Zach
“Colton?” Zach’s voice hitched up a dozen octaves. “Colton!”
Blood covered the floor on Colton’s right side. Zach gagged, and if he’d eaten breakfast, he’d have lost it. His hand trembled uncontrollably as he pushed the hair from Colton’s ash-white face.
It should have been him, not Colton, who got shot. Zach’s family was responsible for this mess, and he should have paid the price, not his guardian angel.
“Let me get to him.” Greg pushed Zach out of the way. He ran his hand over the tactical vest, then down the side. Pressing his hand to the side, he clicked the mic. “Dad? The shot skimmed the side of the vest. It’s bleeding bad. I got pressure on it, but we need to get him out fast.”
“I’m here,” the sheriff said. “Where are you?”
“Stairs. Come in the back. Front’s locked.” Greg snuck a peek at Zach. “Be careful. It’s a war zone in here.”
A minute later, the house swarmed with people. The sheriff and a bunch of men who worked the ranch rushed in to help.
The sheriff barked orders, and everyone moved with a purpose except Greg. He held the cloth his father gave him against Colton’s side.
Zach watched as they worked to save Colton. It should have been Zach. Colton was this amazing, kind, selfless man, who risked everything for a nobody, who no one would mourn. He wanted to scream at Colton for letting this happen. Why hadn’t he let Zach help?
Three minutes after they arrived, two men brought a stretcher, and Zach had to inch up another step to keep out of the way.
“Get him in his truck,” the Sheriff said. “Ambulance will meet you on the main road. Greg, you stay and keep pressure on the wound.”
“Got it, Dad.”
Zach stood. He couldn’t help, and he had no right, but he knew if he let Colton out of his sight, he’d never see him again. “I want to go.”
“No.” The sheriff held out his hand, telling Zach to stay put. “There’s no room in the truck, and you and I need to talk. I’ll bring you with me when I go to the hospital.”
Talk? Zach couldn’t stay here. He needed to be with Colton. There was nothing he could do, but he wasn’t hiding anymore. “I need?—”
“Stop! I raised that boy like my own, but there’s no room.” He exhaled. “I know you two have feelings, and I promise you’ll be able to see him. Just let me handle things so Colton gets through this, okay?”
It wasn’t okay, but what could he do? “Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
“We’re ready,” Greg said. “Can you get the door? I know where he hides the keys.”
“Danny?”
A middle-aged man with tanned skin and dark hair stepped up. “Yes, sir?”
“You drive. Have Vic ride shotgun.”
“I’m on it.”
Zach sat on the stair and tried to stay out of the way. Just like that another whirlwind upended his life. What did he do now? Where did he go if…? No, he wouldn’t go there. Except from the expression on everyone’s face, it wasn’t crazy.
“Hey, son.” Sheriff Ted stood tall over him. “I need you to tell me what happened.”
Zach did his best to explain, but he hadn’t seen much after Colton sent him to the bedroom to hide. Hiding in the bedroom made him a coward, and he could barely face the sheriff.
“I saw Barley run toward Kellan, and I came around the corner and shot him.” He demonstrated how he held the gun in both hands.
“How’d you learn to shoot like that?”
“Grandpa. Those were his guns the boys stole. Grandpa said the business was dangerous, and I needed to take care of myself.”
