The Surgeon and the Cowgirl

“You’ll make the call today. You won’t forgot once you get back to the hospital,” Jessie said when she caught him at his vehicle.

“I said I’d do it,” he snapped, a little tired of her acting as if he was the bad guy around here.

“Make sure that you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you don’t believe in this program, and you’re just here so that you can get some meaningless title,” she said.

“Meaningless? It will mean control over how the children at this hospital are treated. It will mean being able to help more children, being able to offer newer, more effective treatments. And, to do it, I’ve been scaling back on surgery, which I—” He shook his head before going on. “I’ve taken on more administrative roles at the hospital. Your program...has changed my plan.”

“Of course. Can’t mess with the great doctor’s plans. Pushing papers is much more important than actually helping the kids.”

What the hell? Didn’t she understand what it had been like for him to have to say no to children and their parents as he’d started to make the transition to administration? “I was told that this was a ‘good trial’ to see how I would do as a director because I’ll be more or less coordinating the different staffs coming out to the program. If I get this right, I’ll have control over all care in pediatrics.”

“Now we get to the meat of it. You want to be in control, like always. Haven’t you learned anything? These are children, not science experiments.”

“I won’t apologize for looking for empirical evidence that your program and therapies make a difference. And I’m sure as hell not going to apologize for being a scientist.”

“Exactly how are you going to measure happiness, huh?” Jessie said.

“By how well the children are doing on their physical tests and evaluations. The hospital can’t base treatments on unicorns and rainbows. There has to be hard data. Do you think that I can tell parents that this is a treatment that will make their child smile? We don’t know if it will help him walk again, but isn’t it more important that he’s smiling? Yes, that’s exactly what parents want to hear from their doctor.” She was really starting to tick him off.

“You told me that medicine is as much an art as a science. When did you change your mind about that?”

Of all of the things that she would remember from his time as a student, why was that it? He’d thought that way early in his studies, when he’d been full of himself. “I was wrong. It’s only about science. I’ve got to go. We can have this discussion another day when I have data to show you.”

“I’ll hold you to that and I’ll expect an apology when you find out that I’m right. That the smiles are just as important as the positive MRIs.”

“It’s a bet.”

Chapter Four (#ulink_5a883116-22b5-57c6-8da1-94a75d3bedf5)

Two weeks into the “collaboration” with Desert Valley, Jessie wanted to give everyone the boot, from Payson to his team of experts—experts at being a pain in Jessie’s backside. She should have known that the orientation had gone too smoothly to be true. So far, the physical therapists had insisted that they needed another two weeks of observations, and the occupational therapists were still determining how they would “implement the use of adaptive devices.” The hospital’s risk-management adviser had had the vapors when he’d seen the horses and the carts that they used for the children who couldn’t walk. The man had actually had to sit down when the dogs and assorted barn cats rubbed against his pressed khakis.

Of course, the bank called and asked when they could expect the next payment on the line of credit that she’d taken out to buy supplies. Jessie was only a few days past due, but the bank didn’t care. She owed. She had to pay. This would have been simple enough if the money hadn’t been coming in at a trickle and going out like a fire hose. Jessie had also hoped to borrow a little more money until things turned around. The bank had said clearly and with no hesitation: No.

She’d tried talking with each of the team leaders from the hospital with the goal of getting a commitment to end the observation ASAP and get the hospital’s endorsement within weeks instead of months. With the hospital on board, Jessie was sure she could go back to the bank to get more credit, which would allow her to take care of her $10,000 balloon payment. Each hospital staffer had succinctly laid out a timeline and emphasized that there was no way to cut one observation or one data collection. Hope’s Ride was something totally new to them. They had to be completely sure of its validity and safety. There were no shortcuts.

“What evil idea are you hatching?” Payson asked. They were sitting in the arena watching the children ride, including the recently reinstated Alex.

“No evil idea,” she said absently. Could she ask the hospital’s therapists to do chores? Like clean the stables? That would mean fewer hours for her paid staff. She hated to cut their wages, but the situation was dire.

“If it involves road apples, it’s evil.”

Jessie startled herself with her own laughter. “It wasn’t my fault you were a city boy and didn’t know that road apples had nothing to do with trees.”

“My mother had the cook go to six grocery stores looking for them. You told me they were an ancient Native American ‘growth enhancer.’ And I heard you telling Alex about them. Still teasing us city kids, huh?”

Jessie couldn’t keep from grinning. She and Payson had known each other since high school, when more often than not they’d needled each other. “You got me back.”

“I did?”

“Sure. In biology lab, you convinced me that, according to my blood type, there was no way that my mama and daddy were my parents. Mrs. Lakewood gave me detention for yelling ‘You’re a damned liar’ at you.”

“That doesn’t count. You punched me after school. I fell and got a bloody nose. I ended up spending a week getting tested for all kinds of diseases because I refused to tell my mother that the bloody nose was the result of a girl punching me,” Payson said, smiling and shaking his head. “And I had to bribe my brother to keep his big mouth shut. It cost me two rookie cards and my Grand Theft Auto time for a week.”

“She knew. She told me a couple of years after we married. Remember when that patient in the ER clocked you a good one? Your eye looked horrible. She told me that if you had any more bruises, she was taking me to court for spousal abuse.”

“She said what?”

“That she was keeping her eye on me,” Jessie said with little emotion...now. She could almost laugh about his mother’s comments. But there had been a bit of guilt that went along with it. She and Payson hadn’t fought well. She certainly never hit him during their marriage, although the punch in high school had led to their first date because she’d felt so bad about giving him a bloody nose. That didn’t mean that they didn’t end up bruised and bloody when they argued during their marriage, it was just that no one could see the wounds.

“That explains the third degree when I saw her. Why didn’t you say something?”

“It doesn’t matter, Payson,” Jessie said, wanting to steer away from their past. “Do you think you could talk with the physical therapists about the extra time? I don’t understand why they don’t have the material they need.”

Payson didn’t answer for a moment, and then said, “I really didn’t know my mother thought that. If I had, I would have talked to her.”

Their eyes caught. His gaze was direct and darkly intense. She could see that he was upset and wanted to make things right. It didn’t matter now, Jessie told herself, and looked away. “About the physical therapists?”

“I’ll talk with them,” he said. They watched the children in the ring for a few moments.

“Thanks for getting the foundation to help Alex,” she said. “He was so happy when I told him that he could keep coming. He’s blowing the other kids out of the water, a total natural on a horse.” Payson nodded in acknowledgment. “It’s weird, though. Karin gave me a new billing address. I should probably call and confirm. That woman can be a little flaky.”

“Give me the address,” Payson said. “I’ll confirm it. No problem.”

“Okay,” she said slowly.

She watched Payson focus again on the arena full of children. Her smile stayed in place despite her worries. Laughing with him had taken her right back to the days when she never questioned his love. The bond between them had made her feel so...secure, but that same feeling of security had always scared her. She had worried that in trying to make him happy, she would lose her independence. She shifted in her seat and Payson turned to her, a question on his lips, then his face tightened.

“What did I do now?” he asked, his brows lowered as he studied her face.

“I’ve got to go. I’ve got a lot to do. I don’t have some cushy job at a hospital where I get a paycheck every week and someone cleans up all of my messes.” She rushed away because she refused to get caught up in leaning on him ever again. He made that too easy.

* * *

JESSIE YAWNED AS she moved the ponies and horses into the corral. She couldn’t wake up this morning, and it was Payson’s fault. She’d woken three times from dreams of testing the strength of the bedsprings during their marriage. Jessie had only gotten a couple of hours of shut-eye. She’d been so sure that the sexual tension between them would disappear as she and Payson worked together and remembered all of the reasons that they weren’t compatible.

Her increasingly erotic dreams showed her that, where Payson was concerned, she’d been wrong again. On edge and cranky, she’d exiled herself to hanging out with the animals after snapping at every single person she’d seen this morning. It had to stop. The problem was that she hadn’t figured out exactly how to do that without kicking Payson off the ranch.

* * *

“IS THERE A reason that these forms have to be filled out tonight?” she asked as she leaned over the back of her office chair, occupied by Payson. He rapidly clicked around his spreadsheet.

“The committee needs a report by the end of the day tomorrow. I’ve got to get the stats together. So, yes, this needs to be done tonight. Could I have some room?” Payson asked as he rolled his shoulders. She could see the muscles shift under his golf shirt.

“I can’t see the screen unless I stand here,” she said to needle him a little.