"Mel? What is it? Where is Bull's brother
now?"
"Um, there's lots of rumors," Mel began
slowly. "But, well, he's—"
Frantic shouts from the doorway interrupted
the conversation. Every patron in the bar rushed to see what the
commotion was about. When she heard the word fight, Sandy knew it
was useless to hope Ryan and Bull weren't the ones going at it. As
she pushed through the crowd, she shouted for Mel to call the
sheriff's office.
****
The fight was over before Sandy got outside,
but the aftermath clearly demonstrated how violent it had been.
She spared a glance but absolutely no
sympathy for Bull, who was cursing as he writhed on the ground in a
pool of vomit, both hands clutching at his crotch. Blood streamed
from his nose and he sprayed more from his mouth with every oath he
uttered.
The crowd parted for Sandy. When she saw
Ryan, lying on the ground in Sean's arms, her breath caught and the
burger she'd had for dinner threatened to make a second
appearance.
"Oh, no, no, no!" She sank to her knees next
to him. His face looked like it had been shoved into a wood
chipper. Both eyes were already swelling and turning an ugly shade
of purple. Blood ran freely from his nose and bubbled from the
corner of his mouth. Around the bruises and abrasions, his face was
ashen. Blood oozed from a flap laceration at the top of his
cheekbone. It was probably a blessing for him he was
unconscious.
Ryan's breathing was shallow, gurgling
through the freely running blood pooling in his throat.
"We have to protect his airway," she told
Sean. "But I don't know if his neck is injured."
She showed Sean how to hold his brother's
head in line with his body while she rolled Ryan to his side. Once
he was off his back, the blood in his throat stopped pooling and
drained from the side of his mouth. He stopped choking and began to
breathe easier.
"This is a lot of blood." Sean's voice
shook.
"It's probably all from his mouth and nose."
Sandy ran her hands over Ryan's arms and legs, checking for
injuries.