"Yeah." Cord swallowed the emotions trying to work their way into his voice. "Her plan would've worked too, but it's... Well, it's a long story. I can still sell the tractors, but I need cash tomorrow. If there's any way you'd float me a loan, I'd be in your debt forever."
Again there was a silent moment over the crackling phone line. A longer one.
Cord gathered up every ounce of pride he had left and dumped it. "I'm good for it," he said.
"I know you are." West's voice was sharp. "But… It’s due Monday? I'm wondering why it's taken you so long to make this call."
Cord rubbed his thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets. "Because I'm an idiot."
West chuckled.
"Growing up under Mackie's thumb," Cord started, "taught me to keep everyone at arms’ length. Including you. It's hard to let anyone in. But Molly showed me that that's not an excuse."
"She sounds amazing."
"She is." He had to swallow hard, because he'd almost lost her. "Maybe next time you're stateside, you can come out to the No Name and meet her in person."
"I'd like that." He could hear his brother’s smile through the phone. As a kid, all Cord had wanted was to protect his little brother, make sure he was safe and happy. And he was, happy and as safe as a Marine could be. Maybe, for all Cord’s failures, he'd done right by West. Maybe all the grief he’d taken at Mackie’s hands hadn’t ruined him, hadn’t ruined anything.
Maybe, he was stronger because of it.
And maybe he could use that strength to fight for Molly, to fight with her against the fears that would surely assail her now.
After giving his brother the bank’s wiring instructions, Cord rang off. He was about to re-enter Molly's room when he noticed a man in a calf-length wool coat and a working man's boots at the nurse's station.
The nurse pointed to Molly’s room, the only one at the end at this end of the hall.
Dressed like that, Cord knew the man wasn't a cop here to take Molly's statement.
As the man turned his direction, a wave of protectiveness swept over Cord. Toby was out of the picture. Who was this? A different kind of threat?
Cord propped his hand on the doorframe, blocking the entrance even as the man headed straight for him. He refused to move.
The man stopped only when it was apparent Cord wasn't getting out of the way.
"This is a private room," Cord ground out.
"Who are you?" the man asked.
"I'm Molly's fiancé. You her father?"
He caught the flash of surprise as it crossed the other man's face.
"Tom English." He extended his hand, but Cord ignored it.
"Molly's resting. She's pretty beat up. And I'm not sure she wants to see you."
He could still remember the hurt in her expression when she'd told him her father had refused to help her escape Toby. Cord didn't want her getting hurt again, not when she was injured and vulnerable. Not ever.
"That's my daughter in there." English dropped his hand, his words forceful. "You’re not keeping me out of there."
Cord had left the door open about six inches, and he only had a view of the twelve inches at the end of the bed. He saw Molly's legs move restlessly. If she was awake again, he wanted to be in there with her. She didn't need anything upsetting her, and he was pretty sure seeing her dad would do just that.
"Molly can make her own decisions. I'll go in and ask if she wants to see you, but if she says no, you're not going in."
If she says no,you're not going in.
The soreness in every single inch of Molly's body had grown exponentially since last night. Sometime during the long night, one of the nurses had mentioned reducing her painkillers. Maybe the most recent dose was wearing off.
