Home > Sticks & Stones (Cut & Run #2)(71)

Sticks & Stones (Cut & Run #2)(71)
Author: Abigail Roux

Mara nodded at the young ranger. “Thank you, Dale. You’re a good boy,” she told him.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said in defeat as she and Chester turned and made their way out of the office.

ZANE paused next to Ty for a couple deep breaths at the top of another hill on the grassy path. When he stopped, Ty glanced at him, and Zane got a good look at his partner. His face was flushed, but other than that, he looked like he was taking a walk in the park. It made Zane worry that the flush was from fever and not exertion.

“Okay?” Ty asked him.

Zane nodded even though he was slightly winded. “You?”

“Hurts,” Ty responded as he lowered his head again.

That worried him. It was the second time Ty had admitted to the pain, and Ty wouldn’t admit to pain unless it was bad or he wanted to be coddled. And Zane knew he didn’t want to be coddled in front of his father and brother. He studied Ty’s face. “Throbbing? Burning?”

“Little of both,” Ty answered curtly as he looked out over the trail ahead. “Hey, Dad,” he called as he unscrewed the top of his canteen with his thumb. “I think we need to check this.”

“Hurts?” Earl asked worriedly as he brushed past Zane on his way back to Ty.

“Hurts,” Ty echoed as Earl’s back obscured Zane’s view of what they were doing. He could tell Earl was unwrapping the makeshift cast and examining the wounds, though.

“What’s the verdict, Dad?” Deuce asked after a quiet minute.

Earl was silent for a moment, still holding Ty’s hand and looking at it closely. Finally, he shook his head. “Hand’s hot,” he answered grimly.

“Infected?” Deuce asked.

“Red’s just setting in,” Earl responded. “If I had to guess, I’d say that cat lost a bit of tooth in that knuckle,” he added as he turned Ty’s hand over and began rewrapping it with extreme care. Zane’s stomach plummeted with the news.

“We just need to get within range of a cell tower or ranger station,” Deuce offered calmly. “And hell, Ma and Grandpa probably got the cavalry all riled up by now.”

Zane glanced up at the canopy. There was no f**king way they’d be able to see a cell tower through all the trees. He looked back at Deuce and Earl. Neither man seemed at all bothered by the news. Ty’s hand was probably infected, he was already showing signs of fever, and they still had two days of hard hiking before they could reach help. Ty would probably be septic before then.

“We go,” Zane said firmly. “And we go as quickly as we can.”

BY THE time Earl stopped them for the night, it was long past dark. Normally, as soon as the sun began to set, he would have called a halt. Hiking in these mountains was dangerous enough in the daylight. But he could feel the heavy hand of time pressing at his back now, and so he’d pushed them until he could no longer discern the path in the moonlight.

They had made decent time, but Earl knew they weren’t going to get far enough fast enough, even with the pace he was setting. By morning, Ty would be even weaker, possibly even unable to continue on. Earl knew he couldn’t carry his son with broken ribs. If Ty became too weak to go on, it would be up to Zane to pull him through. And Earl was beginning to think that perhaps Zane could manage the feat. He’d certainly gotten Ty out of those woods with no regard for his own safety going in and had been willing to do the same in the river. He’d killed a man to save Ty’s life without blinking an eye. Earl wasn’t worried anymore about Ty having a partner worthy of him, not after this week.

As Deuce got a small fire going, Earl sat on a fallen log and watched Ty closely. He was shivering, tired and listless as he sat next to his partner. Earl glanced from Zane to Deuce and back. They’d both spoken up for Ty, and Earl knew anyone who would stand up to Earl had some steel in them.

His eyes settled on Ty again. His oldest son had never done anything to deserve all the weight that had been put on his shoulders. Earl knew he’d never been easy on either Ty or Deuce. He expected certain things from them, expected them to be strong and capable, self-sufficient and dependable, loyal and fair. He expected them to think and do for themselves, to be good to and protect their mama, and to respect those who deserved it.

Earl’s eyes closed slowly. Ty was a good son. He was a good man. He’d been a good Marine and he was a good federal agent. He was a lot of things. But he was no coward, and Earl had never even dreamed of thinking he was. Earl had said it in the heat of the moment, knowing it would put Ty into action, and he’d been angry at himself ever since for doing it, continuing to take the unfamiliar emotion out on the boys because he didn’t know what else to do with it. He would have to make it right with more than a simple apology. Soon.

Ty was getting along with everyone’s help on the trail. He was pale, though, and every few minutes, he would simply shiver violently as his body fought the infection spreading through it. It was painful to know he was hurting and not be able to do anything about it. His boy might die up here, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do but sleep until daybreak.

His boy might die up here, all because Earl had called him a coward.

Earl lowered his head, telling himself not to think too hard on it any longer. Not until the danger had passed. Tears wouldn’t cure Ty’s wounds.

“How’s it feeling?” Deuce asked Ty as he poked at the flames and fed two more small sticks into the fire.

“Hurts,” Ty grunted. “Feels like my fingers are on fire. Feels like my whole body’s on fire,” he corrected as he leaned slightly to one side against Zane’s conveniently close shoulder.

“We could try cleaning it again,” Deuce suggested doubtfully. His tone of voice said he knew it wouldn’t do any good, and he knew Ty would turn down the offer.

“Hell, no,” Ty muttered.

“We should keep going,” Deuce said as he turned to meet Earl’s eyes, asking for permission to do so. “Me and Ty, we should keep going and—”

“You can’t watch the trail and me at the same time,” Ty broke in.

“We still have the one flashlight, we could make ten miles by morning,” Deuce argued.

“We’re safer together,” Zane ground out.

“He’s dying, Zane. We should be going as fast as possible,” Deuce insisted.

“I can’t make that pace,” Ty pointed out derisively. “I can barely walk a straight line.”

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