Page 25 of Rancher to the Rescue

“What about conflicts? What are the pills for?” he asked.

“They’re antianxiety meds,” she said, her cheeks tinting with embarrassment. She added, “Although, I haven’t felt like I needed them lately.”

There was a sad story behind that prescription. He’d be willing to bet money on it. His respect for her grew even more at the fact she was willing to face it. Getting help wasn’t a sign of weakness, not in his eyes.

“Mind if I have a look in your medicine cabinet?” he asked.

“Be my guest.” She took a step back and started gently bouncing Angel.

He examined the labels on three bottles, keeping his gaze on the pills and not the other contents—contents that weren’t any of his business otherwise.

“I’m no expert but since the days match up, there must be a bad interaction going on with one of these,” he stated.

“It’s crazy because I felt like I’d been doing better on my own when I ran out of my old prescription. My doctor said she’d consider taking one off the list if I’d agree to go to counseling, which I haven’t had time for,” she said.

“She’s probably covering her backside with the insurance company.” He’d heard worse.

Prudence issued a sharp sigh.

“We can call the drugstore to check. I had to go to a specialty pharmacist to have this one made,”’ she said. “I can promise you that I’m not taking that one again.”

A burst of pride filled his chest at the possibility they’d figured out a viable reason for her memory loss. Better yet, it was temporary.

“When did you stop your last pills?” he asked, not wanting her to get her body in trouble if she needed them.

“It’s been more than thirty days. I’d secretly started weaning myself for the past six months. I had a feeling my doctor wouldn’t like it, so I didn’t tell her.” She shrugged a shoulder.

“You should be safe then if you skip a dose.” Adam had no plans to tempt fate. He fished his cell out of his pocket and, after ten minutes on the phone, confirmed two of her medications were known for causing a reaction.

“No more of these.” She started to throw the medication into the trash. He stopped her.

“Hold onto those to show to Lawler. He’ll need the names for his report, and it is evidence in case Angel’s case ends up in trial.” He couldn’t imagine a scenario where she would be anything but a witness.

“Right,” she said with a new spark in her eye, like she’d been vindicated.

“Is anything missing in here?” he asked. This development was welcomed news. He’d believed in her without needing an explanation. Seeing her relief stirred his chest.

She checked the cabinet out before shaking her head.

“I’d like to take a walk around the place. I already noticed my laptop sitting on the kitchen table where I must have left it,” she said.

“Do you want me to hold Angel?” He was so much more comfortable in a surprisingly short amount of time. Those first few hours with her had been the equivalent of drinking from a firehose. It amazed him how quickly he’d picked it up. And Prudence was incredible with Angel too, a real natural.

She handed over the baby and then moved from room to room, taking a mental inventory and pointing out anything of value.

“Most everything I own is sentimental. Something I made or refurbished. It was therapeutic when my parents and sister…” she flashed nervous eyes at him before continuing, “were killed.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his heart truly went out to her.

“I was there in the room, blindfolded. He forced me to listen and said he was going oldest to youngest. When it was my turn, the neighbor’s dog, who was always getting loose, ran through our dog door. The neighbor followed, interrupting the killings.” She closed her eyes and her body tensed. “He’s in jail for the rest of his life, by the way. Justice served.”

Those last two words were hollow, and he understood why. They couldn’t bring her family back. He walked over to her and took her hand in his after securing the little girl in the carrier. The urge to kiss Prudence, tell her everything would be okay, and find a way to ease her pain was a physical ache.

“I was nine years old when it happened,” she continued. “Came here to live with an aunt and uncle after. They were great. Took me to a good psychiatrist in Austin for years every Saturday. Enrolled me in school when I was finally brave enough to leave the house again.”

He squeezed her fingers for reassurance, for comfort.

“And now you’re the only non-medical professional or blood relative I’ve ever spoken to about it.” She opened her eyes, those lakes of blue seeing right through him.