Cowboy Take Me Away(198)

            Colt ended up with four stitches but it’d taken the doctor longer than he expected to remove the hook. After the doc had cleaned the area, and Carson had seen the level of grime on Colt’s skin, he swore that kid was taking a shower if he had to hose him down himself.

            At the grocery store he’d ended up with a cartful of food—all quick, all junk, all of which would make his sons happy.

            Luckily there wasn’t big trauma at home. Things were somewhat normal except for Carter being loopy from his pain meds. Keely had crashed, face down on her stuffed animal in the middle of the living room floor—but at least she was napping. Cam had a bag of frozen peas on his face. Colby was sprawled out on the couch. Cord was in the bathroom. Again.

            That’s when Carson realized it was damn near two o’clock and he hadn’t checked cattle. How the hell had he forgotten? Now he had to feed the horde before he could feed the herd.

            Lunch was eight cans of Spaghettios, a dozen hot dogs, two bags of barbecue-flavored potato chips, a box of Twinkies—all washed down with a gallon and a half of chocolate milk.

            As soon as he chucked the paper plates from lunch, he wandered into the living room. “I need to check cattle.”

            Cord sighed and stood.

            Carson shook his head. “You’re in charge…and hold off on your bathroom visits until we get back.”

            Cord’s face turned bright red.

            He pointed to Colby. “You’re up. Let’s go.”

            Despite the gusts of wind that sent the cattle looking for shelter, they finished an hour and a half later. Colby hopped out to open the last gate, Carson drove through and waited, watching in the rearview mirror like he always did to make sure the gate actually got shut.

            That’s when a gust of wind shook the truck and he watched as the wind caught the gate, slamming Colby’s hand between the gate and the post.

            Carson bailed out of the truck and barely stopped the gate from smacking into Colby again as he rested on his knees, cradling his arm.

            “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Colby yelled. “That fuckin’ stupid fuckin’ gate.”

            “How bad is it?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Can you move it?”

            Colby shook his head.

            “Come on.” Carson opened the passenger side and helped Colby in before he went back and secured the gate.

            After he’d climbed in the truck, he saw Colby’s tears before he tried to blink them away. This kid never cried. Not even as a baby, so he must be hurting bad. “Show me.”

            Wincing, he moved his left arm.

            Carson’s stomach bottomed out, seeing that Colby’s right hand had already swelled and was turning red and purple. A long raised welt had darkened on the center of his forearm. “Christ, kid. How are you not screamin’? That fucker looks painful.”

            “I didn’t…”

            “Son, you don’t gotta act tough around me. I’d rather you were honest so I have an idea of what we’re dealin’ with.”

            “It feels like all the bones in my hand are broken.”

            A hand injury with multiple broken bones could mean multiple surgeries—and from what he’d heard, they were painful and incapacitating.

            Carson left Colby in the truck when he went in to explain what’d happened and why he had to make his third trip to the emergency room.