Lightly running her fingers over each of his digits, she said, ‘Can you feel me doing that?’
‘Yes.’
She turned to the kit, located the inflatable splints and chose the size she needed. ‘We need to put a splint on your arm to hold your bones still, Ryan. It’ll help with your pain. This is what we’ll use.’ She showed Ryan the opening. ‘See, it’s a tube. I’ll slip your arm in and then I can pump it full of air until it’s a nice, firm bubble. Can I do that for you now?’
The boy bit his lip, looking up at the man holding him for guidance. A lump formed in Kayla’s throat at the naked affection in Tom’s face as he gave Ryan a smiling nod. With the encouragement, her young patient took a deep breath, tears springing to his eyes as he said, ‘Okay.’
‘You’re being very brave.’
‘Thanks.’ Ryan hiccupped then said, ‘It was pretty dumb, though, huh, Uncle Tom? Falling off like that.’
‘Nah, happens to all of us, Ry,’ Tom said. ‘You’ve seen me come a cropper. Remember when Ziggy bucked me off in the ditch?’
Kayla slid the splint over Ryan’s hand and carefully worked it along his forearm as Tom talked.
‘Y-yeah, you stunk,’ said Ryan with a watery chuckle.
‘What happened?’ Kayla asked.
‘Uncle Tom landed head first in the water.’ Ryan wiped his cheek with the palm of his uninjured hand, smearing the dust and moisture into a muddy smut.
‘Yeah. I was putrid, wasn’t I? Even after I showered, the smell stayed in my nose.’
‘M-mum wouldn’t let him come inside until he’d hosed off.’
‘Which wouldn’t have been so bad, except it was the middle of winter and the water was cold.’
‘Poor Uncle Tom.’ Kayla smiled at Ryan before she flicked a glance at Tom.
His answering smile promised retribution. ‘I can tell how sorry you feel for me.’
‘Oh, I do.’ She swallowed and made the final tweak to position the splint.
‘At least, y-you didn’t cry or anything.’ Ryan must have suddenly compared his uncle’s accident and the aftermath to his own performance and found himself wanting. His voice was unsteady again as he said, ‘D-don’t tell Hannah that I bawled, will you?’
Kayla squeezed the bulb of the splint pump and air began to fill the clear plastic sleeve.
‘I won’t.’
‘Promise? Only g-girls cry,’ Ryan said as he watched the splint inflate. ‘I d-don’t want everyone to know.’
‘It’s okay to cry, Ryan,’ Kayla said gently. The boy gave her such a look of horrified disbelief that she bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from chuckling. ‘It’s true. No one should be ashamed to have a good cry if they need to.’ She flashed a pointed glance at the tall man cradling the boy. ‘Should they…Uncle Tom?’
His amusement was clear in the twitch of his mouth. ‘Kayla’s right, Ry,’ he said to his nephew, but his warm brown eyes lingered on hers.
With an effort, she dragged her gaze away and checked the firmness of the air splint.
‘You don’t cry,’ Ryan said, twisting his head so he could look up into the man’s face.
‘I don’t cry where you can see me, kiddo,’ Tom said softly. ‘There’s a difference.’
Kayla’s heart melted as he surprised her yet again with his sensitivity. She’d expected him to mouth a quick platitude. Instead, his answer was meaningful, filled with a touching honesty and a wealth of personal experience behind the admission. What would bring a man like Tom Jamieson to the point of tears?
‘How’s your pain level now, Ryan?’ she said, pulling her attention back to her patient.
‘Better. Yeah.’
‘Good. Let’s fix you up with this sling,’ she said, threading a fabric triangle under his arm then leaning forward so she could tie the ends at the back of his neck. ‘I’ll organise a stretcher and we can get you out of here.’
‘I can walk.’
‘But you’re—’
‘I want to. Please.’ His eyes beseeched her before turning to Tom.
‘I’ll help him, Kayla,’ Tom said softly. ‘He’ll be okay.’
She pursed her lips for a moment then nodded. Both male faces lit up with identical expressions of relief. Suppressing the urge to shake her head at them, she closed up the medical kit. Hoisting the strap onto her shoulder, she stood by ready to assist, but Tom had everything under control. He braced Ryan with loving care and got the boy to his feet. Ryan straightened and Kayla scrutinised her patient’s face.
‘How do you feel?’ she said. ‘Not light-headed? Sick?’
‘No. I’m good.’ Ryan squared his shoulders and stepped forward. On either side of him, she and Tom hovered like anxious guardians, matching his pace.
A cheer went up from the crowd. Ryan’s pale cheeks flushed with quiet pride as he lifted a hand in acknowledgement.
Ten minutes later, Tom had Kayla and Ryan tucked into the back seat of his four-wheel drive and was heading for Dustin.
At the intersection, he braked and turned his head to check his precious cargo. Kayla’s head was bent towards his nephew, a swing of straight golden hair hiding her profile. She reached up and brushed it back, tucking it behind her ear as he’d seen her do often. She was smiling at Ryan. Her body was curved towards the boy, ready to anticipate his needs. She adjusted the seat belt for him and murmured something. Ryan looked up and smiled. The trust in his nephew’s expression made Tom’s chest tighten.
He cleared his throat. ‘Everything okay back there?’
‘Yes,’ two voices chorused. Kayla lifted soft grey eyes to meet his.
Tom faced the front again, checked the way was clear then pulled out onto the road.
‘Uncle Tom?’
‘Yes, Ry?’
‘Mum’s on duty this morning. Will she look after me?’
‘Probably. I’ve spoken to her so she knows we’re on the way.’ He glanced at Ryan in the rear-vision mirror then across to Kayla. ‘My sister, Ryan’s mum, is Charlotte Collins.’
‘The radiographer?’
‘Yep.’
‘Will I have one of those plasters that everyone can sign?’ Ryan said, sounding hopeful.
‘You will.’ Humour laced Kayla’s voice.
‘Cool. That’s better than David. He only had a sling when he broke his collarbone.’ There was a small silence. When Tom looked up again, Ryan was yawning. ‘When will I be able to ride again?’
‘Well, let’s get you fixed up before we say for sure,’ Kayla said, gently. ‘You’ll need the plaster on for six weeks and then we’ll see. How is your pain now?’
‘Okay. I’m tired,’ he mumbled through another yawn.
‘Why don’t you close your eyes?’
A few minutes later, Tom glanced up to see Kayla had her arm around Ryan. His nephew’s head rested on her shoulder.
Tom swallowed hard. The picture sent a shaft of pure emotion arrowing so strongly to his heart, it bordered on pain.
She’d handled his nephew flawlessly in the arena, no frustration with his reluctance to have her examine his arm. Just a smooth segue into other checks until Ryan had the confidence to let her near the painful injury. She was fantastic to have around, taking charge, easing difficult moments in an emergency.
He loved the way she’d been so sensitive, quickly grasping Ryan’s need to walk out of the arena on his own two feet. Tom had been able to tell she hadn’t been happy about it, but she’d understood it was important.
He liked working with her. They made a good team.
A damned good team.
An achy warmth expanded through his chest. The more he knew Kayla, the more he wanted to know.
As Kayla had expected, Ryan’s arm had a classic greenstick fracture. A minor manipulation while he was under heavy sedation reduced it. And then she’d put a cast on his forearm.
Now back in the care of his mother, Ryan had immediately tried to extract a promise from the frazzled woman that she’d tak
e him back out for the camp draft barbecue as planned.
‘Maybe. We’ll see how you are in a couple of hours,’ Charlotte prevaricated.
‘We’d better head back out to the flat, Charlie,’ Tom said with a glance at his watch.
‘Of course.’ Charlotte turned to Kayla. ‘Thank you both again for looking after Ryan.’
‘No problem, Charlotte. Everything should be fine with his arm now but let me know if you have any concerns,’ Kayla said.
‘I will, thank you.’ Charlotte put her arm across her son’s shoulders and he snuggled into her side without any self-consciousness. ‘Good luck, Tom. And listen, I don’t want to see you in here later.’
Tom grinned. ‘Yes, boss. See you, Ry.’
‘Let’s go, Kayla.’ He took her arm and Kayla was aware of Charlotte’s eyes darting between them curiously.
‘Sure. Bye, Ryan, Charlotte.’
Tom shifted his hand to the small of her back and the warmth of his touch through the light cotton of her shirt was all she could think of until he was holding the door of his vehicle open for her.
She clambered into the front passenger seat and watched him walk around the bonnet to the driver’s door. His sister’s parting words suddenly popped into her mind.
‘Why did Charlotte wish you luck?’
‘For this afternoon,’ he said as he reversed out of the parking space.
Oh. God. She swallowed. ‘You’re competing in the camp draft?’
‘Of course.’ He put the car in gear and spun the steering-wheel. ‘Are you going to watch?’
‘No!’
He glanced at her, raising his eyebrows at her instinctive response.
‘I…don’t know,’ she said, moderating her tone. ‘Maybe.’ Her heart lurched. Probably.
‘In medieval times, you’d have given me a token to wear to show your allegiance.’
‘Would I?’ she said dryly. ‘Wouldn’t that depend?’
‘On?’
‘On whether I…um…favoured you.’
‘And do you?’ His voice flowed like honey over her, leaving heat sweeping through her.
Oh, heavens. Too much, too fast. Too terrifying.
‘Well, I certainly don’t want to see you skewered on the end of a lance or a cow horn, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Chicken.’ He laughed. ‘You’re dodging the issue.’
‘Not at all,’ she said smoothly. ‘Back in medieval times, I’d only have to boil a few newts’ eyes in my cauldron. Whether you got well or not would have been foretold in the entrails of some poor unsuspecting chicken. These days, it’s my job to stitch up any messy aftermaths.’
‘Speaking of aftermaths,’ he said, his voice soft and sincere, ‘you were wonderful with Ryan today. Thank you.’
‘He was a trouper.’
They spent the rest of the short journey chatting companionably. She had the feeling Tom was managing her, dictating the tenor of their conversations. A little push here, a relaxing topic there.
It had to be her imagination—why would he bother?
‘I’ll see you shortly,’ Tom said as he dropped her at the arena.
‘Sure.’
She walked slowly over to the stands, casting a brief look over her shoulder to see him driving slowly over to their camp. He was going to pick up Ziggy so they could compete. She still wasn’t sure if she wanted to watch, but how could she not?
As each successive competitor was announced, she felt sick with apprehension until she knew it wasn’t Tom’s turn.
‘Next in camp is Tom Jamieson.’
Her heart froze.
She watched as Tom and Ziggy ambled into the penned area and stood relaxed at the end for a signal from the judge.
Tom looked over at her and winked, his teeth a flash of white in his face. Her fingers curled into fists and she held them tight in her lap. She was relieved to see that, like all the riders before him, he wore a helmet.
With his back leg cocked, Ziggy stood looking half-asleep. Tom was running his eyes over the cattle at the other end of the fenced area. Kayla knew enough now to know he was choosing his beast. She glanced at the small milling herd, wondering which one looked most cooperative. They all looked the same—large and black with broad, wet noses and big, suspicious eyes.
‘Okay,’ said the judge.
Tom straightened, gathering the reins. Ziggy’s demeanour changed instantly, his ears flickering back and forth. Tom’s eyes focussed and he moved forward. Still relaxed but with obvious intent. Almost stalking.
Ziggy’s step had a controlled spring and the horse seemed to know which of the animals Tom had chosen.
Slowly, slowly, Tom and Ziggy rode through the group. There was no panic, they seemed to just be moseying around.
And then, suddenly, one of the beasts was free at the gate end of the camp, separated from the others by Tom and Ziggy.
In a desperate attempt to rejoin its herd, the beast tried to bolt along the fence.
But Ziggy was ready. The big horse dived at the wooden barrier, cutting off escape.
Kayla gasped, pressing her clenched fists against her mouth, mashing her lips against her teeth. Surely Tom would be flung off against the rails. But, no, he and Ziggy worked in a fluid dance as the beast dodged and weaved. There was no way they were going to let the animal evade them. Backwards and forwards. Backwards and forwards. Kayla realised her feet were shuffling in an effort to help.
‘Gate.’ Tom’s voice clipped out the command.
The attendants flung open the double gates at the front of the camp.
The beast charged through with Ziggy in hot pursuit.
Side by side, they rounded the first peg. Man and horse slowed, changed sides to manoeuvre the beast into position for the second peg. And then a huge spurt of speed. Sand flung up from Ziggy’s hooves as he curved the animal into the run for the second peg.
Right, right, right.
The horse’s shoulder nudged the animal along the desired path. Kayla’s heart pounded in her throat. For a moment it seemed as though the beast would resist. And then a yield. The figure eight was completed at a flat gallop.
Down the centre of the arena.
A final turn.
And then through the gate.
The whistle sounded and Kayla leapt to her feet to join with the applause.
A perfect run.
As the excitement of the moment drained away, Kayla realised her joints felt like cooked noodles.
Just as well there was nothing between her and Tom. Or she’d have to give the man a piece of her mind. How dared he scare her like this? Treat his life with so little regard?
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘SO WHAT’S with you and Tom?’ Liz’s voice floated into the tiny caravan bathroom where Kayla was freshening up for the barbecue.
Her hand jerked and a thick black smudge of mascara appeared on her cheekbone. She softly huffed out a breath and twitched a tissue from the box.
‘Nothing.’ Using a dab of face cream on the tissue, she scrubbed her skin clean. ‘There’s nothing with us.’
‘But he asked you to the barbecue with his family.’
Kayla’s stomach lurched. ‘Isn’t it like an open house?’
She stared her reflection with dismay. The pink-cheeked woman staring back from the mirror looked…excited, radiant.
Brimming with expectation…but for what? This wasn’t a real date—it was more of a truce.
She took a deep breath down into her diaphragm to still the swooping sensation. All comers welcome, that’s what Tom had said.
‘Well, yes, it is,’ Liz said.
Relief tinged with something less well-defined flashed through Kayla.
Liz went on, ‘But he’s coming back to pick you up, not entrusting you to Jack and me for directions.’ There was a small silence. ‘That seems significant.’
‘He probably has to come back to get ready anyway since his gear’s here.’ But if that was the case, wouldn’t
he already be here?
Significant. Kayla closed her eyes. Tom had called it a date but she’d avoided thinking of it that way. Having Liz attach importance to it gave unwanted weight to his interpretation. She took another deep breath then jammed her few toiletries back in the bag.
‘Thanks for the loan of your bathroom,’ she said, changing the subject as she clicked the door shut behind her.
‘You’re very welcome.’ Liz sat on the bed with her feet up, one hand rubbing the mound of her stomach.
Concerned, Kayla frowned at her friend. ‘Are you okay? Not having pains, are you?’
‘No, nothing like that.’ Liz sighed. ‘I just feel like I’ve been pregnant for ever and I can’t believe there’s only one baby in here. It’s starting to feel like I’m going to give birth to a teenager.’ Her bottom lip pouted for a moment and she wriggled her bare toes. ‘And my feet are sore.’
Kayla sat on the end of the bed. ‘Poor thing. Shall I give you a foot massage?’
‘That wasn’t a hint. Really. But…’ Liz said, then moaned as Kayla worked her thumb into the arch of one foot. ‘Oh, I’ll take it. Thank you.’
‘Do you think the baby might come early again?’
‘Yes.’ Then she sighed. ‘But maybe it’s just wishful thinking. And for goodness’ sake, please don’t tell Jack or he’ll bundle me home and tie me to the bed.’
‘Sounds like it has possibilities.’
A strangled snort of laughter spluttered out of Liz. ‘Not in my current state but…maybe down the track.’ She sighed blissfully as Kayla moved to the other foot. ‘Thanks. I was feeling sorry for myself.’
‘You should take it easy.’
‘Maybe. Kayla…about you and Tom…’ Liz trailed off.
‘There is no me and Tom, so whatever you’re worried about, stop it,’ Kayla said gently, as she concentrated on the ball of Liz’s foot.
‘Okay, but I just wanted to say that Tom really is a darling.’
‘I’m starting to realise that the sergeant’s rugged, manly exterior hides a certain brusque charm.’ Kayla eased Liz’s feet back on the bed then stood.
As she walked towards the bathroom to wash her hands, she heard Liz getting up.
The Man Behind the Badge Page 7