Monroe, Marla - Belonging to Them [Men of the Border Lands 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (9 page)

“Brandon? I don’t know if I can.”

“Get hold of yourself, Bolton. You have to. I can’t do it all. Start with the ones on her side.”

Bolton got on the bed, and Brandon pulled up a chair to make sure he would be steady. Then he made the first stick of many.

He swallowed hard when she began to stir. He was only halfway through with her arm. Bolton was finished with her side, and had started on her arm with him.

“Oh, what are you doing to me? Please, don’t do that anymore.” Heather began to thrash on the bed.

“Hold her, Bolton. We have to finish this.”

Bolton turned white, but he wrapped his arms around her and held her still, talking to her the entire time. He kept swallowing as if he were trying not to get sick.

Brandon ground his teeth and kept going, trying to shut out her screams. Finally, thankfully, she fainted. Bolton was crying. Brandon felt tears dripping from his own face. God, he had nearly killed her stitching her up. By the time he had finished, he’d broken out in a cold sweat and felt as if he was going to be sick.

“She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?” Bolton asked.

“If she doesn’t get an infection, she will.”

“I don’t think the wolf was rabid. It wasn’t foaming at the mouth. I think she got in the way of him getting to the chickens, and he attacked her.” Bolton looked back at where she lay under piles of covers.

“I fucking should have gone after the damn thing when we found the prints.” Brandon ran a bloody hand through his hair.

“We didn’t find any other prints.There was no reason for us to think it was still around. It’s no more your fault than it is mine,” Bolton told him.

“If she hadn’t found me in the shower jacking off, she wouldn’t have run out there in the first place.”

“You were doing what?” Bolton stared at him as if he’d grown a second head.

“I’m going to get rid of the wolf and salvage what we can of the chickens. You stay by her and keep her warm. If she wakes up, give her as much water as she’ll drink.”

“Don’t you fucking walk away from this, Brandon.”

“Leave it be for now, brother. We can fight about it later. Not while she’s like this.” He turned and stalked out of the room. He had to get away before he broke down.

He pulled on his coat and gloves and walked outside to breathe in the fresh air. The bite of cold helped to clear his head some, but not enough to stop the tears. He’d fucked up big time. After a few minutes standing in the freezing cold, he walked over to where the wolf lay in the snow and dragged its carcass over toward the woods. He would have to figure out a way to bury it. With the ground frozen, he wasn’t sure he would be able to.

He returned to the barn and got a shovel, but soon gave up at digging in the frozen ground. Instead, he would have to drag the wolf as deep in the woods as he could, so that the smell of it decomposing come spring wouldn’t reach them. He dragged the thing deep into the woods until he gave out and dropped it. Then he made his way back to where the bloody snow was, He took the shovel and covered it up. He didn’t want the reminder every time he walked outside.

Most of the chickens were back in the coop. He gathered the eggs in his hat and fed them.Then shooed the remainder of them back in the coop and fastened the door closed. He would have to return with a fresh bucket to milk the cow. He resisted going upstairs to check on her. If he did, he might not come back down to take care of the cow.

What if she died? How could he go on knowing he’d caused it? He never thought she would find out what he’d been doing. It wasn’t someone else he thought about when he jacked off, it was her. It was how he wanted her to be. Brandon wanted her to be happy and in love with them. She saw him as her jailer, and not as someone she could love. He wanted them to be a family, but she thought she was only a possession to him. Something he owned. Now she thought she wasn’t even as good as a whore.

He broke down as he milked the cow, and sobbed like a child.

* * * *

Bolton sat in the chair next to the bed and watched her. He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of one arm, but they just teared up again. What in the hell had Brandon been thinking? Why would he use his own hand when they had Heather? It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to. More often than not, she had been the instigator when it came to sex. She’d pushed hard with Brandon, but he hadn’t been interested. Why? Fuck! Everything was such a fucking mess.

Heather stirred and moaned. He immediately grabbed the bottle of Tylenol and shook out two. He lifted her head and tried to get her to swallow the pills.

“Come on, baby. The Tylenol will make you feel better. Swallow them and some water for me.”

She choked, but managed to get the two pills down and several swallows of water. Thenshe turned her head and fell back into a restless sleep. Her arm was swollen already. Did that mean infection had already set in? He couldn’t remember if their wounds had swollen when they had to get stitches.

Her face held a grimace, and she remained white as a sheet. He smoothed her hair back from her face, and realized there was blood matted in it as well. He got up and wet another bath cloth, and gently cleaned her face and the hair around it.

What was taking Brandon so long? He needed him. He didn’t know what to do if she woke up, and he couldn’t keep her still. He was so afraid of hurting her.

Bolton got up and straightened the bed, making sure the covers didn’t bind her. Then he paced, unable to be still. His eyes never left her face. The minute she moved her head, he was back, talking to her. He whispered how much he loved her in her ear, and that she had to get well soon. Then he did something he hadn’t done since they’d lost their family all those years ago. He prayed.

After what seemed like hours, her heard Brandon’s steps on the stairs. He didn’t come into the room, but walked farther down the hallway to his old room. Bolton heard the door close and wondered what he was doing. Why had he gone down there? Even if he needed to clean up, all his clothes were in here. At least he thought they were. He got up and checked the chest and the closet. Maybe they weren’t. It looked like some were missing. What in the hell had his brother been thinking all these months?

Thirty minutes later, Brandon walked into the room in clean jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. He’d showered and changed clothes. Clothes that had not been in the room they shared with Heather.

“I’ll watch her while you clean up. If she wakes up, she doesn’t need to see you covered in blood.” Brandon walked over to the other side of the room and looked out the window.

Bolton started to light into him, but noticed how red his eyes were. He’d been crying, and Brandon hadn’t even cried when they’d buried their parents and little sister.

“She woke up about an hour ago, enough that I got two pain pills in her and a few sips of water. She’s restless, but she hasn’t woken again.” Bolton didn’t bother to hide the disgust in his voice. He was pissed, and didn’t care if Brandon was hurting or not. He should be.

Brandon just nodded and continued to look out the window.

Bolton grabbed some fresh clothes and climbed into the shower. He didn’t bother waiting on the water to warm up. He wanted to get back in the other room with Heather. He was so afraid she would wake, and he would miss it. He scrubbed all the dried blood from his body, then rinsed off. By the time he had dried off and was dressed, he was nearly out of breath. He opened the bathroom door to find Brandon sitting in the chair bent over near her ear, whispering something to her. He couldn’t make out what it was.

He must have made some noise, because Brandon pulled back and stood up.

“You can sit with her while I cook something for us to eat.”

“I’m not hungry. You go ahead if you can.”

Brandon grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up close. “I’m not a bit fucking hungry, but we both have to eat and keep up our strength because we’re going to be staying up with her around the clock, and still take care of the damn farm.”

“Fine, fix something. I’ll eat, and I’ll take care of her while you take care of your farm.” Bolton turned away.

Brandon didn’t stop him this time. “Without this farm, we don’t have food to feed her. I could give a rat’s ass about the fucking farm, but we need it to take care of her. If it falls apart around us, we don’t have any way to feed her or make her well.”

Bolton turned around to agree with him, but his brother had already walked out of the room. He could hear his tread on the stairs. Damn, they didn’t need to be fighting while Heather was hurt. They needed to both be taking care of her. As much as he wanted to rip Brandon a new asshole, he needed his brother’s help to care for her.

A few minutes later, Heather began to moan and move her head back and forth. She still felt cool to him. He couldn’t give her more pain medication yet. It was too soon. He lifted her again and urged her to drink some more water. She resisted at first, then took a sip. She began gulping the water as fast as he gave it to her. He didn’t want her to get sick, so he pulled it back and waited to see if she acted like she wanted more. She relaxed and her head lolled to one side.

Brandon walked back into the room.

“She drink some water?” Brandon asked as Bolton settled her back in the bed.

“Yeah. About half the glass this time.”

“I’ve got you a bowl of stew and some bread. It’s the last of the loaf she cooked yesterday.”

“Did you eat?” Bolton took the bowl and bread.

“Yeah, tasted like cardboard, and that ain’t her cooking.”

Bolton spooned some of the stew into his mouth and swallowed without really tasting it. He nodded toward the bed.

“Look at her arm. It’s awful swollen. Is it supposed to do that?”

Brandon slipped between him and the bed and pulled back the cover to look at Heather’s arm. It looked even larger to Bolton since the last time he’d looked at it.

“Yeah, it’s pretty swollen. It’s gonna swell some from all the trauma, but I’m afraid she’s going to end up with an infection, too. It’s too early to tell, though. We’ll keep it clean and dry. I’m going to get a towel to put under it, and we’ll keep the cover off of it. Grab a pillow and let’s elevate it some, so maybe it won’t throb when she wakes up.” Brandon stood up and walked over to the bathroom, then returned a few seconds later with a towel.

Bolton sat aside his meal and helped him situate her arm on the pillow and towel. They folded the cover back away from it.

“Can’t we get those bloody clothes off her?” Bolton asked.

“Not now. Let’s wait until we see if she’s going to run a fever, then we’ll bathe her and changed her clothes.”

“You think she’s going to get sick, don’t you?” Bolton sighed.

“Her arm is too puffy already.”

“What can we do for her if she does get sick?”

“Keep her dry and comfortable and pray. It’s about all we have to work with, Bolton.”

Brandon started to walk away, but Bolton stopped him. “Why, Brandon?”

His brother didn’t say anything for a long time. He didn’t even turn back around to look at him. Finally his shoulders dropped and he hung his head.

“Because I was a fool. I wanted her to love me like she loves you, but all she sees me as is her keeper. She thinks I feel like I’m stuck with her, so I’m making the best of it.”

“That isn’t true, Brandon.”

“I know that now, but before…” He didn’t finish. Instead he drew in a deep breath and walked out of the room.

Bolton rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. The whole world was fucked up, and they were still screwing up their own little piece of it, as well.