A Man of Means

‘‘Do you usually dress like that when you go out at night?’’ he asked belatedly.

‘‘I told you. There was…a Halloween party,’’ she said. It hurt to talk. ‘‘It was the only costume I had.’’

‘‘Do you like parties?’’ he asked sarcastically.

‘‘My first one…in almost four years,’’ she managed to say. ‘‘Please…hurts…to talk.’’

He glanced at her and then was quiet. He didn’t like her. He didn’t trust her. Why was he taking care of her? There was something unexpectedly vulnerable about her. But she had spirit.

He walked her into the emergency room. She filled out forms and was ushered back into a treatment cubicle while Rey sat in the waiting room between a squalling toddler and a man coughing his head off. He wasn’t used to illness. He’d never seen much of it, and he didn’t know how to cope with it. Accidents, sure, he was a good hand in an emergency, and there were plenty on a ranch. But he hated hospitals.

Meredith came back a good thirty minutes later with a prescription and a frown.

‘‘What did he say?’’ he asked conversationally.

She shrugged. ‘‘He gave me something…for pain,’’ she said, waving the prescription.

‘‘They sent me to a plastic surgeon,’’ he volunteered as they went through the automatic door.

She didn’t speak.

‘‘I had a shattered bone in my cheek that they couldn’t repair,’’ he persisted.

‘‘I’m not…going…to any damned…plastic surgeon!’’

His eyebrows arched. ‘‘Your face could be distorted.’’

‘‘So what?’’ she muttered, wincing because it really did hurt to speak. ‘‘It’s not…much of a face, anyway.’’

He scowled. She wasn’t pretty, but her face had attractive features. Her nose was straight and elegant, she had high cheekbones. Her mouth was like a little bow, perfect. Her eyes, big and grey, fascinated him.

‘‘You should go,’’ he said.

She ignored him. ‘‘Can you…drive me by the pharmacy?’’

‘‘Sure.’’

She gave him directions and he waited while she had the prescription filled. He drove her back to her house and left her there reluctantly.

‘‘I’ll be at the hospital with Leo if you need anything,’’ he said as if it pained him to say it.

“I don’t need any help. Thanks,” she added stiffly.

His eyebrows arched. ‘‘You remind me of me,’’ he murmured, and a thin smile touched his lips—a kind one. ‘‘Proud as Lucifer.’’

‘‘I get by. I really am…sorry about your brother. Will he be all right?’’ she asked at her door.

He nodded. ‘‘They want to keep him for two or three days. He’ll want to thank you.’’

‘‘No need. I would have done it for anyone.’’

He sighed. She was going to look bad for a long time, with her face in that condition. She’d been beaten and he felt responsible, God knew why. He took a breath. ‘‘I’m sorry I had you arrested,’’ he said reluctantly.

She pursed her lips. ‘‘I’ll bet…that hurt.’’

‘‘What?’’

‘‘You don’t apologize much, do you?’’ she asked, as if she knew.

He scowled down at her, puzzled.

She turned away. ‘‘No sweat. I’ll live. So long.’’

She went in and closed the door. Rey, who’d done without companionship for a number of years, suddenly felt alone. He didn’t like the feeling, so he shoved it out of his mind and drove back to the hospital. He wouldn’t see her again, anyway.

Leo came back to himself with a vengeance late that afternoon. He had Rey lever the head of his bed up and he ate dinner with pure enjoyment.

‘‘It’s not bad,’’ Leo murmured between mouthfuls. ‘‘But I wish I had a biscuit.’’

‘‘Me, too,’’ Rey said on a sigh. ‘‘I guess we could buy a restaurant, as a last resort,’’ he added dejectedly. ‘‘One that serves breakfast.’’

‘‘Who was that woman who came in with me?’’ he asked Rey.

‘‘You remember her?’’ Rey was surprised.

‘‘She looked like an angel,’’ he mused, smiling. ‘‘Blond and big-eyed and all heart. She held my hand and sat down on the sidewalk in the cold and talked to me until the ambulance got there.’’

‘‘You were unconscious.’’

‘‘Not all the time. She even came in with me on the ambulance,’’ he said. ‘‘She kept telling me I was going to be all right. I remember her voice.’’ He smiled. ‘‘Her name was Meredith.’’

Rey’s heart jumped. He felt uneasy. Leo usually didn’t pay much attention to strange women. ‘‘Meredith Johns,’’ he agreed.

‘‘Is she married?’’ Leo asked at once.

Rey felt threatened; it irritated him. ‘‘I don’t know,’’ he said.

‘‘Do you think you could find somebody who knows how to get in touch with her?’’ his brother persisted. ‘‘ want to thank her for saving me.’’

Rey got up from the chair where he’d been sitting and walked to the darkened window, peering out through the blinds while he played for time. ‘‘She lives near the place where you were attacked,’’ he said finally, unable to lie.

‘‘What does she do for a living?’’

‘‘I don’t know,’’ Rey said, feeling uncomfortable. He couldn’t get her father’s accusing remarks out of his mind. She’d said she was dressed up for a party, she’d even found someone to give her an alibi, but Rey didn’t completely believe her. What if that whole defense was a lie? What if she was some sort of prostitute? He didn’t want his brother getting mixed up with a woman like that. He didn’t trust women, especially strange women. Then he remembered her poor, bruised face and he felt bad about his suspicions.

‘‘I’ll ask one of the nurses,’’ Leo said abruptly.

‘‘No need,’’ Rey told him. He turned back around with his hands in his pockets. ‘‘If you’re determined, I’ll go get her in the morning and bring her in to see you.’’