Three Brothers Page 10

  “Chance, would you pull my hair back? It keeps falling in my face.” I blew a chunk of it back from where it had fallen into my eyes, wishing I’d kept that stocking cap in place.

  “Yeah, sure.” Chance worked to pull all my hair back and together, but I’d watched him rope a calf’s legs together faster than he managed to get my hair clamped in his hand. “How’s that?”

  I nodded. “Good.” But that was a lie. Having Chance’s strong grip around my hair, holding it back with just enough tension it was almost pulling, was not good. It was either bad or great, but definitely not good. From the way my breathing picked up, I guessed it was more great than not, but now wasn’t the time to think about Chance tugging on my hair and what it made me feel.

  “Holy fuck!” Conn shouted as he fought to stand. From the corner of my eye, I saw him teetering in place. “Is that a goddamned wolf on the pool table?”

  That it had taken him that long to figure that out indicated just how drunk he was. My guess was about a bottle of Cuervo Silver had gone into the making of this magical moment.

  When no one answered him, he staggered closer, peeking between Chase’s and my shoulders to get a look. “Shit, it is. I thought we shot those around here and nailed their coats on walls as décor. I didn’t know we took them in and made them pets.”

  I was so used to Conn’s drunken banter that I’d learned how to shut it out a long time ago. Concentrating on the vein I was going for, I leaned in a bit closer, narrowed my eyes, and got ready to pierce the pup’s skin.

  “Speaking of tiptoeing, Scout . . . mind telling us which one of us you’re planning on fucking first so we can all stop wondering?”

  When it was clear I was going to keep on ignoring Conn, his hand dropped to my shoulder and pulled it back. The sudden twist made the needle I’d just been sliding into the pup’s vein pop out, eliciting a whimper from the wolf.

  “Son of a bitch,” I cursed, glaring at Conn with the needle raised in his direction. “I’m trying to save this animal’s life. Get in the way again, and it’s you I’ll be injecting with something.”

  “And watch your fucking mouth and what comes out of it, Conn.” Chase straightened up beside me, reminding us what an imposing figure he was. When he’d been slumped over a pool table, curled into a ball, it had been easy to forget.

  “Why don’t you go chop down a tree or a forest or something, you big oaf?” Conn shoved at Chase, but missed actually shoving him.

  Then Conn turned to me, and I remembered why I needed to keep my back to him. His eyes were so blurry they couldn’t seem to focus, his smile even drunker looking than he was, and his hair and clothes looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in over a week. He looked as though life had chewed him up and spit him out, but I still felt a familiar pull tugging me in his direction.

  When he smiled at me and I caught myself just as I was about to smile back, I spun around, feeling weak and pathetic. “Go find yourself another bottle, and either drink it until you pass out or knock yourself over the head with it.”

  Conn chuckled, shuffling closer. Chance’s grip around my hair tightened.

  “Come on. Just give us the fuck lineup. Chance or me first?” A sharp note of laughter pierced the room. “With the way you’re pinned between the table and Chance with your hair in his hand for the yanking, my bet’s on the golden boy.”

  Chase gave Conn a hard shove—so hard he stumbled back a few body lengths, but he didn’t fall.

  When Conn marched back in our direction, Chance held up his hand. “Easy, Conn. Get a grip. Go sleep it off.”

  It looked as if Conn was about to take that advice, but then his arm swung across his body, connecting with Chance’s face. Chance staggered back a step, touching his face as though he wasn’t sure what had just happened.

  “I’ve wanted to do that my whole life,” Conn said, shaking his fist.

  Chase growled and charged Conn. Chance held back a moment, still looking as if he was trying to figure out what had happened. Chase lunged at Conn, trying to pin him to his chest, but either the alcohol or the adrenaline had turned Conn into a ball of fury that couldn’t be contained. Chase would get him pinned one second only to have Conn squirm free the second after.

  “I can’t believe I have to deal with this shit when I’m trying to save your life,” I muttered to the wolf pup while grabbing a couple more items from the kit. Plunging the syringe into the glass vial, I measured the correct amount, pulled the needle free, and spun around.

  Conn had wriggled free from Chase’s hold again and was swinging his arms so violently, they were a blur. Chance had shouldered up beside Chase to help him try to contain Conn, which meant Conn was focused on them and not me. I moved up behind Conn, quietly and smoothly, lifted the syringe to his neck, and finished the injection before he’d even realized what was happening.

  “What the hell?” Conn spun around, reaching for his neck. He looked between the needle and me as if he was putting the pieces together.

  When his face started to slacken, his arms following, I nodded at Chance and Chase. “That’s what you get for messing with me and wolf pup. A small dose of horse tranquilizer.” I lifted the needle and an eyebrow. “Have a nice nap.”

  His brothers were there to catch Conn when he lost control of his legs, and they dragged him the rest of the way to the couch. Conn was snoring by the time Chance had settled his head on one of the throw pillows.

  Chase stared at Conn, his hands on his hips and brows pulled together. “What the hell just happened?”

  I turned back to the pup, dropped the syringe I’d just used on Conn, and picked up the needle he’d interrupted earlier. “I solved a problem the quick way. It looked like you guys would take a while.” Aligning the needle with the vein, I blew a chunk of hair out of my face, inhaled, and slid the needle into the pup’s vein. It went in the first time. I let out the breath I’d been holding and hurried to set up the rest of the I.V. “Chase, I need you on bag duty again.”

  “I might not care once I see the bruise on my face tomorrow, but will he be okay?” Chance was looking at Conn, his head tilted and his eyes worried.

  “He’ll be fine,” I assured him, handing the bag to Chase. “Don’t worry, I’ve done it before, and the other guy woke up just fine with not much permanent damage.”

  “You’ve horse tranq’ed someone else, Scout?” Chance grabbed a throw from the end of the couch and draped it over Conn. “And the guy didn’t press charges or anything?”

  I flicked the I.V. bag, getting the drip started since everything was set up. “That would have been messed up since he was the one who’d dared me to do it in the first place.”

  Chase shook his head, almost laughing. “Some dude dared you to inject him with horse tranquilizer, and you actually agreed to it?”

  “After three years of going to vet school with him and being reminded day after day what a pompous, entitled jerk he was, I pretty much jumped at the chance to stab a needle in his neck.” I watched the I.V., making sure everything was functioning properly, then I wrapped a few circles of surgical tape around the needle in the pup’s leg. We’d done all we could do—now it was up to the pup.

  “And he was okay?” Chance asked, sounding doubtful as he came over.

  “He woke up a few hours later the same pompous prick he was before. So don’t worry.” I nudged Chance when he stopped beside me. “We’ll all be enjoying your brother’s pompous prick again soon.”

  Chance grinned, his gaze going to the wolf pup. “Everything go okay?”

  “Yeah. As far as medicine goes, we’ve done all we can. We’ll keep a close eye on it over the next twenty-four hours and reassess the situation tomorrow.”

  “What happens if the pup gets better? What happens if it’s fine and healthy and turns into a big, carnivorous he or she wolf?”

  Chance bringing it up reminded me to check.

  “A he wolf. It’s a boy.” I stroked his back, reminding myself that sometime today
, he would need to be cleaned as well. “And if he gets better, we’ll take that one day at a time. No need to plan out every day of the wolf’s six to eight years of life if we don’t even know if he’s going to make it to see the next sunrise.”

  Chance rolled his fingers across the pool table. “So what do we do in the meantime? If this wolf’s going to need round-the-clock supervision, how do we kill the time?”

  “Can’t play pool,” Chase said, motioning at the pup.

  “Nope, the pool table’s out.” I’d selected the pool table for more than just being a flat surface with a bright light shining above it. Keeping Chase from mourning with an eight ball clutched in his hand was my main reason. “We could play cards?”

  Chance and Chase shook their heads adamantly.

  “When we’re looking to get our asses kicked playing cards, we’ll catch a plane to Vegas. At least there we’d have bright lights and fountains to distract us from losing.” Chase was still shaking his head.

  “We could go see if breakfast isn’t over yet and have it with your dad.”

  That suggestion earned a frown from both of them.

  “Who’d stay here with the pup? Besides, I’m on bag detail.” Chase lifted the bag.

  “I’ll find something to hang it on. I certainly don’t expect you to hold it the whole time.” I was going to run the I.V. fluids for twenty-four hours and determine where to go from there. If the pup seemed better, I’d probably stop the drip. If he didn’t, then I’d give it another day.

  Chase bobbed his shoulder. “I don’t mind.”

  “Chance?” I said as he stared at the pup like he wasn’t quite sure it was real and sleeping on the pool table. “Are you brave enough to tackle breakfast with me?”

  He answered silently first. Reaching for his coat slung over the back of the chair, he shrugged into it. “Whether I’m brave or not isn’t the deciding factor this morning.” Chance found his hat and dropped it back on his head. “The ranch is. It won’t run itself. I’m already a couple hours behind thanks to little scruff-ball here, so I won’t around for dinner either.” Chance rested his hand above the pup’s back, giving it a pretend pat.

  “Yeah, I’ll still be busy holding this bag, so I won’t make to dinner either.”

  Chase’s grip tightened on the bag when I reached for it. Chance got a pass—he had a ranch to run. Chase didn’t though—an umbrella stand could fill in for him.

  “Come on. Why is sitting down to a meal with your dad less appealing to you than getting an enema?” I asked.

  Chase’s nose curled. “That’s disgusting.”

  “Fine. Forget the enema part. Why won’t you sit down and have a meal with your dad?” If he didn’t like the first way I’d worded it, I’d put it to him point blank.

  Chance’s hand dropped over my shoulder—his subtle way of suggesting I back off. I knew Chase had gone to hell and back recently, but since he was actually talking coherently and didn’t seem to have one foot inside the land of the loony, I wanted to ask him the questions I hadn’t last night. “Why are you hiding from your dad?”

  Chase sat on the edge of the pool table, focusing on the drip of the I.V. “I’m not the only one. Conn’s been avoiding Dad as much, if not more, than I have.”

  “But I’m not asking Conn, and if I were, I guess his answer would be very different from your answer.” I sat beside Chase and pressed my fingers into the side of the pup’s throat to take his pulse. It wasn’t as weak as it had been when we’d first found him, but it was a long ways from strong.

  Chase inhaled and seemed to hold the air inside him for what could have been the span of four whole breaths. “It’s like watching someone you care about die right in front of you and being totally powerless to save them.” His hand in his lap balled into a fist. “The way Jenny died . . . well, it was terrible, but how she went—instantly—that was the one small mercy, if there was one about her death.” Chase’s throat bobbed, his eyelids veiling his eyes, but he didn’t retreat back into that hollow place. “But with Dad, we all know he’s dying, he knows he is, and it’s like we’re all sitting around, waiting for it to happen. Wondering if it will be today. Or tomorrow. Or next week. He’s dying a slow, painful death, and we’re expected to just show up to breakfast and watch it happen? I mean, shit, Dad has never won any Father of the Year trophies or done a decent job of showing he cared about us, but he’s still my dad.” Chase blew out a sharp burst of air. “You can’t expect us to just sit around a dining room table and watch him die, Scout. If you want to, that’s your call, but I’ve had my fill of death for this lifetime and the next.”

  In a few simple sentences, Chase had gotten me to understand why it was so hard for him. Why it might have been so hard for his other brothers too. I covered his hand with mine and gave it a squeeze. His hand felt cold, as if it had lost its circulation days ago.

  “I’m not expecting you to watch him die,” I said. “I’m not expecting anything of you or Chance or Conn. I’m just hoping you’ll take this opportunity to say good-bye.” Chance’s hand was still on my shoulder, my hand still folded over Chase’s . . . We were all connected, but by more than just our touch. “Death sucks no matter which way it’s doled out. There’s no ‘good’ form of death, but there are differences. When my mom died, I didn’t get to say good-bye. Shit, I hadn’t even gotten to consider she might be getting close to dying because she was so young. To a child, old age and cancer kill people. Since my mom didn’t fit into either of those categories, she wasn’t going to die. And then she did.” I had to focus on keeping my breath slow and controlled. It had been twelve years, but finding one’s mother dead and learning what had been responsible for killing her was something no one moved on from.

  Some things you just couldn’t shrug off and move on from. If he didn’t already, Chase would realize that soon.

  “I didn’t get the chance to say good-bye. I didn’t get the chance to tell her I loved her one last time. I didn’t get a chance to tell her what I was sorry for and what I hoped she was sorry for . . . there was no moment of catharsis. There never has been.”

  Chance’s thumb rubbed slow circles into my collarbone.

  “I’ll never be at peace with my mom’s death, but I think you guys have an opportunity to be at peace with John’s when that day comes. You can look him in the eye and say good-bye. You can get everything off your shoulders and find peace with it. One day, you might be able to think about your dad, and instead of all of those memories being punctuated with What if? and If only, you can have closure.”

  Chase shifted farther back on the edge of the table. “I don’t feel that way about Jenny. You know, the what-if and if-only part. I want her back so badly I’d commit all seven deadly sins on a Sunday to get her back, and I miss her so badly that’s all I seem to be able to feel, but I feel like I’ve got closure.” Chase stared at his wedding band with a pained expression.

  “I’m guessing that’s because she died knowing you loved her and you knew she loved you. While her death was tragic and untimely, she died because life took her, not the other way around—the way my mom went.” I tapped Chase’s wedding ring. “There’s closure in that, so you can have that one small measure of peace.”

  Chase nodded slowly, his forehead creased. “I hear what you’re saying, and I promise I’ll give it some consideration, but I can’t promise anything else. I can’t promise I’ll be able to say good-bye to him.”

  “Then what did you come back for?” I asked as gently as I could.

  Chase was quiet for a minute, seeming to search for an answer. Then he exhaled. “Hell if I know.”

  A smile crept over my lips. “Well until you do, mind watching little scruff-ball for me? I’ll find something to clip the bag to so your arm doesn’t go numb, but do you mind checking in on him every once in a while today?” I slid off the table and went to grab my coat.

  “Yeah, sure. But where are you going? After that big talk about showing up to the dinner table,
it looks like you’re in a hurry to escape.” Chase pointed at my jacket.

  “Yeah, where do you think you’re going?” Chance asked, crossing his arms as he shouldered up beside his brother.

  “Out to help you, ranch boy,” I said, giving the pup one last once-over before heading out of the room. “You helped me with the pup. It’s my turn to return the favor.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call what I did helping you. More like indulging you,” Chance replied.

  “Fine. Then consider what I’m about to do returning the indulging favor.” Raking my hair over my shoulder, I twisted it into a quick braid to keep it out of the way. A girl didn’t wear her hair down doing chores around a ranch unless she wanted it to end the day with it knotted in a muddy, sticky mess. “And I can’t believe you’d stoop to saying it was indulgent to save that little guy.”

  Chance looked purposefully from me to the pup. “It’s a wolf. Those things ranchers would shoot on sight if it weren’t for those things known as protection laws?”

  “It’s a life.” I knew he was having a grand old time messing with me, and I was used to our sibling-like banter, but for some reason, this topic made me especially defensive. “In my book, any life saved or attempted to save—even if that life is an earthworm’s—is not considered indulgent.”

  Chase chuckled and nudged Chance while Chance lifted his hands in surrender.

  “Got it. Clear as crystal.” Slapping his brother’s knee as he headed in my direction, Chance pulled on his leather gloves. “Now, you ready to come help me feed the cattle so they’re good and fat before the slaughter?”

  Chase’s chuckling grew to a laugh while my eyes narrowed into slits.

  I aimed my glare at the back of the person I was following out of the room. “You’re a pain in my ass, Chance Armstrong.”

  “I thought that was Conn’s official title.” His whole face was lit up with amusement when he glanced back at me.

  “It was, but now that I can just stick a needle in his neck before he gets going, you’re doing a nice job filling his shoes.”