just
trying to reassure myself that I've done the right thing."
"For what it's worth, I think you have. Last night I didn't,
but today I've thought about it, and I struck up a chat with a deputy this morning.
He didn't mention anything unusual. If your guy is involved with drugs you'll
have time to find out before he's in any shape to be dangerous. So, I guess you
were right."
There was still another possibility, one that Rachel had thought
of but had no intention of mentioning to Honey. What if he was an agent…for
someone else? A drug runner, an agent – neither of those was very savory,
considering what she had learned about both occupations while she'd been a
reporter. Rachel had been a very good reporter, an ace, digging for the facts
even in the face of danger. She knew, far more than Honey did, just how
dangerous it was to hide this man, but there was something in her that was
incapable of simply washing her hands of responsibility and turning him over to
the sheriff, then letting events take their course. She had become responsible
for him the second she had seen him feebly swimming in the Gulf, and turning
him over to someone else wouldn't change that fact. As long as there was a
possibility, however remote, that he was deserving of her protection, she had
to offer it. It was a risk she had to take.
"How much longer will it be before he wakes up?" she
murmured.
Honey hesitated. "I don't know. I'm a veterinarian, remember?
With the fever, the loss of blood, the knock on his head…I just don't know. He
should be hooked up to an IV, getting fluids. His pulse is weak and fast, he
probably needs some blood and he's shocky, but he's coming out of it. He may
wake up at any time, or it may be tomorrow. When he does wake up he may be
disoriented, which isn't surprising. Don't let him get excited, and whatever
you do, don't let him get up."
Rachel looked at him, at his powerfully muscled torso, and
wondered if there was any way on earth she could prevent him from doing
anything he set his mind on doing. Honey was taking gauze and tape out of her
bag, "Change his bandages tomorrow morning. I won't be back until tomorrow
night, unless you think he's getting worse and call me, and in that case you'd
be better off calling a doctor."
Rachel managed a taut smile. "Thanks. I know this hasn't been
easy for you to handle."
"At least you brought some excitement into the summer. I've
got to go now, or Rafferty will tear a strip off me for keeping him
waiting."
"Tell John I said hello," Rachel said as they stepped
onto the porch.
"Depends on his mood." Honey grinned, her eyes lighting with the
pleasurable prospect of battle. She and John
Rafferty had been warring ever since Honey had set up practice in the area;
Rafferty had made plain his opinion that a woman wasn't strong enough to handle
the job, and Honey had set out to prove him wrong. Their relationship had long
since evolved into mutual respect and a continuous wrangle that they both
enjoyed. Since Honey
had a long-standing engagement to an overseas engineer, with plans to marry
during the winter when he returned to the States, she was also safe from
Rafferty's legendary torn-catting, because one thing Rafferty didn't do was
poach.
Joe stood just at the corner of the house, muscles tight as he
warily watched Honey get in her car and drive off. Ordinarily Rachel would have
spoken soothingly to him, but today she, too, was tense and wary.
"Guard," she said softly, not knowing if he would understand the
command. "That's a good boy. Guard the house."
She managed to work for a couple of hours on her manuscript, but
she couldn't really concentrate on what she was doing when she kept listening
for any sound from the bedroom. Every few minutes she went in to check on him,
but each time he was lying just as he had been the time before. She tried
several times to get him to drink something, but his head would loll against
her shoulder whenever she lifted him, and he didn't
trying to reassure myself that I've done the right thing."
"For what it's worth, I think you have. Last night I didn't,
but today I've thought about it, and I struck up a chat with a deputy this morning.
He didn't mention anything unusual. If your guy is involved with drugs you'll
have time to find out before he's in any shape to be dangerous. So, I guess you
were right."
There was still another possibility, one that Rachel had thought
of but had no intention of mentioning to Honey. What if he was an agent…for
someone else? A drug runner, an agent – neither of those was very savory,
considering what she had learned about both occupations while she'd been a
reporter. Rachel had been a very good reporter, an ace, digging for the facts
even in the face of danger. She knew, far more than Honey did, just how
dangerous it was to hide this man, but there was something in her that was
incapable of simply washing her hands of responsibility and turning him over to
the sheriff, then letting events take their course. She had become responsible
for him the second she had seen him feebly swimming in the Gulf, and turning
him over to someone else wouldn't change that fact. As long as there was a
possibility, however remote, that he was deserving of her protection, she had
to offer it. It was a risk she had to take.
"How much longer will it be before he wakes up?" she
murmured.
Honey hesitated. "I don't know. I'm a veterinarian, remember?
With the fever, the loss of blood, the knock on his head…I just don't know. He
should be hooked up to an IV, getting fluids. His pulse is weak and fast, he
probably needs some blood and he's shocky, but he's coming out of it. He may
wake up at any time, or it may be tomorrow. When he does wake up he may be
disoriented, which isn't surprising. Don't let him get excited, and whatever
you do, don't let him get up."
Rachel looked at him, at his powerfully muscled torso, and
wondered if there was any way on earth she could prevent him from doing
anything he set his mind on doing. Honey was taking gauze and tape out of her
bag, "Change his bandages tomorrow morning. I won't be back until tomorrow
night, unless you think he's getting worse and call me, and in that case you'd
be better off calling a doctor."
Rachel managed a taut smile. "Thanks. I know this hasn't been
easy for you to handle."
"At least you brought some excitement into the summer. I've
got to go now, or Rafferty will tear a strip off me for keeping him
waiting."
"Tell John I said hello," Rachel said as they stepped
onto the porch.
"Depends on his mood." Honey grinned, her eyes lighting with the
pleasurable prospect of battle. She and John
Rafferty had been warring ever since Honey had set up practice in the area;
Rafferty had made plain his opinion that a woman wasn't strong enough to handle
the job, and Honey had set out to prove him wrong. Their relationship had long
since evolved into mutual respect and a continuous wrangle that they both
enjoyed. Since Honey
had a long-standing engagement to an overseas engineer, with plans to marry
during the winter when he returned to the States, she was also safe from
Rafferty's legendary torn-catting, because one thing Rafferty didn't do was
poach.
Joe stood just at the corner of the house, muscles tight as he
warily watched Honey get in her car and drive off. Ordinarily Rachel would have
spoken soothingly to him, but today she, too, was tense and wary.
"Guard," she said softly, not knowing if he would understand the
command. "That's a good boy. Guard the house."
She managed to work for a couple of hours on her manuscript, but
she couldn't really concentrate on what she was doing when she kept listening
for any sound from the bedroom. Every few minutes she went in to check on him,
but each time he was lying just as he had been the time before. She tried
several times to get him to drink something, but his head would loll against
her shoulder whenever she lifted him, and he didn't
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