Cowboy On Call

Sawyer’s nephew—the small blond boy he’d never seen in person until tonight—lay half-conscious, sprawled on his back on the barn floor. His skin gray, his eyes closed, he looked almost peaceful.

Sawyer assessed his condition—airway, breathing, circulation. He preferred the few photos he’d seen of Nick, his birth announcement with a newborn picture attached to the email, the baby looking as if he were already able to smile, and later a first-birthday party shot of him in his high chair. Happy times in which he’d had pink cheeks and bright eyes.

He felt Nick’s fine-boned wrist again for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief. “Light,” he said, adding silently, and a bit thready. He didn’t want to worry people.

Blossom drew Logan close. He rested his forehead against hers. “Thank God.”

His hand shaking, Sawyer raised each of Nick’s eyelids to assess his pupils. He didn’t like the look of them. “Come on, Nick. Talk to me. Squeeze my hand.”

Show me something here. Though he knew Nick was still alive, the word dead kept spinning through his mind, reminding him of that other child who, because of Sawyer, wasn’t breathing any more. He examined the boy’s legs, his arms, searching for fractures.

“No obvious breaks,” he said, turning to Logan. Sawyer wouldn’t mention a possible skull fracture. Nick needed a more thorough assessment than he could provide here, and he was no neurologist.

The little girl who’d called for help had entered the barn with a woman who must be her mother. She was vaguely familiar, but his focus stayed on Nick.

Without glancing at her again, Sawyer asked the girl, “What happened here?”

Her voice quavered. “Nick was mad at his mom. We came to the barn. I thought we were going to see the kitten, but Nick climbed the ladder to the hayloft instead. He told me to go away.” She began to cry. “I didn’t see how it happened. But he fell.”

Sawyer patted Nick’s cheek to stimulate him. He heard a shuffle in the aisle. A couple of people shifted to let her through, and Olivia was finally there, moving like someone in a bad dream.

Sawyer said, “He must have hit his head pretty hard. He’ll need a neuro consult, but first...” He looked around. “Where’s Doc?” he asked, referring to the local physician who’d treated Sawyer as a kid. There weren’t many choices in Barren, and Sawyer supposed he was Nick’s doctor now. “I saw him earlier at the reception.”

“He went home,” Blossom murmured.

“You’re here,” he heard Olivia say in a firmer tone than he might have expected. Or no, it was exactly what he expected. It was almost an accusation, and another memory assailed him. Sawyer and Olivia, racing their horses across that nearby field until...he hadn’t yelled a warning in time. Did she think of him now as a last resort?

His stomach heaved. I can’t do this, especially for my brother’s kid. If I can’t trust my judgment, what use would I be? Once, he’d exuded confidence with what had amounted to a typical god complex. Kedar had changed that.

Sam hurried into the barn carrying a neck collar to stabilize Nick for transport. “Got this after I tangled with that cow. I called an ambulance.”

“Won’t get here soon enough. He needs to go now.” The collar was too big but Sawyer made a few adjustments. It would do.

He studied his brother and Blossom. He felt as helpless as they looked, even though he was the one who’d gone to med school. He’d practiced in a foreign country, often without proper medical supplies and equipment, especially in those days after the landslide when Sawyer’s sense of powerlessness had finally overwhelmed him. He felt the same way now.

He glanced at the open barn doors, seeking escape.

* * *

THE COMPLEX OF buildings at Farrier General Hospital squatted just off the highway in the next town from Barren. Olivia hadn’t been here in three years, since her marriage had ended after the spring flood when Nick almost died from pneumonia. Every smell reminded her of that night she’d nearly lost him.

Her nerves on edge, Olivia gazed down the hall again but didn’t see a familiar form approaching. For the past few months Olivia had been seeing another antiques dealer from Kansas City, and she would have welcomed his presence now. But so far, Clint was nowhere to be seen. She’d left him a message about Nick, but she certainly didn’t feel Clint’s support.

Earlier, she had gone into Nick’s ER cubicle with Logan, concerned for their son’s welfare, together in a new show of unity. Blossom had stayed in the waiting room where they joined her now while Nick was having tests. Logan was still pale and Olivia imagined she must appear chalk-white herself.

“I’m sorry your honeymoon is delayed,” she said for want of something else to say.

Nick had been taken to the imaging center and Olivia tried not to imagine the worst again. At least he’d fully wakened in Logan’s truck before the rush with Sawyer to Farrier. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? She wished Sawyer would come back to the waiting room with a report for them.

“We can take a honeymoon anytime.” Logan reached for her hand to still Olivia’s constant fussing. “Try not to worry, Libby. I know how you are.”

“As if you aren’t just as worried.”

“Does it show?” Like someone who had wandered in from some production of a play and was still in costume, Logan was wearing his wedding clothes. A few grains of rice dotted the shoulders and lapels of his navy blue blazer. He’d long ago given his yellow pocket square to Blossom who, in a chair opposite, was crying softly into her hands.

“It shows,” Olivia said. She glanced toward the elevators. Still no sign of Clint. Maybe she’d been right that even dabbling in the dating scene again was a bad idea. “Of course it shows. What’s taking so long?”

“Don’t ask me.” He looked at her. “Reminds you of the flood, doesn’t it? Being trapped at the ranch? I feel as helpless now as I did then.”

Olivia shuddered. Nick’s temperature had kept spiking higher, and she and Sam hadn’t been able to get it down even with cool baths. “I thought you’d never get there.”

He arched an eyebrow. When the waters started rising at the Circle H, Logan had been in Wichita for his job as a test pilot for a small manufacturer of private jets. Now he was a rancher again, though she wondered if that would last. “Lucky we did. After I reached your brother’s place, we rode cross-country in the pitch-black, praying our horses wouldn’t run into a barbed wire fence we couldn’t see.” That only reminded her of the horse she’d lost in that same field. “I’m still sorry, Olivia, that I wasn’t there for you sooner.”

Briefly, she leaned her head against his shoulder. “You came,” she said. “That’s all that mattered.” And at one time, she’d thought he was everything she needed. “I shouldn’t have spent so much time blaming you.” Three years, she thought, until this past spring.

She straightened, her heart tripping. Sawyer was coming down the hall toward them at last. She couldn’t tell from his face what, if anything, he’d learned.

Logan shot to his feet. “Well?”

Sawyer put out both hands, palms down. “Relax. He’s okay. No real damage.”

“Then why aren’t you smiling?” Olivia asked.

Sawyer seemed not to hear her. “He doesn’t quite know what happened at the barn but that’s nothing to worry about. He’ll remember. His pupils are equal and reactive now...”

Logan shook his head. “That reminds me of Sam. While he still had his cast on, he decided to take a horseback ride, prove he was fine—and fell in that same barn aisle. He still has some residual effects from his concussion.”

“He had two falls? All I ever heard was he’d broken his leg.”

“Maybe you should check in more often,” Logan muttered.

Obviously, their reunion hadn’t gone well, but she’d picked up on something that mattered even more to her. He’d said no real damage. “What’s wrong, Sawyer?”

“Probably nothing, just me feeling twitchy.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “The hospital wouldn’t send him home if they thought he wasn’t okay. They’re going to release him tonight...into my care.”

He didn’t seem to want that responsibility, and Olivia wondered why. Although he’d finally come with them to the hospital, she’d resented his hesitation at first. True, he didn’t know Nick very well—in fact, not at all—but did he not like children? Or was he holding a grudge? He and Logan hadn’t been close for a number of years, but that couldn’t be all. As a doctor, Sawyer was bound by an oath to treat those who needed him.

Had he been reluctant to help Nick because of her?

Because his “help” years ago had only led to tragedy for Olivia.

* * *

HOURS LATER, at the ranch, Olivia and Logan settled Nick into bed upstairs while Sawyer paced the family room. If he were the admitting physician at Farrier General, Nick would be in a room there overnight under observation. Or was Sawyer still in panic mode?

All he could think of was another pending disaster. The wrong diagnosis. Something Sawyer had missed at his clinic with someone else’s child. Those nightmares haunted him every night and sometimes during the day until his hands shook and his heart beat like thunder.

If he had to diagnose himself, he’d say post-traumatic stress disorder. PTSD, like a soldier after battle, which in a way he supposed he was. Certainly the long hours, the deprivations, the constant stream of crises coming through the clinic door after the landslide should qualify as traumatic. For sure, his error in judgment did.