Branding A Legacy (A Silver Star Ranch Novel) (4 page)

“You should’ve never saved me.” He pauses a moment and then growls each of his next words. “I need to die.”

“Your family needs you, Marvel.”

As the sirens grow louder, I turn to look down the dirt road to see how close help is. When I turn back to him that’s when I notice the rest of his body. One of his legs is snapped in half while blood coats his stomach area. A gaping hole in his abdomen is exposed—caked and coated in dirt and grime.

“How in the hell did you survive?” I shake my head as soon as the question escapes my lips because it’s something I didn’t mean to ask out loud.

“They’re following me. Feeding me just enough to get me by, making me suffer all the way until the end.”

“Why?” This time I feel the tears rolling down my cheeks, unable to stop them. Not even in the worst of nightmares have I ever witnessed such pain and horror.

“I don’t deserve to live.”

“Yes, yes you do.” I pull him in even closer, ignoring the rotting flesh smell and his gasps for air. “Marvel, it’s like I know you. Your granddad is in the hospital. He suffered another massive heart attack.”

I continue talking to him, trying to give him the will to fight for his life.

“He’s told me everything about you, from times where you pissed him off to your brightest achievements. He loves you, Marvel, and needs you now more than ever.”

“He doesn’t know how badly I fucked up.”

I brush his long hair from his forehead, trailing my finger down the other side of his face. “He does know and told me one night that the love of his ranch runs deeper in your blood than any of your brothers. Said it was a blinding-type of love, and he couldn’t be prouder to know his roots will always stay planted because of you.”

I bend over to whisper the last part to him. “He said if you die then the ranch dies.”

I touch my lips to his forehead, taking time to soak in the moment. Squeezing my eyes shut, I kiss him and let my lips soak in his hurt and agony. Crusted blood, torn skin, and dirt lay between him and my lips, but I kiss him anyway until the paramedics pull me away. The smell of him is haunting and forbidden all in the same moment. The magnetizing pull to him cannot be mistaken, and as I step backward, I chalk it up to being around his family the last few days.

My cell phone rings in my hand, and it’s my uncle this time.

“Hello.”

“Clover, where are you? We’ve been waiting at least thirty minutes.”

I hear his newborn son screaming at the top of his lungs in the background.

“I-uh-I got lost, Uncle Saint.”

“Well, we have a young boy over here who’s anxious to see you.”

“I’m not going to make it.” My fingers tremble so badly I’m barely able to clutch onto the phone. “I came across an accident and I have to go back in.”

“Clover, get your ass here now. Your mom sent you here so I could watch you.”

The tone of his voice startles me as he becomes overbearing and extremely vicious. I’ve always heard about that side of Saint from my dad, my mom, and other family members, but never experienced it.

“I chose to move here. She didn’t make me.” I cringe when the words come out, but they’re every bit truthful.

“Bullshit, she was tired of you around the house with no social life and just simply in her way.”

“Excuse me?” I know my mom laid out several options for me but never forced anything on me. I only chose Texas because a family member would be near, not that I was exactly close with the man.

“Don’t pull your spoiled rich ass routine on me, Clover, and if you don’t get your ass back here tonight you will be finding a new house.”

The sounds of the ambulance screaming in the background suck me back to the reality of my life. The officer’s words replay in my mind. “Ma’am, we’ll need a formal statement.”

I flashed him my badge and reassured him I’d be following them directly to the hospital. I didn’t miss the tiny little detail of him jotting down my name on his notepad. The simple fact actually comforted me.

“I have bigger issues right now, Uncle Saint. I won’t be coming home.”

I cringe as I spew each word, deep down this isn’t me or the way I act. All the circumstances have landed me in this very odd place.

“Your shit will be in the driveway.”

How or what in the hell does someone even reply? Thanks for the stay? Nice knowing you? Make sure to throw my tampons into the mix of things?

“Good hell,” I huff out as I speed up to the flashing lights nearly a half mile ahead of me. My only hope is to follow them straight back to the hospital. Part of me is beyond giddy to let Maverik and the family know that Marvel has been found, but the other part and the most realistic part knows better.

Perpetual death was the only scent lingering on his decaying body. It was more promising than any hopes of survival. I try to remain focused on the lights ahead of me and not my cell phone buzzing from the passenger seat. I shake my head remembering Saint’s evil tone.

My dad always warned me about my mom’s side of the family when I was little. Dad was nothing like my mom, actually the exact opposite. Kind, caring, and loving, always wanting to spend time with me and attending school functions. It all ended when I was in first grade. I still remember the tone of his voice and concern in his eyes. He never made me feel guilty, and he tried loving my mom, but he never had a good thing to say about her family, and this rings true tonight as Saint’s threat flows through my mind.

I wipe the beads of sweat racing down my face and feel the loose dirt on my fingers cling to my face. Marvel. His foul stench still clings to all of my senses mingled with the despair in his eyes and voice. He truly wanted me to leave him for dead. I’ve never in my life seen someone so determined and damn right hell bent on not being saved.

Yet, when my lips touched his marred skin, I’ve never felt higher.

“
J
ust a few more questions
, Clover, and then we’ll let you go.”

I peer out the small window into the waiting room to see all of the Slatters anxiously pacing the floor.

“Yeah.”

I haven’t been able to talk to them. Once I pulled in I was escorted into a private waiting room for questioning.

“Tell us again where you were heading.” The taller detective asks as he bounces his pen from his notepad. I’ve been around the legal system enough to know these aren’t local deputies. The one who ushered me in was, but the two in front of me are not. Dressed in pressed white button up shirts and black slacks, they’re definitely from a higher branch.

“I was heading home.” I stop for a moment, running my hands through my hair. “I was going to my uncle’s home where I used to live. Like I said, I moved here a couple of months ago. I worked at a local doctor’s office and now here at the hospital.

“Who is your uncle?” The taller agent leaning against the wall asks me.

“Saint Johnson.”

Eyebrow after eyebrow raises from each agent, and it’s as if I live out childhood memories of my mother fiddling her pointer finger on the table. They’re intrigued but don’t dare give off too much information. It’s like a hidden treasure buried deep and it surfaced as the victor is about to strike.

“Saint is your uncle?” The agent, or what I’d guess to be an agent, asks. He seems to be the lead, since he’s the one seated across from me with his trusty pencil and notepad.

“Yes.”

Now I’m livid, as I feel my whole body begin to tense and then lightly shake. Angry tears prick at my eyes, but I fight those bitches down.

“I’ve done nothing wrong. I found a missing person and reported it.” I have to stall a bit to regain my composure. I’d never let these asses this low destroy me. “So, why in the hell does it matter if I’m related to Saint or not?”

My inner pussy/sissy girl cringes at my badass words, but again I fight to remain a statue like no other. The agent who’s been leaning on the wall the whole time finally springs to action.

“It doesn’t. Thank you, Clover, for your time.”

I take his manly head nod as my gesture to leave. My good senses and manners all but internally scream at me to leave the fellow servicemen a thank you or polite gesture, but internally the Clover I know just wants to send them the bird high and proud.

Bottling everything up, I tuck my hands into the pockets of my scrubs and head for the door, watching as my clog nursing shoes slap the cold tile of the floor.

“Clover, I’d suggest you find that new home.”

I turn to the agent who was seated across from me and is clearly vested in the case. The expression blanketing his face leaves little to the imagination and nothing to doubt. As tension fills the air and I’m nearly ready to burst, the door swings open with another agent joining us, this time a female with a short red bob haircut and skintight pencil skirt.

“She’s clear. We checked her.” I watch the two other detectives nod to each other and then remember the numb state I was in when they entered this tiny room. Both men immediately introduced themselves and flashed their badges before sitting me down. The tension filled the room and it was all stemming from their determined expressions, and now with the redhead in the room it’s only become worse.

She takes a seat next to the detective who’s sitting down, nudging his notepad with his scribbles all over it to the side. I watch as she lays both of her palms down on the tabletop.

“I can’t express enough the need for you to distance yourself from your uncle Saint. You have different last names, so that’s good, but I’d really suggest going back to California. It would be much safer for you in the long run.

“I’m confused.” I feel my forehead trying to piece together the whole messy puzzle. “What does my uncle or me being from California have anything to do with this?”

“This interview is over.” The agent leaning up against the wall pushes off of it and opens the door for me. “We will be in contact if we need any further assistance.”

The female agent leans forward and whispers, “Stay away from Saint and let few as possible know you’re related to him.”

She pauses for a bit while reading the question on my facial expression.

“It’s for your safety.”

All three agents are up and gone, leaving me in the tiny room with buzzing lights, before I have the chance to blink or even ask another question.
What in the hell is going on?

The hospital’s piercing intercom goes off to page all nurses and staff to the emergency room and it startles me. The image of Marvel floods me and I’m up and running without thinking. The sound of my clogs smacking the floor cause my ears to thump with a heartbeat as everything happens in slow motion when I pass Maverik, Ella, Challis, and Merek standing together outside the swinging doors of the ER.

Their hands are linked together. I don’t have enough courage to look up to their faces as my heart sinks when the chaos of the ER fills the waiting room as the swinging doors fly open and close.

Once in the room, a scene from a horror show complete with blood, flesh strewn everywhere, and the stench that is far too overwhelming intoxicates me to the point I feel the urge to vomit. Pushing back the gagging sensation, I scrub in quickly and throw on a mask before reporting to the nurse above me waiting instructions.

“Her.”

Marvel tries to reach his hand up from the table.

“You need to hold still.”

“Her.” He tries again. “I need her.”

This time the doctor lets him raise his hand up. He’s pointing directly at me.

“Clover.” I’m pushed from behind until I’m by his side.

“Hold this as I finish sewing him up.” My hand is placed on a flap of skin hanging from his chest. It’s the longest and most brutal of all his wounds running from the top of his sternum down to the right of his belly button. Infection is obvious with the amounts of decaying skin running along the edge of the cut.

“Thank you,” Marvel whispers.

I look to him and notice his hazel eyes staring back up at me and only smile back at him. Tears begin to roll down his cheeks.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He slowly shakes his head side to side.

“You’re doing great, Marvel. Where’s the pain?” another nurse asks.

“I don’t feel anything,” he mumbles. Streams of blood pool down his lips from the deep cracked crevices. Without thinking, I grab gauze from the table he’s lying on and begin to dab his lips.

“Your brothers are out there.” I nod and continue to soak up as much blood as possible.

“Yeah,” he whispers.

“Your sisters-in-law too. Your granddad will be so thrilled, Marvel. You have to fight.”

I reach for a tube of Vaseline to coat his lips with. Another nurse sets it next to me. As I keep one hand on his chest pushing down his skin, I tend to his lips with the other one.

“Marvel, you’re doing great. I need you to stay right where you are.”

A palm covers my shoulder, looking back I see a doctor who bends down and begins whispering in my ear, “Keep doing whatever you’re doing. His heat rate has steadied and his oxygen levels are going up.”

The doctor’s breath tickles the hair on the back of my neck and then the realization of his words causes goose bumps to pop up all along my skin. I give him a nod and continue to dab the ointment on Marvel’s lip then move to some more minor cuts on his cheek.

“You know your granddad told me about the time when you were ten and won your first rodeo.”

This comment gets a weak smile from Marvel.

“Said you’re one hell of a cowboy.”

I feel my hand being moved from his chest. Bottle after bottle of antibiotic are passed by me and handed to the doctors, and when I take a look up I nearly regret it. His wound is laid open as the doctors flush it out and remove as much debris as possible. The sight of his leg is the next thing to assault my heart because it’s barely recognizable as a limb.

“I messed up.”

His voice is weak and this time shakes with terror.

“You’re all right, Marvel. You’re safe now.” I place both of my hands on his cheeks, looking down into his panicked eyes. “You’re home now.”

For a slight moment the only thing I want to do is bend over and comfort him with my lips. It’s more than an urge and more of a hunger brewing within me.

“Ella is having twins. One boy and one girl. Maverik is a mess and dying for them to get here.” I rack my brain trying to remember what the rest of the family has been up to. “Lil’ Mav and Challis started team roping at some local ropings and have been kicking butt.”

“How is he?” Marvel’s eyes roll back in his head as his words are barely recognizable.

“Who?” I brush his long bangs from his eyes, discovering more tiny scrapes and cuts that need attending to.

“Granddad.” He closes his eyes once the word escapes. The rhythmic sounds of all the monitors reassure me his vitals are still steady.

“Stubborn old man is doing quite well. He thought he’d be released from ICU today but looks like a couple more days until then.” My hand stays busy as I keep finding scrapes and cuts to clean up and mentally remember the ones that may require stitches. “The doctors are making him take it slow and he sure doesn’t care for that.”

Minutes pass as everyone in the room attends to one part of Marvel with the only soothing noise and form of hope coming from the steady monitors.

The swinging doors fly open with the head of surgery standing in the doorway. “The plastic surgeon is here from Chicago and is ready for him.”

“Closing up the last wound and we’ll have him wheeled up to the OR. His vitals are steady for now. Severe signs of infection coupled with necrotizing fasciitis in his leg.”

I watch hopelessly as they wheel him away, leaving my hands empty and bare. It’s not until he’s gone that I realize what his touch had done to me. I shake my head, knowing it’s only because of how traumatic the situation is and knowing his family.

I begin helping clean up the ER, putting away medical supplies when I come across a necklace laying on the floor. The chain is broken and filthy with a silver cross attached to it. I pick it up knowing it’s Marvel’s and tuck it into the front of my scrubs. It goes against all protocol, but if I can’t be with him helping him, I at least want a piece of him with me.

I know it’s all wrong, but it feels so damn right and it should be my first sign.