A Baby On His Doorstep

“One is an antibiotic. I’m about to unhook your IV. The other two are painkillers. Dr. Darnell replaced the shots you were receiving. If these keep your pain at bay, he’ll likely order them for a couple of weeks. Be sure to tell us if they aren’t strong enough. I heard you’d rather be off everything, but truthfully, hurting isn’t good.”

“Are they addictive?”

“They could be if you were on them for an extended period of time. Our physicians are careful about that.”

Popping all three pills in his mouth, Rio swallowed them down with one gulp from the glass. He took the spoon and container of custard she’d opened. “How long before I can have real food?”

“If by real food you mean steak, probably not until it’s easier for you to get up and around.”

“Not necessarily steak, but even a sandwich. If all I get is baby food, won’t that delay how soon I have the strength to get up and around?”

There was a rustling at the door and Rio raised his head, fearing Traci had returned. But Binney Taylor walked in. She wore jeans, boots and a plaid blouse. Her small waist was circled by a two-inch-wide leather belt. Her smile stretched from ear to ear. For the first time Rio noticed a smattering of appealing freckles on her creamy cheeks. He found it difficult to swallow.

“Is he giving you a hard time, Suzette? Knock it off, McNabb. She’s one of the best darned nurses on this ward.”

Nurse Ferris rushed to hug Binney. “Look who’s talking. If you’re a friend of this guy, you’re far superior to his last visitor,” she said, lowering her voice.

Appearing a tad confused, Binney waved an envelope. “I’m bringing Rio one of my private duty contracts to go over. I intended to drop it at the ward desk since I’m working the late shift in ER. But I got a call from Mabel in administration. She said if I’m slated to accompany Rio home, Dr. Darnell may release him soon. He needs time to decide between my services or going to Baxter Rehab.”

Suzette wrinkled her nose. “No contest to my way of thinking. Especially as he’s bugging me for real food.” She made quote marks in the air when she said real. Facing Rio, she added, “When Binney worked here full-time she often brought casseroles to our lunch room. All of the nurses fought to see who’d get there first.”

Her pager went off. Excusing herself, she air-kissed Binney and dashed from the room.

Binney covered the distance to the bed, set the envelope on Rio’s tray table and relieved him of the empty custard container he still held. She stepped on the lever to open the waste container, then stopped. “Are they monitoring what you eat and excrete?”

“What? I’m not getting enough food to excrete anything,” he said, turning red.

“They’ll give you something more substantial tomorrow. You have to prove your intestines work well before you can go home, you know.”

His eyebrows dived together. “I actually don’t know. I was only in a hospital ER last time I was thrown from a horse.” He tried casting his eyes elsewhere, but he was hampered by the cervical collar.

“I told you modesty flies out the window when you’re dealing with extensive injuries. If you turn red as a tomato whenever it’s time to shower, get a lotion rubdown or at other pertinent times, it’s pointless for us to try to work together.”

He studied her for a long moment. “It’ll be hard for me to put aside long-held proprieties, but I want to hire you.” He hurriedly added, “I’ll sign the contract now.”

“But you haven’t read it,” Binney said.

“With all the recommendations you’ve had from staff here, I shouldn’t have waited this long. Do you have a pen?” He didn’t say there was someone who hadn’t recommended her. But Traci Walker’s comments were one reason he wanted to sign on the dotted line and show folks like Traci and her family that not every area rancher gave a damn about their view of someone’s roots.