Santana tries to stay away; she really does. She knows it’s stupid, and more than likely going to get Brittany killed, but she can never seem to remember it while Brittany is kissing her. Even when she does manage to stay at the ranch she just sits around replaying conversations with Brittany in her head.
"Daddy had his heart attack the morning after the wedding. Mr. Pierce paid for the funeral to be sure it didn’t delay our coming out West. He left the farm to my sister and her husband; he’s a farm boy himself and knows what to do with the place. He’s a hard worker, and good to my sister, but I don’t think he ever liked me much. He never knew what to make of my ‘fanciful thoughts’, you know?"
Santana loves Brittany’s ‘fanciful thoughts’. She loves how Brittany’s eyes light up when she talks about them. She loves everything about Brittany, and it’s getting harder to hide it. Santana sighs into the darkness and adjusts her seat against the fence. Smythe’s men are tearing up her parent’s house again, and she wishes they’d give up and leave so she can go to sleep. She’s beginning to worry they have orders to stay until she returns.
Dr. Quinn spends all morning sewing closed the holes in Smythe’s posse of idiots, and is in no mood for Sheriff Hummel’s questions.
"Apparently they left one of their friends behind to bleed to death in the house after she ‘ambushed’ them. Why don’t you go ask her what happened?"
"Kurt rode out to take her statement. They all going to live?" Burt asks, gesturing to the various bandaged men in Quinn’s care.
"They keep the wounds clean then yeah, they will," Quinn says, more to the men than to Burt.
"Quinn!" Kurt calls rushing in the front door of the office. "Quinn!"
"What is it, Kurt?" Burt asks as Kurt storms into the examination room.
"He’s still alive! The one they left behind? He’s lost a lot of blood, but Santana nursed him through the night. You better come quick and see if there’s anything to be done."
Quinn is already throwing supplies in her bag and giving her other patients strict instructions about not moving until she gets back. Burt assures her he’ll be staying to talk with them and will make sure they follow the doctor’s instructions.
Santana is sitting in her father’s chair watching the man’s chest rise and fall when Quinn arrives.
"Dining room table? Really?"
"The light’s better in here," Santana says, standing.
"What would your mother say?"
"Next time, shoot him dead. She had a thing about bed sheets getting torn up to stop bleeding."
"Even your bleeding?"
"Especially mine. You eaten?"
"No, I was too busy patching up the ‘ambush’ victims," Quinn smirks. Santana snorts and heads to the kitchen to make some more coffee and see what she do about feeding the good doctor. Quinn works quietly and efficiently while Kurt watches.
"How’s he look, then?" Kurt asks when he can’t wait any longer.
"Ugly. Santana did a good job packing the wound, though; he’ll probably live. It’ll be slow going, and a long time before we can move him," Quinn frowns.
"Dad’ll make me stay out here with the two of them," Kurt sighs. "Think she’ll let me redecorate?"
"I wouldn’t hold your breath. I’ll come everyday for now, but I can’t stay here, and he’s going to need a lot of tending to. Can you two—"
"I faint at the sight of blood and he’s so scared of Santana he tries to run away every time he wakes up," Kurt interrupts. "You need to send someone out here to take care of him."
Quinn frowns some more before a wicked smile replaces it.
"I’m going to shoot Quinn Fabray," Santana growls out of nowhere, startling Kurt something awful and making him drop his novel. When Kurt collects himself he finally sees what has angered Santana so from where they sit on the porch. There on Dr. Quinn’s horse, making their way to the house to look after the patient, is one Brittany Pierce.
"Oh, thank God. If I never see another bloody bandage again it will be too soon," Kurt sighs.
"Show her where everything is; I’ll see to the horse," Santana says before standing.
"Right. And just so we’re clear, the gold bars would be where exactly?" Kurt queries lightly. "So I can show Brittany," Kurt clarifies.
"Don’t make me add you to my list, Hummel," Santana warns as she steps off the porch to meet Brittany.
"I hope you’re charging Quinn an arm and a leg for this."
"Your ranch is so pretty!" Brittany says dismounting. "And the house is so big and fancy and big!"
"You said big twice," Santana says taking hold of the horse’s lead.
"It’s that big! How are you? You didn’t get hurt did you? It’s—"
"Kurt will show you where everything is while I take care of the horse. I’ll be right back."
"Don’t be sore. Beiste says I’m safer here than behind the bar," Brittany says grabbing the bag of supplies.
"I’m not sore… I’m nervous," Santana says to the horse instead of Brittany before leading it away, but Brittany smiles all the same.
"He looks awful," Brittany concludes.
"You should have seen him yesterday," Santana replies from where she hovers by the door to the dining room.
"Why don’t you come in?"
"He has a fit whenever he sees me."
"But… you saved his life."
"After I shot him," Santana smirks. "When do you want supper?"
"You never ask me when I want supper," Kurt calls out from the hall.
"You never do anything helpful," Santana calls back.
"I’m sure that’s not true," Brittany says.
"If it ain’t fainting or vomiting Kurt ain’t doing it," Santana insists with a roll of her eyes.
"I did, however, make up a guest room for Brittany," Kurt says coming into the dining room. "We usually eat about seven, right Santana? After supper you can get settled in and have a good night’s rest while Santana and I keep an eye on him tonight. Then you can tackle him full steam in the morning, hmm?"
"That’s a good idea Kurt; I’ll change his bandages after supper and then rest up from the ride out here if that’s alright with everybody," Brittany smiles serenely, pleased with how things seem to be working out.
"I’ll go see about supper then," Santana says turning to go before stopping short. "You don’t have any objections to parsnips, do you?" she asks Kurt.
"No, no; just leeks."
"We’d hate to offend Kurt’s delicate palate, wouldn’t we, Brittany?" Santana inquires with all the sarcasm she can muster. Brittany giggles and agrees wholeheartedly. Santana heads for the kitchen, ignoring Kurt’s very vocal protestations about his palate not being delicate.