was nothing left to keep her going, not even hope. She’d done all she could to keep Kyle alive.
Whether it would be enough, whether he’d walk again on his own two feet, only time would tell.
Whether he would forgive her if he lost his leg?
Well, only time would tell that, too.
Chapter Six
Clear Springs, North Carolina: Eight months later.
“Did you say he was shot in the leg?” A shiver went through Farrah as she glanced up from washing her hands and arms. Her gaze swept over the man reflected in the mirror mounted over the sink, pausing on the sling cradling his left arm. Tidying up a through-and-through bullet wound wasn’t something she did every day in quiet little Clear Springs. Farrah liked it that way. Gunshot wounds still had a tendency to hit her harder than any other injury, dredging up too many bad memories. Having just finished sewing up the holes in the man’s arm, she wasn’t in a hurry to do more. Still, as a doctor, she couldn’t deny that even gunshot wounds came with the territory.
Standing behind her in the washroom’s doorway, Sheriff Dan Penwell nodded. “Yep, I definitely winged him right after he got me. Not sure how bad.” He cocked his head as if studying her. “You going to be able to patch him up when we catch him?”
Stifling a huff, Farrah grabbed a hand towel off a shelf. Everyone in Clear Springs seemed to know about the disastrous ending to her stint in Cairo. She squared her shoulders as she turned around to face the sheriff. At forty-something, he was still a handsome man, she thought absently. The few lines at the corners of his eyes and the gray hairs sprinkled at his temples made him look distinguished instead of old.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she said, trying to keep her irritation from showing. “I may not do surgery on a regular basis, but I did okay on your arm, didn’t I?”
He touched the sling carefully. “You know that’s not what I mean. Russell Craddoc’s not like one of our local bad boys, Farrah. He’s the real deal, a cold-blooded killer without a lick of conscience. Just being in the same room with him made the hairs on my neck stand on end, and I’ve been doing this job for almost twenty years. I’d rather ship him over to Asheville for treatment when we catch him, but I may not have that option.”
Farrah tried not to grind her teeth. She’d been practicing medicine in her home town of Clear Springs for almost seven months now, and people still had a tendency to doubt her skills. Well, maybe not so much her skills as her fortitude. Everyone knew she abhorred violence of any kind. Becoming a doctor, someone trained to deal with the results of violence in its varied forms, seemed one of the last professions she’d choose. Only time would convince the local skeptics that she could handle whatever her career threw at her.
“I’ll be available, Sheriff” she said, letting him hear the determination in her voice. “Just call me. You have my cell number.”
He stepped back as she walked toward him, allowing her out of the washroom. “Fine, that’s fine. Oh, and be careful when you go home tonight. I’m sending my deputies out to warn all the mountain residents to be sure and lock their doors and watch for Craddoc. With that bullet wound, he won’t be able to make it far on foot. Might try to break in somewhere, maybe steal a vehicle.”
“Good idea,” Farrah said. “But aren’t you forgetting that I don’t live on the mountain anymore?” Not that she didn’t like the mountains, but she’d bought a house on the flattest piece of ground she could find in the valley the moment she graduated medical school. The mountain terrain of North Carolina was heartbreakingly lovely. That didn’t mean she wanted to brace herself to keep from rolling down into a gully every time she stepped outside her door. As far as she was concerned, a flat yard was a little slice of heaven.
His firm lips slid into a teasing smile. “That’s right,
Whether it would be enough, whether he’d walk again on his own two feet, only time would tell.
Whether he would forgive her if he lost his leg?
Well, only time would tell that, too.
Chapter Six
Clear Springs, North Carolina: Eight months later.
“Did you say he was shot in the leg?” A shiver went through Farrah as she glanced up from washing her hands and arms. Her gaze swept over the man reflected in the mirror mounted over the sink, pausing on the sling cradling his left arm. Tidying up a through-and-through bullet wound wasn’t something she did every day in quiet little Clear Springs. Farrah liked it that way. Gunshot wounds still had a tendency to hit her harder than any other injury, dredging up too many bad memories. Having just finished sewing up the holes in the man’s arm, she wasn’t in a hurry to do more. Still, as a doctor, she couldn’t deny that even gunshot wounds came with the territory.
Standing behind her in the washroom’s doorway, Sheriff Dan Penwell nodded. “Yep, I definitely winged him right after he got me. Not sure how bad.” He cocked his head as if studying her. “You going to be able to patch him up when we catch him?”
Stifling a huff, Farrah grabbed a hand towel off a shelf. Everyone in Clear Springs seemed to know about the disastrous ending to her stint in Cairo. She squared her shoulders as she turned around to face the sheriff. At forty-something, he was still a handsome man, she thought absently. The few lines at the corners of his eyes and the gray hairs sprinkled at his temples made him look distinguished instead of old.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she said, trying to keep her irritation from showing. “I may not do surgery on a regular basis, but I did okay on your arm, didn’t I?”
He touched the sling carefully. “You know that’s not what I mean. Russell Craddoc’s not like one of our local bad boys, Farrah. He’s the real deal, a cold-blooded killer without a lick of conscience. Just being in the same room with him made the hairs on my neck stand on end, and I’ve been doing this job for almost twenty years. I’d rather ship him over to Asheville for treatment when we catch him, but I may not have that option.”
Farrah tried not to grind her teeth. She’d been practicing medicine in her home town of Clear Springs for almost seven months now, and people still had a tendency to doubt her skills. Well, maybe not so much her skills as her fortitude. Everyone knew she abhorred violence of any kind. Becoming a doctor, someone trained to deal with the results of violence in its varied forms, seemed one of the last professions she’d choose. Only time would convince the local skeptics that she could handle whatever her career threw at her.
“I’ll be available, Sheriff” she said, letting him hear the determination in her voice. “Just call me. You have my cell number.”
He stepped back as she walked toward him, allowing her out of the washroom. “Fine, that’s fine. Oh, and be careful when you go home tonight. I’m sending my deputies out to warn all the mountain residents to be sure and lock their doors and watch for Craddoc. With that bullet wound, he won’t be able to make it far on foot. Might try to break in somewhere, maybe steal a vehicle.”
“Good idea,” Farrah said. “But aren’t you forgetting that I don’t live on the mountain anymore?” Not that she didn’t like the mountains, but she’d bought a house on the flattest piece of ground she could find in the valley the moment she graduated medical school. The mountain terrain of North Carolina was heartbreakingly lovely. That didn’t mean she wanted to brace herself to keep from rolling down into a gully every time she stepped outside her door. As far as she was concerned, a flat yard was a little slice of heaven.
His firm lips slid into a teasing smile. “That’s right,
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