Tough Enough

  Gathering all her strength, Rachel forced her lashes to lift. At first all she saw was a dark green curtain in front of her. And then she heard a low chuckle to her right, where the man was standing—the one who caressed her as if she were a very beloved, cherished woman. His warm touch was undeniable. Her heart opened of its own accord and Rachel felt a rush of feelings she thought had died a long time ago. Confused by the sights and sounds, she looked up, up at the man who stood protectively at her side.

  Jim’s mouth pulled slightly. “Welcome back to the real world, Rachel.” He saw her cloudy, forest-green eyes rest on him. There was confusion in their depths. Nudging a few strands of long, dark brown hair away from her cheek, he said in a low, soothing tone, “You’re at the Flagstaff Hospital. We brought you here about an hour ago. You had a wreck up on 89A coming out of Flag earlier this morning. Do you remember?”

  Rachel was mesmerized by him, by his low tone, which seemed to penetrate every cell of her being like a lover’s caress. He had stilled his hand, resting it against her hair. His smile was kind. She liked the tenderness burning in his eyes as he regarded her. Who was he? His face looked familiar, and yet no name would come. Her mouth felt gummy. Her foot ached. She looked to the left, at her surroundings.

  “You’re in E.R., the emergency room, in a cubical,” Jim told her. “The doc just got done looking at you. He just stitched up your foot where you severed a small artery. You took a pint of whole blood, and he said the bump on your head is going to hurt like hell, but it’s not a concussion.”

  Bits and pieces of memory kept striking her. The jaguar. The jaguar standing in the middle of that ice-covered highway. Rachel frowned and closed her eyes.

  “The cat … it was in the middle of the road,” she began, her voice scratchy. “I slammed on the brakes. I didn’t want to hit it …?. The last thing I remember is spinning out of control.”

  Jim tightened his hand slightly on her upper arm. He could see she was struggling to remember. “A cat? You mean a cougar?”

  Everything was jumbled up. Rachel closed her eyes. She felt terribly weak—far weaker than she wanted to feel. “My kit … where is it?”

  Jim saw a dull flush of color starting to come back to her very pale cheeks. The blood transfusion had halted her shock. He’d made sure she was covered with extra blankets and he’d remained with her in E.R. throughout the time, not wanting her to wake up alone and confused.

  “Kit?”

  “Yes …” She moved her lips, the words sticking in her dry mouth. “My homeopathic kit … in my car. I need it…? .”

  He raised his brows. “Oh … your black bag. Yeah, I brought it in with me. Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

  Rachel almost cried when he left her side. The strong, caring warmth of his hand on her arm was very stabilizing. The noise in E.R. was like a drum inside her head. She heard the plaintive cry of a baby, someone else was groaning in pain—familiar sounds to her as a homeopath. She wished she could get up, go dispense a remedy to each of them to ease their pain and discomfort. She wasn’t in England any longer, though; she was in the U.S. Suddenly she felt disoriented.

  Her ears picked up the sound of a curtain being drawn aside. She opened her eyes. He was back, with her black leather physician’s bag.

  “Got it,” he said with a smile, placing the bag close to her blanketed leg.

  As he opened it, Rachel tried to think clearly. “Who are you? I feel like I know you … but I’m not remembering names too well right now.”

  His mouth curved in a grin as he opened the bag. “Jim Cunningham. I’m the EMT who worked with you out at the accident scene.” He pulled out the white, plastic box and held it where she could see it.

  “Oh …”

  Chuckling, he said, “Man, have I made a good impression on you. Here you are, the prettiest woman I’ve seen in a long time, and you forget my name.”

  His teasing warmth fell across her. Rachel tried to smile, but the pain in her head wouldn’t let her. There was no denying that Jim Cunningham was a very good-looking man. He was tall, around six foot two, and lean, like a lithe cougar with a kind of boneless grace that told her he was in superb physical condition. The dark blue, long-sleeved shirt and matching pants he wore couldn’t hide his athletic build. The silver badge on his left pocket, the gold nameplate above it and all the patches on the shoulders of his shirt gave him a decided air of authority.

  Wrinkling her nose a little, she croaked, “Don’t take it personally. I’m feeling like I have cotton stuffed between my ears.” She lifted her hand and found it shaky.

  “Just tell me which one you want,” he said gently. “You’re pretty weak yet. In another couple of hours you’ll feel a lot better than you do right now.”

  Alarmed at her weakness, Rachel whispered, “Get me the Arnica.”

  “Ah, the same one you used out at the accident site. Okay.” He hunted around. There were fifty black-capped, amber bottles arranged by alphabetical order in the small case. Finding Arnica, he uncapped it.

  “Now what?”

  “My mouth. Drop a couple of pellets in it.”

  Jim carefully put two pellets on her tongue. “Okay, you’re set.” He capped the amber bottle. “What is this stuff, anyway? The E.R. doc wanted to know if it had side effects or if it would cause any problems with prescription drugs.”

  The pellets were sugary sweet. Rachel closed her eyes. She knew the magic of homeopathy. In a few minutes, her headache would be gone. And in a few more after that, she’d start feeling more human again.

  “That’s okay,” Jim murmured as he replaced the vial into the case, “you don’t have to answer the questions right now.” He glanced up. “I called your family. I talked to Kate.” He put the box back into Rachel’s bag and set it on a chair nearby. “They’re all waiting out in the visitors’ lounge. Hold on, I’ll get them for you.”

  Rachel watched through half-closed eyes as Jim opened the green curtain and disappeared. She liked him. A lot. What wasn’t there to like? she asked herself. He was warm, nurturing, charming—not to mention terribly handsome. He had matured since she’d known him in school. He’d been a tall, gangly, shy kid with acne on his face. She remembered he was half Apache and half Anglo and that they’d always had that common bond—being half-Indian.

  So many memories of her past-of growing up here in Sedona, of the pain of her father’s alcoholism and her mother’s endless suffering with the situation-flooded back through her. They weren’t pleasant memories. And many of them she wanted to forget.

  Jim Cunningham … In school she’d avoided him like the plague because Old Man Cunningham and her father had huge adjoining ranches. The two men had fought endlessly over the land, the often-broken fence line and the problems that occurred when each other’s cattle wandered onto the other’s property. They’d hated one another. Rachel had learned to avoid the three Cunningham boys as a result.

  Funny how a hit on the head pried loose some very old memories. A crooked smile pulled at Rachel’s mouth. And who had saved her? None other than one of the Cunninghams. What kind of karma did she have? She almost laughed, and realized the pain in her head was lessening quickly; her thoughts were rapidly clearing. Thanks to homeopathy. And Jim Cunningham.

  “Rachel!”

  She opened her eyes in time to see Jessica come flying through the curtains. Her younger sister’s eyes were huge, her face stricken with anxiety. Reaching out with her right hand, Rachel gave her a weak smile.

  “Hi, Jess. I’m okay … really, I am …?.”

  Then Rachel saw Kate, much taller and dressed in Levi’s and a plaid wool coat, come through the curtains. Her serious features were set with worry, too.

  Jessica gripped Rachel’s hand. “Oh, Rachel! Jim called us, bless him! He didn’t have to do that. He told us everything. You could have died out there!” She gave a sob, then quickly wiped the tears from her eyes. Leaning down, she kissed Rachel’s cheek in welcome.

  Kate smiled b
rokenly. “Helluva welcome to Sedona, isn’t it?”

  Grinning weakly, Rachel felt Kate’s work-worn hand fall over hers. “Yes, I guess it is.”

  Kate frowned. “I thought you were flying into Phoenix, renting a car and driving up from there?”

  Making a frustrated sound, Rachel said, “I was going to surprise you two. I got an earlier flight out of Denver directly into Flag. I was going to be at the ranch hours earlier that way.” She gave Kate a long, warm look. “I really wanted to get home.”

  “Yeah,” Kate whispered, suddenly choked up as she gripped her sister’s fingers, “I guess you did.”

  Sniffing, Jessica wiped her eyes. “Are you okay, Rachel? What did the doctor say?”

  Rachel saw the curtains part. It was Jim Cunningham. Her heart skipped a beat. She saw how drawn his face was and his eyes seemed darker than she recalled. He came and stood at the foot of the gurney where she was lying.

  “Dr. Forbush said she had eight stitches in her foot for a torn artery, and a bump on the head,” he told them. He held Rachel’s gaze. She seemed far more alert now, and that was good. When he’d stepped into the cubicle, he’d noticed that her cheeks were flushed. Pointing to her left foot, he said, “She lost a pint of blood out there at the wreck. She got that replaced and the doc is releasing her to your care.” And then he smiled teasingly down at Rachel. “That is, unless you want to spend a night here in the hospital for observation?”

  Rachel grimaced. “Not on your life,” she muttered defiantly. “I work in them, I don’t stay in them.”

  Chuckling, Jim nodded. He looked at the three Donovan sisters. “I gotta get going, but the head nurse, Sue Young, will take care of getting you out of this place.” He studied Rachel’s face and felt a stirring in his heart. “Stay out of trouble, you hear?”

  “Wait!” Rachel said, her voice cracking. She saw surprise written on his features when he turned to her again. “Wait,” she pleaded. “I want to thank you … ?.” Then she smiled when she saw deviltry in his eyes as he stood there, considering her plea.

  “You serious about that?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good. Then when you get well, have lunch with me?”

  Stunned, Rachel leaned back onto the bed. She saw Jessica’s face blossom in a huge smile. And Kate frowned. Rachel knew what her older sister was thinking. He was a Cunningham, their enemy for as long as any of them could recall.

  “Well …”

  Jim raised his hand, realizing he’d overstepped his bounds. “Hey, I was just teasing. I’ll see you around. Take care of yourself …?.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Kate murmured to her sisters, and she quickly followed after him.

  Jim was headed toward the small office in the back of E.R. where EMTs filled out their accident report forms when he heard Kate Donovan’s husky voice.

  “Jim?”

  Turning, he saw her moving in his direction. Stepping out of the E.R. traffic, he waited for her. The serious look on her face put him on guard. She was the oldest of the three Donovan daughters and the owner of a ranch, which was teetering precariously on the edge of bankruptcy. He knew she had worked hard since assuming the responsibilities of the ranch after Kelly died in an auto accident earlier in the year. Because of that, Jim also knew she had more reason to hate a Cunningham than any of the sisters. Inwardly, he tried to steel himself against anything she had to say. His father, unfortunately, had launched a lawsuit against Kate’s ranch right now. There was nothing Jim could do about it, even though he’d tried to talk his father into dropping the stupid suit. Driven by the forty-year vendetta against Kelly Donovan, he’d refused to. It made no difference to him that the daughters were coming home to try and save their family ranch. The old man couldn’t have cared less.

  With such bad blood running between the two families, Jim was trying to mend fences where he could. His two older brothers weren’t helping things, however. They derived just as much joy and pleasure out of hurting people, especially the Donovans, as their old man. Jim was considered the black sheep of the family, probably because he was the only Cunningham who wasn’t into bad blood or revenge. No, he’d come home to try and fix things. And in the months since he’d been home, Jim had found himself living in hell. He found his escape when he was on duty for the fire department. But the rest of the time he was a cowboy on the family ranch, helping to hold it together and run it. Ordinarily, he’d loved the life of a rancher, but not anymore. These days his father was even more embittered toward the Donovans, and now he had Bo and Chet on his side to wage a continued war against them.

  As Kate Donovan approached him, Jim understood how she felt toward him. It wasn’t anything personal; it was just ancient history that was still alive and injuring all parties concerned. Even him. The darkness in her eyes, the serious set of her mouth, put him on guard. He studied her as she halted a few feet away from him, jamming her hands into the deep pockets of the plaid wool jacket she wore.

  “I want to thank you,” Kate rasped, the words coming out strained.

  Reeling, Jim couldn’t believe his ears. He’d expected to catch hell from Kate for suggesting lunch with Rachel. He knew she had a lot of her father in her and could be mule-headed, holding grudges for a long time, too.

  “You didn’t have to call us,” Kate continued. “You could have left that to a nurse here in E.R., I know.” Then she looked up at him. “I found out from the nurse before I went in to see Rachel that you saved her life—literally.”

  Shrugging shyly, Jim said, “I did what I could, Kate. I’d do it for anyone.” He didn’t want her to think that he’d done something special for Rachel that he wouldn’t do for others. In his business as an EMT, his job was to try and save lives.

  “Damn, this is hard,” Kate muttered, scowling and looking down at her booted feet. Lifting her head, she pinned him with a dark look. “I understand you just gave her a pint of your blood. Is that true?”

  He nodded. “Rachel’s blood type is a rare one.” Looking around the busy hospital area, he continued, “This is a backwoods hospital, Kate. They can’t always have every rare blood type on hand. Especially in the middle of Arizona, out in the wilds.” He tried to ease her hard expression with his teasing reply.

  Kate wasn’t deterred in the least. “And your partner, Larry, who I just talked to out at the ambulance, said you’d stopped Rachel from losing even more blood by putting a tourniquet on her leg?”

  “I put a blood-pressure cuff around Rachel’s lower leg to try and stop most of the bleeding, yes.” Inwardly, Jim remained on guard. He never knew if Kate Donovan was going to pat him on the head or rip out his jugular. Usually it was the latter. He saw her expression go from anger to confusion and then frustration, and he almost expected her to curse him out for volunteering his own blood to help save Rachel’s life. After all, it was Cunningham blood—the blood of her arch enemy. The enemy that her father had fought against all his life.

  Kate pulled her hand out of her pocket and suddenly thrust it toward him. “Then,” she quavered, suddenly emotional, “I owe you a debt I can’t begin to pay back.”

  Staring at her proffered hand, Jim realized what it took for Kate to do that. He gripped her hand warmly. The tears in her eyes touched him deeply. “I’m glad it was me. I’m glad I was there, Kate. No regrets, okay?”

  She shook his hand firmly and then released it. “Okay,” she rasped nervously, clearing her throat. “I just wanted you to know that I know what really happened.”

  He gave her a slight smile. “And there’s nothing to pay back here. You understand?” He wanted both families to release the revenge, the aggressive acts against one another. Kelly Donovan was dead, though Jim’s father was still alive and still stirring up trouble against their closest neighbors. Kate was struggling to keep the ranch afloat, and Jim admired her more than he could ever say. But if he told her that she wouldn’t believe him, because he was a Cunningham—bad blood.

  Nodding, she wiped
her eyes free of tears. “You sure know how to balance ledgers, don’t you?”

  Scrutinizing her closely, Jim said quietly, “I assume you’re talking about the ledger between our two families?”

  “Yes.” She stared up at him. “I can’t figure you out-yet.”

  “There’s nothing to figure out, Kate.”

  “Yes,” she growled, “there is.”

  His mouth curved ruefully. “I came home like you did—to try and fix things.”

  “Then why does your old man have that damned lawsuit against us?”

  Kate’s frustration paralleled his own. Opening his hands, Jim rasped, “I’m trying to get him to drop the suit, Kate. It has no merit. It’s just that same old revenge crap from long ago, that’s all.”

  She glared at him. “We are hitting rock bottom financially and you and everyone else knows it. Rachel came home to try and make money to help us pay the bills to keep our ranch afloat. If I have to hire a lawyer and pay all the court costs, that’s just one more monetary hemorrhage. Can’t you do anything to make him stop it?”

  “I’m doing what I can.”

  She looked away, her mouth set. “It’s not enough.”

  Wearily, Jim nodded. “Kate, I want peace between our families. Not bloodshed or lawsuits. My father has diabetes and often refuses to take his meds, so he exhibits some bizarre behavior.”

  “Like this stupid lawsuit?”

  “Exactly.” Glancing around, Jim pulled Kate into the office, which was vacant at the moment. Shutting the door, he leaned against it as he held her stormy gaze. “Let’s bury the hatchet between us, okay? I did not come home to start another round of battles with you or anyone else at the Donovan Ranch.”

  “You left home right after high school,” Kate said in a low voice. “So why did you come back now?”