Page 50 of Rabid

Lance lay on the floor, Dale’s boot pressing into his skull, forcing his head into the dirt.

Her hand dropped to her side.

“Grab the rope,” he told her.

She grabbed the duct tape instead.

“This is a good start. I’ll tie him up with both,” Dale said. He proceeded to do exactly that.

“You’re bleeding,” Willow said, as the darkness cleared completely from her vision.

“I am, and I don’t feel so good. Do you have your phone?” he asked.

She’d forgotten her cell and quickly grabbed it from her pocket.

“Check for a signal.”

She shook her head.

“That’s okay. How badly are you hurt?”

“I’m better than you, and not bleeding out in the dirt.”

He chuckled softly, then dropped to his knees, his eyes going out of focus. Willow grabbed another filthy shirt and pressed it against his wound.

“I can hold it,” he said. “You need to go for help.”

Willow ran.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The Only Plan

Six weeks later

“Just because the doctor gave you permission to move around some, doesn’t mean, you kill yourself,” Willow scolded.

“I’m old, but I’m not dead,” Dale complained.

She smiled and gave him her sad face.

“Stop that,” he grumbled, his hand coming up and swatting at her because she’d moved closer and tried to take the screwdriver away.

“You’re the one who will stop. If you want something to do, tackle the dishes. You are not taking that screwdriver up the ladder.” Her hands were fisted on her hips, ready to do battle.

Dale handed the screwdriver to her and marched over to the couch and threw himself into it.

Willow knew his tantrums well. He was trying to install a security system that he’d ordered online. The doctor’s orders of light exercise went right over his head. He’d been stabbed twice, once in the shoulder, and another more serious chest wound. Willow had no idea how he made it to the shack, and neither had the doctor who treated him.

Willow had only superficial scrapes and bruises that she barely felt. Dale had stayed in the hospital for a week. They’d both been interviewed. Willow told the truth, though she left out the details of her carrying a gun. Roger and Louisa had arrived first, and she’d left her holster in their truck before taking them to Dale.

He was unconscious by that time but breathing. The ride to the hospital had been harrowing because Willow just knew he would die.

Death was not in Dale Berger’s mind, and he was too ornery to let Lance Hogg win. He was now too ornery about everything, but Willow wanted to talk to him. She’d been preparing this speech since he’d come home.

She took the chair and leaned forward, her hand reaching out to rub Max’s back. Daisy jumped on the couch and lay beside Dale. He’d stopped shooing her off, because it was another fight against a female that he couldn’t win.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said.

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