Page 36 of Hiding in Montana

“You’re suggesting I sell my home?”

That struck a nerve. Matthew was the kind of man who prided himself on possessions—the biggest house, the fancy cars and clothes. It was all about his image. It was hard to realize it had never been about her in their marriage. He probably even saw her like one of his trophies.

“You will contact whoever thinks I have their money and tell them you’ll sign over the deed to the house. I’m sure it is worth more than what you owe. They can sell it and keep all the money.” She pointed to his shirt pocket. “I’m sure you can contact someone and while you’re at it, tell them to call off whoever is in town.”

“Paulina, it’s not that simple.” The whine in his voice was completely out of character for him. Matthew had always portrayed strength and swagger.

Clint turned his head to the front of the house and held up a hand and put his finger to his lips. He then pointed to the window.

“I’m going to take a look. Stay here.” He gave Matthew a hard look. “That means you too.”

He crossed to the front window and, standing to one side, peered out. He then crossed to the door and looked over his shoulder at Polly, giving her a reassuring smile. “Be right back.” He pulled the door closed behind him as he stepped onto the front porch.

She heard him call out. “Hey!”

Pop! Pop! The sound stilled her heart, and she heard a groan, then what sounded like a chair overturn. Without a thought to who might still be outside, she raced to the door and flung it open.

“Clint.” She dropped to the porch floor and turned him over. Blood was soaking his shirt from his right shoulder.

In a hoarse whisper, he said, “Damn good thing they didn’t have your aim.”

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Polly crawled across the floor and pointed over her shoulder. “Get my phone,” she shouted. “And towels.”

Clint’s pain wasn’t enough to cause him to black out, but he’d never been shot before and it hurt like hell. He was bleeding, but it didn’t seem that it was a gusher. Thank heavens blood didn’t seem to make her squeamish. She placed his head in her lap and pressed her palm to the shoulder in an attempt to stem the blood flow.

He looked up and forced an odd kind of smile. “I really got shot.”

“Shush now.”

Matthew handed her a towel and she pressed it to his shoulder. With her opposite hand, she dialed her cell phone.

“Annie, Clint was shot, and we need help.” She had it on speakerphone so he could hear the conversation.

“Polly, take a breath. Did you call 9-1-1?”

“No, I called you.”

He could hear Annie yell for Linc to call the emergency line. “Are you guys safe?”

“Yes, Matthew’s here. But we need help. Clint got shot in the shoulder and he’s bleeding.” She was insistent, but not panicked. He was impressed and figured there was time for a meltdown later.

“Okay, you sit tight and we’re on our way. The emergency team will be there soon. Be careful.”

Living in town had its advantages, but this was a small town and most of the emergency services were volunteer, so it might take time for people to arrive.

“Clint, sweetheart, help is on the way.”

He struggled to sit up, but a wave of nausea hit and he waited for it to pass. “We need to get inside.”

She held him down, which was easy since his wound had sapped his strength, but the pain was intense. “We’re safe, and if anyone starts shooting at us again, I’ll use Matthew as a shield.” She kissed his forehead.

He placed a hand over hers and realized if the bullet was four inches to the left, it would have hit him mid-chest and he’d be in a very different situation right now. He forced his eyes open, and those pretty hazel eyes stared down at him. “We won’t be able to go camping this weekend.”

The look she gave him was tender and a touch funny. “That’s what you think. We’re going to get you some stitches, an antibiotic, and take off like we planned. I’m looking forward to you cooking for me over a campfire.”

He closed his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

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