One of the boys stepped alongside his mom. “Your hand blew up to the size of a football and had lots of icky gunk squirting out of it. It was awesome!”
Not to be outdone, a clone of the first boy said, “When I was little, a stick poked out my eyeball!”
“Remington, Colt, come here.” The grandmotherly voice was attached to a slim body with spiky white hair. “Leave that poor man alone.”
Marsh licked his lips. “Would one of y’all mind helping me out with a few clues as to what’s going on?”
The boy scampered to a window seat, where he joined his other half in coloring in a Transformers book with crayons.
“I’m sorry.” The angel’s flighty hands were back to her cheeks. “I’m Effie. You were bitten by a rattler, and I found you and your horse. These little hellions are my boys—Colt and Remington. And this—” she put her arm around the older woman who had her impish smile “—is Mabel. My saint of a grandmother, who took us all in.”
Mabel said, “We’re your grandfather’s neighbors to the east.”
“Guess I owe you a heap of gratitude.” Marsh struggled just to scratch his stubble-covered jaw. “Everything that happened is kind of a blur.” Mostly what I remember is you, Effie. The way you made me want to fight my way back from the dark.
A crying whimper came from somewhere near the window.
His angel headed that way to pluck an infant from a carrier. With a cherub-cheeked mini version of herself, only with curls, settled on her hip, Effie returned. “This is Cassidy. She gets cranky when she’s left out of the action.”
“Don’t blame her.” Marsh tried reaching for the nearest of the infant’s bare feet, but even that small effort seemed too great. The sensation of not being in control of his body was not only unfamiliar, but intolerable.
He needed out of this bed now.
“You probably shouldn’t try to do too much at once.”
“Lifting my arm is hardly too much.”
“I’ll be damned...” His grandfather took off his cowboy hat while entering the cramped room. “You lived.”
“Don’t have to sound so excited about it.”
His granddad chuckled. “Believe you me, I am. If something happened to you while you were out here, your mama would have my hide.”
“True.” For as long as Marsh could remember, Wallace had been part of his life. He called every Sunday morning and sent him cash-filled cards for holidays with extra on his birthdays. When Marsh’s perfect family had officially gone to hell, and his CO told him to get his head on straight and not even think about coming back until he’d made peace with his son’s passing and his wife leaving, the only place that made sense for him to go was to the ranch where he’d spent every childhood and teen summer. His maternal grandmother’s Thoroughbred farm where he’d grown up was home, but about as regimented as his Navy schedule. What he needed was plenty of time and wide-open spaces to make sense out of the mess that had become of his life. “Have you talked to Mom? Told her I’ll be all right?”
Wallace nodded. “She wanted to fly out, but I told her you didn’t need a woman interfering in your business.”
“Sounds like something you’d say.” Mabel crossed her arms, and a slash replaced her pretty smile.
“Thank you for proving my point,” his grandfather snapped before slapping his hat back on his head.
Never had Marsh wished more for the strength to form a simple time-out T with his hands. After the two septuagenarians bickered for another five minutes, he glanced toward Effie and caught her gaze.
She smiled.
His chest tightened when they shared a moment of mutual frustration with their elders.
“Gramma?” One of the boys had left his coloring book to cock his head and stare up at her. “How come you tell me and Colt not to fight, but you and Mr. Wallace fight, too?”
Marsh didn’t even try hiding a smile.
Effie squeezed her son’s shoulder, steering him toward the door. “Colt, would you please pack up your coloring books and crayons, then grab Cassidy’s carrier. We should probably go.”
“Agreed.” Mabel glared toward Marsh’s grandfather. “I need out of here before this darn fool goes and tells me again that I’m shakin’ like a wet dog.”
“You’re still holding a grudge about that?” Wallace asked.
Effie winced. “Remington, please help your brother put those crayons back in the box.”
“Woman...” Wallace made the mistake of pointing his finger in Mabel’s face. She looked angry enough that Marsh wouldn’t have put it past her to break his grandpa’s finger clear off. “What in the world are you talking about?”
“Oh—now, you’re going to fake amnesia? My poor Dwayne had barely been in his grave a year, and I was finally able to get back to square dancing. You blustered into the regular Saturday night party and sauntered up to me without even taking off your hat. Then you said those horrible words, and Wallace Stokes, I’ve hated you ever since.”
“Hated me? I said you shook like a dog as a compliment. I used to have an old hound named Peacock, and I loved that girl something fierce. Nothing made me happier than taking her down to the swimming hole and watching her play in the water, and then shake off. Made me smile—truly. Just like your dancing.” He removed his big black cowboy hat, pressing it to his chest while making the strangest smile. “Miss Mabel, from the bottom of my heart, I give you my deepest, most sincere apology.”
Mabel shook her head. “Boys, hurry along before we all suffocate from Mr. Stokes’s bloviating hot air.”
“Grandma.” Effie shifted her baby to her other hip. “Wallace said he was sorry. After hearing his explanation, don’t you think this is all sort of funny?”
Marsh yawned. “I don’t mean to interfere in anyone’s business, but I sure could use a nap.”
“Aw, now, I’m sorry,” Effie said to him. “Boys, Grandma—let’s go.”
“Gladly.” Mabel huffed and headed toward the door.
The boys marched behind her, as did Wallace, smooth talking all the way out into the hall.
When only Effie remained, she said, “I really am sorry. After what you’ve been through, you should have woken to a nice, peaceful scene.”
“It’s all right.” He cast her a faint smile. “Guess I’m lucky to even be alive.” Which surprised him. At what point had he decided living was better than dying?
“You sure are.” She came close enough to cup her hand to his shoulder. Her simple, kind touch flooded him with a sense of calm and well-being. “Since my crew isn’t exactly suitable for hospital visits, now that you’re awake, I probably won’t be back.”
“Sure. I understand.” Only he didn’t. Why did he suddenly want more than anything to see her and her wild brood again? “Thanks for the time you were here—and for calling an ambulance for my pitiful behind.”
“It was my pleasure.” When she smiled, the pleasure was all his.
* * *
“THAT MUST HAVE been horrible.”
“It was,” Effie said.
It was Sunday afternoon, and while the twins splashed in Scotty’s pool, Effie sat at the back porch table with Cassidy asleep on her lap. Scotty’s mother, Patricia, and three other moms she’d just met whose names she couldn’t remember had shared Little League