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  Although on second thought, Beau realized that the wisest course might be to go to Lubbock. Natalie was a married woman, and it was best if he kept his distance.

  “You got that righ—How the hell did he get his rope tangled up like that?” Disgust and amazement mingled together in his voice. Following the direction of Spider’s gaze, Beau saw Lute, his rope partially around his body and a half loop around his horse’s nose. “For somebody who’s supposed to be related to Sky, he sure is worthless around cattle,” the young cowboy declared. “Somebody needs to take that rope away from him and put a shovel back in his hand.”

  “Heads-up, Beau! Two o’clock!” Will’s voice barked across the distance, directing Beau’s attention to the cow and calf just breaking free of the gather.

  Beau reined after them. In two jumps, the roan was at full stride. After a half dozen more, he was level with the escaping pair. The cow swung away from him and meekly trotted back to the herd, her calf trailing and bawling in confusion.

  Checking the roan to a walk, Beau lifted his free hand to signal Will that the runaways were back in the fold. But Will wasn’t where he had last seen him. He was galloping his tall bay toward a half dozen steers, bunched on the far side of a clearing. Intent on the strays, he didn’t seem to notice that he was headed straight into a prairie dog colony. Hated by ranchers, the little rodents dug burrows that could trap and break the leg of a horse or cow.

  Beau shouted a warning. Seeing the danger, Will wheeled his mount hard to the left. For a split second everything seemed fine. Then, suddenly, it wasn’t.

  The horse shied, shrieked, and shot straight up, twisting in midair like a rodeo bronc. In a scene that took on the slow-motion quality of a nightmare, Will flew out of the saddle. One foot caught the stirrup, then slid free of the boot as he slammed to the ground, landing flat on his back. Unharmed, the terrified bay plunged through the brush, gaining distance with every bound.

  By now Beau was close enough to leap off his mount and race toward his brother. Will appeared dazed but he was moving, raising his head and shifting his legs.

  A dozen strides away, Beau heard Will utter a sharp grunt of pain. Twisting sideways on the ground, Will yanked out his holstered pistol and fired three low shots at something unseen on the far side of his legs. Bits of pink and gray exploded into the air.

  An instant later, Beau reached Will’s side. There in the dust, inches from Will’s leg, lay the bullet-riddled carcass of a diamondback rattlesnake, six feet long and as thick as a man’s forearm.

  Will’s face was tinged with gray. He slumped back onto one elbow. “Bastard got me, Beau,” he muttered, pointing to his thigh. “But I got him back.”

  Kicking the dead snake out of the way, Beau crouched next to his brother, his heart pounding and a sick knot forming in his stomach.

  He threw a shout over his shoulder for help, yanked out his pocketknife, opened it, and slashed the denim away from Will’s leg. The flesh was already swelling around the two deep red puncture wounds. Beau knew a rattler that size could inject a hefty dose of venom. More than enough to kill a man without prompt treatment.

  “Bad, is it?” Will cursed through clenched teeth.

  “Bad enough. Don’t try to talk. Just lie still.”

  Whipping off his bandana, he knotted it around Will’s thigh a few inches above the wound. It would need to be loosened every few minutes. A too-tight tourniquet could shut off the blood flow into the leg, doing more harm than good. And the old practice of cutting the flesh and sucking out the venom had also proven to be ineffective. The best course of action was to keep Will quiet and get him to a hospital; it was the only way to save Will’s leg, and maybe his life.

  Sky was the first to reach them. His cool blue eyes quickly took in the situation. He tossed Beau the canteen from his saddle. “Pour this on the bite. The nearest hospital’s in Lubbock. I’ll call for Life Flight.” He whipped out his cell phone and punched in 911.

  Beau helped Will sit up to keep his heart above his leg and slow the rise of the venom. Knowing the leg would swell, he cut off the rest of the pant leg and removed the sock. Will had lost the boot when the horse bucked him off.

  “Somebody better catch that damned horse.” Will’s jaw was clenched. He had to be in excruciating pain, but he was playing the tough guy, determined not to show it.

  “The horse will be fine.” Beau used the water in Sky’s canteen to flush the wound. “Right now all that matters is getting you to the hospital.”

  Sky was still on the phone, speaking, then waiting and speaking again, his voice a low staccato.

  “Make sure they have antivenin,” Beau said. “He’s going to need it.”

  Sky asked a few more questions, ended the call, and shook his head. “A helicopter can be here in twenty minutes. But they’re out of antivenin. A new shipment’s coming in tomorrow.”

  Beau swore. The antidote for rattlesnake venom was most effective if given intravenously within the first couple of hours. Tomorrow could be too late. For all he knew, Will could be dead by then. “Try Amarillo,” he said. “They’ve got to have some.”

  Sky frowned. “Wait . . . Natalie should have antivenin. She keeps a supply for dogs.”

  “Call her,” Beau said.

  While Sky speed-dialed Natalie’s number, Beau busied himself with adjusting the bandana around Will’s thigh. The whole leg had begun to swell. Will purpled the air with curses as Beau retied the cloth. “Bad?” he asked needlessly.

  “Hurts like bloody hell.” Will spat in the direction of the dead reptile. “And the timing sucks. Who’s going to boss the roundup?”

  “The men know their jobs. And Sky can manage things fine.” Beau glanced upward. “The helicopter should be here soon. Just be quiet and take it easy.”

  “I could use a swallow of whiskey.”

  “Not a good idea, brother.”

  Sky had ended the call. “Natalie’s got antivenin. It will be fastest if she drives to Lubbock; she should get there about the same time the copter lands.”

  An eternity seemed to pass before they heard the drone of the red and white Life Flight helicopter. Refusing to stay quiet, Will had spent the interim giving Sky a running litany of muttered instructions, things Sky doubtless already knew. Even in his dire condition, Will couldn’t let go of his duties.

  By the time the paramedics loaded him in the helicopter, Will’s pulse was racing at a gallop. Beau insisted on riding along. Though it wasn’t usual policy, the paramedics didn’t argue. Will was a powerful man and not in his right mind. If he got hard to handle in the air, they might need help calming him.

  Beau clasped his brother’s hand while the technician inserted an IV with a saline drip in his arm. Will was mumbling now, demanding that he be taken back to the ranch—a sign that the venom was already seeping into his system.

  Although the flight to the hospital was a relatively short one, each minute in the air seemed three times as long. As the helicopter began its descent to the hospital’s landing pad, Beau clasped Will’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  “Hang in there, big brother,” he ordered. “Everything’s going to be fine now.”

  Will looked directly at him and said something back, but the roar of the engine drowned out the sound of his voice. Even so, Beau was able to ascertain the words his lips shaped.

  Call Tori, Will had said.

  Beau answered with a nod of promise.

  As soon as the helicopter touched down, the engine was cut back, and the paramedics scrambled to unload their patient onto a waiting gurney. Will was already being whisked inside by the time Beau climbed out of the chopper.

  Once inside the emergency department, Beau had a brief glimpse of Will on the gurney before the set of double doors to the trauma unit slid shut behind him. One of the paramedics motioned for Beau to join him at the admissions desk.

  “They need some information on your brother.”

  Reluctantly Beau allowed himself
to be sidetracked from following Will into the trauma unit. Other than the absolute basics of name, age, blood type, address, and next of kin, there was scant information that Beau could provide. Any allergies or medications Will might be taking, Beau had to admit he didn’t know.

  After that was finished, someone else handed him a bag of his brother’s personal items—his watch, wallet, and cell phone—and pointed him toward the emergency department’s waiting room.

  It was a small area, mostly unoccupied at that hour, with soothing blue walls, black vinyl couches, and framed prints of Texas wildflowers. Timeworn copies of People magazine, Golf Digest, and Good Housekeeping littered the tables. A frayed-looking woman was knitting what appeared to be an orange muffler while an unshaven man was sprawled on one of the side couches, lightly snoring.

  Unwilling to twiddle his thumbs on one of the couches, Beau went to find out whether the antivenin had arrived. But no one either could or would tell him.

  Again he bypassed the waiting area and walked out the emergency entrance to scan the parking lot, but there was no sign of Natalie’s white SUV. He glanced at his watch and knew she had to be close. He wouldn’t allow himself to consider that something might have happened en route to delay her.

  To keep any thoughts blocked, he retrieved Will’s cell phone from the bag and used the number in his brother’s contact list to call Tori. Her phone rang once, then twice more before her voice mail came on. He left a message that omitted most of the worrisome details and asked her to call him. Not sure when Tori might check it, Beau decided to try her again in a few minutes. In the meantime, he phoned the ranch house and talked to Bernice. Again, he soft-pedaled Will’s condition.

  “You will let us know the minute you hear anything, won’t you?” the anxious housekeeper urged as a siren’s wail grew steadily louder, indicating the approach of an emergency vehicle.

  “I promise. Tell Jasper not to worry. Will’s in good hands.”

  A patrol car, its siren screaming, came speeding into view and swung into the driveway to the emergency entrance. There was abrupt silence as the siren was killed. But it was the white SUV directly behind that claimed the whole of Beau’s attention.

  The white Land Cruiser screeched into a parking stall next to the emergency entrance. The door flew open and Natalie spilled out of the driver’s seat, one hand clutching a small medical cooler. Dressed in jeans and a wrinkled khaki work shirt, she was disheveled and windblown, her face bare of makeup.

  And she had never looked more beautiful, for a multitude of reasons, none of which was necessarily related to the other.

  Her head came up the instant she saw him, her back straightened, and Beau had the impression she was erecting mental barriers against him.

  “Thank God you made it without being pulled over,” Beau said, relieved the two-hour window wouldn’t be pushed to the limit.

  “I probably would have if I hadn’t had an escort,” Natalie told him, directing a side glance to his right.

  Until that moment, Beau had totally forgotten the police cruiser that had pulled into the emergency driveway ahead of her. He turned as Hoyt Axelrod came walking up, sunlight flashing on the sheriff ’s badge pinned to his crisp uniform.

  “Sheriff.” Beau wasn’t sure whom he’d expected to see, but it wasn’t Axelrod

  “Talk about being in the right place at the right time. I had stopped by the call center when they got the word that Will had been snakebit. Few minutes later we heard that Natalie was making a mercy run to bring her supply of antivenin.” He absently shifted the holstered pistol to a more comfortable position. “I figured she could make the drive quicker, with fewer incidents, if she had an official escort.” A dark eyebrow shot up. “Can you imagine a hospital in Texas running out of such a thing? ’Course, it is spring, and the rattlers are coming out of their dens all cranky and hungry.”

  “How’s Will?” Natalie inserted.

  “Not good,” Beau admitted.

  Immediately she struck out for the automatic door to the ER. “I brought six vials. It was all I had.” She tossed the information over her shoulder as the door opened ahead of her.

  Beau followed her inside while the sheriff trailed both of them. In short order, they located a nurse. Natalie passed the cooler to her and dug a folded piece of paper from her pocket.

  “I’ll need someone to sign this, accepting the transfer of the vials,” she told the nurse.

  “I’ll get it signed and bring it right back to you,” the nurse promised after a brief scan of the unfolded paper.

  “I’d like to see my brother,” Beau said.

  “Not yet.” The nurse smiled her regret. “When we have him stabilized, somebody will come and get you.”

  It wasn’t exactly the answer he wanted, but grudgingly Beau accepted it, holding his silence when the nurse walked away.

  “He’s going to be fine now, Beau,” Natalie assured him.

  “Thanks to you.” He glanced at the woman standing at his side and experienced a prick of conscience. “Sorry, I should have said that sooner. Heaven knows you didn’t have to volunteer to bring it to the hospital.”

  “Will is my friend,” she said with quick emphasis. “You do things like this for friends.”

  On the surface she seemed to be using friendship to justify her actions. But Beau had the impression she was using it to keep him at a distance.

  “You’re right, of course,” he agreed, and smiled to himself, certain there had never been anything remotely platonic about their feelings toward each other in the past. And that was still true today, no matter how much she might try to convince herself to the contrary.

  “Hey, you two!” the sheriff called to them from a small alcove outside the waiting room. “I just brewed some fresh coffee. Want a cup?”

  “I could definitely use a cup.” Natalie was quick to accept the offer as she turned from Beau and started across the space to the alcove.

  “Make that two cups.”

  After passing a Styrofoam cup of steaming coffee to Natalie, Hoyt Axelrod filled one for Beau. “I heard you hadn’t taken the flight back to D.C. like you planned.” He handed him the second cup and picked up his own.

  “Will was short-handed and faced with spring roundup. Since I was entitled to two weeks’ bereavement, I decided to take it and help him out.”

  “Turned out to be a good thing you did or you wouldn’t have been on hand when he got snakebit.” Axelrod hooked a thumb over his belt and leaned a husky shoulder against the wall.

  “I guess you’re right.” Beau blew on the coffee’s steaming surface and inhaled its rich aroma.

  “Have you talked to Tori?” Natalie inserted.

  “I called, but it went straight to voice mail. I left word for her to call me as soon as she got my message. So far, nothing.”

  “I keep thinking about Erin, how upset she’ll be and worried about her dad,” Natalie murmured.

  Beau started to pull out his cell phone to try Tori again, but stopped when he saw the doctor, a sturdy, balding man in green scrubs, pushing his way through the swinging doors. He walked straight to them.

  “Here’s your receipt, Dr. Haskell.” He handed a sheet to Natalie, showing the respect of one professional to another before turning to Beau.

  “How’s my brother?”

  “We’ve got him on the antivenin, as well as some fluids and Dilaudid for the pain. There’s no reason he shouldn’t make a full recovery, but it won’t happen overnight. He’ll need to be here several days, then rest at home until the swelling goes down. That could take as long as a month.”

  Relief sagged through Beau, even as he recognized that Will was in for a miserable time. And he would be hell to live with until he was back on his feet.

  “Is he awake?” Beau asked. “Can I see him now?”

  “He’s groggy, mostly because of the pain meds. But he’s alert enough to know what’s going on. You can see him, but no more than a minute or two,” the doctor wa
rned. “He needs to rest and let the antivenin do its work.”

  Stepping into the alcove, Beau set his cup of coffee on the counter. Natalie laid a delaying hand on his arm when he started past her. “Let Will know we’re all thinking of him,” she said.

  “Will do,” Beau promised, then sensed there was something she wasn’t saying. “Are you leaving?”

  “That new registered bull the Caulfields bought last week is running a fever. I got a call when I was halfway here,” she explained. “They’re keeping him isolated until I can get there and check him out.”

  Some inner sense alerted Beau to the close way Hoyt Axelrod was observing the two of them. As jealous as Natalie’s husband seemed to be, Beau knew he needed to be circumspect and not add any fuel to the gossip mill.

  “I know I’ve said thanks, but I mean it.”

  “I know.” Her smile was stiff as if she, too, was aware of the sheriff ’s presence.

  Turning, Beau followed the doctor into the ICU and down the row of small, white cubicles. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of his brother, propped in a narrow bed with an IV and catheter tubes, oxygen lines, and beeping monitors connected to his body. His face was a stranger’s, flushed and puffy. His bitten leg, swollen like a log, was covered with a sheet.

  “You look like hell,” Beau said, knowing that Will wouldn’t want to be pitied or fussed over.

  Will’s purpled lips stretched in a grimace. “A damn sight better’n you did that time you bashed in a hornet’s nest. Come here.”

  Beau leaned over the bed, hiding the rush of emotion he didn’t want Will to see.

  “Go home now.” Will’s voice was hoarse, his speech slurred. “You can’t do a blasted thing for me here, but I need you at the ranch to see that things get looked after. Understand?”

  “I do. But Sky’s more competent to run the ranch than I am. He’ll manage things fine.”

  “Sky’s good at his job, but he isn’t a Tyler. It’s you I want runnin’ the place till I’m on my feet.” Will’s voice had deepened to a growl. “Promise me you’ll do it.”