Brett had called ahead to the ranch so Travis met them at the calf barn to look over the baby deer. The two men checked the animal as thoroughly as they would have a calf they'd found wandering without it's mother and then while Travis showed Maisey the bottle feeding equipment Brett stepped outside to make two calls. Conservation was quick: they would send someone out in a day or two, meanwhile bottle feed milk and oats--they cautioned not to feed the animal hay as most deer can't digest it. The second call was more important.
"Hello Brett," Sheriff Curtis' tired voice responded, "I was just about to call you."
"Good or bad news?" Brett asked.
"Both," the other man sighed and Brett could almost see him wanting to bang his head on the wall. "They have retracted the article and will print an apology."
"Please tell me that's the bad news."
"Bandit's mother and sister," the Sheriff hated this part of his job, "We were too late, the sister was strangled with a belt and whipped until she was almost not recognizable and the mother is in hospital, beaten so badly she may wish she had died too. It looks like the Bandit's father had a heart attack while he was in the middle of it, he was dead when we arrived. If we hadn't been planning to go in and arrest him it might have been days before they were found.
Brett shuddered involuntarily at the information, "Any word on Bandit?" he asked.
"He'll survive," Curtis told him, "A lot of damage there too, but he'll heal up eventually the Doctor said." There was a moment of silent gratitude, "You need to tell her about the article and Bandit's family, or I can come out and do it. Jesse's being transferred to Medicine Hat, they'll hold him until the trial--she's going to have to testify."
"Shit." Brett breathed out. "I'll tell her about the article but maybe you should come out and tell her the rest after you've had some sleep? It might be easier hearing that from you."
"Better now than later," Curtis told him, "I'll head over now."
He took a few minutes to gather himself and then strode back into the barns. Maisey was grinning as she knelt in the clean hay, holding the bottle for the deer as it sucked and almost knocked her over. He held his phone up and snapped a picture so he could give her a few good memories today. He leaned on the fence and watched. Maisey didn't notice him at first but when she did she grinned at him and motioned to the little deer feeding from it. He nodded but she could tell something was wrong.
"What is it?" she asked, "did Jesse make bail?"
Brett hesitated and Travis saved him, "Worse," he took the bottle and handed her his phone.
Maisey's face paled as she read, "The Sheriff had it taken down and a redaction is being published with an apology." Maisey's hands shook. "We won't know how many people saw it before Sheriff Curtis got it taken down."
As if on cue the Sheriff walked into the barn. He didn't need to be told what the conversation had been. "The tale of the day gets better and worse." He took his hat off and relayed the information he'd shared with Brett a few minutes earlier."
Maisey looked sick, "Good riddance for bad rubbish," she spat, "That poor woman and child."
"We're going to need you to testify about Jesse," Sheriff Curtis continued, "The folks I've talked to say we'll have him dead to rights for Bandit's assault but that'll get 5 years, maybe 10 if we're lucky. We need you to testify about what happened to you."
"My testimony is public record," she said, "The courts can pull a copy: Jesse and his uncle were named but there was no proof." She came out of the stall. "I need to call my lawyer."
She didn't stop until she got to the house. Her phone was on the table and the tears started to fall as soon as she sat down. She folded her arms on the table and put her head into them sobbing for what Jesse had done to her and for what his uncle had done to his daughter and wife. She sobbed for Bandit. When she'd cried enough she stood up and got some water and called her lawyer's private number.
"Terri-Lee," she said clearly, "they caught Jesse and it's a mess."
"You had better start at the beginning," her lawyer said. As she listened there was no doubt about what was going to be needed, "Put me on the phone with the Sheriff if he's still there."
Maisey wandered back to the barns, "Sheriff, my lawyer's on the phone, she wants to talk to you." Sheriff Curtis looked at her with exhaustion in his eyes and took the phone. Maisey hung her arms over the rails of the pen the deer was in and closed her eyes against the tears that threatened. Brett gave her space sensing she needed it, but stayed close, helping Travis with a belt on one of the quad engines. She couldn't believe it was going to start all over again.
Sheriff Curtis returned her phone and waved goodbye as she began listening to Terri-Lee's instructions. The lawyer had some loose ends to tie up but she would arrive by the end of the week to meet with Jesse's lawyer and anyone else that she needed to, "Don't stress," Terri-Lee finished with, "I will do everything I possibly can to keep you away from Jesse, and I'll represent your ranch hand as well as his mother if they need representation."
"Thank you Terri-lee," She said as the woman hung up, "I appreciate you coming out here for this."
Henry sat at her feet, silent in his vigil and she absently bent and lifted him into her arms rubbing her face into his back and hugging him tight, he squirmed and she set him down. She sniffed and stared mutely at the fawn. Sated it had settled in a pile of hay and dozed.
Suddenly she was moving not really sure where she wanted to go but needing to go, she grabbed her keys and purse from the kitchen and got in her truck. Brett swore and ran for his own truck, he hadn't even seen her leave the barn. He dialed her phone as he followed behind her but she didn't pick up.
She swerved into the parking lot at Slim's and parked. She didn't notice anyone around her or hear them call out, she bee lined for Jason at the bar and told him to give her the strongest drink he had. Raising an eyebrow and realizing she looked like she was being chased by ghosts he poured three shots and put them in front of her.
The first one burned all the way down. She eyed the glass and set it down moving to the next one; this one was creamy smooth and tasted like strawberry milk; the final shot was sweet and made her teeth ache.
"What were those," she called over the music.
"151, Baja Rosa and Sourpuss," he called back, "151 is the strongest but you seem like a lady who'd prefer the sweet stuff better."
She nodded and pointed at the 151 and Baja, "another of each of these and then something with an umbrella."
Brett had caught up with her now, but said nothing as he eyed the line of shots and watched Jason set two more in front of her, "Jay, line us up with the Slim special," he told the bartender. Jason raised a brow but started a line of glasses and started pouring.
"What's a Slim's special?" Maisey tipped the 151 down her throat.
"Something that's going to take the edge off without giving you an ulcer," he indicated to Jason to put them in front of Maisey, "It's one shot for every memory you want to forget."
"You need more glasses," she told him and watched as Jason kept pouring.
"He'll keep pouring, don't worry."
She thought of all the memories she wanted to forget and started drinking. She was twenty seven shots in when Jason stopped pouring. "Why are we here Maisey?" Brett asked in her ear.
She struggling to stay upright on the chair, and turned to look at him, "There's three of you," she said and patted where she thought his cheek should be. Brett handed Jason his credit card and the bartender rang through the tab. "I don't want to go," she told Brett, "I want more so I don't have to remember. I don't want to remember, or feel."
"There's better ways than drinking to forget," he told her softly, catching her when she stood too fast and swayed. "Why don't I take you somewhere else," he led her by the shoulders toward the door. To his surprise Maisey let him lead her. When they got outside he scooped her into his arms before she could protest and made his way toward his truck. He set her in from the drivers side and slid her over while he climbed in. "Where's your keys?" he asked wanting to make sure her truck was locked, she limply passed over her purse, her arms felt like noodles as she moved. Brett dug them out and went to check the canopy as well as the cab. Satisfied he got back in his truck and realized she'd passed out. "Oh Maisey," he sighed, "what would you do without me."
"Die," she whispered, "I would die." He didn't know if she even realized what she'd said but it startled him to hear her say those words, to know how she felt in that moment was that terrible. There was nothing he could do now except let her sleep it off and hope to talk to her in the morning.