Heart attack. Stroke. None good. I'm calling an ambulant. He pulled out his phone.
In my kitchen, emergency contact list. Call Dr. Miller first. Jackson scooped her up, struck by how light she felt. He carried her inside, placed her on the couch, covered her with a handmade quilt. The emergency list was exactly where she said.
Dr. Richard Miller's number at the top. No local family, no one close. Dr. Miller arrived within 10 minutes. He examined Margaret while Jackson paced like a caged animal. Blood pressure elevated but stable.
Could be her heart. Could be medication interaction. Hospital in Billings for tests. I'll drive her. Dr. Miller looked at him, taking in the leather vest, the tattoos.
And you are a friend, Margaret said, voice stronger. Jackson's been helping me. He probably saved my life. The ambulance will be here in 20 minutes. Better to let paramedics handle transport.
3 hours later, Jackson sat in the emergency room surrounded by fluorescent lights and antiseptic smell. Margaret was behind double doors and he felt helpless. He stared at the torn photograph in his wallet, him and Clare from her 16th birthday. They both looked like strangers. Dr. Miller emerged.
She's going to be fine. Mild heart episode. Needs rest and monitoring. Someone to stay with her. What about family?
Nearest relative is a niece in Denver. Left a message. Dr. Miller studied Jackson. Margaret says you're staying to help. Jackson realized he had decided without thinking.
That's right. That's significant responsibility. Margaret pushes herself too hard. I understand, sir. Sir.
Dr. Miller's expression shifted. You serve Marines four years. Desert storm. Recognition. Respect.
Navy corman. Same theater. Something changed in his eyes. Welcome home, brother. Welcome home.
Oh, Margaret Hartwell is one of the finest people I know. If you're going to be around, you'll be held to a high standard. I wouldn't expect anything less, sir. They brought Margaret out in a wheelchair, looking tired, but alert. She squeezed Jackson's hand.
Thank you. Jackson had never felt so needed in his life. The trouble started at Miller's general store two days later. Behind the counter, Frank Miller watched Jackson with unconcealed suspicion. 72, Dr. Miller's father, World War II veteran.
You're the one staying out at Margaret's place, Frank said. Accusation, not question. That's right. Jackson placed his basket on the counter. Soup, crackers, tea.
Frank rang up purchases with deliberate slowness. Known Margaret since 78. Good woman. Deserves better than trouble. Just helping a neighbor, sir.
Neighbor? Frank's laugh was sharp. That what they're calling it now? The store's bell chimed. Sheriff Dale Crawford entered, presents filling the space.
56 built solid, eyes assessing. Mr. Rivers, heard you've been staying at the Hartwell place. Mrs. Hartwell had a health scare. I'm helping during recovery. Very neighborly.
Sheriff Crawford's hand rested on his service weapon. Mind if we step outside for a chat? Not a request. Jackson paid and followed him onto the sidewalk, aware half the store watched through windows. Let's take a walk.
They walked to the edge of town where sidewalk ended and gravel began. I ran your plates, Sheriff Crawford said without preamble. Found some interesting reading. Assault 1999. Weapons charges 2002.
Drug trafficking 2008. All connected to Hell's Angel's Riverside chapter. Jackson had expected this. I've paid my debts because witnesses disappeared or changed stories. Sheriff Crawford stopped, faced him.
Here's what I see. Career criminal playing good Samaritan with vulnerable widow. Woman's got 47 acres, no close family. Makes me wonder about your angle. There's no angle, Sheriff.
There's always an angle. Crawford stepped closer. Margaret Hartwell is a treasure. Taught half this county's kids. If you're running a con, if you hurt her, I will destroy you, legal or otherwise.
Understand? Jackson met his eyes. I understand you're protecting people. I respect that. But I give you my word as a marine.
I mean, Mrs. Hartwell no harm. She gave me kindness. I'm repaying it. Word of a criminal doesn't carry weight. Then judge me by my actions.
Watch me. Follow me. But I'm staying until Margaret's safe. Jackson's voice carried quiet authority. That's not negotiable.
Standoff. Two men from different worlds. Finally, Crawford nodded. I'll be watching. One slip, one complaint.
You're gone. Fair enough, sir. That evening, Margaret received a long phone call. When she hung up, trouble marked her expression. That was Meredith Walsh from town council.
There's been concern about your presence. Talk of calling a special meeting. Jackson felt his stomach tighten. Are you having second thoughts? Absolutely not, but I thought you should know.