More to Texas than Cowboys. Roz Fox Denny
“Grandma’s nice,” she remarked out of the blue, and followed with a question Greer had been dreading. “I don’t understand why Grandpa couldn’t come with her. Is he mean?”
Greer dropped her wet sponge, then hurriedly bent to retrieve it. “I wouldn’t call him mean. Do you remember Mr. Greenfield the man who rented that cabin next to ours at Whippoorwill Ranch every summer? The artist?”
Shelby nodded. “Yeah, he was real grumpy.”
Using a dry rag, Greer carefully polished the window she’d finished washing. “He did tend to growl, and he wasn’t a very good neighbor. Cal said the man was estranged from his son. They’d argued. Well—” she took a deep breath “—a long time ago, before you were born, my dad got really upset with me. You know how I tell you we have to talk out our differences and not go to bed mad because it only gets harder to make up? My dad and I didn’t talk. We’ve let ten years worth of nights go by without making up. That’s why he didn’t come today. I don’t want you to think the way he acts has anything to do with you, Shel. It doesn’t.”
“If my teacher was around, she would’ve sat you guys down and made you talk. She’d say, get over it! ’Cause that’s what she did when kids argued at recess.”
Smiling, Greer moved to a new window. “That works with kids. Dad and I weren’t kids. Adults can be stubborn and pig-headed a lot longer.”
“I wish one of you would just say you’re sorry, so then maybe I could ask Grandma if I can ride to church on Sunday with her and Grandpa.” Shelby shoved her bucket over and started on the window in the kitchen door.
Greer’s fingers stilled, then tightened on the sponge, and she scrubbed so hard she was in danger of breaking the pane of glass. Explaining this was going to be much more difficult than she’d ever imagined. Yes, Shelby had gone to church with Luke Sanderson, but their views were liberal. St. Mark’s was ultraconservative. Coming here was probably a bad plan. What had she been thinking?
“Shelby, hon, chores go by faster with music. Will you run and get the portable CD player from the Blazer? And bring the CD case from under the front seat.” Greer knew that would redirect her daughter. There were few things Shelby loved as much as listening to music.
Over the next hour or so, they sang along with the CDs and managed to finish the inside windows. Greer filled the buckets with fresh water. She placed Shelby’s under the living room window and carried hers around the corner, calling, “I’ll set up the ladder and do the side windows. Wow, it looks like all but the front one will be too high for you. So, when you finish it, hon, empty your bucket and take a break. You’ve worked hard today. I’m proud of you.”
Reacting to the compliment, Shelby gave her mom a hug before dancing away.
Sparkling windows and a gently swaying swing made a huge difference to the appearance of the house, Greer thought as she opened the ladder and climbed up with the bucket. She’d dried the last pane and had closed the ladder to carry it around front when she heard the clippity-clop of an approaching horse. Afraid she knew who to expect as she rounded the house, Greer saw something she didn’t expect. Her daughter stood on a wobbly porch railing, stretched full length, scrubbing a window too far out of reach.
Greer opened her mouth to shout. She might even have called out to Shelby, but her warning came too late. There was a loud crack as the rail separated from the house. Greer’s yelp of distress mingled with Shelby’s scream of fear as the girl fell to the ground below, tangled in wood spindles and broken boards.
Dropping the ladder, stumbling over it, Greer lost precious seconds in her attempt to reach Shelby. The girl’s sobs sent fear hammering through Greer’s heart. “Honey, lie still. Let me move the boards and see how badly you’re hurt.” She discovered that Shelby had somehow ended up beneath the four-by-four top rail. Greer was in such a state, it took extra moments before she realized a second, larger pair of hands had brushed hers aside and were even now removing the heaviest debris.
“Oh, Father Kelley, it’s you!” Wild-eyed, Greer stared blankly up. Just as fast, she sank to her knees and attempted to drag her sobbing child into her arms.
“Take it easy, Greer. She’s suffered a nasty fracture of her left forearm.”
The minute he made the observation, Greer’s eyes were drawn to a V-shaped indentation five inches above Shelby’s wrist. Merely seeing it sent bile rolling from Greer’s stomach to her throat. She swayed unsteadily. But looking at the terrible break also steadied her cartwheeling emotions. “We need a doctor. I don’t know who’s in town. Is there anyone? I used to see a doctor in Llano. He was old, so I’m sure by now he’s retired or dead. Wait! There’s Hill Country Memorial hospital in Fredericksburg. But it’s quite a drive,” she added worriedly.
Noah ignored her babble, calming Shelby by asking pertinent questions about pain, all the while carefully checking her for neck, back and leg injuries. “Greer,” he said at last, “outside of the arm she mostly has superficial scrapes and bruises. Homestead has a clinic now. It’s staffed by a competent physician’s assistant. Kristin Cantrell—er, that was her name. She recently got married. Dr. Louise Hernandez comes every Wednesday to check on cases.”
“You think I should take Shelby to a P.A.?”
“Yes. Will you see if you can find a magazine? It’s the best I can think of at the moment to manufacture a splint. Meanwhile, I’ll phone the clinic and make sure Kristin’s in. On Friday afternoon if it’s slow, she takes calls from her house.”
Keeping a soothing hand curved over Shelby’s shoulder to ensure she lay still, Noah unclipped his cell phone and punched in a number one-handed.
Glad to have a specific chore, Greer dashed off. If only her moving van had come, she would’ve had magazines readily available. At first she thought finding anything suitable was a lost cause, but then she saw that her mother had left a stack of old newspapers in the box with gloves and paintbrushes. Layering several together, Greer ran back with them as Noah clicked off his phone.
“We’re in luck,” he said, shooting her a confident smile. “I caught Kristin as she was ready to walk out the door. She’ll meet you at the clinic.” Relieving Greer of the papers, he fashioned a splint using several thicknesses. As he peered around for something to secure the splint, Noah noticed that Greer wore laced sneakers. He had on boots and Shelby’s sneakers closed with Velcro. Greer jerked her foot back as he untied and began pulling out her right shoelace.
Once she realized what he intended, she tried to help. Only her hands shook too much to deal effectively with the knot on her left shoe. She gave up and let him do it. Greer leaned over and brushed a kiss on Shelby’s forehead, whispering to her softly.
While Noah worked to stabilize the broken arm, he attempted to explain the clinic’s location to Greer. “You know what?” He broke off, gazing at her with a perplexed frown. “You’re in no condition to drive anywhere.” Tying the second lace, he leaped agilely to his feet. “Just give me a minute to unsaddle Jasper and turn him out in your corral. I’ll carry Shelby to your SUV. You and she can sit in the backseat. I’ll drive you to town.”
Greer started to object. But after an inspection of her hands, she realized how badly she was shaking, and quickly reconsidered. “You can’t put your horse in our corral. Several rail sections are down. I’m pretty sure I have a lead rope under the back seat of the Blazer. That cedar looks sturdy, and there’s plenty of shade. Will he be all right tied on a lead?”
“He’ll be fine.” The words were barely out of Noah’s mouth before he’d pulled off Jasper’s saddle and placed it on the porch behind the swing. He made short work of staking out his pinto, then hurried back to Shelby’s side. “I’ll be as careful as I can moving you to the car, squirt, but I won’t lie—it’ll probably hurt. You go right ahead and cry, if you need to, okay?”
She did, with loud gulping sobs.
Despite her earlier thoughts, Greer was grateful that Noah Kelley had appeared out of nowhere