by Dianne Drake
But that second morning Ellie had seemed different. Not subdued so much as thoughtful. Maybe even a little sad as she’d stood at the window, looking out, all wrapped up in the bed sheet, and had said, It’s too bad this can’t be real life. He’d caught a glimpse of a vulnerability, much like the one he’d caught their first night together when she’d hidden herself behind the armoire, and both nights he’d wondered how someone so successful and forthright in the business world could almost shrink away when she stepped out of it.
Now he saw that vulnerability again, and she didn’t even seem to be trying to hide it. “Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?” he finally asked in desperation.
“I’m fine,” she said, her voice on the verge of sounding sad.
“You don’t look fine, and you’re not acting fine.” He stopped the truck, reached over the seat and grabbed hold of his jacket. “You can use this as a pillow until we...find the one you tossed out on our way back or buy another one.”
“I don’t need a pillow, Matt.”
“Look, Ellie, I know what this is about, and I’m sorry. But I’m not the one, and it’s better you know now because that will give you more time to figure out what to do.” Damn, he hated this. Hated every bit of it. But his life wouldn’t accommodate what she wanted.
“Us, Matt. More time for us to figure out what to do.”
“Did you really expect to show up on my doorstep, tell me you’ve got a baby for me to raise, then walk away from it?”
“I don’t know what I expected,” she admitted. “But I guess that’s close enough.”
“Well, you’re right about one thing. It is something we need to figure out together.” He was beginning to feel as discouraged as she sounded because this baby was his responsibility as well as Ellie’s. And that’s the one thing he had to keep in mind—it was Ellie’s responsibility, too.
Even so, as sad as she looked, he really did want to put his arms around her and tell her things would be OK. Somehow, though, he didn’t think that would be an appreciated gesture. “This first stop, like I said, is Tolly. John Tolly. Chronic backache, according to his chart. He stays in his trailer a good bit of the time, and usually gets seen whenever the doctor—which would be me—can catch up with him. According to the chart, it’s been going on for a couple of years, intermittently. He’s not agreeable to therapy or medication. Any ideas?” Sure, he was grasping now, but anything to connect to her was good, because she seemed so far away.
“He could be sitting badly in his saddle,” Ellie finally commented. “It happens. They get old. The leather wears one way or another, throws the body out of alignment.”
Stopping the truck in front of Tolly’s trailer, Matt grabbed his medical bag and hopped out. “How would you know that?”
“Did a video about a year ago that featured uncommon ailments in a variety of workers who spend their lives outside, doing hard labor. Crooked saddle was one of them. It gets you in the lower back mostly.”
“And the cure?” he asked, totally impressed.
“Either have the old saddle straightened—there are people who specialize in that—or get a new one.” She rose up, looked at the old trailer sitting just in front of her, then slid back down in the seat. “Tell John Tolly a crooked saddle can be bad for his horse, too. Same thing—it gets them in the muscles.” With that, she laid her head against the back of the truck seat and closed her eyes.
It wasn’t much, Matt thought as he crossed the dirt expanse from the truck to the trailer, where John Tolly was standing outside, waiting for him, but it was a start. It had drawn her out of her slump for a moment or two. And she’d just made what could be a major diagnosis seem like she was simply telling a children’s story.
Once upon a time there was back ache. “Check the saddle,” said the nurse. And the doctor did. The nurse was right. The saddle was crooked. Then the cowboy was cured, and everybody was happy.
Everybody but the nurse, and for that he did feel bad.
“So, how long have you had backache this time?” Matt asked the old cowboy, after an exam of the usual—vital signs, joints, reflexes—but everything normal for a man who’d lived a hard, sixty-three-year life. “Because, according to my charts, it’s been going on for a couple of years, with no relief.”
“Old age, Doc. It’s creeping up on me. What can I say? It happens to the best of them, and I sure as hell don’t come close to the best of them.” He pulled up his shirt for Matt to have a look at his back, and winced when Matt applied a hard thumb to John’s extensor muscles.
“Trouble getting up from a standing position?” Matt asked, continuing his exam.
“Sometimes. But I manage.”
“And lifting?”
“Can’t lift as much as I used to but, at my age who can?” He winced again when Matt singled out his obliques and applied pressure.
“And you’ve been taking...” Matt grabbed his tablet and tapped the cursor, sending up the part of John’s chart for medications. “Nothing at all”
“Don’t like pills. Won’t take them,” John said, sitting up on his bed and buttoning his shirt. “Told that to the old doc, telling you the same thing. No pills. No shots.”
“And I don’t suppose you’d finally consent to physical therapy? Maybe some tests at the hospital?”
“Had some tests. They were negative. And the nearest place to get therapy is a hundred miles from here. How many times a week would you suggest I drive that, Doc? How many times a week would you suggest I neglect my cattle to go get my back rubbed?” He pushed himself off the bed, ever so slowly, then headed to the front of the trailer. It was a one-room deal. Bed at the back, small kitchen area at the front, a seating area near the center where there was barely enough room to sit.
Very compact and, to Matt, very claustrophobic and filled with bad memories. “How often are you out on the range?” he asked, typing some notes into his tablet trying to ignore the resemblance of this trailer to the ones he’d lived in. It was difficult, though. Everything surrounding him brought back bad memories...memories he’d have to put aside to do this job.
“Out for three, then here for two. But when I stay here, that’s not to rest. It’s to get myself ready to go out again. Try to get myself back to my real house a couple days a month, when I can.”
What a hard life, Matt thought as he slipped his tablet into his medical bag, then pulled out some vials as well as a sample container. “Mind if I do a few tests?”
“Help yourself, but what you’re looking for isn’t there. The other doc took samples every time he was out here and all he could prove was that, except for a bad back, I’m healthier than a sixty-three-year-old man has a right to be.”
“Still got a job to do, John,” Matt said, as he took blood samples, then labeled them when John went to render up that other sample. Several minutes later the men walked outside together, but Matt stopped short of the truck, glad to get out of the trailer before he started breaking out in a cold sweat, and noticed the horse tied to the fence not too far from the trailer. “You still go out on a horse?” he asked. Some still did. Many did not. All-terrain vehicles were taking over the aspect of being a cowboy as often as not.
“Every chance I get. Some of the ground isn’t fit, but a good bit of it is, so I do it the old-fashioned way.”
“Would you mind saddling up for me?”
“Any reason why?” John asked, frowning.
“Something someone told me about crooked saddles. They can cause backache. Ever heard of it?”
John shook his head. And as he did so, Ellie stepped into view. “It’s not common,” she said, “but it happens often enough that there are saddle specialists out there who can fix most saddles, if they’re not too badly out of alignment.”
“Well, the one I’ve got is older than dirt,” he said, extending his hand to Ellie. “John Tolly, ma�
�am.”
“Ellie Landers,” she said.
Matt noted that her face was pleasant now, the scowl gone. The rigid body had disappeared. This was the Ellie he’d met that night. The one he’d taken to immediately. “Ellie’s a friend, and a very good nurse, out for the ride with me today.”
“Can I offer you something to drink, Ellie? I have some fresh tea, cold water—or I can make you some lemonade.”
She held up her water bottle. “I’m good. But thanks.”
“Well, then, guess, I’ll mount up and see if I’ve got that crooked saddle thing going on.” With that, John wandered over to a shed that was better built than his trailer to get his saddle.
“You feeling better?” Matt asked.
“I get these—I suppose you could call them hormonal surges. They make me emotional, and not in a good way. Sorry about your pillow, by the way.”
Matt chuckled. “I’m just glad it wasn’t anything important.”
“So, do you think it’s his saddle?” she asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine. He’s been seen for his back for quite a while, and nothing turns up. I’m hoping it’s something as simple as he’s sitting skew. Any other guesses? Or videos that might give a clue?”
Ellie rubbed her hand along her own lower back. “Nope. Just sympathy pains.”
“Your back hurt?” he asked, suddenly concerned.
“Not really. Just a little twinge now and then. Nothing to be concerned about. My doctor said a lot of pregnant women suffer back pain, and I suppose I’m one of those.”
But she wasn’t showing that much yet, and the additional weight of the baby wasn’t pulling on her spine. So, unless she was subject to back pain as a rule, this seemed off. “And you didn’t tell me?” He wasn’t sure what to do now. Take Ellie back to the house where she could rest, or continue to his next appointment? If he took her back, it would put him off his schedule for the rest of the day, and he wouldn’t have time for Lucas later this evening. But if Ellie was having problems...
“Like I said, many pregnant women get aches and pains, Matt. I’m fine. And, trust me, I’m not going to do anything to put this baby at risk. You have my word on that.”
“You didn’t have back pain before you were pregnant?”
“No. In fact, I ran every morning and worked out four times a week to keep myself in shape. Like my doc back home told me, it’s just part of the process.”
A part that had him worried. “Are you sure you’re OK, because I could—?”
Ellie laid a reassuring hand on his arm. “I’m fine. Promise.”
Matt still wasn’t convinced. Of course, he didn’t know if that was coming from a doctor’s point of view or a nervous father’s. A father’s point of view—in a way, he liked that. So far, this baby wasn’t all that real for him. He knew it existed, that Ellie carried it. But the idea of being a father to—him or her—hadn’t sunk in, other than knowing it wouldn’t work out in his life. Lucas deserved better. His child deserved better. His child...
A check of John Tolly on his saddle was all it took for Matt to conclude that his saddle was the cause of his pain. “You’re sitting way off to the left,” he said, checking the view from both sides then the rear. “Which means that until you get it fixed, or have a new one made, take your truck. And it probably wouldn’t hurt to get a lumbar support cushion for that.”
“You saying my bones are getting too old to work?” John asked, as he climbed down off the saddle.
“I’m saying your equipment is too old. Get it fixed or replace it, give it a month then call me for another appointment.” If he’d even be here in another month. He’d heard a couple of his buddies were going back over to Afghanistan—he wanted to ship out with them. There was an opening and it was his, if he got his home situation straightened out. But that was the big question, wasn’t it? Could he get his home situation straightened out? Especially in only a month?
Sighing, Matt helped Ellie situate herself back in the truck, then he climbed into the driver’s seat. “Maybe you should be the one running the medical practice out here instead of me.”
“Hard to do when the people would expect more than a camera or a sketch pad.”
“So, what made you change—well, not careers so much, since what you do is medical? But direction. I know your company’s successful. I looked it up on the internet. Didn’t you like nursing?”
Ellie settled into the seat as they set off down the dusty road. “Actually, I loved being a nurse. But it wasn’t the kind of responsibility I wanted to take on. Probably because I didn’t believe I was good enough. Whatever the case, that’s the way my life has always been—finding one thing but looking for something else, someplace where I fit in better. So I was looking around at various options, given the education I already had, and medical illustration caught my attention. I’m an artist—at least as a hobby. Put that together with my medical background, and it just seemed to suit me. I’d still be in the medical field but I’d be doing something that took into consideration other passions I had.”
“So you simply started a company?” He’d read that, seen the high praise for how she’d built the company from the ground up and become a major competitor in her field in only a few short years. Even though it had nothing to do with him, it did make him proud of her.
“After another couple of years of education and a lot of extra study on running a business. It’s a relatively small field but very demanding. Four-year undergrad degree in a science discipline, two more years on top of that in applied medical illustration. Some business education thrown in. I was late when I finally got to the table, but I worked hard and fast to get us up and going, and I landed my first significant contract within the first six months, and my first major contract inside my first year. All that allowed me to grow my business, which is what I’ve been trying to do every day since I started it.”
Ellie shifted positions again, favoring her back. He noticed it, and it worried him. “So, you’re a career woman, one hundred percent.”
“Competing in a corporate world that’s largely owned by men. It’s a hard battle sometimes.” She smiled, and her nose wrinkled. “But I usually win.”
“From what I read, your services are in pretty high demand.” Matt liked the confidence he was hearing in her voice. This was a side of Ellie he hadn’t seen, and it fit her well. The way her blue eyes lit up when she talked about her work, the enthusiasm that emanated from her—it was sexy in a way he’d never thought sexy could be. Her sexiness was more than simply her physical attributes—which were very nice. It was a package deal. Intellect, ambition, competitive edge. She had it all, and another time, another place...
* * *
The second ranch call went quickly, and before Ellie knew it, they were on their way back to Matt’s house. It was about a thirty-mile drive, which wasn’t all that long unless your back was spasming off and on, like hers was. “Matt, what do you know about relaxin?” she asked, as he slowed to avoid a pothole.
“Not a lot other than it’s a hormone that lets the ligaments in the pelvic area relax, and the joints to loosen up in preparation for the birth process. The problem is, relaxin can also cause those ligaments to loosen too much, which causes back pain. Sometimes muscle separation. Is that what you think your back pain is coming from?”
“Maybe. I looked it up on the internet and it just made me wonder if I have some kind of imbalance.”
“Well, relaxin isn’t usually considered a complication unless there’s an abundance of it. Has your OB/GYN checked that?”
“He’s done routine blood counts but that’s all.”
“Well, how about I order in what I need for the test and we’ll see if that’s what’s causing your pain? Because if it is...”
Ellie knew the rest of what Matt was going to say. An over-abundance of relaxin put her at risk for a m
iscarriage or an early delivery since her body was in the delivery mode due to the relaxin. “If it is, I could be in trouble.”
“Which is why it’s better to check it now, before we do anything else.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“What for?”
“For saying we. It makes me feel less alone in this. And less worried.”
“You’re not alone, Ellie. I may not be good for much else, but I’m not going to let you do this all by yourself.” Which meant—well, he’d cross that army bridge when he came to it. Right now, his only concern was Ellie.
CHAPTER FIVE
ELLIE DROPPED DOWN onto her temporary bed in Matt’s casita, not so much physically worn out as emotionally battered from the back-and-forth she was playing with herself. She’d been quite set in what she’d wanted when she’d arrived here, and every hour since seemed to have eroded bits and pieces of her resolve.
She was discovering how much she cared for this isolated man. He was the handsome, daring prince of every little girl’s dreams, and he was the steady, noble man of most women’s grown-up dreams. Certainly, he was the dream she’d fought against for a lifetime. And, no, that wasn’t a hormonal surge leading her in that direction.
She’d watched him re-stitch a cowboy’s dirty old wound this afternoon, taking care to get it clean and stitch it as neatly as he could, considering how the cowboy had first stitched it himself with regular thread and a sewing needle. It had been infected. Matt had given him antibiotics. It might require another open-up and a second good cleansing. Matt had made an appointment to meet him in ten days. The cowboy had initially been grumpy and resistant, only giving in to a doctor’s exam at the insistence of his wife. But when they’d left, he had been laughing with Matt, recalling his own army days and inviting him back for a meal any time he was in the area.