Someone Like You (Night Riders) (10 page)

“What if you run into trouble?”

“I’m already in trouble.” That protest from Broc.

Maria couldn’t begin to guess what Rafe and Broc had been forced to do during the war. Most doctors learned their craft by working as apprentices. The war could have been Rafe’s apprenticeship. He needed to know only how to extract a bullet. He probably had seen that done more times than the apprentice. “How can I help?”

W
hile Broc swallowed enough whiskey to blunt the pain, Maria and Rosana gathered everything Rafe would need for the operation. Luis stayed out of the way, but his gaze followed Rafe’s every move. He looked confused when Rafe insisted all the implements be placed in boiling water.

“During the war patients of doctors who washed their hands and boiled their instruments had fewer infections,” Rafe explained to Luis. “More soldiers died from infections than from the wounds.”

Maria knew the danger of infections, but she had never heard of boiling instruments and washing hands. She wondered if the local doctor did that.

“Luis, run get Juan. Tell him I need him to help me. Taking the bullet out is going to be very painful,” Rafe explained. “If Broc jumps or moves about, it could cause me to hurt him worse. I need Juan to hold him still.”

Luis nodded and darted from the room.

“I wish you wouldn’t encourage Luis to stay,” Maria said. “He’s too young.”

“I agree, but he wants to stay. And it might help Broc to have him here.”

“Like the little fella. Got spunk.”

Broc’s words were slurred. Maria would have been happier if he’d been too drunk to talk at all.

When Luis returned with Juan, Miguel came as well, bringing the implements in a pan of boiling water. Using a doubled cloth, Rafe laid the implements out on a table next to the bed.

“Make sure that damned knife is cool before you stick it in me.”

“I’m going to use my fingers first. I’ll use the knife only if I can’t get it out otherwise.”

“Don’t poke around in there forever thinking you’re sparing me pain. I’d rather you cut the bullet out and get it over quickly.”

Maria found it difficult to believe Broc could talk so casually about Rafe cutting a bullet out of him. What horrors had these men witnessed that could have hardened them against such suffering? How could she ever understand a man like that?

Rafe folded a square of cloth and handed it to Broc. “Bite down on this, but not too hard. I’m not a dentist. I have no idea how to fix a broken tooth.”

Broc took the cloth. “Just do it quickly. I’m no good with pain.”

Maria thought Broc was the bravest man she’d ever seen to be able to talk about his wound like it was an inconvenience rather than a life-threatening injury. Dolores had screamed her way through Luis’s birth even though the doctor said it was one of the easiest deliveries he’d ever seen.

“Juan, hold his shoulder. Don’t press too hard but keep him still.”

She wanted to avert her eyes when Rafe unpacked the wound, but she forced herself to move closer, to be ready to hand him any instrument he might need. Rafe inserted a finger in the wound to probe for the bullet. Broc lost color and bit down on the cloth, but he didn’t move.

“Did you find it?” Anxiety caused Luis’s voice to rise half an octave.

“Not yet. Hand me the knife.”

“What are you going to do?” Luis sounded small and frightened.

“I have to open the wound.”

Maria willed her hand not to tremble as she handed the
knife to Rafe, willed her gaze to remain on the wound as Rafe cut into the flesh. Broc groaned and flinched.

“Hold him tighter.” Juan looked nearly as pale as Broc. Rafe handed the bloody knife to Maria. “Wash it. I might need it again.”

Rafe probed the wound with two fingers. Broc groaned and clamped down with his teeth on the cloth, but he didn’t move.

“The bullet is buried in the bone. I’ll need pliers to pull it out.” Rafe signaled Miguel to help Juan. “Rosana, hold his feet. Maria, you hold his arm.”

“I want to help.” Luis had left his position by the wall and approached the bed.

Rafe answered without looking up. “Take one leg. Rosana will take the other.” Rafe reached for the pliers, then turned to Broc. “Take a good bite on that cloth. This is going to hurt like hell.”

Broc turned white when Rafe inserted the pliers into the wound, but his body went limp when Rafe gripped the bullet and pulled.

“Good. He’s fainted. With luck, I’ll get the bullet out and have him bandaged up before he regains consciousness.”

Maria thought she might faint, too. She was nauseated from watching Rafe struggle to pry the bullet loose, blood halfway up his arms and all over Broc’s chest, shoulder, and arm. Rafe put his knee against Broc’s chest, gripped the pliers with both hands, and pulled. Broc’s body rose from the table, then fell back when Rafe pulled the bloody pliers out of the wound. He held them up for everyone to see.

“The bullet’s out. Now let’s clean him up so I can bandage the wound.”

Maria was relieved to have something to do. Wetting one of a stack of cloths in the hot water, she started to clean the blood from Broc’s body, patting rather than rubbing.

“Don’t worry about being gentle. It’s more important to get it done before he wakes up.”

She was still attempting to clean the wound when Rafe finished washing and drying his hands. “It keeps bleeding,” she said.

“It won’t stop until I pack it.”

Rafe packed the wound and the bleeding stopped. After she cleaned up the last of the blood, Rafe treated the wound with carbolic acid and bacillicum powder.

“I’ll have to change the packing at least once a day for a week. Can you see about having plenty of clean packing available?”

Rosana paused in her task of gathering up all the bloody cloths. “I’ll see to it.”

“I’ll need long strips for bandaging.”

“I can take care of that,” Maria said. There were sheets available in the house that were too worn for further use.

“I want to do something.”

Maria didn’t know what it was about Rafe that had reached out to Luis so forcefully that the boy had overcome his shy disposition. Was it possible he really wasn’t shy, that all he needed was the presence of a man he could admire? It irritated her to think being a woman made her in any way deficient, but there were differences between men and women. Ignoring the dissimilarities for fear of hurt feelings would be stupid. She wasn’t inferior. She was just different.

“Broc isn’t going to be able to get out of bed for a while, and that’s going to make him cranky,” Rafe said to Luis. “Reading to him would be a real help.”

“I have lots of books. I’ll get some.” He started for the door.

“You don’t need to get them now. Broc can’t—” Maria began.

Rafe put a hand on Maria’s arm, stopping her as Luis darted through the doorway. She could hear the boy’s footsteps fading away as he ran down the hall to his room. “It won’t hurt him to get them now.”

“But Broc is still unconscious.”

“That won’t make any difference to Luis. He’s reading more for himself than for Broc.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s probably starved for companionship.”

“I have never neglected Luis.”

“I’m sure you haven’t, but it’s only natural he wants to be around men.”

She could understand that, but she didn’t have to like it. “I’m still not sure you’re the best model for him.”

“I’ve never set myself up as a model for anyone. No one should ever do some of the things I’ve done.”

At least that was one thing they agreed on.

“Have you had any trouble on the ranch since my father’s death?” Rafe asked Miguel.

“Everything has been quiet.” Miguel stood despite Rafe’s invitation to take one of the comfortable chairs in his father’s office. “No one who works for the ranch would do such a thing. The ranch has given them a better life than they had before.”

“Is there someone who has had a setback and holds the ranch responsible?”

“No one.”

“Anyone who’s been fired?”

“Only Roger Anderson, but his family wouldn’t let him do anything to hurt you. The last years have been good for them, for everyone who works on the ranch. Your people are happy.”

Rafe didn’t think of them as
his people
. A lot had changed in ten years. With births, marriages, deaths, and people leaving for other opportunities, he doubted he’d recognize half the ranch workers.

“Well, somebody’s not happy.”

“It could have been an accident.”

“How? Nobody hunts this time of year, and the game is in the foothills.”

“Not all of it. Deer wander onto the ranch all the time. They like to eat what we grow.”

“I didn’t see a deer the whole morning.” There was a knock at the door. “Come in.”

Maria entered the room. “Rosana said you wanted me.”

“Miguel and I are trying to figure out who could have shot Broc and why. I thought you might be able to help.”

Maria remained in the doorway. “I don’t know anything about the ranch.”

“You may be able to think of something we haven’t.” when Maria hesitated, Rafe said, “Come in anyway. You and Miguel will be in charge after I leave.”

“You’re leaving?” Miguel looked stunned.

“I have a job in Texas, a kind of partnership,” Rafe explained. “I can’t just leave it.”

“But you’re coming back, aren’t you? This is your home now,” Miguel said.

“This hasn’t been my home for ten years. I don’t know why my father left me any part of the ranch.”

Miguel cast a quick glance at Maria. “Your father was a proud man. He would never admit to making a mistake, but he felt it.” Miguel pointed to a picture of Rafe on his father’s desk. “Why do you think that picture is there?”

Rafe shrugged.

“Because he knew he’d done a terrible thing when he let you leave. He never said so, but he thought you would come back.”

“He knew I wouldn’t because he knew what he asked was impossible.”

Miguel’s gaze sank to the carpet. “He wouldn’t have asked it again.”

The temptation to dwell on what might have been was a waste of time and could only make Rafe more bitter. “We’ve wandered from the question of who shot Broc and why.”

“Every man has enemies,” Miguel suggested.

“Broc doesn’t. He’s never been here before.”

“They could have followed him.”

“Nobody followed us.”

“Maybe Broc wasn’t the intended target.”

Rafe turned to Maria, who’d taken a seat by the window. “Why do you say that?”

“Broc was wearing some of your clothes. That bullet could have been meant for you instead.”

“Dolores is the only person who wants me dead, but she was still in bed when we left.” Rafe was convinced Broc was the intended victim. He just didn’t have any idea why. The man had no enemies. Everybody who knew him liked him.

“Are you sure the shooter couldn’t have been aiming for you and missed?” Maria asked Rafe.

“I was too far from Broc for that to happen. Besides, I haven’t been in California for ten years. Anything I might have done to make an enemy would have been forgotten by now.”

“Is there somebody in Texas?” Maria asked.

“Do you think I go around making enemies wherever I go?”

“I was talking about Broc.”

“Everybody likes Broc. You and Luis do, and you’ve hardly known him twenty-four hours.”

“Broc is a charming man. It would be impossible not to like him.”

Why did it irritate Rafe that Maria thought Broc was charming but not him? He knew he wasn’t charming. He didn’t try to be. Hell, he didn’t
want
to be.

“Could someone be trying to hurt you by hurting your friend?” Miguel asked.

“Who would do anything as twisted as that?”

Rafe had a perfect answer for Maria’s question: Laveau di Viere. But Laveau didn’t know he and Broc were in California. “I’ll go into town tomorrow and have the lawyer ask about any new arrivals. Miguel, you can do the same. Unless there’s somebody on the ranch who doesn’t want me to return, it’s got to be a stranger.”

“If the attacker wanted to get rid of you, wouldn’t he shoot you instead of Broc?” Maria asked.

“I don’t know. This doesn’t make any more sense than the gazebo collapsing.” The illogic annoyed Rafe. He had always been one who gathered facts and studied them until he found an order that made sense. The only plausible explanation for the shooting was that it was an accident, that someone had been firing a rifle at random or firing at a target and missed. The miscreant would probably never come forward for fear of what would happen to him. It was possible he didn’t know what he had done.

Yet Rafe still couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that he was missing something. He had been gone for ten years. Did he really know anybody anymore? Dolores could have hired an assassin. The lawyer could want to run him back to Texas so he’d have a free hand with the ranch. Maria could want him out of the way so she could retain her influence over Luis.

Now he was being foolish. He needed to put all these ridiculous notions out of his head and just deal with the facts.

“I don’t have any idea why this happened, and apparently the two of you don’t, either. All we can do now is keep our eyes and ears open for anything that seems unusual.”

“If we don’t know what we’re looking for, how will we know when we find it?” Maria asked.

“We might not right away. That’s why we can’t overlook anything. Ask Dolores. See if she has any idea who might have done this.”

Maria stiffened. “Are you sure you don’t suspect my sister?”

“I’m sure Dolores would be happy to see me dead, but she has no reason to kill Broc.”

Uneasy with the tension between Rafe and Maria, Miguel edged toward the door. “Everyone on the ranch will know what happened by this evening. If anyone has heard anything, I will be informed of it by tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Miguel. And thank you for all you did while my father was sick. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“It wasn’t hard because whenever I asked, he would say, ‘Do what Rafe would do.’ After all the years we worked together, I always knew what that would be. You took your work on the ranch very seriously. We’ve all been hoping you would do that again.”