The Lawman's Christmas Wish (16 page)

Wind and snow blew into the hut, chilling him. Someone moaned. Him? Cy moved against him, licked his face with a warm, wet whine. Reed tried again to get up and failed. This time he crawled to the door, managed to push it shut, though he felt as weak as a baby kitten. Chest heaving, he leaned his back against the wall and trained his weapon on the bad guys.

Amy would have her treasure after all. Amy would be happy. He imagined her smile and smiled back. He heard her laugh and closed his eyes to absorb the beautiful sound. Amy floated in front of him. Ben was there, too, smiling.

Ben? Smiling at
him?
Wasn't he angry for the way Reed had failed?

Cy licked his face again and whined. No use, buddy, Reed wanted to say, but his mouth was too dry. He shivered. Cold. So cold.

A voice jerked him awake. Had he dozed? The gun remained in his hand, pointed at the crooks. He was okay. He was alert. Doing his duty.

“Do it right or get out of the way,” he heard his father say.

“Worthless weakling.”

No, not his father. Couldn't be.

Who was talking? He wasn't sure. The crooks? Must be. Plotting. They'd make their move if he passed out. He'd be dead and forgotten. Amy would never know. She'd never get her treasure back.

She smiled again, assuring him that all was well. He leaned into the feeling, content.

And that was the last thing he remembered.

“A
my, you'd better come with us.”

Amy raised her head from a hard, wooden surface and looked up into the exhausted face of Gage Parker.

She had fallen asleep praying, her forehead on Reed's desk. Sammy and Dexter were crashed out on the floor, snuggled in a stack of jailhouse blankets.

Several friends, including the pastor and his wife, sat in chairs around the office, reading or talking quietly. A fresh pot of coffee fragranced the air. Bethany was pouring herself a cup.

Bless them. No one wanted to leave until Reed returned safe and sound.

“Is Reed back? Did you find him?”

Casey, Nate and Jake, along with Deputy Ken Wallace, circled her chair like a wall. No one was smiling in triumph.

“We found him.” Gage's terse reply was no comfort. Something was wrong.

Alarm zinged through her, stinging her nerve endings. She cast a quick look at her boys, wanting to shield them from any further bad news. Even after all the trauma they'd been through tonight, they were still able to sleep in innocent peace. Thank goodness.

“Where is he?” She pushed up from the chair.

Casey grabbed her hand and squeezed. “He's at Doc Logan's place.”

Amy's hand went to her throat. “Doc Logan's? Is he hurt? What happened?”

“They shot him.”

Fear raced up her spine and circled inside her brain like a vulture, black and dangerous. “No. No.”

“He lost a lot of blood before we found him.” Gage's face was grim. Too grim.

“What does Doc say? He'll be okay, won't he? Where was he shot? How could this happen?” Reed was strong as a moose. Nothing could hurt him. Before anyone could answer her blast of questions, she started moving. “Take me over there, Nate. My car is still at the park. Will you take care of my boys?” She directed this last to Casey.

“You know I will. They'll be at my house. Go on now. He was still unconscious when we left. Doc couldn't tell us much, but Reed needs you.”

Big, tough, confident Reed Truscott needed her. And oh, how she needed him. He couldn't die. Not now. Not when she'd fallen so completely in love with him. Not when she needed him so badly.

“Call Reed's granny.”

Casey nodded. “Will do.”

As fast as her high energy could move, Amy rammed her arms into a coat and swirled a colorful scarf around her neck.

“Let's go.” She yanked the door open, oblivious to the blast of cold air, and ran for Nate's truck.

 

Though it was long after closing time, lights beamed onto the quiet, otherwise dark street outside Doc Logan's
clinic. With no hospital in town, the older physician could be depended upon to attend after-hours complaints.

On the way over, Amy learned the story. Reed had been shot but managed to apprehend the criminals and regain the treasure chest. The fact that someone had found him at all, as far into the bush as he'd gone, was nothing short of a Christmas miracle.

Nate kept assuring her that Reed was tough. He would be all right, but she had to see for herself. She had to look into that beloved face and know he would live.

Not waiting for Nate's truck to stop rocking, Amy bolted out of the passenger's seat. Her boots slid on the icy parking spot. She caught herself on the truck door and tried again.

“Careful. You don't need a broken ankle.” Nate's gravelly bark told of his concern. He got out more slowly, probably exhausted from the search. Bethany had come with them, and slid out behind Amy. She'd been unusually quiet all the way over to the clinic, and Amy knew she must be praying.

The threesome entered the clinic together and found it empty except for Reed's dog. Cy was sitting at attention, focus trained on something down the hall—probably his wounded master. The knowledge sent a shaft of compassion through Amy. Cy adored Reed. He'd be lost without the tall lawman. So would she.

When the malamute saw Amy, he leaped up and yipped once. She reached to pet his head, then gasped and yanked her hand away. “He's hurt.”

Nate touched her arm. “No.”

“But he's bleeding. Look.” She pointed at the thick fur matted with dark red. “All over his face and side.”

A beat passed before Nate answered. “Doc checked him over. It's not his blood.”

Amy's fingers flew to her lips. She made a small sound of
distress. The blood was Reed's.
Reed's.
The knot of tension in her stomach rose to clog her throat.

“There's so much. He lost so much.”

Nate's gaze slid to a pale Bethany, and then back to Amy.

“When we found him, Reed was propped against a wall holding a gun on two hog-tied prisoners. The fools didn't know he was unconscious. Cy had positioned himself over and around Reed. For warmth, I guess, but Doc says the pressure slowed the bleeding. Reed would have either died of exposure or bled to death before we found him, if not for the dog.”

“Oh, Cy.” She stroked the noble muzzle with both hands. Cy whined softly. Amy understood the feeling. The man they both loved was in jeopardy.

“Cy growled us off when we first arrived,” Nate was saying.

“He wouldn't let us near Reed until Casey came in and spoke to him.”

“But he's such a gentle dog.”

“Not when it comes to protecting his own.”

The comment caught her right in the center of her heart, like an arrow to a bull's-eye. Cy was like his owner. He would protect his own, regardless of the cost.

“I have to see him. Where is he? Where is Doc?”

“I'm right here, missus.” Doc Logan, wearing a flannel plaid shirt and looking nothing like a doctor, trudged down the hall. He was drying his hands on a green towel.

“How is Reed?”

“Took two bullets. One through the thigh and another grazed his side. Nicked a bleeder. Good thing I keep frozen blood on hand, or he'd be in trouble. His good physical condition is in his favor. He has a mighty good pal in that dog of his, too.”

“Nate told me.”

Doc nodded. “He'll have to take it easy for a while, build up
his strength, but barring any unexpected infection, he should recover. Lucky man, I'd say.”

Relief flowed over Amy like a warm summer breeze. She breathed a silent prayer of thanks, certain that luck had nothing to do with Reed's condition. God had been out there in that wilderness. God had heard their prayers. In the thousands of square miles of trees, mountains and wild, frozen terrain, the guides of Treasure Creek had been guided by a power greater than their own considerable knowledge.

“May I see him?”

“Won't do much good. I dosed him up with pain medication. Weak as he is, he might be out all night.”

“I don't care. I need to see him.”

“Figured you'd say that. You always were a fiery one.” This trusted doctor who'd delivered both her sons pushed a booted toe against the lever of a plastic-draped bin and tossed in the green towel. The lid banged shut. “Go on back. He's in the infirmary.”

Amy dispensed with niceties and flung herself down the hallway. Against the tile floor, her boots echoed the frantic pounding of her heart.

In a town as small as Treasure Creek, the small doctor's office, with a couple of beds separated by a curtain, was the best they could do. Anything too serious for Doc Logan was flown to a larger town. The thought eased some of her anxiety. If Reed was critical, Doc would have called a plane to fly him out.

The door to the room stood open, with Reed in plain sight. One look at the police chief lying still against the white sheets scared her all over again. Thick, dark blood dripped from a plastic bag and flowed through a tube into his left arm. A waxy pallor seeped beneath his naturally tanned skin. His dark, spiky lashes rested against his cheekbones, still as death itself. Pain tightened the corners of his mouth, a mouth she'd
kissed ever so briefly. For a big, powerful man, Reed looked as vulnerable as a little boy.

“Reed,” she said softly, approaching the bed. He was wearing a hospital-type gown. A layer of clean white blankets covered him to midchest. She didn't want to notice the bloodied clothes and blankets stuffed into a plastic bag next to the bed.

“Reed.”

He didn't stir.

She leaned over him, touched his face, smoothed his hair back from his forehead, letting her hand linger there against the warm scalp. “Reed.”

Still no movement.

“You big, foolish oaf,” she choked. “I told you not to go. Now look at you. You could have died and no one would have ever found you. And for what? Money? I don't care about that dumb treasure. The town doesn't care, either. They care about
you.
You're not invincible, you know. Even super cops get killed.” The last word caught on a sob she'd resisted for hours.

“Please wake up, Reed. I have so much to tell you. All this time I've thought you wanted to marry me because of your silly promise to Ben. Maybe you do, but I don't care anymore. I need you so much. Sammy and Dexter need you, too. They love you, you know.” She sniffed, swiped at her eyes with a sleeve. “Me, too. I love you.”

Not knowing what else to do, Amy leaned her head against Reed's chest and took comfort in the beat of his heart. The steady symbol of life was lovelier than a Christmas carol.

 

Reed's head hurt and his leg throbbed like a teenager's boom box. He was tempted to return to the oblivion behind his eyes, but a familiar voice intruded. He loved that voice.

Straining to hear, he swam up through the thick fog to
listen.
Amy.
He sighed. Amy was here again. She'd stayed with him in the cabin, and her smile had given him a reason to keep fighting against the blackness.

A dream, he supposed, but such a good one. The voice came again, declaring her love for him.

Yep, no doubt about it. He was dreaming.

“Wake up, Reed. Please wake up. Don't leave me.”

Amy needed him.

“Coming,” he tried to say, uncertain if the word was spoken or only thought.

Her cool, soft hand touched his face, stroked his hair. He felt a tear against his neck. Amy was crying. That wouldn't do. No one made Amy cry on
his
watch.

He fought the darkness, and slowly, slowly surfaced. He could hear Amy talking a mile a minute and then she stopped.

Sensation returned to his floating body. Pain, warmth. Oh, blessed warmth. And Amy's head resting on his chest.

He lifted a hand and stroked her hair. “You have beautiful hair.”

“Reed!” She sprang upward. “You're awake.”

She inched away, and he felt the loss clear to his tingling toes. His eyes fluttered open. He closed them again against the blinding white light, and then tried again. She was there at his side, looking down at him with red-rimmed eyes filled with love.

“You love me.” His tongue was thick and seemed to have a mind of its own.

Amy's stubborn little chin—how he loved that chin—poked out. “I do. And I think you love me, too.”

His mouth curved. This was his Amy. Take the moose by the antlers and make him cry uncle.

Though the action required more strength than he knew
he had, Reed hooked an arm around her neck and yanked her face to his. “You're right. I do.”

And then he kissed her—really kissed her—the way he'd wanted to for nearly a year.

 

Amy's heart sailed upward like a hot-air balloon. How could she have been blind for so long? Reed Truscott loved her. Not for any reason other than herself.

When the kiss ended—too soon for Amy—she was reluctant to move away. Being held in Reed's arms, knowing he was alive and safe, and that he loved her for the right reasons, filled all the empty places inside.

She tilted back ever so slightly, to look at his beloved face.

“Say it again,” Reed demanded.

Amy's mouth curved. She knew what he meant, but she teased, “Say what?”

His soft, dark eyes narrowed. He tugged at her hair. “You know.”

“Oh, you mean that little part about love?”

“Yeah.” His lashes fluttered down and he sighed. “You don't know how long I've waited, how long I've hoped to hear those words.”

At his admission, wonder and joy splashed in the center of Amy's heart. “Why didn't you tell me? Why did you say it was because of Ben?”

He gave a short, breathy snort. “Because I was scared. Scared you would think I'd moved too fast. Scared you wouldn't feel the same. The first proposal was for Ben, and maybe out of grief and stupidity, but not the second. Or the third. You…” He chuffed again. “I could no more keep from falling in love with you than Cy can play trombone.”

Amy laughed softly, thrilled to know how wrong she'd been. Reed loved her for herself, not out of duty.

“I thought I couldn't love anyone after Ben died, but I do.” She stroked the whisker-rough outline of his jaw and reveled in the way he hung on her every word. This strong, self-sufficient man needed her. “I love you. Not because Ben wanted me to. Not because of the boys. Not for any reason except you. You're my hero. You have been for a long time, but tonight I finally broke past the confusion and understood the truth.”

“What truth?”

“That it's okay for me to love again. Not only okay, but right and good.”

His chest rose and fell. “You're not angry?”

“Not even close. Why would I be angry?”

“Lots of reasons.” His jaw tightened beneath her fingertips. “One, I promised to protect you.”

“And you did. When I was in that truck with the kidnapper, all I could think of was contacting you. I knew you'd come. I knew you'd find us.”

Reed took a deep breath and slowly released it. “I died a thousand deaths knowing you and the boys were in danger. If anything had happened…”

“But it didn't. We're safe. You're safe. Though I might be a little mad at you for going after those goons.” She gave a mock pout, then laughed. “Don't ever scare me like that again.”