“He’d better hope he never gets out,” Cappie said. “My brother will be waiting for him if he does.”
Marquez chuckled. “If it hadn’t been three to one against, and your brother hadn’t been in a wheelchair, I’d probably be helping defend him on homicide charges.”
“No doubt,” Bentley replied somberly.
Cappie frowned. “Is there a conversation going on that I don’t know anything about?” she asked.
Bentley and Marquez exchanged covert glances. “Just commenting on your brother’s justifiable anger,” Bentley told her easily. He caught her fingers in his. “Let’s go see your brother and tell him he’s about to have a new brother-in-law.”
* * *
Kell was a little better, until he saw Cappie’s face. He swore brilliantly.
“I know how you feel,” Bentley said. “But for what it’s worth, Bartlett probably looks much worse. It took two detectives to pull me off him.”
Kell brightened. “Good man.” He winced at his sister’s face, though. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’ll heal.” She didn’t mention the potential surgery she might have to undergo. There was no need to worry him even more. “Detective Marquez said that Frank won’t get out for a long time. He expects one of Frank’s accomplices to turn state’s evidence. If they charge him with battery on both of us, he’ll do some serious time.”
“I expected Hayes Carson to show up here and ask me for a statement for what Frank did to me in Comanche Wells,” he murmured.
“I imagine he’s giving you time to get over the surgery,” Cappie said.
“Probably so.”
“Have you spoken to the surgeon yet?” Cappie asked.
He smiled. “Yes. He’s optimistic, especially since I have feeling in my legs now.”
“At least something good may come out of all this misery,” she said gently.
Kell was looking at Bentley. “Just before we came up here to the hospital, she said she didn’t want to live in a town that also contained you. You told me part of the story, but not any more than you had to. She was going to explain, then they knocked me out with a shot. Care to comment?”
“I made a stupid decision,” Bentley said with a sigh. “I expect to be apologizing for it for the rest of my life. But she’s going to marry me anyway.” He gave her a tender smile, which she returned. “I can eat crow at every meal, for however long it takes.”
“I stopped being mad at you while you were beating the stuffing out of Frank Bartlett,” she pointed out.
He glanced at his bruised, swollen knuckles. “I’ll have permanent mementoes of the occasion, I expect.”
“You’re getting married?” Kell asked.
“Yes,” Cappie said. She touched her face gingerly. “Not until the swelling goes down, though.”
“And not until I’m able to walk down the aisle and give you away,” Kell interjected.
Bentley pursed his lips. “I could get Chet and Rourke to carry you down the aisle to give her away,” he offered.
“The last wedding Chet went to, he spent the night in jail for inciting a riot,” Kell pointed out.
Cappie frowned. “Exactly how well do you know Chet and Rourke?” she asked pointedly.
He groaned. “Oh. The pain. I need to rest. I really can’t talk anymore right now.”
Cappie’s eyes narrowed on the drip catheter. “Doesn’t that thing automatically inject painkiller into the drip while you’re post-surgical?” she asked.
Kell kept his eyes closed. “I don’t know. I feel terrible. You have to leave now.” He opened one eye. “You can come back later, when I’ll be much better as long as you don’t ask potentially embarrassing questions. If you do, I may have a relapse.”
“All right,” Cappie sighed.
