Redwood Bend

two or three on the other before Jack, Paul Haggerty, Conner’s boss and, fortuitously, Mike Valenzuela, the town cop, pulled them apart and got them outside. Dan Brady and Preacher came from the kitchen for backup. Most of the people who had been in the bar were more than happy to leave their dinners to get cold while they headed for the porch, enjoying the show. And quite the show it was, complete with Preacher in what could have appeared to be a bloody apron, except it was tomato sauce.
“What the fuck?” Dylan yelled through a split lip, spitting blood onto the street.
“You are the fuck!” Conner returned nasally, his nose having taken on a weird shape and now bleeding onto his shirt. “You don’t treat my sister like the gum on your shoe!”
“No, I don’t! Am I here? I’m here! Why do you think I’m here? She’s a good woman. I care about her!”
“A little late, cowboy,” Conner shot back. “Let go of me,” he said over his shoulder to Paul and Dan Brady. “Let me kill him. I’ll wipe up after.”
“You just try, asshole,” Dylan roared. “That fucker’s crazy! Lock him up, will you?”
Jack and Preacher held on to Dylan. Mike V. stood between the opposing teams. “We don’t exactly have a lockup around here,” he said. “I could call the sheriff, however. But I’d have to give him both of you.”
“I don’t like their chances for family holidays,” Jack said to Preacher. “Do you?”
“Did I do anything?” Dylan asked hotly. “I was having a beer and a meal!”
“And screwing my sister!” Conner shouted.
“Conner!” Leslie shouted from the porch. “Shut up! ”
“You hurt her!” Conner yelled at Dylan, failing to take his beloved’s advice.
“I’m back here to try to make amends!” Dylan yelled back.
“You’re a little late, pretty boy!”
“You son of a—” And with that, Dylan threw himself against the strong arms that held him.
A piercing whistle shot through the air and everyone stopped yelling and moving. Right at the base of the porch stood Mel Sheridan and her partner, Doc Michaels. Jack lifted his eyebrows, wondering if that whistle had come out of his wife.
“Two choices, gentlemen,” Mike Valenzuela said. “You can walk away quietly, get patched up and go home or I can cuff you and call the sheriff’s deputy.”
Dylan immediately stopped struggling. “I’m not the problem,” he pointed out.
“Wanna get your lip fixed?” Jack asked.
“Pretty boy probably needs a plastic surgeon,” Conner said.
“I’m about done trying,” Mike V. said.
“All right,” Conner said. “All right.”
“Take Conner to the clinic,” Jack said. “His nose needs to be…” he cleared his throat “…adjusted. This one can go to Preacher’s quarters with Mel.” Then to Dylan he said, “If you even bump into my wife, you’ll have me to deal with and trust me…”
“Why would I bother your wife, man?” Dylan asked. “That was just self-defense, what happened. I just need a little ice. I’ll settle up for my dinner and get out of here.”
Mel walked over to Dylan and looked at his face, the bleeding lip, a small cut over his eye and rapidly spreading inflammation on the right side of his face. “I can probably fix those cuts with some tape,” she said, turning his head left and right. “I’ll go get my bag from the clinic. It could take me a few minutes to wade through all the testosterone in the street, so be patient.”
Katie sat on the sofa in her little living room, wrapped in her soft, terry robe, giving her toenails a coat of polish. Her hair was piled on her head with damp tendrils trailing. She’d been in the tub long enough to cry a little bit; begging help from her brother yet again had taken a toll. Her eyes were a little red, her cheeks pink. But fortunately Katie had never been one to indulge in a lot of self-pity, so once she let some of that emotion go, she just took a deep breath and moved on.
Unfortunately, she knew she wasn’t finished with the crying. If being pregnant without a father around wasn’t hard enough, holding that newborn, alone, could really rip a woman’s heart out. There would be more tears. Hard tears.
The knock at the cabin door caused her to immediately assume that either Conner or Leslie or the two of them together weren’t finished talking about it yet. But when she opened the door, it was Dylan.
“My God,” she gasped. “Have you been in an accident?”
“No,” he said. “It was very