Chapter 25
Morgan slammed on the brakes. Sam's car lodged haphazardly in a bush at the edge of the driveway. Her eyes were already fixed on the corral and the bull pen beyond that, not on where she was parking. She shoved the shifter into park and opened her door.
The night chill instantly raised goose bumps on her arms. She rubbed hands over her thin sleeves. She ignored the cold and looked over at the house.
She could see her and Sam sitting on the porch as kids, a baby Adam making them laugh. Up until she and her mom had moved from Denver down to Las Vegas a few years ago, she and Sam had been nearly inseparable. And Chris and Sarah's home had been like another home for Morgan.
But Sarah and Adam were gone. And then her mom was gone. Nothing stayed the same. That feeling of security, love, it was gone. Her entire world had shattered and there was no getting back to what she had once had. And she was tired of trying to pretend she could.
She started toward the garage. Chris had some folding chairs there that Sarah used to pull out when they hosted any holiday.
The garage was locked, but she knew the number for the security pad to the garage and the house.
She was hauling chairs to the corral when Sam's passenger door opened halfway, stopped, then was nudged open by Sam when she half fell out of the car.
Bottle still in hand, Sam headed toward the house.
Morgan continued on toward the corral. It was better if Sam was in the house. She set the chairs down long enough to open the gate and tug them through before closing and latching the gate again. Something Chris had trained her and Sam to do from the very first time they started roaming his property.
She had always been welcome here. Chris had never made her feel like she was anything less than another little sister to him.
Why did everything have to fall apart? She wasn't that little girl anymore. Chris didn't know who she really was anymore. Morgan wasn't even sure she knew who she was anymore.
Keep moving.
She wasn't going to sit and drown in the maudlin thoughts that insisted on taking over.
She opened the folding chairs and dropped them in the sand of the corral, ignoring that one of them fell over. She made her way through the soft sand to the pen that held Chris' bull.
The night was darkening. The sun had just slid past the horizon and the moon wasn't giving much light. But it was enough for her to find her way.
The bull, big and ugly in the shadows, long horns stretching wide, was on the far side of his pen.
Morgan debated just getting in the pen with him. Sparking some sort of feeling when she faced him in the enclosed space. And, best case scenario, taking a brutal hit and not having to feel anything anymore.
But she wasn't going to do this halfway. She was doing it right, going all in. Cowboy poker.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, making her flinch. She automatically pulled it out and answered it.
"Morgan?"
Vin's voice had her pausing. Her free hand rested on the latch to open the gate and turn the bull out with her.
"Where are you? I'm at Ezra's and the place is dark. Did you guys go somewhere?"
Guilt twisted at Morgan's gut. She hadn't even given a thought to Vin the entire time she was driving over here. More proof he deserved better than her. Everyone would be better off without her.
"I'm with Sam. You should head home. I'll see you later."
The lie was easy. Just brush past things with Vin, don't think, don't feel. Keep moving.
"You ok?" he asked. Morgan could picture his blue eyes darkening with concern. He was wasting his concern on her. Same as Buck and Chris were.
"I'm fine," she said lightly. "We're going to go a couple rounds of cowboy poker. Just a girls' night. I'll see you later." Another easy lie. It came easy to spare him. She ended the call before Vin could say anything more.
Hissing out a breath between her teeth, Morgan opened the gate. From the far end, the bull glanced her way, but didn't move.
Morgan gave the gate a rattle to stir him up, then turned her back on him. and headed across the good sized corral.
#
Ezra held back a sigh of impatience. He flipped through the three ring binder of mugshots. He paused and pointed to a scowling face.
"Him?" Chris asked, picking up a pen to write down the name of the man.
"He isn't a central figure, but he's involved," Ezra said. He surreptitiously glanced at his watch.
"We keeping you from something?" Chris asked.
"More like someone," Ezra muttered before he caught himself. He saw enough to know Chris narrowed his eyes before he turned his attention back to the mugshots.
Ezra continued flipping through the book.
"Did anyone bring refreshments to this delightful Friday evening soiree?" Ezra asked.
Buck slid a bottled water across the table toward him.
Ezra really hated police.
The ring of his phone finally gave him a valid reprieve.
Ezra excused himself and stepped out of the conference room. Which meant he traded two cops for a hallway full of Denver PD officers striding past.
"Yes?"
"You're not home."
He recognized Vin Tanner's voice.
"I got pulled away. Is something wrong?" He could hear the caution in Vin's voice and it made his senses prickle.
"I don't…maybe." Vin didn't sound too sure. "I called Morgan and she and Sam are playing poker."
"Poker?" Ezra asked.
"Cowboy poker," Vin said.
Ezra automatically didn't like the sound of that. "Cowboys are involved?"
"I have no idea," came Vin's baffled response. "I was hopin' you knew what it was. Where they might be."
"I've never played cowboy poker in my life," Ezra said, thanking his lucky stars he never had to debase himself to play such a crass sounding version of a gentleman's game.
"Ok. Well, if you hear anything let me know," Vin said. "Morgan's not answering her phone now."
"Cowboy poker?" came a voice from behind Ezra.
Ezra ended the call, keeping his movements casual, as if he hadn't just been talking to the man's brother-in-law about his missing sister.
"In spite of my expansive knowledge," Ezra said, "I'm not familiar with that variation."
Buck lifted his eyebrows. "Probably because it don't involve cards."
That gave Ezra pause. The idea of a fidgety Morgan and drunken Sam playing cards seemed safe enough. If no cards were involved, it could mean they were on the loose.
"Ezra?" Judging by the look Buck was giving him, Ezra wasn't hiding his concern very well.
"What is it?" he asked.
Buck let out a small laugh. "Cowboy poker? You ain't never been to a rodeo, Standish? You're playing in front of a chargin' bull."
Ezra could feel the blood drain from his face.
"Standish?" Buck snapped his fingers in Ezra's face. "Ezra!"
"Sam," Ezra said. Saying her name roused him. "Sam and Morgan."
"You ain't supposed to have nothin' to do with them," Buck said, his voice tight.
Any other time, Ezra would have heeded the warning. But right then his entire focus was on Sam and Morgan facing off with a couple thousand pound animal.
"We need to get to them," he said, his blood slowly starting to flow again. He met Buck's eyes, any number of horrors playing through his mind.
He could see when Buck put the pieces together.
"Chris!" Buck hollered.
"Where would they find a bull?" Ezra asked, as if difficulty finding a bull would somehow stop the two girls who had managed to hustle pool and steal a car before finding a husband on a whim.
"Chris!" Buck shouted again, whirling back toward the door.
This time Chris came out of the conference room they had been working in.
"Sam and Morgan got it in their heads to play cowboy poker," Buck filled him in.
Ezra never should have left them. He thought of Morgan's fidgeting, how on edge she had been. He had known what that meant. And how very little Sam was capable of doing to control her with a drink in her hand.
"Where would they go?" Ezra asked.
"I should've sent that damn bull to butcher," Chris was saying. His long legged stride covered the route through the police station efficiently.
Ezra jogged after them. "They're at your place?" he asked.
"Yeah," Chris bit out.
"Where is that? How far?"
Neither one of them thought to keep the information from Ezra, just like they hadn't thought to question how Ezra knew what the girls were doing.
Buck told Ezra where Chris' ranch was. Ezra quickly mapped it out in his head. Vin was slightly closer. Vin could get there faster.
He pulled his phone out and hit the button to call back the last caller.
"You have to get to them," Ezra said when Vin answered. "You're closer." Chris looked at Ezra sharply as Ezra spoke, but he didn't hesitate to tell Ezra his address for Ezra to pass on.
"Vin's on his way," Ezra said. Vin hadn't asked questions. Just took the information and said he'd get to them.
Neither man answered him, and neither one stopped him from getting into Chris' truck and buckling into the back seat.
Ezra kept a tight hold on his phone, dialing Sam's number repeatedly only to have it go straight to voicemail.
The truck roared through the city, hitting the highway out of town with increasing speed.
Ezra could tell from the tension on their faces every time headlights swept through the cab of the truck exactly how dangerous the bull at Chris' place was.
#
Sam fumbled with the latch to the corral. She finally managed to get it open and stumbled slightly. Staying upright, but some of her drink sloshing over the side of the glass in her hand, she made an attempt to close the gate behind her. She got it, or close enough, and surveyed the dark corral.
Morgan had her feet planted, staring at the far end where the gate was open to the bull's pen.
Sam blearily looked at the chairs Morgan had set out. She made her way over to them.
"This the poker game?" Sam asked.
Morgan hardly glanced at her. Her eyes were fixed down the way.
"Deal me in," Sam said, dropping into one of the chairs. The other one was askew on the ground, but Morgan didn't look inclined to sit.
Sam took a long drink of the bourbon she had found in Chris' cabinet. She stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned back in the chair. The coolness of the night was refreshing against cheeks overheated by alcohol.
Morgan was right. Not feeling was better than feeling. Than caring.
Sam took another long drink.
Morgan stalked forward a few steps. Sam saw movement in the shadows she was watching.
"Come on!" Morgan yelled. "What are you waiting for?"
Sam blinked at Morgan. Morgan was going to get the bull heading right toward her. Some part of her mind said that was dangerous. Wasn't it? She couldn't quite get the thoughts to come together. So she took another drink.
"Let's go! Let's do this!" Morgan was yelling, a fierce determination in the shout. She waved her arms.
The gate in the distance clanged angrily.
"Come on!"
A low snort huffed out in the shadowy distance.
"Morgan," Sam said, starting to realize Morgan was taking steps to move closer in that direction. She didn't think her voice carried over Morgan's shouting. She needed to…she should stop this, right?
Her muscles were so relaxed. It felt good to not be on edge, not thinking about Chris and his disappointment, for once. Not worrying about Morgan. But maybe she should be? It was just hard to care right now, hard to even remember why she was worried about Morgan in the first place, when she had more than just a good buzz going, the fall breeze lightly pulling at her hair, a drink in her hand.
She closed her eyes and let the sounds of Morgan and the bull in the distance fade away.
#
Vin had never driven so fast in all his life. Even when he had been trying to get away from his last foster home, he hadn't been this panicked.
His phone GPS directed him to take the next turn. He jerked the wheel to make the corner.
All Vin could think of was stopping Morgan before she got hurt. He had to get to her.
Ezra said he was on his way with Chris and Buck, but they were slightly farther away than Vin. But they could drive faster than Vin could, since they knew where they were going.
He sped up.
Vin couldn't let anything happen to Morgan. Or to Sam.
His phone instructed him to turn again. This time on a dirt road. There were no lights, no other houses down this road. He slowed barely enough to keep the Bronco from fishtailing out of control on the rough road. The driveway came up as he slowed for a curve in the road. He caught sight of headlights in his rearview mirror before he turned into the driveway.
There was a light on in the house. He could see that as he gunned it up the driveway. The next thing he saw was a small car crashed into some bushes. He parked behind it and swung out of his vehicle. He looked around, his heart thudding. He could hear yelling. He had no idea what he was supposed to be stopping the girls from doing, but he had heard the alarm in Ezra's voice.
He took off running in that direction. Behind him, a truck skidded to a stop near his Bronco and the doors flung open.
"Morgan!" he yelled, seeing movement in a corral, the truck behind him forgotten immediately. He picked up his pace, nearly falling when his foot caught on the uneven ground. He fought to stay upright and picked up his pace. His chest burned with the effort to get to her.
A giant bull was trotting in the corral. Morgan was yelling at it.
"Morgan! Stop!" he yelled again. The bull paused for a minute, swinging its head to look at Vin.
Vin saw Sam slouched in a chair. A glass in her hand tipped and she didn't seem to notice.
"Sam!" he shouted. She didn't even open her eyes.
The bull had its eyes fixed back on Morgan.
No. Morgan wasn't slowing, taunting the beast.
Vin could hear voices behind him, yelling at Morgan and Sam to get out of the pen.
Vin's legs ached with how hard he pushed them to get across the grass to the pen. He swung his arms, leaning forward, anything to get there in time. Why was he moving too slow? The distance between him and Morgan stretched forever. It was like the distance kept unrolling between him and Morgan.
The bull started jogging down the length of the pen towards Morgan.
Vin got his hands on the top rung of the fence. He gripped the metal and levered himself off the ground, swinging his legs over. He dropped down into soft sand on the other side, already running again when he hit the ground.
"Morgan!" he yelled. What was she doing?
The bull picked up speed. Vin didn't dare take his eyes off Morgan, but from the corner of his eye, he saw the animal start to charge.
Every step he pushed his boots into the sand, trying to push off harder, get there faster.
The bull lowered its head, brutal horns ready for Morgan. It was close enough for Vin to hear his huffing breaths. He could hear the fabric of Morgan's shirt rustle with every wave of her arms.
Vin lunged forward across the last stretch between him and Morgan.
He crashed into her, getting his arms around her. His momentum nearly cleared them from the path of the charging bull. He kept his arms wrapped around her, twisting desperately to steer her on the far side of him. He couldn't land on her. The baby. All the things he needed to do to protect her were coming a mile a minute, keeping him from feeling any relief at having her pulled to him finally.
He wrenched his body around, pulling her with him. He heard the bull thunder past, grunted when one of its hooves glanced off his back, then landed hard in the sand with another grunt, Morgan safe against him, on top of him.
He kept his arms tight around her, rolling to get her under him. He felt sand kicked up against the back of his neck, trickling down his shirt when the bull rounded their way again. He tightened his hold on Morgan, shielding her from the hooves. There was more shouting and the sound of those hooves moving clear of him and Morgan.
He risked a look, saw Ezra pulling Sam through the gate, Buck distracting the bull and getting it clear from him and Morgan.
"Morgan?" he asked, his words almost wheezing out of him. He struggled to catch his breath. "Are you ok? You hurt?" He gently disentangled himself from her, grunting when her elbow caught him in the side. But he ignored that, getting himself kneeling next to her, running his hands over her face, her shoulders, taking her in, looking for any sign of injury. Feeling the security of her beneath his fingertips started him shaking.
Morgan just looked at him, like she still didn't understand what he was doing there.
"Did you get hurt?" he asked again. " The baby? Is the baby ok?"
#
Buck had seen the taillights ahead of them, even managed to be thankful that kid was going to get to Sam and Morgan before them, no matter how slim the margin.
When Chris had swung the truck into his yard, he had jumped out almost before the truck had stopped, Ezra and Chris right with him. That boy of Morgan's had been sprinting across the dark lawn towards the corrals. The kid was fast. Buck had wondered how much of that speed was earned by running from the cops before.
But then Buck had seen Morgan, seen the bull barreling right for her, and couldn't think of anything else. He had pushed his body mercilessly, needing to get to her in time. Ignoring the pain in his knee from an old injury. The kid had all but vaulted over the fence into the corral, scrambling to his feet on the other side and sprinting again.
When the bull lowered its head, Buck had felt like he was moving through quicksand. Too slow. He yelled at the bull, waved his arms like a fool while he kept trying to get there in time.
All he could see was Morgan trying to get that bull to rush her, and Sam slouched in a chair, unable to defend herself. Morgan was succeeding, the brute of an animal bearing down on her like a freight train.
The boy launched himself at Morgan, twisting to take the risk of the bull's horns, then hooves.
With Morgan safely shielded, Buck let out another yell at the enraged animal, provoking him to turn.
Chris must have headed another direction, because he was at the opposite end of the corral, giving his own shout and shaking a bucket of grain.
The bull paused, swinging his head in Chris' direction. Chris gave another yell, held the bucket higher, rattling the grain in the bucket, and the bull turned all the way that direction. It started lumbering that way, then trotting.
Buck turned away from the bull finally, to see Ezra hauling a very groggy Sam from the corral. Morgan's guy was on the ground with her, her tucked beneath him. He was pushing himself up.
"Are you ok? Are you hurt?"
Buck could hear the worry choking off the kid's words. He sounded like every breath was costing him.
"The baby? Is the baby ok?"
The words didn't register at first. They didn't make sense. Then Buck saw that fool's hands on Morgan, on her shoulders, one on her face, brushing against her cheek, and he understood. He understood it all. Any goodwill the guy had just earned were shadowed beneath those words.
"The baby?" he wheezed out. The words rang in his ears.
He had been relieved the bull had left the two of them alone. But right then, he half wished the bull had plowed right into that guy.
Morgan was blinking like she couldn't understand why that guy was there. She shook her head slightly, looking around, dazed.
Buck started moving again. His legs were numb, detached from his body. But he finally reached them. His hand landed on the guy's shoulder and he hauled him up and away from his sister. His pregnant sister.
He gave the guy a more solid shove than was warranted and the kid stumbled back a step, wincing.
Buck just stared at him. How had this happened? No, he knew how this—how pregnancies happened— He abruptly shut down that line of thought before he throttled the kid. Or vomited.
He turned his back on him and knelt down in the sand next to Morgan. "Mo?" He gentled his voice. Whatever was going on here, he wasn't about to scare her off. "Morgan, you hurt?"
Morgan grit her teeth and shoved herself up to sitting. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"Saving you from getting trampled or gored," Buck half shouted before he could stop himself.
"I was fine," she snapped back, getting to her feet.
Buck rose with her, reaching a hand out to steady her, but she jerked away. She looked at him, then over his shoulder at the kid. "I was fine," she repeated. But the look in her eyes scared him. That fear had him finally losing whatever hold he had on control.
"You have a death wish?" Buck finally exploded. "'Cause you were about two seconds from seein' the pearly gates!"
Morgan's jaw trembled slightly.
"Buck," Chris said in a low voice.
Buck closed his eyes. He took a long breath. He was hurting Morgan. For some reason he couldn't comprehend, she didn't want anything to do with him, and him lashing out at her was hurting her. That's not what he wanted to do.
He opened his eyes and forced his words to gentle. "Are you ok?" he asked.
Morgan's jaw wouldn't stop trembling, but she gave a short nod, her movements jerky. Uneven.
Buck nodded back. Ok. Ok. They could do this. They could figure this out. They could….
He had no idea what they could do.
#
Chris looked over at Sam. She was drunk. He felt his jaw tighten. Ezra was leading Sam over to the porch, guiding her down to sit on the steps. The sight of his heavily inebriated sister took all his ire, he didn't have any left for Standish. Nothing more than a grudging appreciation that the guy was taking care of her for now. It mixed with the low hum of anger that was starting at the thought of Morgan pregnant by this kid she had just married.
He turned back to Buck and Morgan. Morgan's husband—just thinking the word had his lip curling slightly—was hanging back, watching Buck's every interaction with Morgan.
Chris looked Morgan over. She was in one piece, no sign of injury. But apparently pregnant. He glanced over at Vin again. He looked shook up. Seeing that bull charging right for Morgan, Sam just a short distance from her half passed out in a chair, had just about given him a heart attack. Judging by how pale Vin was, he was feeling the same way.
Chris turned back to Morgan and Buck. Buck's voice was rising again and Chris stepped in then.
"Buck," he said.
Buck made a visible effort to calm himself.
"I told you I'm fine," Morgan said finally, but the shaking in her voice said she was anything but fine.
Seeing the temporary truce, Chris moved to head over to his drunken sister and check on her. Morgan. Pregnant. He needed space to wrap his mind around that.
He glanced again at Morgan's husband when he walked past him.
The kid weaved on his feet, slightly. His breath came quietly in short bursts.
Chris stopped. "Kid?" he asked. "You good?"
Vin's face was tight with pain, but he gave a small nod. Then started to pitch forward, catching himself and stumbling slightly.
Chris caught him. Something warm spread across Chris' hand. He looked down and saw blood. Covering his hand and staining the guy's shirt. Chris pulled at the open jacket, exposing a ragged tear in the shirt at his flank and steadily spreading blood.
"Buck," Chris called, keeping the alarm that flared from his voice. "We need to get this kid some help."
#