Cowboy On Call. Leigh Riker
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he couldn’t seem to move.
Nicky. His nephew’s name alone should have galvanized Sawyer but didn’t. He heard the girl’s words echo, sounding thick inside his head, as if both ears were plugged. Dead.
A dozen images of disaster flashed in his mind. A man pulled from the rubble, one of his arms crushed. A pregnant woman, her cuts and scrapes ignored as she went into labor on the hard, rock-strewn ground, moaning in pain. A precious child...
From behind him, Blossom loped across the lawn, holding up her bridal skirts, then passed him by. Several other late-leaving wedding guests rushed with her to the barn.
And still he didn’t move.
After a long moment, he realized Olivia hadn’t, either. With one hand over her mouth, her blue eyes wide circles of fear, she stood there, frozen like some ice statue. The little girl clung now to her skirt.
“Stay here,” he said, finally forcing his legs into motion. On his way past, he lightly touched Olivia’s shoulder. “Let me check out the situation.”
She didn’t answer. Pulse thumping, he left her and, like some caboose at the end of a train when he was used to being the steam engine, followed the last people into the barn.
He couldn’t see through the circle of wedding guests in the aisle, their bodies blocking his view.
“Move back. I’m a doctor,” he said but in a weak tone.
Logan was the last person to obey his order. He’d been down on one knee, bending helplessly over his little boy. Sawyer felt the same way. Those other images kept running through his brain.
He pushed the memories aside. “Let me see, Logan.”
Logan didn’t have a trace of color left in his face. He got up but his gaze didn’t leave his son.
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