Author's Note: You're getting a super-fast update because 1) It's already complete (and has been for ages) just waiting to be uploaded, and 2) That really was a rather nasty cliffhanger to leave y'all with, so I've decided to show y'all a little mercy.

Thanks, again, to all of you for your great comments. I'm always incredibly appreciative of the encouragement.

To Heartland_LB: I think this chapter will satisfy your wish regarding Amy and Ty.

To the "Guest" who asked about whether or not the villain has made an appearance, what does your "Spidey-sense" tell you?

To the "Guest" who mentioned the motorcycle thing, Ty simply didn't talk to Jack about it right away, plus it was such a quick encounter, I'm not sure he saw enough of it to make a proper ID.

All that said, onto the next update!

To the childless wife he gives a home, and gladdens her heart with children.

- Ps. 113

Chapter 6

Fragile

Ty had to hustle to keep pace with Jack after parking the truck as the older man nearly ran through the hospital Emergency entrance to reach the admittance desk.

"I'm Jack Bartlett," the cowboy said breathlessly to the nurse, not bothering with any pleasantries. "My wife, Lisa Stillman, was admitted here earlier by ambulance."

"Yes, please have a seat, Mr. Bartlett," the admitting nurse said. "I'll need you to wait until I can get one of the doctors to come see you."

"But," Jack said desperately, "is she okay?"

"I don't have an answer for you other than that she was taken in for surgery. Please, sit. I promise someone will be out to see you."

"Let's go, Jack," Ty said, putting a hand on Jack's arm to lead him to the chairs.

Obediently, Jack walked with Ty, still unable to process what had happened. He sank into an empty seat next to Ty, alternately cycling between acute rage, fear, and despair.

How? Why? Who could do such a thing to her?

Ty wanted to say some sort of words of encouragement, but after seeing for himself the extent of Lisa's injuries, he, too, feared the outcome might not be what any of them hoped for.

"We need to let the rest of the family know," Ty eventually uttered. "I'm just going to step outside. Be right back."

"Okay," Jack replied quietly.

With that, Ty retreated to the exit and pulled out his cell phone to call his wife, who this morning seemed to be in much better spirits than she had been since miscarrying. Now he would be calling with more bad news.

At around 4:00 p.m., Jack was finally greeted by one of the surgeons dressed in light blue scrubs. "Mr. Bartlett, I'm Dr. Perry," the middle-aged, bespectacled man said. "I'm the thoracic surgeon on call today."

"How's my wife doing, Doc?" asked Jack, trying to read the man's expression for any hint of what answer he should be prepared to expect. Ty bounded up next to him for support.

"She's alive, Mr. Bartlett," replied Dr. Perry.

Both Jack and Ty sighed in relief.

"Her injuries are still rather grave," Dr. Perry warned. "She was a twelve on the Glasgow Coma Scale when admitted, and—"

"Is-is that good or bad?" Jack interrupted, thinking the "Glasgow Coma Scale" thing sounded familiar, but could not remember if a twelve was a favourable number or not.

"Fifteen is optimal; anything lower than eight, not so much," Dr. Perry answered. "But a twelve isn't terrible, and means she's not comatose. We're mostly concerned about the internal injuries caused by the bullet to her side."

"Just tell it to me straight, Doc," Jack said. "Is she going to be okay?"

"She's still in what we'd call critical but stable condition. We're cautiously optimistic, Mr. Bartlett," Dr. Perry began. "There was a good deal of internal bleeding and we had to re-inflate a collapsed lung. We ascertained she was shot twice. One bullet perforated her left arm through the bicep. It penetrated her left side between her 8th and 9th ribs, nicked the intercostal arteries, skirted across the abdominal wall in a slightly downward trajectory and ended up lodged above her right pelvic bone. She has a tube in her side to facilitate drainage, and that will stay there until we're sure everything is clear.

"The damage to her left bicep was a clean through-and-through, and my colleagues and I don't anticipate any lasting effects or impairment. With time and physiotherapy, that arm should be just fine, but for now, we've got it immobilised and in a sling."

"Doc, what about the other bullet?" Jack asked.

"As near as we can determine, the second bullet hit her skull at an oblique angle and fortunately glanced off without penetrating," Dr. Perry said. "The impact still caused a hairline fracture. We were concerned there might be some brain swelling, but the CT scan showed that's not the case. We are seeing a small extradural hematoma and we're choosing a wait-and-see approach with that one. Sometimes, the body can absorb a small amount of blood in cases like these. We'd rather not have to go drilling into her skull to drain the blood between her skull and the dura mater—that's the tissue that surrounds the brain."

Perry noticed Jack's pained, pinched expression at the description of Lisa's litany of injuries.

"It could have been a lot worse, Mr. Bartlett," he said, trying to put a more positive face on things. "She's on oxygen and we'll keep her sedated in the ICU overnight, keeping a close eye on that lung and that skull fracture. The last thing she needs is for the lung to collapse again or for the hematoma to worsen."

"Can I see her, Doc?" Jack asked, hating that it sounded like he was begging.

"Ten minutes," Dr. Perry said. "She probably won't know you're there because of the heavy sedation, but..."

"Thank you," Jack said. He looked back at Ty.

"Go ahead," said Ty. "I haven't been able to reach Tim yet, so I'll hang back here and keep trying."

Jack was unprepared for how frail Lisa appeared lying in the hospital bed. For a second, he thought he was experiencing an attack of angina, but it was simply a sensation of his heart being torn apart at the sight of his beloved's critical condition.

"I'm here, Lis," he whispered as he slowly brought himself to a seated position beside her. "Though the Doc says you probably won't know it."

There was no response from Lisa, whose pale face and bandaged head remained motionless. Jack was encouraged, though, by the slow rise and fall of her chest.

I hate hospitals, Jack thought, fighting to suppress painful memories of when Lyndy was dying.

Moisture brimmed under Jack's eyelids. This cannot be happening. This is insane. Who did this to you? You have to pull through, Lis. You have to pull through, because I don't think my heart could take it if you didn't.

The ten minutes sped by much too quickly for Jack's liking as a nurse came to retrieve him. He reluctantly got to his feet to vacate the room, but not before planting a soft kiss on Lisa's cheek.

"Please come back to me," he whispered in parting. "I love you."

His ears ached to hear her endearing "I love you more". Instead the silence mocked him and chilled his heart as there was no response.

"I, uh, I was able to reach Tim. He's on his way," Ty said to Jack when they met up again in the waiting area.

"Good," Jack said. "Thanks. I think I'll stay here and wait. I want to be here when she wakes up."

Ty was encouraged that Jack said "when" and not "if".

"Okay," he said with a nod. "I'll stay, too, at least until Tim gets here."

Jack nodded tiredly.

"We'll get through this, Jack. She's made it this far, right?"

Jack nodded again. "Right."

An hour slipped by. Activity around the ICU flashed past without Jack's awareness. Patients were wheeled through the halls on gurneys by the porters; custodial crews cleaned; doctors and nurses filtered past. At some point, Ty went to find coffee and something to eat, items Jack barely tasted, but nevertheless consumed. Eventually, a familiar voice invaded his mental space. Up to that point, Jack's thoughts were fixated solely on Lisa, and what he would do if she did not pull through.

"Jack," Tim said upon spotting his ex-father-in-law. "What the hell happened? Ty said something about Lisa getting shot?"

Jack bobbed his head once in response.

"Well, do they know who did it?" Tim asked.

"No," Jack uttered darkly. "Some yahoo on the road."

"'Some yahoo'? That's all you got?!" Tim exclaimed.

"The police are investigating," Ty broke in. "I was there with Scott right after it happened."

Tim turned to look at Ty. "You were there? And you didn't see anything?"

Ty sighed. Having been over the scenario a hundred times in his own mind, it was exhausting to have to tell Tim now what he witnessed out on the road that afternoon after having told Chief Parker.

"Not really," Ty answered. "All we know is there was a guy on a motorbike shortly before we saw Lisa's Porsche in the ditch."

"That's it?" Tim snapped. "'A guy on a motorbike'."

"Pretty much."

"You saw a guy on a motorcycle?" Jack said in surprise. "You didn't tell me that."

"Sorry," Ty said. "It was so fast, Jack. I didn't really see anything clearly. I didn't want you to be torturing yourself thinking about it."

"Well, that's great! Super helpful," a sarcastic Tim said. "All we gotta do now is get a list of every guy in Hudson who rides a motorbike and say 'Hey, did you shoot Lisa Stillman?'"

"Tim..." Jack uttered. "Enough. Ty and Scott saved Lisa's life out there."

Tim sputtered incoherently for a few seconds before simmering down. "So now what?" he finally said.

"We wait," Jack said simply, feeling totally drained.

"I'm gonna head back to Heartland," Ty said.

"Go ahead, Ty," Jack said. "Thank you for everything you did today. For Lisa."

"Of course," Ty said. "Call us if there's any change, okay?"

"Yeah, I will."

With that, Ty left Jack and Tim.

"Thank you for coming," Jack eventually said to his ex-son-in-law after Tim sat down in the chair vacated by Ty.

Tim's expression softened. "You're welcome."

Several beats of silence passed, interrupted by the occasional public address system announcements. Hospital staff continued to go about their duties.

"You doing okay?" Tim eventually asked.

"No," Jack's voice cracked, rough as sandpaper and choked with emotion. "I can't lose her, Tim."

Tim clamped his lips shut, unsure of what to say or do next. His ex-father-in-law had certainly seen more than his fair share of loss; now this. He reached out a hand and laid it on Jack's shoulder in an act of solidarity and, hopefully, comfort.

Ty could have sworn his boots' soles were made of lead weights. Every step he took as he ascended the stairs to the loft was slow and painstaking. Amy was waiting for him. She sprang up from the couch as soon as she saw the top of his head.

"Ty," she said, voice halting. She knew her recent avoidance of him had hurt; knew no explanation for that would suffice, but now they had to pull together if they were going to make it through this latest crisis.

"Amy," Ty replied unsteadily, unsure of her emotional state. Would she welcome the sight of him, or reject him as she had lately?

But she approached him without hesitation, taking him in her arms for a quick hug. She stepped back and looked at his haunted expression. She smoothed back his hair before bringing his face to hers and kissing his mouth firmly. Amy felt him relax as he wrapped his own arms around her, silently begging for a deeper kiss, which she obliged.

"I'm so sorry for pushing you away after—"

"I know, Amy," Ty responded swiftly. "I know all that was hard on you." It was hard on me, too.

"But I didn't have to push you away like I did. Not after all we've been through," Amy said, looking into his green eyes. She gave a sad laugh. "You'd think I would have learned by now, but I was so afraid."

"Afraid of what, Amy?" Ty asked, pained to hear the tremor of fear in her voice.

"That you'd blame me for losing the baby."

"Blame you?" a grieved Ty uttered. "I could never. It wasn't your fault. Don't ever think it was your fault."

"I know that," she said in a rush. "I know. But I was afraid you'd blame me, anyway. That maybe you would think I was working too hard; not taking it easy with the client horses; taking too many risks by choosing to ride this time."

"I did not think any of those things," Ty said, taking her in his arms again, wanting with all his might to drive away her misplaced guilt. "All I could think about was how grateful I was that you were going to be okay; that I hadn't lost you, too; that Lyndy was still going to have both her mother and father in her life."

When they finally broke apart, Amy took in his handsome face again. There was still some pain he was trying to conceal, but she could sense it did not have to do with their own situation; that was already starting to heal.

"Ty, h-how bad is Lisa?"

He turned away from her at that point, wanting to spare her the details of what he had seen and experienced on the side of the road that afternoon.

"Ty?" Amy spoke again, the tremor returning to her voice.

Ty sank into the leather seat Amy had once bought him for an early birthday present, giving rest to his weary feet on the ottoman. "Not good."

Her eyes went wide. "What does that mean?" Ty was never one to sugar-coat anything, but those unnerving words were hard to digest.

He stared into his lap for a few moments before raising his eyes to meet hers.

"She was hurt pretty badly," Ty said dully. "She could die. Scott and I, we did what we could. Then the paramedics got there, and they did what they could. I don't know if it was enough. I mean, the surgeon used the phrase 'cautiously optimistic', but... They've got her in the ICU. Any number of things could still go wrong."

"But who could have done something like this?" Amy questioned, seating herself on the sofa. "When you called and told me, I couldn't believe it."

"I know. It's crazy."

"And you didn't see anybody on the road?" Amy asked, suddenly gripped with the wild, possibly irrational fear he might have seen Lisa's assailant—and if so, would that person now want to silence Ty in order to avoid identification and arrest?

Ty looked up before giving his head a long shake in the negative. "I told Chief Parker the only other person we saw was a guy on a motorbike. He nearly ran into Scott, in fact. We were just coming over a hill, and there he was, right in our lane."

Amy let out a small gasp. "You don't think that that was Lisa's shooter, do you?"

"Chief Parker asked the same question. I honestly have no idea. Maybe. I didn't see a gun. But right before we avoided slamming into him, I thought I heard what sounded like a car backfiring a couple times." He shuddered. "It's obvious now what those sounds really were."

"Gunshots," Amy whispered in horror.

"Yeah," Ty nodded in agreement, hating himself now for also concealing that part from Jack.

Tentatively, Amy asked: "How's Grandpa?"

"I've never seen Jack so angry," he answered. "I'm actually worried about him. His words were—and I quote—'If she dies, I will kill the bastard responsible.'"

Amy's jaw dropped. "Grandpa really said that?"

"Yes. And it sounded like he meant it."

BREAKING NEWS

Hudson Times—Online Version

Nadir Jutley

May 2, 2019

Motorist Shot

Hudson Police are investigating the shooting of a motorist on Range Road 292 earlier this afternoon. The middle-aged female victim was taken by ambulance to the South Calgary Health Campus and is listed in critical but stable condition. Authorities do not currently have any suspects in the shooting and have not released the name of the victim.

More information to follow as details emerge.

• Email: nadir_jutley

By nine p.m., there had been no discernible change in Lisa's condition.

"Go home and get some rest, Mr. Bartlett," one of the ICU nurses advised. "It makes no difference if you're waiting here or if you're waiting at home, and I'm willing to bet you'd be more comfortable waiting at home. We'll call if anything changes."

"Let's go, Jack," Tim urged. "Come on. Besides, have you notified Lisa's sister? Her aunt?"

"No, I haven't," Jack admitted with a sigh, dreading having to make those particular calls.

"Someone needs to call the rest of the family—Lou; Peter," Tim said. "And I'm starving."

"Trust you to think of food," Jack grunted, but nevertheless realised going home for the night was the right decision.

It was nearly midnight in New York when the call startled Lou from a deep sleep. She sucked in a breath, her heart hammering in her chest. The noisy chimes of her cell phone continued, louder than her half-awake brain wanted to tolerate. Lou reached blindly for the device, wondering who might be calling at such an ungodly hour. She peeled open one eye to squint at the bright screen that lit up a small patch on the bedside table.

The number was instantly familiar: HOME.

Lou's racing pulse skipped a beat. Foreboding enveloped her as she knew in no uncertain terms there was nothing but bad news on the other side of that call. Still, she managed to compose herself while mentally stamping out bleak memories of years gone by of a different call informing her of her mother's death and Amy's grim situation.

"Hello?" she said, throat gritty.

"Lou, honey," a familiar male voice spoke.

"Dad..." Lou said, voice wobbling, an ache clutching at her heart. Please, please don't let it be something wrong with Grandpa.

"Lou, there's been an accident," Tim pressed on. "You should probably come home as soon as possible."

"An accident?" Lou repeated. "What's happened? Is Grandpa okay?"

"Yeah, he's... it's not Jack. He's... unharmed," Tim replied.

"Oh, thank God. Wait, is it Georgie?!" Lou exclaimed, her thoughts now striking out to her daredevil daughter. Please, not my child. She's been through so much already.

"No, Georgie's fine, Lou."

"Katie?!" Lou asked in a panic, then instantly decided Peter would have been the one to call if that were the case, unless both of them—.

"No, it's Lisa," Tim replied with impatience before Lou's next frantic guess jumped to Amy or Ty. "I don't know how else to say it, but they're saying someone shot her when she was driving up to Calgary for a meeting this afternoon."

"Shot her?!" yelped Lou, this time mentally reeling back to an incident involving gun-toting, low-life cattle rustlers and her father using his own body to protect his youngest daughter. "You said it was an 'accident', Dad!"

"Well, there was," Tim said defensively. "Her SUV went off the road. Thankfully Scott and Ty were heading back into town right then and found her in the ditch."

"Is she all right?" Lou dared to ask while fearful of the forthcoming answer.

"Jack says she's critical, but stable; whatever that really means," Tim grumbled. "Anyway, you gonna come home, or not?"

"I think I have to. I mean, I wanted to come when Amy—you know—but I was at a crucial point with the franchise stuff and there was a lot to get done. But now..."

"Yeah, yeah, fine. Just let me know when you're getting in."

"I'll get on the booking site right now."

"Okay. 'Bye for now."

Hudson Police Headquarters

The half-a-dozen officers who gathered in the conference room fixed their collective gaze on the large flat-screen TVs mounted on the wall.

Portraits of Val Stanton and Lisa Stillman appeared side-by-side, along with bullet-point details of their respective cases.

"Anyone see what I'm seeing?" asked Chief Parker.

"Two blonde, blue-eyed, middle aged women; both residents of Hudson; both involved in the horse business," offered Detective Constable Jennifer Patterson.

"Stanton was shot first. She was killed while riding a horse belonging to Stillman. Stillman discovers Stanton's body. Then Stillman winds up shot, too," added Detective Toby Kavanaugh.

Parker nodded encouragingly. "Keep going, Kavanaugh."

"From a distance, it's not that difficult to mistake Stanton for Stillman, I should think."

"So, where are we going with this?" asked Patterson. "Do we think it was a case of mistaken identity in the Stanton case? That someone might have been aiming for Stillman in the first place?"

"Maybe," Parker uttered. "We can't rule out the possibility. Stillman told me she has a fairly regular routine of riding out to Lookout Point in the mornings. The trouble is the M.O.s are substantially different in these shootings, and Stanton was shot later in the morning—later than Stillman claims she would normally be out there."

He pointed out differences between both incidents.

"Val Stanton was shot once from behind while on horseback, right through the heart, with a .308 caliber round. Reconstruction of the shooting showed a trajectory of about 80 yards, placing the shooter in a copse of Aspen. The shooter also policed his brass. That indicates this was a very professional job.

"In the Stillman shooting, the weapon was a pistol. Stillman was shot twice—once in the left side and once in the head. The surgeons recovered one of the bullets while they were operating. The other was recovered by our guys from the inside of the SUV's ceiling after it bounced off Stillman's head; we found the .25 ACP casings in our sweep of the crime scene area. We're quite sure the shooter was riding a motorcycle. Ty Borden and Scott Cardinal weren't able to get a good enough look to positively identify the bike, so that's probably a dead end. Stillman remains in critical but stable condition in the ICU. Despite all that, something about this one seems decidedly amateurish."

"Do you think it was just someone out shooting at drivers for kicks?" Patterson asked.

"Maybe," Parker said with a frown. "If so, I don't like it. That kind of activity speaks of someone who's mentally unstable—and liable to do it again."

"We've been over the hunting accident theory in the Stanton case," Patterson said, looking again at Val's picture.

"And discarded it," Kavanaugh said.

"Right," Patterson said. "But that leaves us with very little to go on in terms of motive or suspects."

"You two questioned her children," Parker said. "I've read your reports, so I know you're not keen on pinning their mother's murder on either of them."

"No," Patterson said slowly, "but Jesse Stanton did seem to me like he was trying to hide something. I mean, he has a clear alibi for his whereabouts when his mother was shot, but..."

"But what?" Parker pressed.

"I just don't like the guy," Patterson said with a shrug. "He was too smug. All his answers sounded like they were rehearsed."

"I agree," Kavanaugh said. "I don't like him, either, but that could also be I just don't like spoiled rich kids."

Patterson nodded. "Unfortunately, being a 'spoiled rich kid' isn't a motive."

"No, it isn't," Parker said. "Let's keep digging. If it is a case of mistaken identity with the Stanton murder and Stillman was the intended target, we need to find out why. If the cases are unrelated, then we're still looking for two shooters and two motives, and to be honest, I hate both options."

"Love or money," Kavanaugh said offhandedly, as he stood to leave the meeting.

"Or both," Patterson said.

"Whichever one it is," Parker said seriously, "find out, and find out fast."

"Yes, Chief," the pair replied in tandem.

TBC