Come Sundown

going to stop you. But how about I cut it for you?”

“You…” Alice lowered the scissors, stared. “You can do it? You can?”

“Well, you’ll be my first, but I can sure try.” Maybe Bodine’s heart still skipped, but she smiled as Alice meekly held out the scissors.

“How about we set up our salon in the bathroom there? You can sit on the stool. Do you know how short you want it?”

“I don’t like it. I don’t want it. You can cut it.”

Bodine guided Alice to the stool. “I was just thinking, I know this girl and she grew her hair really long, almost as long as you. She grew it long, then cut it because she was donating it to this place that made wigs for women who got sick and lost their hair. If you want to do that, I can look up how it’s done.”

“You send it to a sick girl. Send the hair?”

“Yeah. Would you want to do that?”

“But it’s ugly. Old and ugly.” Tears swam. “Who would want it?”

Hoping to soothe, Bodine ran a hand down the impossible length. “I bet they’d fix it up, make it look nice. I’ll look it up on my phone while you brush out your hair.”

Bodine got a brush, watched Alice frown into the mirror.

Following the instructions, Bodine braided the long, long hair. “I bet there are at least two sick girls who’ll be grateful to you. I’m going to turn you a little now, so you can see from the side. Do you want it this short?” Bodine held a hand to Alice’s mid-back.

“More.”

Bodine climbed up inch by inch until she held the flat of her hand above Alice shoulders, and got a hard nod.

“Okay, let’s see.” She bound both ends with a band, blew out a breath. “I’m nervous. You’re sure about this?”

“I don’t want it.”

“All right then, here we go.” Praying the result wouldn’t send Alice into a rage or into tears, Bodine cut. She clutched the heavy braid as it fell away, held her breath.

Alice just stared at the mirror, eyebrows lowered.

“I can fix it up some, I think. Maybe get Nana’s smaller scissors or…”

Slowly, Alice lifted her hand, pulled her fingers through. “It’s still ugly, but better. It’s cut away, and he can’t stop me. You cut it away, and he can’t stop you. But I don’t know who that is.” She pointed at the reflection in the mirror. “I don’t know.”

Bodine laid the hair aside, set her hands on Alice’s shoulders. “That’s my aunt Alice, who named me.”

Alice’s gaze met hers in the glass, and she smiled a little. “You’re Bodine, because we promised.”

“That’s right. I’ve got this other idea. You know Grammy has some hair dye in her room. How about we color your hair now?”

“Red like Grammy’s? I love Grammy’s hair.”

“Me, too. Let’s color your hair, Alice.”

Now Alice smiled, lips and eyes. “I want that. I want red hair like Grammy’s. You have a red vest. It’s pretty.”

“You like it?” Bodine ran a hand over the red leather vest Jessica had talked her into buying. “You can borrow it sometime if you want.”

“Reenie hates me to borrow her clothes.”

“I don’t mind so much, and I’m offering. Let me go get the dye.”

As a precaution, she took the scissors with her.

She didn’t get much work done, but she’d make up the time. As a hair and makeup consultant, Bodine figured she was in the lower tenth percentile, but she did her best.

Flushed with success, she talked Alice into jeans—a first since her return—a pretty shirt, and her own red vest. She even dug out some earrings.

When Alice stood in front of the full-length mirror, studying herself, Bodine ranked it as one of the best moments of her life.

“I can see me,” Alice said with wonder. “I got old, but I can see me. I can see Alice. Alice Ann Bodine.”

“You look really pretty, too.”

“I was pretty.” Alice lifted a hand to her cheek. “I was really pretty. He took my pretty away. I have some back. I have a little back. I like my hair. I like the red vest to wear, to borrow. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Let’s go show off to Clementine.”

Bodine held out a hand, and though she ducked her head, Alice put hers in it.

Halfway down the stairs, Bodine heard her mother’s voice. So did Alice, as Alice’s hand tightened into a vise on hers.

“I’m going to take this tea up, and have a nap,” Maureen said. “I may go back after dinner, just to help Jessie with this event, but…”

Still pouring the tea, Maureen froze as Bodine led Alice into the kitchen. The hot water spilled over the rim of the cup before Clementine caught it, took the pot.

“Alice.” Tears springing to her eyes, Maureen pressed both hands to her mouth. “Alice. Alice.”

She rushed forward, and though Alice jerked back, went stiff, kept coming until she’d caught Alice in her arms. “Oh, Alice.”

“I didn’t want it. Bodine cut it. A sick girl can have it.”

“Oh, Alice.” Drawing back, Maureen fluffed her fingers through the red hair Bodine had managed to style into an uneven, amateur bob. “I love it. Absolutely love it. I love you.”

She clutched Alice to her again, held out a hand for Bodine’s. She kissed her daughter’s hand, closed her eyes. And rocked her sister where they stood.

* * *

As Jessica’s event included trail rides, pony rides, cattle drives, and lessons, Callen put in some overtime. He’d need to be back at it by sunrise, but for now he could enjoy an easy ride home.

He hoped he’d find Bodine on the other end of the ride, maybe get her to sit out with him, have a beer, watch the sunset.

And maybe if their schedules meshed up over the next few days, he could take her out to a fancy dinner.

He couldn’t figure why he wanted to. He’d never been one for fancy dinners. But he wanted to try one with her, see how it set.

He wanted her back in his bed again, and for more than sleep.

He just wanted her, and it was time to admit it.

Everything about her fit, so why make it less than it was?

He hadn’t come back for a woman, but he’d found the one he wanted, the one he could see building a life with.

Maybe she wasn’t there yet, but he didn’t think she lagged far behind him. The puzzle of the moment was: Did he wait for her to catch up, or did he give her a push?

Something to consider.

“Doesn’t get much better than this.” Leaning forward, he rubbed Sundown’s neck. “Does it, boy? Cool evening coming in after a warm day. Wildflowers popping. Deer over there, see ’em? Yeah, you see them. Losing their winter coats. Fields are greening up some. We’ll be bringing some of the horses down to that pasture there at sunup. Still snow on the peaks there, but that just makes the sky bluer.”

He pulled his horse up to enjoy the moment, watched the white tails of the deer bob across the near field. When he actively thought of dismounting, picking some of the wildflowers for Bodine, he embarrassed himself.

A man could take things too far.

He walked the horse around a slight curve. “Let’s stretch those legs out.”

He’d no more than given the signal and Sundown was bounding forward. He felt the sting low on his calf, heard the sharp snap of a bullet. Sundown let out a cry of pain, stumbled.

Instinct took over. “Go!”

He felt his horse labor, but they were in the open, so he pushed until he could pull up again where the ground rose, where a cabin sat, where trees provided some cover.

He leaped off, didn’t spare a curse for the shock of pain in his leg. Not when he saw the blood seeping low on Sundown’s belly.

“Easy, easy, easy.” Dragging off his bandanna, he pressed it to the wound. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

He heard the sound of an engine, the echo and roar, yanked out his phone as he scanned the trees, the ridge. As he vowed vengeance on whoever hurt his horse.

* * *

Bodine stepped outside hoping Callen had gotten back. She imagined what a kick he’d get out of her cutting Alice’s hair, giving her a makeover. She’d like to sit out in the cool, watch the sunset, and tell him about her day, hear about his.

She liked the idea of knowing she could, knowing they might wander in sometime after dusk and make good use of his bed.

Thinking about that, smiling about that, she turned sharply when she heard Chase give a shout and bolt out of the house.

Her first thought was Alice, but her father ran out, too, and Rory. And every damn body.

“What is it? What happened?”

“Somebody took a shot at Callen, hit his horse. He’s a mile down on Black Angus Road.”

Chase kept running toward the horse trailer. Rory streaked into the stables. Equine first-aid kit, Bodine thought as she charged after him. She grabbed a bridle, had Leo in it within seconds.

“What’re you doing?” Rory demanded.

“I’m going. I can get there faster on Leo, cutting through.”

“Stay here. Whoever did it might still be out there.”

“Then you stay here,” she snapped back. Swinging onto Leo’s bare back, she rode out at a gallop.

She’d heard the shot, she thought now. Heard the echo of it when she’d stepped outside, and hadn’t thought a thing of it. Now the idea that the shot had been aimed at Callen, had struck that gorgeous horse, filled her with fury.

Bent low, she took Leo into the trees, cutting off the longer length of the road, pushed him thundering down the narrow, uneven track, slowing him only to navigate down the slope.

She saw Callen, felt a dizzying wave of relief when she saw him standing, saw Sundown standing. And another dizzying wave of fear at the blood soaking the ground.

He glanced up, his face carved with rage. It didn’t fade off when he spotted her. “What the hell are you doing?”

“How bad is it?” she called out, picking her way down. “They’re on their way. How bad?”

“I don’t know. Goddamn it, Bodine, you’ve got no business—”

He cut himself off. She’d come, and he couldn’t change that. “Take his head, will you? Talk to him. He’s hurt, he’s shaken up.”

Quivering, Bodine thought as she jumped off Leo, went to Sundown’s head to soothe. “It’s all right. It’s all right. We’re going to get you home and all fixed up. His belly?”

“I think it’s a graze. It’s long, carved a damn groove. It’s bleeding heavy.” He’d yanked out the spare shirt from his saddlebag once the bandanna had soaked through. “Did someone call the vet?”

She said, “Yes,” because someone would have, and Callen needed as much soothing as the horse. “Don’t worry. He’s going to be fine. Here they come.”

She held both horses steady as her father maneuvered the truck and trailer. Rory jumped out while it was still moving.

“Vet’s on her way, so’s the sheriff. Can he walk? We’ve got the hoist.”

“He’ll walk. He’ll load in.”

“Let’s have a look, son.” Sam squeezed a hand on Callen’s shoulder, hunkered down. “Don’t think it went in him or through him. Looks like a bad graze. You’re going to be just fine.”

Checking as he went, Sam moved back to Sundown’s head, studied his eyes. “You’re going to be just fine. We’re going to get you home.” He glanced down as Callen limped forward. “You hit?” he said, remarkably casual.

“Maybe.”

“For Christ’s sake! You’re shot.” Bodine grabbed Callen’s arm, got shaken off.

“I’m seeing to my horse.”

Slowly, painfully for both of them, Callen guided Sundown into the trailer.

“Let him be right now.” Sam patted Bodine’s arm. “He’s hurt and he’s mad. Just let him be right now. Let’s go home, tend to both of them.”

Though she was hurt and mad herself, Bodine clamped her mouth shut, swung back onto Leo, and rode home.

She let him be. She hung back as the vet worked, as Callen continued to soothe the wounded horse. It broke her heart to see the horse rest his head on Callen’s shoulder, to see him close his eyes when the vet gave Sundown something to ease the pain.

The whole time Callen stroked, murmured, and watched every move the vet made.

“I’m going to say he’s lucky.” The vet stripped off her bloody gloves, tossed them in a plastic bag. “Even though getting shot’s never lucky. The bullet grazed over the meat. There’s no penetration. He’s lost some blood, and he’s going to hurt. I’m giving you pills against infection, and I’m going to check on him tomorrow morning. He’ll want rest and pampering. You’re going to keep that wound clean.”

“But he’s going to be all right?”

“He’s a strong, healthy boy. I’m going to write out instructions for you to follow, and we’ll keep an eye on him. No vigorous exercise for a few days. No riding for at least a week. We’ll see after that. He’ll heal up, Cal. He’ll have a battle scar.”

“We won’t worry about that.”

The vet adjusted her little square-framed glasses, peered at Callen through them. “You’ll be sleeping in here tonight?”

“What do you think?”

“I think I’m going to write out what to look out for, what you can call and wake me up in the middle of the night for. Otherwise, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“I’m grateful. Sundown, thank the doc.”

He might’ve reacted a bit sluggishly, but Sundown bowed his head.

Now Bodine stepped forward. “Would you mind taking a look at Callen before you head out, Doc Bickers?”

When she gestured at Callen’s leg, Bickers rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “God’s sake. Get off that leg, boy. You there, Chase Longbow, help this idiot into the kitchen so I can see if he needs the damn hospital.”

“I’m not leaving my horse.”

“Well, get the idiot something to sit on so I can see what’s what.”

Chase hauled over a stool, then simply shoved Callen down on it. “Shut up about it,” Chase warned, “or I’ll stick one of those needles into you myself.”

“I’d rather a beer.”

Bickers shook her head, shoved up her glasses. “Not until I’ve seen what we have here.”

She pried off the boot, and the movement, the friction drained the blood out of Callen’s face.

At her sides, Bodine’s hands went to tight fists. About two inches above his anklebone, the skin bloomed purple and red around a bloody gash.

“Well.” Bickers sniffed, pulling on fresh gloves. “Your boot took the worst of it.”

“I liked those boots.”

Still beyond pissed, Bodine forced her hands to relax, stepped over and took Callen’s. “Don’t be a baby. You can afford new boots.”

“Took a little bite out of you, but not enough to do more than hurt like the living fires of hell for a day or so. You want something for pain, you go see a people doctor. I can treat this topically, and you’re going to have your own battle scar. You want it stitched up, you get the people doctor for that. I can do it, but there’s no reason. Now suck it up. I’m going to clean and disinfect this, and it’s going to add some flames to that hellfire.”

“Want something to bite on?”

Callen rolled a sour look up at Bodine. “Yeah.” He pulled her head down, clamped his mouth on hers. When the fire hit, he lost his breath for a minute, but she gripped his jaw in her hand, pressed her lips harder to his.

“Almost done here,” Bickers told him. “You stay off this as much as you can. Don’t see you needing a crutch, but find yourself a pair of tennis shoes, a couple days of that before you try pulling boots over this. It’s not near as bad as that sweet horse. Mostly a nick, is all.”