The Texan’s Bride(30)

An unnerving and gut-wrenching silence followed the gunshots. He quickly laid the gun on the grass and knelt by Jessie’s still body. Her face was so white, her scattered dark hair making it look even paler. Teeth marks oozed blood on her neck. “Jessie.” His voice came out sounding hoarse. Was she dead? She couldn’t be. She was fighting just a second ago. Oh, God!

Felix and Rosa fell down beside her.

“My niña. My niña!” Rosa cried.

Felix was silent, but his hands shook on the rifle.

Cadde reached for the soft skin under her hair, and in that moment, he knew Jessie meant more to him than a business deal. He didn’t have time to analyze the thought, nor did he want to. Like Felix, his hand shook, but he felt a pulse—a strong one. She was alive. Relief eased the grip on his heart.

“Rosa, let me have your apron.” He had to stop the bleeding.

Rosa whipped it off and he looped it around Jessie’s neck and applied pressure. The cotton soaked up the blood immediately. “Get some towels. We have to go to an E.R.”

Rosa flew to the house and Felix asked, “What can I do?”

“Pray.”

As he continued to apply pressure, Jessie stirred, muttering, “Mir-ry.”

“Lie still,” he instructed.

“Mirry.” Jessie pushed against him and sat up, looking at the dead Dobermans on the green summer grass. Her gaze searched for the little dog and then she found her. “Oh, my God! Mirry!”

“Jessie, no!” He tried to block her view, but Jessie tore away and crawled on her hands and knees to the bloody mess. Cadde realized he couldn’t stop her. He couldn’t shield her from the pain. His heart stopped at the actual thought that he wanted to.

She scooped up Mirry and cradled her against her chest. “Mirry, I’m sorry. Mirry.” She rocked to and fro and his heart took another hit.

Rushing back with an armful of towels, Rosa halted when she saw Jessie and Mirry. Tears welled in her eyes.

Cadde stood, taking them from her. He knelt by Jessie once again and looped a towel over Mirry in her arms.

Wrapping it around the bloody dog, Jessie said, “Call Gavin.”

He pushed hair from her face. “You’ve been hurt. We have to go to an E.R.”

“No.” She tried to pull away from him. “Felix, call Gavin.”

Cadde shook his head at Felix. He was sure the dog was dead, but how did he tell her? There were no words to ease her pain.

Jessie staggered to her feet and reached down for the phone that had fallen out of her pocket. Jerking it out of her hand would be too cruel so he let her make the call.

“Gavin, Mirry’s been hurt. I’m bringing her in.”

What? She wasn’t driving. He did the only thing he could. He lifted her into his arms and rushed to his truck.

“Cadde, put me down. I can drive.”

Oh, yeah, she was back and in full fighting mode. God, she was one stubborn woman.

Felix held the passenger door open. Cadde placed Jessie on the seat and buckled her seat belt.

Rosa wrapped more towels around the bloody dog in Jessie’s arms. She stroked Jessie’s face. “Listen to Mr. Cadde, please.”

“Rosa.” Jessie’s voice cracked.

“I’m sorry, my niña. Mirry was making those funny sounds when she has to go to pee. I opened the door to call you and she shot out. I couldn’t stop her. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jessie murmured.

He closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. “Take care of those dogs, Felix.”

“Yes, sir. I will. Just look after Miss Jessie.”

Backing out, he glanced at her sitting there covered in blood and looking so forlorn. Mirry was something she poured her love into, just like she would a baby. Someone to love. She’d told him that yesterday. Had it only been yesterday? Seemed as if they’d more than discovered each other in a few short hours. But maybe they’d already known the important stuff—the stuff that counted.

“We’re going to Gavin’s,” she said.

“Jessie.”

“Mirry needs a vet.”

Once again he couldn’t tell her what he suspected. He had to pamper her so she could accept the truth.

“Okay. Okay.” He turned onto the blacktop road that led to U.S. 290. “We’ll take Mirry to Gavin and then we’re going to the emergency room.”

She didn’t answer and he recognized the tactic—the one that tested his patience. Every time he tried to talk to her about a board meeting, she employed the silent technique. And that meant Jessie was going to do exactly what she wanted. She might not know her mother, but she’d certainly inherited a lot of Roscoe’s traits.