An Accidental Hero (18 page)

S
ince Martina had volunteered for the first half hour of what she’d dubbed “Billy Watch,” Reid went about his duties as usual.

He’d replaced a hinge on the corral gate and was about to repair the latch on one of the barn stalls when something made him stop cold, nearly stabbing the back of his hand with a Phillips screwdriver.

Sticking the tool into his back pocket, he straightened, listening for a sound that didn’t belong, looking for something that seemed out of place. He heard the lowing of cows in the south field, the occasionally whinnying of stallions that trotted around the paddock. Now and then, a ranch hand’s voice would call out, alerting his cohorts that the hay skid was full and it was okay to roll in another.

He stood perhaps fifty yards from where Martina had set up Billy’s “sunshine event,” as she called it, and from this distance, Reid could hear the strains of an old Willie Nelson hit.

Here, a bird chirp; there, a dog bark—punctuated by the quiet
bawk-bawk-bawk
of the pecking hens. Everything was as it should be—or so it appeared—so why couldn’t he shake the nagging sensation that something was wrong?

Maybe it was lack of sleep, or the cold oatmeal he’d wolfed down at breakfast, or the ugly scene between Martina and Billy that made the world seem it was wobbling out of balance.

It wasn’t like Billy to lose his temper that way, even more unlike him to speak harshly to Martina. But then, what man behaves normally when he knows there’s a noose around his neck?

Reid couldn’t dismiss the notion that the whole “Cammi thing” was causing the nagging sensations, however. If the truth be told, nothing had felt right side up since they’d met. If he needed a reason to run the other way, the list was surely long enough! Reid could neither explain nor understand why it didn’t matter to him that she’d been married, that her bum of a husband made a widow of her, or that she’d lost the child conceived as a result of their union. He loved her. It was just that simple, even though he’d met her days ago, even though none of it made a lick of sense.

He chuckled to himself. Maybe the reason it felt his world had spun out of control was because it
had!

But who was he fooling? One argument between old married people hadn’t inspired this gnawing notion that something was wrong, real wrong out there. Neither had his own petty matters of the heart, for that matter. He’d lived a rancher’s life long enough to trust his gut instincts, and right now, the signals
were as strong as those Custer likely had sent on that fateful day. Experience had taught him if he didn’t want to end up like the General, he’d better heed the warning.

Never one to panic, Reid sauntered toward the house, figuring he could look in on Billy as he checked things out. The closer he got, the more intense his belief grew that things weren’t as peaceful around the Rockin’ C as they seemed.

At least Billy was getting some much-needed R and R, Reid thought as he approached the lawn chair. The man hadn’t budged, hadn’t moved so much as an inch since Reid had started over. He was about to veer right, straight toward the house, when he realized that though he appeared to be asleep, Billy’s eyes were open.

Reid covered those last steps in record time. “Billy,” he said, grabbing the man’s biceps. “Billy, what’s wrong, man?”

Billy tried to talk, but could only manage a few unintelligible guttural sounds. Tremors wracked his body, even as perspiration beaded on his forehead. His eyes darted back and forth in their sockets, looking from Reid’s face to the ground beside the chair—where nearly melted ice cubes and Billy’s glass lay on the lawn, beside the radio that played a Reba McEntire song as if nothing was wrong.

And then Reid saw it—two bloody puncture wounds on the back of Billy’s hand.

He met his friend’s eyes. “Rattler.”

Billy closed his eyes, and Reid took it to mean yes.

“How long ago?”

If Billy knew, he couldn’t say. Swelling and numb
ness had already set in, and so had the muscle spasms. Under normal circumstances, the snake bite would probably not be fatal. But these weren’t normal circumstances. ALS had already weakened Billy’s nervous and circulatory systems—the very things rattlesnake venom attacked.

Reid lifted Billy as gently as he could, and, hoisting him onto one shoulder, hotfooted it to the house. “Martina!” he bellowed. “Martina!”

As he entered the kitchen, he heard the vacuum cleaner roaring over the carpeting in the bedroom above.

No time to wait for her to finish the job, to run upstairs and pull the plug on the appliance. Under normal circumstances, he thought yet again, a person had four, maybe five hours to get help after a rattler bite. But as he’d already determined, these weren’t normal circumstances; in Billy’s already-weakened condition, only God knew how much time he had.

And Reid didn’t intend to waste a single precious second.

He grabbed Martina’s cell phone from the counter and headed straight back out the door to load Billy into the pickup. He wished he’d thought to grab the quilt Martina had draped over Billy out there in the yard, because if he remembered right, he was supposed to keep the man warm. Supposed to keep the bite site lower than the heart, too, he thought dialing911. No way that was possible. Not unless he’d stuffed Billy into the bed of the pickup instead of the passenger seat.

He alerted the emergency room staff that a snake-bite victim was on the way, added that the victim had
ALS, then dialed the ranch to tell Martina where he’d taken Billy. The phone rang and rang, and he cursed under his breath as the answering machine clicked on. Reid took a deep breath in a desperate attempt to keep the panic and fear out of his voice as he left his message. “Get one of the hands to drive you into town,” he said before hanging up.

Because the poor woman sure wouldn’t be in any shape to make the thirty-minute drive from the Rockin’ C to Amarillo on her own.

Cammi had put off making the call long enough. She owed him an apology, owed him a sincere thank you, too. Dressed and showered, she felt a little more like her old self. It would take time, she knew, for the pain of losing the baby to diminish, but she had faith to get her through it now…thanks to Reid.

Was she giving him too much credit? Cammi wondered as she dialed the Rockin’ C number. Would she have come to her senses on her own, in time?

Probably, she admitted as the number connected. But what if she’d made yet another mistake in the meantime, and it separated her even further from the Father?

“Martina? What’s wrong?” she asked when her friend answered.

The woman sobbed hysterically. Near as Cammi could make out, someone had been bitten by a rattlesnake. Martina had mentioned Reid and Billy in quick succession. Her mouth went dry. “You need a ride to the hospital?”

Something about a ranch hand taking her burbled out, before Martina hung up.

Growing up on a Texas ranch means learning a thing or two about rattlers—where they like to hide, how they hunt prey, how to protect against a bite. Death was rare, very rare, Cammi knew. Reid was strong and healthy and would probably survive, even if treatment wasn’t administered right after a snake-bite. But Billy…

Cammi didn’t want to think what might happen to a man already weakened by a terminal illness.

Lily slammed in through the back door and grabbed a cup of coffee. “What’s up?”

“Can you drive me to the hospital?”

Lily’s eyes widened. “Why? What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m fine.” She grabbed a jacket from the small closet beside the back door. “It’s Billy. Or Reid.”

Lily grimaced. “Maybe you should’ve let us take you to the E.R. last night, because you’re not making a lick of—”

“I just talked to Martina,” Cammi interrupted, scribbling a note to her father. “She was too hysterical to make much sense, but near as I can tell, a rattler bit one of them.”

Scooping her car keys from the counter, Lily opened the back door. “Let’s make tracks, sis!”

They barely said a word during the drive from River Valley to Amarillo. “Hasn’t been long since you were a patient here, yourself. Think the E.R. staff will recognize you?” Lily said, parking the car.

“I doubt it. But I’d wager they’d recognize Reid. He’s a real rabble-rouser when things don’t go his way.”

“What do you mean?” Lily asked as they hurried toward the E.R. entrance.

Cammi explained how he’d barked orders like a drill sergeant the day she’d had her miscarriage.

They’d just crossed into the lobby when Lily said, “I like that guy. You let this one get away, you’re crazy.”

She might have agreed, if she hadn’t seen Martina, huddled and trembling in a chair near the “Staff Only” doors. In seconds, the woman was flanked by London daughters.

“How is he?” Cammi started, hating herself even as she hoped it wasn’t Reid who’d been bitten.

Slump-shouldered and red-eyed, Martina seemed cried out. Her voice was still sob-thick when she said, “Reid’s in there with him. He wanted a minute alone with his boy.”

Lily slid an arm around her shoulder. “Can I get you anything? Cup of coffee? Orange juice?”

Patting the younger woman’s hand, Martina shook her head. “I’m just fine, dear, but thank you.” She met Cammi’s eyes, then grasped her hand. “Will you do something for me, Cammi?”

“’Course I will. Anything. Just name it.” And she meant every word.

“Will you go back there, be with him…Reid, I mean?” She bit her lip as the tears welled up again, and daubed at her eyes with a wrinkled tissue. “I can’t watch Billy—” she bit her lower lip before continuing “—and Reid shouldn’t have to, at least, not all alone.”

Cammi sat, slack-jawed and holding her breath. She was about to say, of course, she’d stay with Reid,
for as long as he needed her, when Martina interrupted with “My Billy is dying. I’ve already said goodbye. The stubborn old fool doesn’t want me to remember him this way.” She smiled a little. “God love him.” Sniffing, she added, “He wanted Reid, and nothing anyone said could change his mind.”

Cammi’s heart went out to Reid. Of course he’d grant Billy’s last request, and be with him at the end. But it would be hard on him, so very hard….

“I can see by your face that you understand,” Martina was saying. “I knew you were the right girl for Reid.” A tear slid down her cheek and she brushed it away. “I’ve been praying for someone like you to come into his life, and I thank God for hearing my prayer!”

How like Martina to think of Reid at a time like this, instead of focusing on herself. Cammi could only hope she was made of that same sturdy, unselfish stuff, so that when loved ones needed
her—

“Go to him, Cammi,” Martina said. “He loves Billy like a father. They’ve been best friends for so long, it’s hard to remember a time when they weren’t part of one another’s lives.” She released Cammi’s hand, waved her away. “He doesn’t know it yet, but he needs you. Needs you more than he’s ever needed anyone.”

Cammi got to her feet and backed away. She met Lily’s damp eyes. “Go on,” her sister said. “I’ll stay right here.” She gave Martina a sideways hug. “Maybe we’ll walk down to the chapel, sit in the quiet for a while.” Another sideways hug, then, “And maybe we’ll get some coffee in the cafeteria.”

When Martina nodded, Cammi left them and
walked woodenly toward the “Staff Only” entrance. Her hands were trembling when the doors opened, her legs wobbly as she moved into the E.R. When she spotted Reid, Cammi took a deep breath and stood up straight, determined to look the part, at least, of someone who’d shown up to lend support. She stepped up behind him. For several moments, she stood stock-still, trying to decide how to let him know she was there. A touch? A word?

Without turning, he found her hand and gripped it tight, telling her he’d known all along that she was behind him. It moved her, and she expressed it by squeezing back.

“…not one for purty words,” Billy struggled to say, “…but you’re…like a son.”

Reid swallowed. “Pretty syrupy stuff,” he said, “for a guy who’s not into sweet talk.”

Billy’s faint smile proved he got the joke. “Martina…she’s gonna need you, son….”

He cleared his throat. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you down.”

“I know…you never have. The ranch…you’ll take care of—”

“You know I will, as if it’s my own.”

“Is.”

“What?”

“Yours.”

Cammi felt Reid’s hand tense, felt the heat radiating from his palm to hers. He let go of her, but only long enough to slide an arm around her waist and pull her close to his side.

“What kind of drugs are they giving you?” he said on a dry, grating laugh. “You’re spoutin’ nonsense.”

Billy gave one weak shake of his head and said, “No.”

Reid shook his head, too. “But Billy, what about Martina? She’s put as much of herself into that place as you ha—”

“Her idea.” A shudder went through him before he continued. “Mexico…”

“She wants to go back to Mexico?”

One slight nod, then, “Mama, sisters…big ol’ loving Hispanic family…”

Reid hung his head. “Billy,” he said, grabbing the man’s hand, “I—”

“Y’always did talk too much.” Somehow, he found the strength to chuckle quietly, to open one eye and look at Reid. “Love you, son.”

Reid pressed both hands on the mattress beside Billy’s frail body, then balled them into fists. Cammi blanketed the nearest one with her hand, slipped an arm around his waist. Was her being here making this harder for him, she wondered, or easier? What would he be doing if she hadn’t come?

“Love you, too, y’ornery ol’ codger.”

Billy laughed softly. “Told you—call me ‘old’ again, I’d take…take the strap to your—”

A moment passed while Billy closed his eyes—resting, it seemed. Reid smoothed a strand of hair over his friend’s bald head. It was such a sweet, loving gesture that it brought tears to Cammi’s eyes.

“That the li’l gal?” Billy rasped.

“This is Cammi,” Reid said.

Billy lifted his head from the pillow and looked directly at her, both blue eyes blazing with determination. “Take care of him,” he said. He lay back,
spent by his short speech. One half of his mouth lifted in a mischievous grin. “Won’t be easy, but…”