Always a Lady (12 page)

"That's what's wrong with you, Buddy, my boy," Morgan teased. "We took advantage of Lily much too long and look what we've become! We're nothing but a bunch of moochers. It will be good for us to cope alone again. And, it will be good for Lily to have only herself to worry about. Right, honey?"

His words stopped her intention. Now what could she do? It was patently obvious that she wasn't needed at home after all. Maybe not even wanted. She turned toward Cole and stared, knowing that the bond she had with her oldest brother was the strongest, praying that he'd know what she needed without asking.

Cole pulled her into a roughhouse embrace and whispered softly against her ear as he whirled her around in good-bye.

"You're going to be fine, Lily Kate. Just let whatever your heart tells you to happen, happen. Don't dwell on the past, girl. You've got too much to live for," Cole said.

He put her down, planted a kiss on her surprised mouth, and tugged affectionately at her braid.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too, Cole. I love you all," Lily said with tears in her voice. "And I'm so glad you got nosey and came to check on me. I wouldn't have missed J.D. and Dusty's romp with Longren cattle for the world."

Her teasing remarks brought the twins to life as one dug into his pocket and handed her an envelope.

"Here, sis," J.D. said.

"It's for Debbie Randall, your friend from Clinton," Dusty continued.

Lily's eyebrows rose a fraction. She knew that her friend from the grocery store had been at the barbecue and had noticed her brothers had had her in tow more than once during the evening. But she had no idea that their relationship had progressed into letters of good-bye.

"It's not what you think," J.D. grinned. "It's the address of our agent and a letter of introduction for her. She's interested in acting and thinking about making a trip to California. We're just helping her along a bit."

"Not another one," Morgan muttered. "That's not the most encouraging reason to come to California. Half the population of the United States thinks that it's the Mecca for fame and glory."

"Now, Dad," Cole said, "J.D. and Dusty haven't done half bad. Although that's not to say everyone would automatically have their inborn instincts when it comes to telling stories. Hell, they've been lying for years. Now they're getting paid to play make-believe. What's the difference?"

Lily smiled at the banter that ensued as she stuck the envelope into her pocket. Debbie! Acting! She'd never have guessed!

Before she was ready, and before she could think of another reason to prolong their stay, they were heading down the long driveway toward Oklahoma City to catch their morning flight as Lily and Case waved good-bye.

"Are you all right?" Case asked, as he watched Lily swipe at a tear.

"Of course," she said. "Why wouldn't I be? After all, it's not like I'll never see them again. In less than a month roundup will be over and you'll have no more need for a cook on the Bar L."

Her words hurt. And so did the offhand manner in which they were spoken.

"Well, don't be so damned happy about it," Case growled, and stomped off toward the barns.

Lily's mouth dropped. The morning sun hit her full force as she turned to stare at his retreating figure. Tiny beads of sweat popped out on her upper lip and down the middle of her back. Lily didn't know whether it was from the impending heat, or the sight of his narrow hips and long legs stretching the distance between them. No matter what else she might admit about Case Longren, she couldn't ignore the fact that he was one sexy man.

She lifted her hand to her forehead, shading her eyes as she watched Case walk away. What had prompted that reaction?

A little voice inside her heart told her she already knew the answer, but she ignored it. What did her heart know about anything? It had steered her wrong once before. It could do it again.

It was Sunday. Everyone's day off. Lily had skipped church and slept in and was now bored. She wished she hadn't been so lazy. She missed the services and the routine and, if she was honest with herself, she missed the people. Lily's Sunday trips to the little country church less than two miles from the ranch had become a habit. She'd been accepted openly. And, it had been good for her heart.

Before her accident, she'd been a people person. She'd always been the first to volunteer to host a party, or help a friend in need. Now she seemed to shy away from too much outside contact for fear of the reaction she imagined people would have at seeing her face. But going to church was easing her back into the public eye.

Lily walked through the downstairs of Case's house, looking absently into each room, knowing that he was somewhere outside and she could roam at will.

She wandered into the den, taking note of the masculine furnishings. The walls of this room were the only ones in the entire house that weren't painted white. Instead, they were paneled in aged, but polished, knotty pine and always made Lily feel comforted when she entered. There was something very homey about wood floors and walls and rock fireplaces.

Her gaze ran along the bookshelves on either side of the fireplace as she toyed with the idea of reading. It didn't appeal. She ran her fingers along the glassed doors of the locked gun cabinet and counted off the number of guns she saw stored inside.

There was even a hunting rifle just like her brother Cole's, and she laughed to herself as she remembered how sore her shoulder had been until she'd learned to shoot it to his satisfaction. She'd actually gotten quite good at target shooting, but hunting left her cold. She couldn't bring herself to kill anything, even an animal that she knew would produce food for her family. She'd rather go to the market and buy something someone else had already dispatched. That way she didn't have to think about how it got there, just how she was going to cook it.

"Miss Lily!"

She jumped as Duff's strident shout broke her reverie. And then the tone of his voice penetrated and she moved out of the den on the run. What was wrong?

"Here," she called, as she ran into the kitchen just as he was heading back outside.

"Oh, thank the Lord," Duff muttered, as he yanked his ten gallon hat from his head and scratched at the sparse grey growth beneath. "I didn't think you was here, Miss Lily."

"What is it?" she asked. And then the blood on his shirt made her gasp. "Are you hurt? There's blood all over your shirt!"

"Ain't mine," Duff muttered. "It's the boss's. He was trying to separate a cow from her calf and she took an instant dislike to the idea."

"No," Lily whispered. "Where is he? How bad is he hurt? Should I call for an ambulance?"

"Lord, no!" Duff cried. "He'd have all our hides. But bring the first aid kit out of the pantry there and come with me. He won't let me see to it and if n he don't let us clean it up, he could get infected. A barn lot is a prime place for lockjaw. Seen it once m'self."

Lily yanked open the pantry door and fumbled around in nervous panic until Duff pointed out a case that looked like her father's tackle box. She grabbed it and followed the little foreman out of the kitchen door, praying with every step she took that Case wasn't hurt too badly. If he was, she didn't care how much he argued, he was going to the hospital.

The sun was hanging suspended about halfway between zenith and horizon as Lily ran toward the barn with the tackle box banging against her legs. A stiff breeze had come up just after the noon meal and was stirring the dry, dusty earth with choking precision. Lily breathed in the red dust through her mouth and spit as she ran. She didn't have time to think about the unladylike manner in which she'd done away with the mouthful of dirt she'd inhaled. She was too panicked about Case's blood on the shirt of the little man several strides ahead of her.

"Oh no," Lily muttered, as she rounded the corner of the stable door and stepped into the shade of the entry way.

Case was sitting on a bale of hay just inside the door, mopping at a steady stream of blood that ran out of a long gash down the back of his arm.

He looked up in disgust as he saw his aging foreman and Lily coming toward him with varying degrees of intent on their faces.

"You just had to do it, didn't you," Case growled at Duff. "You just had to go and tell Lily I got a little scratch. What did you think she was going to do? Kiss and make it better?"

"Shut up," Lily said quietly, as she popped the lid of the first aid box and dug through it for some antiseptic and bandage.

Case's jaw dropped. This wasn't exactly the most satisfying bedside manner he'd ever encountered.

"What did you say?" he muttered.

"I said shut up! I'll never understand why men always get mad when they get sick or hurt. My father and brothers are just the same. Duff didn't tell me you needed a kiss, smart aleck, and you're not about to get one. But you're going to get stitches and I'm telling you that for a fact."

Case blanched. Stitches. Damn, damn, damn. And he hated the needles the doctors used to deaden the area a whole lot worse than the actual stitches.

"How did this happen?" Lily asked, as she swabbed carefully through the gash. It was long and, in two places, very, very deep. She thought she could see muscle exposed.

"Cow knocked him against some barbed wire out on the meadow," Pete answered. "Then to add insult to injury, she shoved her head into his belly."

Case mumbled beneath his breath as his ignominious downing was once again bandied about. He hated to be helpless, and he'd been helpless as hell when that cow had had him underfoot.

"Does it hurt to breathe?" Lily asked quickly. He might have some cracked or broken ribs.

"Not so much," Case answered, and then he winced as Lily pulled his arm out to his side and poured a slow, thin stream of alcohol all the way into the cut. "But that sure as hell does!" he shouted, and yanked his arm away from her ministrations.

"Don't be such a baby," Lily said.

Case took one glance at the look in her eyes, the healed scar on her face, and shut up. He could do no less.

"Now, am I taking you to the hospital, or do you want one of the men to drive you, Case? I'd be glad to, but I'm not familiar with the route and might get us both lost on the way back if they shoot you too full of painkillers."

"I'll take him," Duff said. "Don't move, boss. I'll go get my truck." He scurried in a little two-step motion as he hurried outside toward the bunkhouse.

Case was getting pale, and Lily knew it was probably shock. He'd also lost quite a bit of blood.

"Got any orange juice in the bunkhouse snack bar?" Lily asked. One of the men nodded and ran to get it for her.

Case looked at her as if she'd just asked for bugs.

"When I donate blood, they always give me juice and cookies afterwards," Lily said, answering his question before he had a chance to ask. "I don't think you're up to cookies, but you've lost an awful lot of blood. Maybe the juice will help your nausea."

"How did you know . . ." Case began.

"I've been there, remember?" Lily said.

"Hold this," she ordered, and one of the men obeyed as Lily padded the wound with all the available gauze pads, wrapping them tightly with an ace bandage to hold them in place. The orange juice arrived, and Lily watched the color come back into Case's face as he slowly sipped at the cold drink.

Duff pulled into the stable doorway and yelled out the window.

"Come on, boss. Time's a wastin'."

Case rolled his eyes heavenward, got to his feet, and then staggered as if he'd been punched in the nose. The ground tilted beneath his feet, and he would have fallen if Lily and Pete hadn't grabbed him.

"Hold on to me," Lily said.

Forever, Case thought, as he leaned gratefully against her slender strength and buried his face in the top of her hair. It smelled faintly of cinnamon, and Case knew that he was probably going to miss the apple pies she was baking for supper.

Lily pulled his uninjured arm across her shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist as Pete propped him up from the other side. Together, they had him in Duff's pickup truck and on the way to the hospital before he had time to argue.

"I'll get that, Miss Lily," Pete argued, as Lily bent down to gather up the bloody gauze she'd dropped on the ground. "You go on up to the house and wash up."

Lily stared down at her blood-stained hands and the spatters of Case's blood on the front of her clothes. She nodded gratefully and started toward the house when one of the men patted her on the back, handed her the first aid box.

"You done real good, Miss Lily," he said. "Real good. Couldn't 'a done better myself. You'd make a real good cowboy . . . I mean cowgirl," he amended with a grin.

"Thanks," Lily said, and walked back to the house with a smile as big as Texas on her face.

She knew that Case would be sore, but unless he had further injuries to his ribs, he'd be healed soon with nothing more than a scar for a reminder.

It was the word scar that brought her up short. Why did it seem so insignificant to her when it was on someone else? Of course, it wasn't on Case's face, but it was still going to be long and ugly and would probably never fade. Was it just possible that everyone viewed her scar in the same manner? Was it possible . . . maybe even true . . . that her scar was of no more importance to others than Case's was to her? Had she let Todd Collins's selfish reaction color her own instincts?

Lily walked into the house, replaced the first aid box in the pantry and headed for her bedroom with one purpose in mind.

She walked into her bathroom, turned on the overhead light as well as the light over the vanity and stared. It was still there. But was it as vivid as she'd imagined? Was that the first and last thing someone saw when they met, or was it only the first thing? Was Lily, herself, enough to overshadow the disfigurement? Maybe . . . just maybe Case had been telling the truth.