Dairy and Deadly

“Ouch!” Hawk Chesney’s uninvited guest gave an unladylike yelp as Prim got down to business, swabbing the jagged edges of the ugly cut on Miley’s forearm.
 

Knowing it must sting like crazy, Hawk curled his upper lip at her. “Thought you said you were gonna cry like a baby — not squawk like a chicken.” He was trying to make her laugh. Or mad. Anything to distract her.
 

She made a snarling sound beneath her breath and glared darkly at him. “Would a little sympathy kill you, Pops?”
 

Pops? He gaped at the mouthy eighteen-year-old, hardly knowing how to respond. Had she really just called him Pops? Wasn’t that a substitute for the word dad? Albeit a very sarcastic substitute…
 

She gave a sobbing chuckle as she watched his expression. “You should see your face right now.” She sucked in a breath and turned white as the rez’s beloved P.A. plunged her needle through the two flaps of skin to set the first stitch in place. 
 

Though he hadn’t yet verified Miley’s story, she was claiming she’d shattered a window to escape from wherever she’d come from.
 

“Eyes on me, kid!” Hawk barked out the command without thinking. If she was this jumpy over the mere thought of what was happening to her, the last thing she needed to do was look down and witness the gory details. Some people couldn’t stomach the sight of blood. She impressed him as being one of those people.
 

She swayed a little in her chair, looking close to passing out. To her credit, however, she managed to hang on to his gaze. “Are you always this cranky with your employees?”
 

Prim glanced curiously between the two of them before resuming her stitching. “You finally hired some help? Since when?” Her voice rose to an incredulous high note, as if unable to believe there was a piece of gossip on the Comanche reservation that hadn’t yet met her ears.
 

“Since a few minutes ago,” Miley gritted between clenched teeth. “And just for the record, he was really nice up to this point.”
 

I’m always nice. Hawk snorted out a laugh. She was a brat to insinuate otherwise, considering she’d been caught trespassing on his property. Hiring her to help out with his rawhide business probably wasn’t the wisest decision he’d ever made. He intended to verify both her identity and age before making it official, of course.
 

Prim’s silky, well-manicured eyebrows shot toward the ceiling. “Either you’re coming down with a cold, my friend, or I just heard you laugh for the first time.” She tossed her head, slinging her dark braids over her shoulders.
 

They were congregated in the workshop behind his cabin, the place he’d discovered Miley squatting less than an hour ago. He still didn’t know her last name or where she’d come from, but he’d work on getting those answers just as soon as Prim finished tending to her injuries. Miley’s claim to be a runaway certainly lined up with her dirty clothing and half-starved state. So far, all he’d fed her were a few of his birthday cookies. He needed to get some real food in her soon.
 

“Is it seriously the first time you’ve ever heard him laugh?” Miley panted out the question to Prim, then returned her attention to him. “Clearly, I’m not the only person who thinks you’re cranky!”
 

“We haven’t known each other for very long,” he protested.
 

“Only a couple of years.” The humor in Prim’s eyes told him she was having a little fun at his expense, but he didn’t mind. All that mattered was that she was helping him distract Miley from having her cut stitched up. The front of Prim’s navy scrubs had something dark spattered on them, making him think this wasn’t the first house call she’d made today. His fellow tribal members on the rez kept their favorite on-site medical professional hopping.

Miley’s ocean-blue gaze glinted with pure astonishment as she surveyed him. “So, it’s been years since the last time you laughed?”
 

“Of course, not!” Hawk folded his arms. Granted, it wasn’t something that happened often. Serving as a bodyguard at Lonestar Security didn’t come with many laughable moments. He was mostly paid to look tough and be tough.
 

“What if I tell a joke?” Miley lifted her chin in a challenge.
 

He cocked his head at her, tickled to pieces at the way she was baiting him. “Depends on if it’s a good joke or not.”
 

Without missing a beat, she inquired loftily, “What animal has more lives than a cat?”
 

“None,” he retorted dryly. “The whole nine-lives thing is nothing more than a myth.”
 

“Wrong.” She shook her head in pity at him. “The answer is clearly frogs, because they croak every day.”
 

“You’re hilarious.” Her display of wit was all the more impressive, considering the amount of discomfort she must be in.
 

“Whatever.” She made a face at him. “You didn’t even crack a smile.”
 

“I’m smiling inside my head.” He winked at her without thinking, which had the unfortunate effect of making her lips part in a silent O of amazement.
 

While she blinked shyly at him, Prim jumped back into the conversation. “Do you know any cow jokes?” She sewed the last stitch and tied off the end. “He helps out at a dairy farm most evenings and weekends,” she explained as she wrapped Miley’s arm with a roll of sterile gauze.
 

“Except for tonight, huh?” Miley found her voice again.
 

“It’s my birthday,” he reminded. He was supposed to be alone right now, watching football and scarfing down cookies.
 

“Really?” Prim broke into a short celebratory dance. “Happy birthday, Hawk! We should—”
 

He abruptly pointed at Miley to short circuit whatever invitation she was about to extend. He wasn’t in the mood to party. Or go out to a restaurant. Or whatever else she might suggest. “It’s her birthday, too. Eighteen-years-old if she’s telling it straight.”
 

“If it’s proof you’re looking for…” Miley reached into her back pocket to yank out a wallet. Shaking it open with one hand, she held up a driver’s license tucked behind a clear plastic sleeve.
 

He ducked his tall frame closer to her to read it. Sure enough, the date of birth listed on it was today. The license was for Miley Gilbert, and the photo matched the spunky teen who was dangling her wallet in front of him.
 

He straightened. “You’re from Turkey, Texas, eh?” She was the first person he’d ever met from there. It was no more than a dot on the map, with a population of only a few hundred people.
 

She folded her wallet and stuffed it back in her pocket. “I’m from Turkey, and your name is Hawk.” She lifted her chin, looking offended. “I’d say that makes us even.”
 

He chuckled for the second time in the space of a few minutes, which was an undeniable first for him. “Yep. We’re even now, kid.” She’d just made the task of helping her locate her mother exponentially easier, too. Learning her last name and town of origin put him in a much better position to commence his search for the mother she claimed was missing.
 

The abrupt silence that settled over his workshop made him tune back in to his companions. He found both of them staring, wide-eyed, at him.
 

“He laughed again.” Miley’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You heard it, too, right?”
 

“I heard it,” Prim spoke in a conspiratorial hiss. “From never laughing to laughing twice in one day. I think we just witnessed a birthday miracle. Either that, or you’re a magician, and this is all your doing, sweetie.”
 

“Not a magician.” Miley straightened in her chair, giving Hawk a sassy look. “More like an apprentice. Hawk is gonna let me do some hands-on stuff with my degree in art and design.” She bit her lower lip uncertainly before plunging onward. “After I prove myself, there might be a pay raise in it for me. We haven’t finished negotiating the particulars yet.”
 

“Wow!” Prim looked genuinely impressed. “How in the world did you earn a degree before your eighteenth birthday? Were you a child prodigy or something?”
 

Prim shook her head, smiling. “It was a dual enrollment program. Mostly online classes since my dad’s job kept us on the road—”
 

A loud rumble of vehicles approached, making Miley jump to her feet and stare fearfully toward the sound.

Hawk instinctively stepped in front of her, placing himself between her and the vehicle doors slamming. Moments later, a fist pounded on the door of his shop.
 

Prim moved to the window and peeked out between the metal blinds. “It’s a bunch of our friends!” She hurriedly flung open the door.
 

“Surprise!” A chorus of happy shouts rose. It was followed by a flood of bodies across the threshold.
 

“Happy Birthday!” Ashley Cuba reached him first to deliver a warm hug. Her auburn hair was piled into a messy bun, and no one would’ve guessed from her skinny jeans and oversized sweatshirt that she’d recently given birth to a baby. Her husband, Johnny, was right behind her with his calloused hand outstretched.
 

“Don’t blame me and Clint.” Johnny shook Hawk’s hand heartily. He was the guy who employed him part-time on evenings and weekends. “We tried to tell our wives all you wanted was a quiet evening alone in your shop, but…” As his dark gaze landed on his wife, it could only be described by one word — besotted.
 

His brother-in-law, Clint Rhodes, was every bit as in love with his new bride, a former FBI agent who was off the charts when it came to classiness and intelligence. Caro was carrying an ornate silver tray piled with a mountain of cookies. More chocolate chip ones. His all-time favorite. They smelled fresh, too.
 

She plopped them on his work table before spinning his way in a designer jumpsuit he doubted she’d purchased locally. It looked way too expensive. So did her matching red stilettos. She and her dairy farmer husband, Johnny’s business partner, were an incongruous pair. How Clint had convinced a ten like her to marry him — despite his dusty boots, faded jeans, and bull rider limp — was one of Heart Lake’s biggest mysteries.
 

Or maybe I’m just jealous. It was starting to feel like everyone in town was pairing off. Everyone except him, that is.
 

“Hey! Who’s this?” Caro’s sharp, all-seeing gaze landed on the disheveled Miley, quickly zeroing in on her bandaged arm.
 

Looking like a wild deer caught in headlights, Miley stepped closer to him. “I’m Miley, his new apprentice.” Though her spunk was very much intact, she looked so bedraggled and exhausted that Hawk regretted she hadn’t gotten to take her bath before his friends arrived en masse.
 

“Give us a sec. I’ll be right back.” He quickly ushered her outside and beckoned her to follow him down the sidewalk to his cozy cabin. It wasn’t much bigger than his workshop, but it had a few additional amenities that his workshop didn’t have. The most important one was a bathroom.
 

“I won’t be able to help you with your search if you run away again.” He pulled a clean towel and washcloth from his linen closet and plopped them on the sink counter.
 

Miley gave him an irritated look. “Number one. I just finished agreeing to come to work for you. Number two. I always keep my word. Number three. I have no money and no place else to go.”
 

“Fair enough.” He searched her tear-stained features, wanting to believe her. In the short time they’d known each other, she managed to stir every protective instinct he possessed. “I still have no idea who or what you’re running from.” Or how long she’d been on the road. Alone. Scared. Injured.
 

“I’ll tell you everything after I get cleaned up.” She gave him a grim nod. It was followed by a jaw-cracking yawn.

He’d be lucky if she kept her eyes open long enough after her bath to deliver on that promise.

“Speaking of getting cleaned up...” He stalked to his bedroom and returned with a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. “You can probably fit in these five times over, but you’ll just have to make do until we can run the outfit you have on through the washer. We can make a trip to the store to grab some new stuff for you tomorrow.”
 

She yawned again. “May I please take my bath now?” Her impatience was palpable.
 

“Yep.” He scowled at her. “Careful with your bandage. Best not to get those stitches wet.”
 

“Yes, Dad.” She rolled her eyes and shut the door in his face.
 

He heard the lock click into place. Returning to his workshop, he invited his friends to relocate their impromptu birthday party to the kitchen in his cabin. That way, he could hand out paper plates and serve beverages. Plus, it would allow him to keep an eye on Miley, should she change her mind about running away again.
 

Prim stubbornly refused to let him pay her anything for Miley’s stitches since it was both their birthdays. After another round of exuberant well wishes, she took off with a handful of cookies.
 

As soon as the door banged shut behind her, Caro rounded on him. “Alright. Details, mister! We want the inside scoop about this mysterious new apprentice of yours.”
 

* * *
 

Annalee Gilbert’s eyelids fluttered open. She blinked and squinted against the excruciating burst of light. “Wh-where am I?” She was lying on her back in an unfamiliar room. Her hands flailed on either side of her, her fingers curling into the rumpled bed linens. Every move she made hurt. Her whole body felt strangely stiff and sore.
 

“Awake at last!” A cheerful voice filled her ears, and a woman’s blurry features appeared above her.

Annalee recoiled in surprise. “Who are you?”

“Dixie. Your nurse.” The woman’s features grew sharper and came into focus. “Welcome back! How are you feeling?”

Welcome back? Annalee’s puzzlement grew. “What do you mean? Where have I been?”
 

Dixie’s sandy eyebrows rose. “In a coma.” She shook her head regretfully. “You were in a car accident. No wallet. No ID. No fingerprints in the system, according to the police. You’re a mystery that I hope you’ll be able to clear up for us.” Her smile was warm with empathy. “Only once you feel up to talking, of course. No hurry and no pressure.”

“A coma!” Alarm made Annalee’s heart pound anxiously. “Exactly how long have I been here?” She had a teenage daughter who must be frantic with worry for her. “And where is here, for that matter?”

​

“Three weeks as of yesterday.” Dixie picked up a clipboard that had been hanging on the end of her bed. She flipped through the pages. “You’re at the Heart Lake Medical Center.”

​

Annalee had never heard of Heart Lake. “Am I still in Texas?”

​

“Of course.” Nurse Dixie gave a soft chuckle. “Where are you from, ma’am?”

​

Something kept Annalee from answering. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was there — a nagging fear in the back of her head that wasn’t accompanied by any specific reason. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember the car accident Dixie had mentioned. The only thing she could recall with any clarity was her daughter’s face.

​

“I need to call my daughter,” she quavered, feeling like weeping. “Please. She’s probably worried sick about me.”

​

“Absolutely, Mrs. er…” Dixie paused expectantly and waited.

​

“Gilbert. Annalee Gilbert.” An aching sadness filled Annalee as one of her memories came flooding back. She was no longer a Mrs. Her husband was dead. The grief was still fresh. “My daughter is Miley, and this is her cell number.” She shakily rattled it off, and the nurse wrote it on her clipboard.

​

Producing a cell phone, Dixie dialed the number and tapped the speaker phone button so Annalee could listen.

It rang and rang.

​

Someone finally picked up, and a woman demanded shrilly, “Miley? Is that you, hon?”

​

There was something oddly familiar about the woman’s voice, though no name or face immediately came to mind.

 

Dixie smiled encouragingly at Annalee. “This is Nurse Dixie from the Heart Lake Medical Center, ma’am, and you are?”

​

“Miley’s mother, of course! How did you get this number?” the woman on the phone spat. “Is this a prank call?”

​

“Not at all,” Dixie assured hastily. “I don’t believe I caught your name, ma’am.”

​

“Annalee Gilbert,” the woman snapped. “And you still haven’t told me how you got my daughter’s number!”

​

Dixie’s gaze slid back to Annalee, quickly becoming clouded with doubt.

​

Annalee shook her head vehemently. Something was terribly wrong. Why in the world was the stranger on the phone claiming to be her? Me!  It was deeply unsettling.

​

For no particular reason, she became acutely aware of the I.V. cord in her arm. It felt bruised and achy.

​

Dixie asked the woman a few more questions and wrote the answers on her clipboard. Then she disconnected the call. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for all of this.”

​

Logical wasn’t the word Annalee would’ve used. Fear coursed through her, making her shiver. “I don’t know why that woman is claiming to be me,” she sputtered.

​

The pity that flitted across Dixie’s features made Annalee’s heart sink. The nurse believed the woman on the phone. Not me. Fear and apprehension chilled her, making her shiver again.

​

Dixie waved her ink pen at Annalee. “We’ll get everything sorted out, I promise. In the meantime, I’m going to let the doctor know you’re awake and ask him to prescribe something that’ll take the edge off.”

​

You mean sedate me? Panic clogged Annalee’s throat at the realization that Dixie had made a snap decision about her. The wrong one. She’d mistakenly assumed Annalee was unstable.

​

But I’m not! She really did have a daughter named Miley. A daughter who was undoubtedly searching high and low for her. Poor baby! Annalee longed to hear her voice again. To reassure her that her mother was very much still alive and that everything was going to be okay, just as soon as she…

​

Her thoughts ground to a halt. It was as if she’d run into a brick wall. Her memories, quite simply, refused to go back any further than the last few minutes.

​

“It’s okay, hon,” the nurse soothed. “You’re awake now. That’s the most important thing. We’ll figure out the other stuff later, you hear?” She left the room, presumably to fetch the doctor and whatever sedative she talked him into prescribing.

​

I have to get out of here! A sense of urgency gave Annalee the strength to sit up. It wasn’t easy. It hurt. Badly. There was an especially tender spot on the underside of her left hip. However, she managed it with no small amount of gasping and whimpers.

 

“Help me, Lord,” she begged, knowing she would soon be given something that would put her back to sleep. Unless I can…ugh! It took a nearly superhuman effort to drag her bare legs over the side of the bed.

​

Her movements made the I.V. cord in her arm ache all the more. She reached over to firmly grasp the end of the needle. With a sob, she pulled it free. She wept harder from the effort it took to climb out of bed. Bending over the mattress, she curled her fingers into the sheets.

​

I need to keep moving. She had no idea what would become of her after the nurse returned. Her gaze landed on a clear plastic pitcher of water resting on a silver cart. She reached for it and tipped it up with both hands to drink straight from the side of it.

​

Icy water splashed down the front of her hospital gown, chilling her. However, the cold dampness also jostled her more awake, sharpening her senses and bolstering her energy. The pitcher grew heavy and slid from her fingers, landing on the bed she’d just finished vacating and sloshing on the mattress.

​

She pivoted jerkily toward the door. Pulling one of the wadded-up white blankets off the bed, she tugged it around her shoulders like a long shawl. Then she tottered toward the door and peeked up and down the hallway.

 

An exit sign caught her eye at the end of the hallway. Probably the stairwell. Her heartbeat raced with apprehension as she padded barefoot down the tile as fast as she could toward the exit sign. To her enormous surprise and relief, no one tried to stop her.

 

Making her way down three flights of stairs was difficult. She had to stop and cling to the railing several times. When she reached the first level, an alarm sounded. A voice announced some sort of special code situation over the intercom.

​

They’re looking for me! The knowledge gave her the energy to keep moving. As a precaution, she continued down one more level. It was marked B for the basement. She encountered a large metal door that was almost too heavy for her to push open. On the other side, she found herself facing a bright yellow laundry cart.
 

Her hands flew out to grasp it. Not only did it help hold her up, it made her look more official, assuming no one noticed her bare feet — less, she hoped, like a deranged patient exiting the medical center against doctor’s orders.

​

It felt like forever before she reached a service exit. A white delivery truck was parked outside on the awaiting dock. The driver leaned out the door and called to her, “Just dump your load in the back with the others!”
 

She plastered on a smile and nodded, rolling her cart closer to the back of the truck. Its double doors were standing wide open. On the other side were piles of linen, mostly sheets and towels. Though her cart was empty, she made a show of leaning inside the truck and rummaging around the dirty linens piled there. When the driver wasn’t looking, she climbed inside and pulled one of the blankets over her.
 

The alarm continued to wail in the distance, but the doors to the truck slammed closed, muffling the sound and enveloping her in darkness. The engine rumbled to life, and the floor vibrated beneath her belly as the truck lurched forward.

​

She had no idea where it was headed or how long it would take to get there. All she knew was that she had to get away from the medical center so she could find Miley and figure out why a complete stranger had answered her cell phone.

​

And why she hijacked my name and pretended to be me.

 

She trembled uncontrollably beneath the blanket as she grappled with mind-numbing fear. She was weak right now — body and soul. There was no denying it. But nothing was going to keep her from getting her family back.
 

Absolutely nothing!​