“Yes.” Maddie caught herself fiddling with her hair and straightening her shirt. Nerves, she guessed. Or maybe she was in a mild state of shock. “I can’t lose him,” she blurted. “My husband died nearly two years ago. I’m still not over it. I don’t think I can survive losing Cam, too.”
“I hear you on that.”
“Oh, dear heaven, my grandson.” Maddie strained against the seat belt to fish in her hip pocket for her new cell. “I need to call the school.”
Sam switched lanes and glanced over at her. “I don’t think calling his school is a good plan.”
“But I need to let Caleb know his father is hurt!”
“And then have him drive to Missoula like a bat out of hell? He could have an accident. You’ve already got one boy hurt. It might be better to find out more about Cam’s injuries before you notify his son. If it’s real bad, I can drive back down to pick Caleb up and make sure he reaches St. Pat’s safely.”
Maddie put the phone on her lap. “I’m not thinking clearly, am I?”
“I don’t know about that. But I do know that being notified by the school office that his dad has been hurt might scare the daylights out of the kid.”
As little as Maddie liked Sam Conacher, she was grateful for his presence and his levelheadedness.
• • •
Once at the hospital, Maddie still felt as if she were moving through a fog. An ER doctor came out to speak with her. They sat in a corner for privacy. Sam, though uninvited, remained at Maddie’s side. Before the conversation was over, she was glad he’d stayed. He asked questions that she might not have thought to ask. The news was grim. Cam was undergoing emergency surgery. One of his broken ribs had punctured his lung in two places. There was also a possibility that Cam might have a back injury, but that was a concern for later.
After the physician left, Maddie couldn’t stop shaking. “It’s really bad,” she whispered.
Sam curled a hard arm around her shoulders. “Not that bad. He’s built like a brick shithouse. He’ll pull through this and be right as rain. If the punctured lung doesn’t fix itself, the surgeon can do it. And in this day and age, back injuries are repaired every day. It’s amazing what they can do.”
Maddie clung to those predictions. They were all she had.
• • •
Sam wanted to go check on his daughter. She hadn’t seemed to be seriously hurt as he drove her in, but she’d gone down with a horse and had her leg pinned under its body. Kirstin was a slender, slightly built woman. That was a lot of weight, and not all injuries were immediately apparent after an accident. He couldn’t bring himself to leave Maddie alone, though. He could tell just by looking at her that she was clinging to her composure by a thin thread.
Just when Sam thought he could bear the waiting no longer, Kirstin hobbled out on crutches into the ER waiting room. When Sam leaped to his feet, she gave him a groggy smile and said, “I’m fine, Dad. My leg is badly bruised and my ankle is sprained, but nothing is broken.”
Maddie jumped up. “Oh, you poor thing. Are you in a lot of pain?”
Sam appreciated that Maddie could feel concern for his daughter when her son might be in serious peril.
Kirstin shook her head. “The doctor gave me a shot to take the edge off and told me to baby the leg for a few days.” Struggling with the crutches, she lowered herself onto a seat cushion next to where Maddie had been sitting. She grasped the older woman’s hand and drew her down beside her. “I’m dying to know how Cam is. They wouldn’t tell me anything because we’re not related.”
Maddie’s voice trembled as she repeated what the doctor had told her. Kirstin started to cry. Maddie hugged her close and cried with her. Sam felt like a tree that had put down roots in the glossy waiting room floor. He waited until both women got their spigots turned off and then went to stand in front of Maddie.
“I think I should drive back to Rustlers’ Gulch and get Caleb out of school.”
Maddie glanced at her watch. “Yes,” she agreed in a shaky voice. “I’d offer to do it, but I’d have to use your truck.” Looking up at him with tear-swollen eyes, she asked, “Would you like me to write you a note? They’re pretty strict about allowing someone to take a kid out of class.”
Sam mustered a smile. “Everyone knows me, and Caleb is old enough to speak for himself. I won’t need a note.”
• • •
When Caleb was called to the office, the last person he expected to see was their mean neighbor. Inside a building, Sam looked bigger than he did at a distance. He wore a faded blue shirt, jeans, and dusty riding boots. His hat, once a beige color, had a ragged and charred front brim, dirt smudges all over it, and a sweat ring above the leather band. Caleb figured he’d probably been wearing that Stetson, day in and day out, for years.
He wanted to ask why a man with all his money didn’t buy himself a new hat. Instead Caleb asked, “What do you want?” He had no intention of being friendly to someone who’d been rude to his grandmother. “You pulled me out of geometry class, so make it fast.”
Conacher drew off his Stetson. His hair was thick and as white as a motel room towel. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news, son. Your dad got hurt this morning, and he’s in the hospital. St. Pat’s in Missoula. Your grandmother sent me to pick you up.”
Caleb’s stomach dropped. His father had gone home with Kirstin last night, and his grandmother had been afraid there might be trouble. “Hurt? What did you do to him?”
Conacher thrust his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t put him in the hospital. He got charged by a bull. He’s busted up pretty bad.”
A funny, quivery feeling attacked Caleb’s knees. “A bull? Your bull?”
“Yes, my bull, but I didn’t sic it on him. It was an accident. If you’ll come with me, I’ll tell you about it on the way to Missoula.”
Caleb’s heart started to pound. “I’ve got my own rig. I can drive myself.”
The rancher pursed his lips. He had deep wrinkles on his face, and his bushy black eyebrows looked like they’d been salted with a generous shaker. “Well, son, you could do that, I suppose. But your grandmother doesn’t want you behind the wheel. She’s afraid you’ll be too upset to drive safely and might have a wreck. She’s mighty upset about your father right now. Do you really want to give her something more to worry about?”
Caleb loved his gram almost as much as he did his dad. He always tried not to worry her. Ever since Gramps had died, his family fretted about one another too much as it was. To them death was like a contagious disease that might strike again at any moment. “No,” he said. “I don’t want to make her worry.”
Conacher put his hat back on. “Do you need to get anything from your locker?” When Caleb nodded, he said, “I’ll wait here for you. Make it fast, though. If your dad wakes up, he’ll want to see you.”
Heart still racing, Caleb ran to his locker and returned minutes later with his jacket and backpack. As he and Conacher exited the front doors into a shaded breezeway that bordered the campus parking lot, Caleb said, “Just because I’m letting you give me a ride doesn’t mean we’re friends.”
The rancher chuckled. Caleb didn’t think he did that often. He sounded like a rusty hinge being forced open. “Good to know we understand each other.”
• • •
Sam was glad he’d driven back to collect Cam’s son. The boy tried to act tough, but his face had paled and his hands were trembling, telltale signs that he’d taken the news about his father pretty hard.
“I’m sorry your dad got hurt,” Sam said. “I know it can’t be easy to hear the news from a stranger.”
Caleb nodded. Sunlight slanted through the windshield to make his brownish blond hair glisten. He was a handsome kid and resembled his dad. Sam cut that thought short. Since seeing Cam risk his life to save Kirstin that morning, his estimation of the man
had inched up, but he wasn’t ready to credit him with being good-looking.
“Is my dad going to die?” Caleb asked.
Sam considered his answer. “He’s in good hands. Some of the best doctors in the state are caring for him.”
Caleb gave Sam a sideways glare. “I’m not a baby. Give it to me straight. How bad is he hurt?”
Something tugged inside Sam’s chest. He was starting to like this kid. “He’s in pretty bad shape. But my money is on him pulling through.”
“Where is he hurt?”
Sam took Caleb at his word and gave it to him straight. The boy tensed his shoulders and lifted his chin. “A punctured lung won’t take my dad out. He’s tough, and he’s a fighter. We lost my grandpa not that long ago. Dad knows we can’t lose him, too.”
Once again, Sam felt glad that Caleb wasn’t driving.
• • •
It seemed to Sam that his ass had been glued all day to the driver’s seat. During the trips back and forth between Rustlers’ Gulch and Missoula, he’d had a lot of time to think about his recent behavior. And he wasn’t proud of himself. He recalled all those nights when he couldn’t sleep because he imagined Annie berating him for hanging on so tightly to Kirstin. He’d never been a fanciful man, but now he suddenly wondered if that voice inside his head had been only his imagination. A burning sensation settled at the base of his throat when he thought of Annie. She’d been more than just beautiful; she’d been his everything. When he’d gone off half-cocked, she’d always helped him calm down and find his center. She’d also been a wonderful wife and mother, thoughtful, wise, and loving. If anyone would come back from the grave to protect her daughter, it would be Annie.
And now, with sudden clarity, Sam realized how much Kirstin had needed her mother’s intervention. Sam’s whole world had fallen apart when Annie died, so he’d turned to Kirstin to be his support post. Once he’d made that transition, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing Kirstin and being alone. He hadn’t wanted her to love another man because that would have weakened his hold on her.
As if a recording played inside his head, he recalled Kirstin saying that she was nearly twenty-seven and running out of time to fall in love and have babies. Sam had nearly destroyed her life with his possessiveness. Even worse, if she’d found true love with Cameron McLendon and the young man ended up dead, her life would be destroyed. Nobody knew better than Sam that true love came along only once in a lifetime.
Sam was still mulling that over when he delivered Caleb to the hospital. While Sam parked his truck, Caleb ran through the automatic doors into the ER waiting room. By the time Sam got there, only Maddie remained.
“We’ve been assigned a new waiting area,” she told Sam as he sat beside her. “Caleb is so upset he can’t sit still, so Kirstin took him up. It’s where the doctor will go to talk with us after he finishes operating.”
Sam had always held his thoughts and emotions close to his chest, so he felt as surprised as Maddie looked when he blurted, “I’ve been a horrible father to my daughter these last six years.”
He expected a sarcastic comment from Maddie. He sure as hell hadn’t been pleasant to her. Instead she made a low sound in her throat and touched his arm as if to comfort him.
“It’s never too late to change, Sam.”
Even to Sam’s ears, his voice sounded strangled when he replied, “I’m not sure I know how to change.”
Maddie sighed. “Talking with someone about it may help.”
“I hate counselors. Hate the whole idea of baring my soul to someone whose only knowledge comes from a textbook.”
She surprised the hell out of him by saying, “I’m not sold on counseling, either. Sometimes, though, a good friend who has also made mistakes can give sound advice.”
Sam couldn’t resist asking, “Have you made mistakes?”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Haven’t we all? It’s those of us who don’t realize we’ve made mistakes that can’t change our ways.”
“Yeah, well.” Sam removed his hat and hung it on his knee. “I no longer have any friends to advise me. After Annie died, I ran all of them off.”
Just then Caleb came racing into the waiting room. “The doctor’s upstairs waiting to talk to us.”
• • •
Maddie’s chemo treatment on Monday was still playing heck with her body. Sam flanked her, setting the pace with long strides as she followed Caleb to the elevators. Sweat beaded her brow. She got short of breath. Her legs felt as if they might buckle. It seemed to her that the hallways were miles long. She normally had several good days before a treatment. Then, afterward, she felt nauseated and her energy bottomed out. Now was one of those times.
“Are you all right?” Sam asked, looking down at her with concern.
Maddie was panting and could barely reply. Sam grasped her arm and drew her to a stop. “This isn’t a footrace. Let’s stop for a second.”
She cast a frantic glance at Caleb as he turned a corner into yet another hallway. “No,” she managed to say. Cam’s doctor waited upstairs. If she took time to catch her breath, she might miss speaking with him. “I—have—to—get there.”
She struck off again, and Sam followed, setting his strides to match hers. A wave of gratitude swamped her. Sam Conacher isn’t all bad, she decided. Buried under that crotchety exterior lurked a man with at least some goodness in his heart.
After walking for what seemed forever, Maddie saw that Caleb was holding the elevator door open for them. She entered the cubicle with a sigh of relief and grasped the handrail to steady herself. When Sam stepped in, he seemed to loom over her. The car gently bumped its way up to the correct floor. As the panel slid open again, Sam grasped her elbow with a firm grip. Maddie realized that he was lending her his strength. It was as if he sensed she had no reserves of her own.
She was shaking almost uncontrollably when she spotted Kirstin sitting in a nicely appointed waiting alcove. Flanked by her crutches, she looked pale and frustrated. She’d tied her long black hair into a knot at the back of her neck, and her forehead was deeply creased with worry. Maddie surmised that the physician, a young fellow wearing blue scrubs and a surgical cap that concealed his hair color, refused to divulge any information to Kirstin because she wasn’t a member of the family. Sam helped Maddie sink onto a chair beside his daughter. Again, his actions struck Maddie as being out of character for the irascible man she’d come to know. Caleb perched on the edge of a cushion next to Maddie.
The doctor leaned forward to shake Maddie’s hand as he introduced himself. “You must be Mrs. McLendon.”
“Yes.”
“I’m a great fan of your books,” he said with a smile. “I know writing is the last thing on your mind right now, so I’ll get to the point.” He glanced at Kirstin and Sam. “Do I have your permission to speak freely in front of your friends?”
Maddie never would have thought that Sam Conacher would be referred to as one of her friends, but she nodded nevertheless. Somehow their brick walls and signposts had gone the way of the wind. “Please. My son would also grant you permission.”
The doctor, already sitting on the edge of his seat after shaking Maddie’s hand, braced his elbows on his knees. “First, let me say that your son survived the surgery, but he’s still in critical condition. He arrived with severe traumatic pneumothorax, which is air that escapes from a punctured lung and collects in the chest cavity. Often a lung puncture will clot and repair itself, but in this case, with a double puncture, that didn’t occur. The lung remained collapsed. We had no choice but to go in to do surgical repair, and we almost lost him on the table. The uninjured lung had a lot of pressure on it as well, so he couldn’t breathe efficiently.”
Maddie winced. Kirstin grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard.
“We performed thoracentesis, a procedure done with a short-bore needle attached to
a syringe. We go in between the second and third ribs to draw out the air and fluid crowding the lung. In this case, there was so much fluid and air in the pleural space that it was doubly difficult for us to get all of it. The lung punctures were too large to quickly close by themselves, so I went in to repair the damage by putting a tube down the throat and into the bronchial passage. Now it’s a wait-and-see game. In the morning, if he remains stable, we’ll get some images of his spine. He was unresponsive to stimuli in his right leg. Let me stress that it could be due to swelling around the spinal cord.”
He said nothing more. Maddie understood what he’d left unsaid, that her son could be partially paralyzed. She wanted to scream, “No!” She choked back the word. Cam was so active. He loved to hike and ride horses. He enjoyed working on the land. His life would be changed forever if he came out of this unable to walk.
“Right now Cameron is out of recovery and in intensive care,” the surgeon continued. “Only one close family member is allowed to see him at a time and for only ten minutes per hour. He’s asleep, not unconscious. Rest is the best thing for him right now, so I really don’t want anyone talking to him, because he may feel obligated to respond. I want that injured lung to rest as much as possible.”
Maddie knotted her hands on her lap. “You said ‘if he remains stable.’ Can I take that to mean he’s in stable condition right now?”
“He is. At the moment. We’ll be keeping close tabs on him. One possibility, which we hope doesn’t occur, is pulmonary edema, fluid in the lung instead of outside of it. Another is a recurrence of traumatic pneumothorax. He endured blunt trauma to his chest. The bruising was extreme. But if those things happen, we will be ready to deal with them.”
“What about his broken ribs?” Caleb asked.
The surgeon’s blue eyes focused on the boy. “You must be Caleb.” He grinned. “I read your dad’s admittance chart, which your grandmother filled out after she reached the hospital. And you’ve asked a good question. Your father has three broken ribs, two simple and one complex. A simple rib fracture is where the rib is broken but stays in alignment. A complex fracture means that the fracture is slightly out of alignment or completely disconnected from the chest wall. The complex fracture left a piece of your dad’s rib disconnected. It’s rare with complex fractures for only one rib to be involved. Normally three or more adjacent ribs are disconnected, each of them broken in two or three places.
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