“Sam?” Marly heard the fear, the pain in that single word.
“Damn, Cade, this shit hurts,” Sam gasped, staring up at him. “Fucking hurts.”
Cade shook his head, his eyes going to Marly as she watched his expression fill with fury, with gut wrenching pain. She cried out at the sight, wondering why he hadn’t cried out himself.
Suddenly Brock rushed into the room, followed by strangers, raised voices and flashing weapons. The room erupted into chaos, jerking Cade back to reality. His eyes cleared, and Marly watched as all emotion, pain, fear and need was wiped away.
“Brock, call the sheriff,” a female voice ordered as she knelt at Marly’s side. “Cade, get her out of the way. Rick, you have a sight on that son of a bitch yet?”
The woman ripped Sam’s shirt straight down the middle, parting the edges as she pressed the towel against his chest.
“Bastard’s on the run.” Marly looked up at the big male figure looking through the lens of a rifle’s telescope. “I can’t get a bead, son of a bitch is fucking gone.”
He rushed to the door, throwing it open as he tried for another angle from the porch.
“Bullet didn’t hit anything serious, but it’s a nasty damned wound,” the woman barked out. “He needs medical attention fucking now. Get an ambulance out here, Brock.”
Cade dragged Marly back as Brock yelled into the phone. The voices were raised and demanding, as cowboys began to pour into the house, rifles and pistols waving, their faces hard masks of determination.
“Cade, what’s going on?” Fear shook her body as he pulled her close, moving her along the floor to a corner of the room, out of the way.
“Stay here, Marly. Don’t fucking move,” he bit out, staring down into her face, his expression savage. “Do you understand me? Do not fucking move from here.”
She nodded shakily, her eyes widening at the fury she could see in his face.
“Do not move.” He jerked one of the jackets hanging on a peg above them free. Wrapping it around her quickly, he stood to his feet, picking up the rifle he had dropped to the floor then rushing from the house.
“Steady there, Sam.” The woman working over Sam was cool and collected, her pretty face concerned as she kept a steady pressure on the wound. Her eyes rose and collided with Marly’s. “He’s going to be okay.”
Marly nodded, clutching Cade’s jacket to her as she watched the commotion going on around her, confused and frightened as her body shook from the cold that seemed to wrap around it.
“You okay?” The woman asked her quickly.
Marly nodded again, ignoring the nausea building in her stomach.
“You must be Marly.” The woman smiled.
“Stop with the fucking social pleasantries,” Sam bitched harshly. “Where the hell is the doctor?”
“Oh, stop your whining,” the woman told him firmly. “It just hurts. You’ll be fine as soon as we get you to the hospital.”
Marly looked at Sam’s chest, then raised her gaze back to the woman. Whoever she was, she was worried, Marly could tell.
“Ambulance’s ETA is an hour at least,” Brock called out. “Bret, get the fucking chopper ready, we’ll fly his ass in.”
“Son of a bitch. I hate that fucking chopper,” Sam groaned.
“Get it going. I’ll get him ready for transport. Let the sheriff know what we’re doing. Rick, call Monty and tell him to get Lisa and Anna there on the double. I want security on his room.”
Nothing made sense now. Marly huddled against the wall, watching as everyone scurried around the kitchen, listening as Sam bitched and complained about the chopper, but hearing the fear in his voice. Her hands fisted in the jacket. She felt twelve again; terrified and uncertain, unable to figure out what the hell was going on or what she was supposed to do.
Cade ordered her to stay put. He had never used that tone of voice, or looked so frightened for her as he had when he pushed her into the corner and made her swear not to move. She stayed. She hated herself for it, hated the fear and the lack of understanding, the inability to help. But she stayed, just like he told her to do.
Chapter Twenty-Two
She had sat there for hours. Marly watched the hands of the wall clock tick from seven o’ clock until nine o’ clock. The chopper had left long ago with a bitching Sam, a worried Bret, and highly competent woman forcefully ordering them all. The man, Rick, had stayed behind and she could hear him and Cade on the other side of the door talking quietly.
Cade had forgotten she was there. Tucked carefully in the corner between the pantry and the door she listened in horror to their conversation.