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Ben rose to his feet and joined Odell at the door. “I’ll stop back later on my way home.”
Spring took in the man responsible for setting her on the harsh road that led to the woman she’d become, and the decades of animosity cracked a little. “Thank you again.”
He nodded and he and Odell departed.
She followed Colt to the back.
Garrett was lying so still it took her a moment to reassure herself that he was truly breathing. His chest was partially covered by a blanket, and the white bandages encasing his shoulder and torso stood out starkly against his brown skin. Her heart broke seeing him that way, especially knowing his injuries were tied to defending her. Eyes on him, she asked Colt quietly, “Are you sure he’s going to be okay?”
“Pretty sure. It will take him a while to get back on his feet though.”
Colt quieted for a moment, then asked, “You care about him, don’t you?”
She nodded solemnly. “I do.” There was no denying the truth.
“He cares about you, too. Very much.”
Her awareness of how Garrett felt about her couldn’t be denied, either. He’d made it plain in an unassuming way devoid of any expectations of commitment on her part. “Do you think we should let his family know what’s happened?” she asked.
“Seeing as how it’s going to be a while before he’s able to travel, yes.”
“Odell should know where his telegrams have been sent. I wouldn’t know how to word it without scaring them to death. Would you take care of it?”
“I will. Let’s let him rest.”
“I’ll be back this evening.”
“That isn’t necessary, Spring.”
“It is. He was shot for standing up for me, Colt, and he’ll need someone to watch over him while you sleep—at least for the first few days.”
Colt sighed but didn’t argue. “Okay. Let Regan know what’s happened, and that I’ll be sleeping here for a day or so.”
“Will do.” She ran concerned eyes over the sleeping Garrett—her partner. “Take good care of him.”
He showed a soft smile. “I will. You remember to let Whit do his job.”
She didn’t make any promises. “I’ll be backlater.” Glancing at Garrett one last time, she left him in her brother’s care.
When Spring and Whit spotted Ben’s red bandanna tied to a low-hanging branch of a big oak near the edge of the road, they dismounted. In the dirt a few steps away was a patch of blood where they assumed Garrett had fallen. After viewing it, Whit scuffed it with the toe of his boot until it was gone. Swallowing her anger, a grim Spring followed him into the brush and trees lining the road. Because of the dense cover, they felt safe in assuming the shooter or shooters had hidden there as opposed to the more wide open landscape on the road’s other side.
Figuring they could cover more ground if they split up, they went in different directions, and a short while later Spring came across boot prints in a small clearing between two pines. Noting that the spot offered a good view of the road, she called for Whit. He joined her and studied them.
“Looks like two different sets,” she pointed out. “See the difference in the heel marks?”
“I do.”
One had a well-worn uneven heel.
Like Spring, he glanced out at the road. “This could be where they were.”
“Or where two people answered nature’s call,” she replied.
“That, too.”
They investigated further but turned up nothing more.
To be thorough, they left the spot and searched the other side of the road. Whit asked, “Do you know if McCray made any stops on his way to town?”
