Randall On The Run. Judy Christenberry

      “Yeah. I’ve got the key. You want to run over now and look at it? Maybe unload some of your things?”

      “Wait a minute!” her father protested. “I don’t want Jess staying there if there’s going to be any danger. And she shouldn’t be alone with the guy, anyway!”

      Jessica was waiting for that response. “Daddy, I’m not your little girl anymore. I’m all grown up.”

      “Not that grown up!”

      “I lived in L.A. by myself. And besides, I promised Steve I’d be beside him all the way.”

      Mike intervened. “I’m sorry, Brett, but if it’s not Jess, than it will have to be Anna.”

      Her father looked at her as if he’d been caught in a nasty trap.

      “I’ll be fine, Daddy.” She took his silence for approval and turned to Mike. “Let’s hurry and get the apartment ready so we can get back before they finish the surgery.” Already she felt an odd sensation at being separated from Steve.

      She recognized it as loneliness.

      IT WAS A LITTLE AFTER FIVE in the morning when Mike and Brett carried Steve up the stairs to the bed Jessica had gotten ready for him.

      She stood anxiously at the top of the stairs, knowing Steve was probably in some pain. But she had some pills Caroline had sent to ease his pain, to help him sleep. She would have to start his IV. Thankfully, her mother was following the threesome up the stairs to show her exactly what to do.

      When they put Steve in the king-size bed and Jessica pulled the cover over him, she saw him relax. She looked at her mother. “Did they get the bullet out?”

      “Yes, and Mike kept it as evidence. Steve is going to be fine. He’ll be on an antibiotic drip for three or four days and will need to stay in bed, except for trips to the bathroom. I’ll show you how to start the drip.”

      Jessica drew a deep breath. For a role in Hollywood she’d acted as a nurse, but it hadn’t been real. She hoped she could do what was needed.

      After watching her mother insert the connection into the needle in his hand, Jessica realized her job would be easy. “Thanks, Mom. How long will it last?”

      “I think three hours. An alarm will sound to let you know. If it’s not changed at once, it will still be all right. Just do it as soon as possible. We have to keep the antibiotics going to be sure there’s no infection.”

      “Okay. So, it’s all right if I sleep in between?”

      “Yes, of course, dear. In fact, I can stay and keep an eye on him if you’re not comfortable—”

      “No! No, I can take care of him.”

      “We do need you to stay awake until you talk to Tori and tell her to bring that manila envelope to me on her way to work,” Mike said. “Can you do that?”

      “Yes. Uh, how early does she get up?”

      “Jon said she gets up at seven. That’s only a couple of hours from now. Then you can sleep all day. I promise I won’t do anything until I’ve looked at the evidence and talked to Steve. Jon and Caroline said he should be able to talk in the morning.”

      “Thanks, Mike. And you, too, Dad, for getting him here. I’ll try to explain everything to him.”

      “All right, honey, but we wish you’d come home.”

      “Dad, we’ve already been through this. I don’t want to bring any trouble with me. We’ll be fine. And after Steve has settled everything, I’ll come home.” She hugged her mother and father and Mike, too. Then she watched them go down the stairs.

      She was finally alone with Steve again.

      Only he was asleep and she wished she was.

      Determined to stay awake to talk to Tori, she went into the kitchen and searched for something to eat. Mike had brought some food from his kitchen until the stores opened.

      She made herself a cup of hot chocolate and stared out the window at the street below. People rose early in Rawhide, which was quite different from Hollywood.

      She wished Murphy was here. Jon had promised to bring him when he came back to the hospital later that day. That would give him an opportunity to check on Steve then, too.

      A groan behind her reminded her of Steve’s presence. She hurried to his side, feeling his forehead. He was still running a fever. But the antibiotics would take care of that. Maybe it was time for a pain pill.

      While getting the pills, she also got a glass of water for him. Then she returned to his bedside. She sat down on the edge of the mattress. “Steve, are you awake?”

      He groaned again.

      “I have a pain pill here to stop it from hurting. Open your mouth.”

      He had to have understood because he did as she asked. She raised him so he could drink some water, then settled him back on the pillow. He shivered, and she pulled the blankets closer over his shoulders.

      She returned to the window that looked down on the main street of Rawhide. Snow was once again drifting down slowly, adding another layer to the rooftops, streets and the few parked cars.

      She’d lived in Rawhide, or near it, almost all her life. From the three years she’d been gone she could see some changes—the café had a new sign; there was a new shop across the street—but basically Rawhide had remained the same. Just the way she liked it. She found a sense of comfort in that sameness.

      It was good to be home.

      She had to have dozed in a chair by the window, because the ringing telephone woke her at a quarter to seven.

      It was Tori. “Jess, are you sure you want me to take this envelope to Mike?”

      She explained that Mike might be willing to delay his report, as long as the evidence in the envelope backed up Steve’s story. She asked her sister to rush it over to the sheriff’s office.

      “Will do,” Tori replied. “Have you gotten any rest?”

      “I’m going to sleep now.” The question was where. Surely not on the uncomfortable-looking sofa, not when there was that huge bed that Steve was sleeping in in the other room. She could sleep there and never even touch him.

      After Tori promised to bring her some lunch from the café later, Jessica hung up and went to crawl into bed, careful to keep her distance from the patient.

      Her last thought was that his body was as good as a furnace.

      B.J. RANDALL ANSWERED the phone in the ranch kitchen around ten o’clock. “Hello?”

      “Is Jessica Randall there?”

      “No, she’s not. May I take a message?”

      “Well, is this the right place? I mean, this is the number I got from Information. Do you know Jessica?”

      “Yes, I do. Who’s calling?”

      “This is Monica Miller. I’m a friend of Jessica’s from L.A.”

      “I’m her aunt. I can get a message to her if you want.”

      “Okay. This may be nothing, but a man called this morning and—and asked for her address in Dallas.” The woman paused. “I know she’s from Wyoming. I said she didn’t live in Dallas, she lives in Wyoming.”

      “Who was the caller?”

      “I don’t know. I was so taken by surprise I didn’t think to ask. And he wanted to know where in Wyoming, so I told him all I knew was Rawhide. I hope I didn’t cause her any problems. Can you tell her that?”

      “Of course I can. And we appreciate your letting us know.”

      After she’d