“Okay, sir. You stay out here. Someone will come.”
They ran Sammy in and he was left standing there, his riding glove still taped around his wrist.
Someone would come. That wasn’t good enough. Sammy needed him, needed to hear his voice. Sammy needed to know he was right here.
Beau started through the doors, and security was right there to block his way. So he did the only thing he could do. Beau hit his knees and prayed for Sammy to hear him, even if he couldn’t be right there.
He wasn’t shit without his Sammy. Surely the good Lord knew that.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Lafitte! I want you checked out!” Doc came barreling into the ER, Balta and Joa right behind.
Beau lifted his head, which felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Somewhere he’d lost his hat, and his head felt weird without it.
“Beau.” Doc knelt down. “You know where you are?”
“At the fucking hospital in Reno?” Of course he knew where he fucking was. He grabbed Doc’s shirt. “They won’t tell me nothin’, Doc. You got to find out for me.”
“Okay. You let them check you out, I’ll find out, okay?”
Jesus, Doc wasn’t pushing, wasn’t smiling, nothing. His Sam.
“I’ll let you check me over.” He wasn’t going to have some stranger poking at him.
“Okay. Up in a chair. Silva? Give him a hand?”
“Sure. Come on, Beau, huh? Up.” Balta leaned down, hauling him up and putting him in a hard plastic chair.
Doc poked and prodded, checked his eyes, the back of his head. “Gonna be sore as all get out in the morning and have one hell of a bruise. I don’t want you sleeping for a few hours, either. Balta, stay with him.” Jesus, Doc was a pushy fucker.
Balta nodded, dark eyes serious and sure. “Sim. I’ll stay. Me and Joa.”
“Sam.” Beau said it firmly, pushing back.
“I’ll see what I can find out. Sit tight.” Doc met Balta’s eyes. “Get him coffee, clean him up.”
“Yeah.” Balta took his arm, every emotion showing on his face. “Joa brought your bags. Come change clothes.”
Beau followed numbly, nodding like a puppet. “What happened, Balta? What the hell was he doing?”
“You got thrown in the chute and were out.” Balta shrugged. “He was right there.”
Beau stared, his mouth hanging open. “Me? He was in there saving me?”
“You were out. Bullfighters were on the outside.” Like it just made perfect sense.
He shook his head, wanting to pound something. To just find someone and beat them down. He eyed Balta, pondering whether or not the man would be offended.
“Not here.” Balta got it. “Banheiro?” That tanned hand pointed to the bathroom.
Beau turned on his heel, shoulders up around his ears. Balta was a good man, and a cowboy all the way. He understood.
Balta barked something to Joa and the door shut and locked behind them, then Balta stripped off his button down and swelled up like a big fucking frog. “Come on.”
Wading in, he started swinging, head down, trying not to think about Sam and that big hole in his scalp. He tried not to think on how Balta was doing this for Sam, was Sam’s friend. Tried not to think how he might be losing his whole world.
Balta stepped into the blows, pushing him when he’d back up, back off. Hell, Balta even hit him back, but the punches never landed on his face or his head. Doc had said he had a knot…
