Cowboy On Call. Leigh Riker
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Logan said.
In the background, Sawyer heard Blossom agree. “We have to make sure Nick’s okay. Poor little guy...”
Of course they did. Sawyer didn’t try to dissuade them. Maybe by the time they got here, Nick would be out of danger and released again, and they’d all share in various expressions of relief sprinkled with laughter, as if they’d been foolish to even think he could be in real trouble. In any event, Sawyer knew Logan needed to see his boy for himself. “Drive safe,” he said.
After the call ended, he resumed his circuit of the cafeteria. The lemon pie’s meringue was starting to curl with beads of moisture glistening from the overhead lamp. The meatloaf’s gravy had congealed in its steel bin and... You’re a coward.
Sawyer made an about-face. What kind of brother, uncle, friend—ex-friend, to Olivia—was he? He’d been trying to protect himself to the point of being unable to protect a vulnerable child. Nothing new there, but not very admirable, either.
He marched toward the exit, out into the hall and down another back into the emergency department to collar Nick’s doctor. Even the well-known smells of antiseptic, of medications and of illness and fear, including his own, didn’t stop him.
Olivia was nearby, waiting. Reason enough.
She didn’t need him to treat her child, but she did need his knowledge.
Sawyer went to see about that scan.
“TELL ME,” Olivia said, rising from her seat as soon as Sawyer reentered the waiting area. While he’d been gone to call Logan and she’d been trying to hang on to her sanity, the small TV on the wall had kept playing the same video loop over and over again, informing any viewers about the most recent treatments for diabetes and elder incontinence. Olivia had been about to lose the rest of her mind. The only ailment she wanted to hear about was Nick’s. Leaving Shadow, she marched out into the hall with Sawyer following.
He ran a hand over the nape of his neck. “Try to be patient. The doctors are doing all that’s necessary, Olivia.” Sawyer focused on a point beyond her shoulder. “This is all I know right now—we’ve finally agreed that Nick has a hematoma.”
She felt her body drain of strength. “Sam also had a blood clot, or whatever,” she pointed out. “Didn’t he?”
“No. Well, as far as I know, he had a concussion. This is subdural.”
“What does that mean?”
Sawyer rubbed the back of his neck again. “I didn’t like the look of his pupils last night and this morning—”
“Then why didn’t you say something? Do something?”
“I’m not practicing right now. I’m not his primary physician. All I could do was make sure his head stayed elevated during the night in a midline position and that he remained responsive. Otherwise, I don’t make the decisions—for which you’re probably glad.” Sawyer’s explanation made her head spin, but he went on. “Nick’s initial score on the Coma Scale we use was around fourteen when Nick was sent home last night, meaning he didn’t need to be admitted. But today, as you know, his condition became worse.” He softened his tone. “He’s had a CT scan now, which they didn’t do last night. With kids, we worry about the radiation exposure, so we avoid CTs if their initial scores indicate only mild head trauma. As in a certain percentage of cases, he has a faint linear skull fracture and now, some brain swelling.”
Olivia shook her head to clear it. “Does that mean surgery?”
Sawyer cupped her elbow, as if he guessed she might faint. “I hope not. His other signs are pretty good. Unless the swelling gets worse, and fast, it’s likely a wait-and-see scenario. In lots of cases, the swelling goes down on its own. But I’ll talk to his doctors again later.”
She was shaking now, and she poked his chest with her index finger. “Your silence—your selfish silence—could have resulted in tragedy for Nick. It still might, from what I hear. You might not be his doctor, but you still could have said something last night, if you thought— And you haven’t even bothered to visit his room. All you can say now is that waiting’s just part of medicine?”
“Olivia, he’s getting good care. What else would you have me do?”
She glared. “Nothing, I suppose. Or no, maybe I should be grateful you didn’t intervene like years ago when—”
His mouth tightened. “Seriously? You want to bring that up now? Compare then, and a horse, to your own child? It’s not the same, Olivia.”
“I know it’s not. But you were guilty then. As far as I’m concerned, you’re guilty now—and this time it’s my son who has suffered.”
Sawyer’s blue eyes darkened. He seemed to collect his thoughts before he said, “Fine. You want to rehash the past? Okay, let’s. If you remember, years ago, yes, I challenged you to that race across a dry field littered with stones. There’d been no rain for weeks, but I had a sudden urge to fly like the wind. To hear you laugh,” he said. “I knew we shouldn’t, but it wasn’t like we hadn’t done it before. All of us.”
Her mouth turned down. Olivia didn’t welcome the memory, but she’d started this. And that day they had been alone, not with their brothers. By then, she and Sawyer had been seeing each other for about six months, their childhood friendship left behind for a new relationship that was turning into love...until her feelings for him had led to tragedy.
Her eyes filled with fresh tears, and he tried to reach for her hand but Olivia stepped back. She knew they were both picturing the same moment: galloping neck and neck until, suddenly, Jasmine had lurched, stumbled, then fallen, taking Olivia down with her. Reining his horse to an abrupt stop, Sawyer had jumped off, dropped to his knees to make sure she was all right. Bruised but unbroken, Olivia had already started to cry. It took Sawyer another second to realize how badly hurt her horse really was.
Her beautiful black mare lay on her side, breathing hard, her normally calm brown eyes wide with pain and fear before they rolled back in her head. Her left foreleg had been shattered by the fall.
“I’m sorry, Olivia. I should have known better. If I hadn’t argued with Sam again that morning, maybe I wouldn’t have suggested the race at all. But I did. And that’s no excuse. I’m not sure if I’ve told you before, but we were fighting about med school. About my being away from the Circle H so much. Sam wanted me there more often instead. I had so much anger then. Probably still d—”
“She died.” Olivia’s tone held the unshed tears that had filled her eyes, partly for the horse, partly now for Nick. Maybe—no, definitely—it was best that Sawyer hadn’t tried to treat Nick. “You didn’t even give her a chance. You shot her, right in front of me.”
“I put her down,” he said, and she bristled at the euphemism. “We were a mile from the ranch yard, the barn, probably an hour or more from the vet getting there. What else could I do?” He’d repeated the question he’d asked about Nick. “Like Logan, Grey and me, you’d been riding since you were two years old. You knew why I had that rifle with me, why any other rancher would have one, too. Warding off coyotes isn’t the only reason. There wasn’t time, Olivia.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Would you rather have watched her suffer?” Sawyer shook his head. “Jasmine broke her leg in about a hundred places. There was no putting her back together. Trying to reconstruct that foreleg would only have caused her more pain and wouldn’t have worked in the end. She’d have gone crazy shut up in a stall for weeks, maybe hurt herself again with the same result.”
She pressed her lips together, then said the words anyway. “Is that how you manage your human patients?”
Sawyer turned pale. “I’m not managing anyone.