The Circle Eight: Caleb (23 page)

Matt’s jaw tightened. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“Later. Now Caleb is important.” She ignored the big man’s scowl and held out her hand. “I need some help so we can staunch the bleeding.”

“I can see how you and Caleb ended up together. You sound just like him.” Despite his complaint, Matt turned to his men. “Javier, you and Lorenzo go get the horses so we can take care of these bodies. Get one ready to carry Caleb. Now.”

The two Mexican men took off running. The younger Graham squatted down and stared at Caleb, his eyes wide. This one was probably the same age as her, but she felt so much older. Ancient.

“Can you find some ash? I saw remnants of a fire a few yards east. I’m going to make a paste.” She had little time to work and no time to explain.

The young Graham went off to do as she asked, leaving her alone with Matt and the unconscious Caleb. The older brother remained standing, perhaps to let her know he still held the power. She could care less what he was doing.

Rory brushed back the hair from Caleb’s brow, daring to show her vulnerability for the ranger in front of his brother. He looked lifeless and it pinched at her heart.

“You care for him.”

“I’ve got the ash!” Nicholas came rushing back with his hands full of ash.

“Put it down here.” Rory gestured to a spot a few feet from Caleb. After Nicholas dropped the ash, she dropped her trousers.

“What the hell?” Matt stepped back as if she was going to hurt him.

“I need to make a paste with the ash and piss. It’s a good way to stop the blood. My father taught me when I was a girl.” She forced herself to piss enough to make the paste the right consistency. After she’d yanked up her trousers, she mixed the ingredients together until it was ready.

The two Grahams stared at her while the other two men stood behind with the horses. All of them were silent and motionless.

“Someone peel back the shirt so I can smear this on him.”

Nobody moved.

“He’s going to bleed to death.”

Matt moved closer and put his hand on his pistol. Rory’s fury knew no bounds. She growled at him and removed the blood-soaked shirt herself. The sound of the pistol clearing leather was loud in the forest.

“I won’t let you smear piss on my bleeding brother. Move away.”

“I don’t really care what you say or do right now, Matt Graham. The only thing that matters is Caleb. I won’t let you stop me from saving him.” She got to her feet and shook the bloody shirt. “He’s dying and you’re letting it happen.” She threw the shirt at him. “Now are you going to help me or stand there showing me your dick is bigger than mine?”

Someone whistled but she ignored them. Matt put the gun back in its holster, apparently convinced.

“You and me will talk later. Tell me what we need to do.”

Relief mixed with annoyance at his man pride. “Clean the wound with fresh water as best you can.”

Matt grabbed the canteen from his saddle and squatted beside Caleb. She joined him and waited while he washed away the blood. Fresh bubbles appeared from the angry wound, but it was enough to allow her to do what she needed. She pressed the paste onto the hole, making a plug of sorts.

“Now give me your shirt.”

His brows went up.

“I can take off mine if you prefer. You’ve already seen my ass.”

Matt’s cheeks colored at her bald reference, but he took off his shirt and handed it to her. She grunted her thanks and used the sleeves to tie it around him as best she could. Caleb moaned and she had to grit her teeth to ignore it. She knew this hurt him but she had to do what she had to do, no matter what.

“He’s ready.” She stood up and clenched her hands so the men wouldn’t see them shaking. “Which horse?”

One of the men brought forth a beautiful black stallion. Garza’s horse, Diablo. She knew him on sight and better yet, he knew her. She had shoed him a number of times. Forcing herself to keep calm, she reached out to pet his neck.

“Hey there, boy, you ready to take a ride.”

The horse snuffled her belly and she breathed a sigh of relief. Stallions were notoriously unruly and this black beauty was no exception. She’d seen him kick a hole in a two-inch thick-stall door. The smell of blood didn’t seem to bother him and neither did the sight of his master dead on the ground.

She threw herself up into the saddle and held out her hands. “Lift him up to sit in front of me. I’ll follow you back to your ranch.”

The men were silent again. She wanted to shake them all until their brains rattled.

“Diablo has a smooth gait but he’s not going to let any of you ride him. Your horses won’t take the weight of two grown men without jarring him too much. And Caleb can’t ride belly down.” She bared her teeth at them. “Now hand him up here so we can get a real doctor to dig that bullet out of his gut.”

Matt nodded and finally they listened to her. All four of them lifted him up, his body limp and lifeless. She bit her lip and forced the tears back. Later when she was alone, she might let herself cry. For now she had to help him survive.

Be strong, Aurora. Don’t show weakness. Hold your head high. You are a blacksmith.

Her father’s words echoed through her head and she straightened her back. They slid Caleb into the saddle in front of her and she wound her arms around him.

“Take the leather strap out of the saddlebag and tie his waist to mine, then to the saddle horn.”

“You are bossier than my wife, Olivia and Eva combined.” Matt scowled but he did as she asked.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment since you seem to know what a bossy woman is like.” She held tight to the man who she willed to survive and waited for his brother to secure the leather.

He looked up at her, his gaze icy cold. “I’m going to trust you with my brother but I’m also giving you a warning. If he dies, I’m going to lay the blame on you and your foolish notion to put piss on him.”

She flinched from the sharp words. If Caleb died, there wouldn’t be anyone who blamed her more than herself.

“Let’s ride, Graham.”

After giving orders to Javier and Lorenzo to bring the dead men to the ranch for the sheriff to deal with, Matt swung up into the saddle, as did Nicholas. Rory set off for the Circle Eight with a Graham in her lap, flanked by his serious brothers.

They moved at a canter, as much as she thought Caleb could handle in his condition. She hung onto him until her arms shook from the effort. The sight of another dead body and a riderless horse didn’t stop her. She rode right past, knowing it was another of Garza’s men taken down by the Grahams.

The house appeared in the distance and she focused on it and the feel of Caleb’s strong heart beating against hers. They were almost there. She wanted to urge Diablo into a faster speed but held back, exhaustion and emotion washing over her. She had to be strong, to help Caleb survive or she might not possibly survive herself.

Benjy stared at the faces around him, their familiarity overshadowed by the changes in them. Eva, Rebecca and Catherine, along with two women he didn’t know watched him as he dismounted.

Elizabeth got down more slowly, her breath hissing through her teeth. Eva didn’t move, however, her gaze locked on Benjy.

“¿
Hijo
?” Tears ran down the housekeeper’s face. “Benjamin,
mi hijo
.” She held up her arms and Benjy froze in place.

He wasn’t her son. He wasn’t anyone’s son. Yet he wanted nothing more than to slide into Eva’s welcoming embrace, to feel the affection he had buried in his memory from so long ago.

“Don’t push him.” Elizabeth hobbled over to them. “Let him come in when he’s ready. I need you to stitch up my leg.”

Eva finally turned to look at Elizabeth. Her eyes widened. “¡
Dios mio
! You’ve been shot!”

A stream of Spanish exploded from the housekeeper’s mouth so fast he could hardly distinguish between the words. She led Elizabeth into the house, followed by the two women he didn’t know, one old and one young.

Rebecca and Catherine stood there watching him, their eyes wide. When he’d left they’d been gangly girls. Now they were tall and curvy. Heck, Catherine looked like a fairy creature and she wore trousers. He didn’t know them anymore, much as his heart ached for it to be untrue.

Catherine stepped forward and offered him a small smile. “Welcome home, Benjy.”

He dismounted with care, not used to riding a horse, much less one sixteen hands high. Caleb’s horse was a good one, though, and stood still as Benjy awkwardly made his way to the ground.

“Are you thirsty?” Catherine hooked her hands in her trouser pockets. “We can go to the well and rinse off the travel dust too.”

He nodded and let his childhood best friend, his sister, lead him around the side of the house. The sight was a ghostly memory that scratched at his brain. The garden grew thick with vegetables and flowers and he had a flash of his mother working in it. The well pump was still red but faded and chipped, thousands of hand touches had worn it down.

Catherine pumped the handle a few times until water gushed from the spout. She leaned down and sucked in a mouthful, spraying it all over her shirt. Her grin made the knot in his gut loosen a little.

He stepped up and leaned into the water, letting it rush into his mouth. He closed his eyes and wished it could wash away the last five years of his life. If only the well were magic. Benjy was not the same boy he’d been when last he’d drunk from this well.

His family was a group of familiar strangers and his life had been turned upside down for the third time in his ten years. Catherine watched him, her blue eyes different than anyone else in the Graham clan. She had obviously chosen her own path, dressing and acting different than their sisters.

“You want to go into the house and watch Eva sew up Elizabeth?” She leaned on the pump, bracing her chin on her wrists. “Or we could stay out here until you’re ready to go inside.”

He raised his face to the sun and let the heat penetrate the coldness that lived within him. Catherine sat down in the grass, then lay back, pillowing her head with her hands. He had been closest to her and she seemed to know what he wanted before he did. With gratitude, he lay beside her on the grass and closed his eyes.

Benjamin Graham was home.

Elizabeth peered out the kitchen window and saw Benjy and Catherine lying on the grass. It was good for him to take his time before he was subjected to the women fussing over him. She had never seen such an ancient look in a young person’s eyes before. Her heart ached for him but she would give him the room he needed.

“What happened,
hija
? You followed your brother, didn’t you?” Eva tsked at her. “He told you no and you disobey? Why do you girls never listen?”

“I listen just fine.” Rebecca had to announce her ridiculous record of following the rules.

“Shut up, Becky.” Elizabeth hobbled over to the table. “Yes, I went after Matt and the rest of them. It was my idea and I wanted to help.”

“Who shot you?” Eva helped her onto the table and pulled up her riding skirt to expose the wound. “Ah, you are lucky it went straight through.”

“Nothing to dig out.” Elizabeth had never been shot but it burned and pained something fierce. “I need you to stitch me up quick, Eva. Matt is bringing Caleb in and he’s been shot.”

The cacophony of noise that followed was enough to make her ears hurt. Even Granny Dolan, Hannah’s outspoken grandmother, threw in a few curses to the noise pile.

“I don’t know anything more than that. He sent me back with Benjy, to keep him safe.” She closed her eyes against the pain as Eva started cleaning the wound.

Benjy’s name shut everyone up. They went back to looking outside at the boy who had left the Circle so long ago. She wasn’t the only one who never expected to find him again. No matter how many lost souls Olivia and Brody had found. Perhaps her pessimism came from exactly what was happening now. He was a stranger in his family’s home, preferring to sit in the sun than with them.

She assumed he hadn’t been living in the lap of luxury and had endured much in those five years. It changed someone, especially a child who knew nothing but the love of his family. Her heart ached for him and for the Grahams. Although they’d found him, things were far from whole again.

Chapter Nine

Rory focused on the house, counting to ten over and over in her head, anything not to focus on the man in her arms. She wanted to scream, cry and punch something. Yet she hung on and did what she had to do. She remained strong for him and for herself.

“Nick, ride ahead and let Eva know Caleb’s in a bad way. Then ride into town and get the doc. Tell him Caleb’s got a bullet to get dug out and he’s lost a lot of blood.” Matt sounded so calm. She wanted to smack him. How could he be calm when his brother’s life slipped away with each passing second?

The younger Graham took off at a gallop, racing toward the house until he arrived in a cloud of dust they could see half a mile away. Within seconds, the young man was back in the saddle, a streak of brown horse against the sky, riding hell for leather toward wherever the doctor was.