A Montana Man. Jackie Merritt
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had been misbehaving.
Clint changed the subject, simply to get Tommy thinking about something else. “When I called the principal and explained the situation, he said you could make up the tests you missed today.” He paused, then added, “Guess I already told you that.”
“That’s okay, Dad.”
“At least Eric didn’t miss a full day.” Clint frowned slightly. “How’d he get from the accident site to school?”
“When he called the sheriff, he also called his dad. Mr. Schulze picked him up.” Tommy suddenly leaned forward and put his hands over his eyes. His voice broke. “It was awful, Dad. I’ll never forget it.”
Clint rubbed his son’s back. “Of course you won’t forget it. But you did everything you could to save that woman’s life. I’m very proud of you, son. I hope you know that.” He felt Tommy’s shoulders heave with a sob, and he continued rubbing his back, doing what he could to comfort his boy.
There was no question of leaving the hospital and going home. Whatever they were finally told about the woman’s condition, both he and Tommy had to hear it, firsthand and from a doctor. They had already occupied this little waiting room for five hours; they would remain right here for what was left of the day, and all night, if necessary.
At eight o’clock that evening nurse Nancy Cummings summoned Dr. Melvin Pierce to room 217. “She’s showing signs of consciousness, Doctor.”
Dr. Pierce glanced at the monitor screen that displayed the patient’s heart rate and blood pressure. “Appears so,” he murmured, and turned his attention to the woman in the bed. There were abrasions, cuts and scrapes on her face and hands. The gash on her right temple had required stitches, but X rays and other tests had revealed no broken bones, and even her concussion was not severe. In his opinion, she was extremely fortunate to have survived such a fierce accident with so little bodily damage.
He laid his hand on her upper arm and shook it slightly. “Miss? Miss, can you hear me? Open your eyes. You’re in a hospital and I’m Dr. Pierce. Try to open your eyes.”
As though from a very great distance, Sierra heard a man’s voice. Open your eyes. Try to open your eyes.
Her eyelids felt weighted down by something heavy. Her entire body ached, especially her head. The palms of her hands burned as though on fire, her knees as well. She tried to think and couldn’t.
But she heard the voice, and it seemed to be getting closer. She struggled to obey it, and finally her lids fluttered open. She saw a blurred face, and heard, “Miss, can you speak? Say something. Tell us your name.”
Her brain felt stuffed with cotton. Her eyes closed, and she heard the voice again. “Try to stay awake, miss. Try to speak. What is your name?”
“Sierra,” she mumbled thickly, and fell back into that dark place where her body didn’t hurt and voices could not be heard.
Dr. Pierce straightened up and moved to the foot of the bed for her chart, on which he wrote the time and what had just occurred.
“Watch her closely,” he said to the nurse as he wrote. “I’ll be leaving the hospital in about thirty minutes. Dr. North will be on duty. Call him if she awakens again.”
He swung out of the room and strode directly to the ICU waiting room. Clint Barrow and his son stood up with expectant expressions.
“Go ahead and sit down again,” the doctor said. He sat as well. He looked tired and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Okay, here’s what we know with some degree of certainty. She has a mild concussion and numerous abrasions. There are no broken bones, nor any detectable internal injuries. We do not count her as completely out of danger, but the outlook is favorable. She came to a few minutes ago for about ten seconds, and the fact that she understood what I was saying to her is an excellent sign. I asked her name and she said Sierra.”
Clint and Tommy looked at each other. “Sierra? That was all she said?” Clint asked.
“The only word.” Dr. Pierce got up. “I have other patients to see. My advice to the two of you is to go home and get some rest. The only thing you’re going to accomplish here is to exhaust yourselves. Good evening.” He left.
Tommy looked puzzled. “Isn’t Sierra a peculiar name? Sounds more like a last name than a first. What do you think, Dad?”
“I don’t know what to think about that, Tommy. But the rest of what Dr. Pierce said is very good news.” He got to his feet. “Come on, I’ll walk you out. It’s time you went home. You have those exams to deal with tomorrow.”
Tommy rose. “You’re not going with me? How come?”
“I’m not sure. I just have this feeling that I should stick around.”
“But you won’t have a car.”
“If I need a car, I’ll rent one.”
In the parking lot, Clint saw his son off. “Drive safely, and no shortcut over Cougar Pass.”
Tommy nodded grimly. “Don’t worry about that.”
Clint watched the red pickup until it was out of sight, then walked back into the hospital. In ICU, he went directly to the nurse’s station.
“May I see the woman in room 217?”
Nurse Cummings looked sympathetic. “She’s still unconscious, Mr. Barrow.”
“I know, and I would only stay a minute. But I need to see her, ma’am.”
“Well...guess a little peek wouldn’t hurt. Sure, Mr. Barrow, go ahead. Just don’t touch anything.”
“I won’t. Thank you.”
Clint walked down the corridor, hesitated a moment at the open door, then took a few steps into the room, which was lighted by one wall lamp. There was one bed, one patient, a woman who had said one word when asked her name. He winced at the stitches on her forehead and the mean-looking abrasions on her face and hands. There was a hospital cap on her head, but a bit of dark hair showed around the elastic. Her features were as close to perfect as he’d ever seen on a woman’s face—small nose and chin, high cheekbones, well-defined eyebrows and full, beautifully sculpted lips.
“She’s young,” he muttered under his breath. For some reason he’d been thinking of her as a much older woman.
She looked small in that bed, which touched him, and the fact that she was hooked up to several machines touched him even more. An IV ran into her left arm, dripping a clear liquid into her veins.
His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he questioned why things like this had to happen. Tommy didn’t deserve what he was going through, and neither did this woman.
A hundred thoughts ran through Clint’s mind, but one stood out: he could not desert her. Until her full name was known and her relatives—there must be some—knew where she was and what had happened to her, he would assume familial responsibility and keep a sharp eye on her.
“Sierra,” he whispered. “Is that really your name, or was your mind merely wandering?”
He looked at her for another few moments, sighed deeply and quietly left the room, returning to the nurse’s station to speak to Nurse Cummings again.
“There’s a little motel just down the block—the Bixby. Would you please call me there if there’s any change in her condition, either good or bad?”
“Yes, Mr. Barrow, I’ll call.”
“Thank you. I’ll probably be back in a few hours.”
With her eyes still shut, Sierra mentally bemoaned the hardness of the bed she was lying in. Why was she in such an uncomfortable bed? She moved in an attempt