Firefly Night

CHAPTER 9.5

Just then a new nurse walked in, fall leaves dancing across her scrubs. "Oh good, you're up," she said with a smile. "A police detective will be by soon. They asked that we take you to Mr. Langmore's room so you could give your statements together."

My back ached and my face felt stiff, but I didn't want to take any drugs before talking to the police. The nurse thankfully found a robe on the back of the door, helped me into it, and then brought a wheelchair to the room. I was about to protest the need to use it when I tried to stand on my own. My feet tangled in the hospital gown, sending me stumbling forward, my knees nearly buckled beneath me. The nurse rushed to my side, gently guiding me into the wheelchair before I could collapse completely.

An orderly escorted me one floor down to the surgical ward. Langmore's room was right by the nurses' station. He was asleep when the orderly wheeled me in.

Colt was propped up to keep pressure off the wound on his back, but the real issue was clearly his right hand. His arm was held in some kind of splint, the hand heavily bandaged, though I could see a makeshift bright pink cast sticking out beneath the white bandages.

I sucked in a breath, doubting he would like that.

"No more narcotics," he muttered, his eyes still closed.

I leaned back. I cleared my throat. "I'm not a nurse," I said nervously.

Colt's eyes snapped opened. Their deep blue was dulled with pain, and now I could see how tightly his jaw was clenched. "Honey, you don't look too good right now."

I flinched. Those were his first words he had to say to me- here I had been worried about his life, unable to shake the image of Colt lying bleeding out on the ground. Anger shook my core until I saw the oh so familiar smirk, however woven with pain dancing on his face. Was he...teasing me? I blinked, reeling my mind to understand it. Colt Langmore was teasing me. Actually teasing me. At a time like this.

"You're no prize yourself right now, Colt," I teased back, exhausted, my own painkillers beginning to wear off.

He smiled bitterly. "And I never will be again."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

Colt turned more toward me, searching my face, speaking grimly, "I'm wearing a hot pink cast. How will I go to nationals?"

Now that he said it, I could see what he meant. While bull riders did get injured more often than not, those injured usually weren't let back on for the rest of the season. It made the fact that Colt got injured on his way to nationals that much worse.

"Will you be able to ride?" I asked, still trying to process what I was seeing.

"In time," Colt said sourly, eyeing his injuries.

I looked down at his my left arm, thinking about all the things that would be more difficult without the use of it. The bull rope would be the biggest problem for him. Riders held onto the bull with a rope wrapped around its belly. The rope itself was wrapped firmly around the rider's dominant hand. Colt had always anchored the rope between his ring and pinky fingers, a split-finger or "suicide" wrap. A lot of riders used it.

"You're not giving up, right?" I asked quietly, looking back up at him.

Colt grimaced. "I don't want to."

"Then you won't have to." I smiled. So there was hope after all. I had seen him ride. Colt took risks. Sometimes it paid off, and sometimes he got hurt, but he always came back. He could try to switch hands. It wouldn't be easy, but he could try at least.

I turned, finding a sharpie sitting on a shelf. Leaning over I was just barely able to grab it. Colt watched me, blue eyes boring into my side as I held it up triumphantly.

"Mind if I..." I trailed off when he nodded his head. Slowly, carefully, like I was tending to an injured calf I reached for his arm and began to write my name in big letters.

"Why don't you stay with me while you heal up?" I could feel his eyes burning into me as I continued, "I wouldn't mind the extra help still, and you can move the rest of your stuff into the loft."

"I couldn't possible do so darlin, I wouldn't be of much use."

"But you would be of some use and that's enough."

Colt's eyes were swirling before me, a mix of dark hues and lighter ones both fighting for dominance. I offered him a smile, reaching for the arm not in the cast and squeezing it slightly.

He looked down at the pink cast, "Just until the cast is off."

And I nodded, letting go of his hand.

"Will your family make it here today?" I asked. Just because Stella wouldn't be coming in to see me today didn't mean he didn't have anyone to visit him.

He laughed again, bitterly. "No, there's not really any family that would come for me, never has been anyways. Wyatt and Sean are planning on visiting as soon as they make it back to Wyoming." He looked down at his hand. "Why are you here?"

"The police wanted to talk to us together." The idea of a seven year old Colt Langmore walking around alone drew crease lines to my forehead. I couldn't begin to fathom a family like that. If my daddy Tex were alive, he'd be here.

He nodded, his eyes closing as he grimaced again. "You can tell them how your efforts were heroic."

I felt guilty, not heroic. A part of me was eating away at me, had I really done all I could?

"Are you alright?" He asked, eyes washing over me.

I didn't feel okay. My shoulder ached, my back hurt, and there was this lingering pain in my left side. But when looking at him, all bruised and battered it all felt so little. I couldn't imagine how much pain he must be in. I nodded, "Oh I'll be alright. Always am."

A man in a dark, rumpled suit walked through the door and introduced himself as Detective Bywater, the officer in charge of their case. He walked us through our stories, took my phone to retrieve the photograph I'd taken, then escorted me back to my room himself. My eyes met Colts cobalt blue ones before I left the room, a ghost of a smile resting on his face.

I was released a few days after and drove back to the ranch. In the days that followed I spent my time slowly taking care of the animals and getting the loft ready for Colt. It had been a while since a man had lived on the ranch.