Majestic Mountain Romance Series: Books One through Seven! (Clean Western Romances)

by Zoe Matthews

  In addition to weakness in her hands, sometimes to the point where she could barely write, she’d been having some problems with her vision. Just little bouts of blurriness, which she had attributed to her stressful job and the stress of burying her father. They’d been getting worse lately, but she’d heaped more stress upon herself by moving back to the ranch.

  Taking a breath, she was relieved to feel the strength return to her leg. She retrieved the notebook and went about her duties. I’m just tired and stressed out. A few more weeks of rest here at the ranch and I should be back to normal.

  She continued to tell herself that over the next few days as her symptoms continued to show up at the most inopportune times. The icing on the cake came Friday afternoon when she went searching for Bridger. She needed to know if the older cabins were going to be ready for interior decorating next week, but as she went to step up onto the first porch, her right leg completely gave out on her and only her close proximity to the porch railing, and the fact that she grabbed it with both hands prevented her fall.

  She wasn’t aware that anyone was watching her, so she took plenty of time getting her feet under her body once again before pulling herself up to sit on one of the porch chairs.

  She sat there, her hands trembling as she tried to calm her racing heart and will the strength back into her limbs.

  “Steph? What’s wrong?”

  Stephanie lifted her head up sharply and looked over her shoulder to see Bridger standing in the open front door. She’d thought her clumsiness had been her own fault, and blushed when she realized he’d probably seen everything.

  “I’m fine. I just stumbled.” She moved to push herself from the chair, but her arms wouldn’t cooperate.

  Bridger was watching her with very intent eyes, and when she met them and saw the grave concern on his face, her alarm intensified.

  “I’m fine. I really am.” She wanted to believe it. She wanted it to be true. Dear God, please let it be true!

  Chapter 7

  Bridger didn’t like what he was seeing. He’d watched her leg give out, and then seen her struggle to pull herself upright. He knew she was embarrassed that he’d seen her weakness, but he didn’t care. He needed to know exactly what happened.

  He squatted down in front of her and place a calming hand on her arms where they were braced against the chair, “What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

  Stephanie shook her head, “No. I told you I’m fine.” She sounded like she wanted him to leave her alone, but he wasn’t going to do that.

  Bridger watched her for a moment and then changed his line of questioning, “How often does your leg give out like that?”

  “It’s happened a few times, but it’s just stress. It’s been a really long few months,” she responded, but Bridger thought it was peculiar that she wouldn’t look at him.

  “Stress doesn’t do that,” he informed her, searching her leg for something else that might have caused it. She had on a pair of shorts and he could see that her legs were firm and well-muscled, almost like she worked out regularly. He couldn’t see any bruises or wounds.

  “I’m really okay. I was actually looking for you. Are we on track to have the construction side of things finished up on the older cabins this weekend? I really would like to start decorating them.”

  Bridger wanted to question her more, but then he decided to let it go for now and just keep an eye on her. He could tell she didn’t want to talk about it. He nodded, “Yes. They should be finished up first thing tomorrow.”

  “Great. I’ll start getting the decorating going first thing Monday morning.” She pushed herself up from the chair, hiding her relief when her body acted normally. “Have a nice weekend.”

  “Stephanie, I really think…” Bridger tried to talk to her, but she waved at him and then hurried off. He watched her go and then shrugged his shoulders. She seemed fine now, but he would keep an eye out for her anyway.

  Tuesday morning he had another opportunity to observe her and this time he wasn’t letting her shrug her problem off. He’d been standing with her in cabin number two while she read over the instructions for the closet armoire construction.

  He’d seen her follow two of his crew members into the cabin as they carried in the furniture that had just arrived. Having a few extra minutes, he had grabbed a drill and gone over to lend a hand in putting the piece together.

  “So, what’s step number three?” he asked her, having just finished tightening the sides to the bottom of the furniture.

  “It says you need to find…uhm…A…no N…”

  Bridger looked up as she stumbled around reading the directions to see her squinting at the directions and then rubbing her eyes. Standing up, he watched her and then asked, “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

  Stephanie scrunched her forehead up and squinted at the papers again, “I don’t know. Everything just got blurry all of a sudden.”

  “Has this happened before?” he asked, tipping her chin up and peering into her eyes, but could see nothing wrong with them.

  “A few times,” she admitted, tingling from where his hand touched her face.

  “Stephanie, you need to go see a doctor. The weakness in your limbs, the blurry eyes…have you been dizzy as well?”

  She shrugged which he took as an affirmative answer. “Really, I’ll even drive you into Pinedale.”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted, her vision suddenly clearing up. “See, all better. Step three is piece N. You know what? I think I’m going to head back up to the Ranch House. I just remembered I needed to do something there. I’ll finish this later.”

  “Steph…”

  “Thanks for helping with the furniture and your concern.” She gave him a weak smile and then turned and slowly made her way across the landscape. Bridger watched her from the open doorway of the cabin, one hand braced on the top of the doorjamb, a concerned look on his face.

  When he saw her stumble slightly, he shook his head, tossed the screwdriver in his hand to the floor and started after her. But he got waylaid three times by different members of his crew with problems that couldn’t wait. By the time he reached the Ranch House, almost an hour had passed since Stephanie had left the cabin.

  ****

  Stephanie felt her leg start to give out about halfway back to the Ranch House and she offered up a silent prayer for the strength to at least make it to her rooms. She was starting to get really scared. Deep down, she knew her symptoms weren’t just from stress, no matter how badly she wanted that to be true. They were happening more frequently than they were when she was working in Denver.

  She started towards the staircase, but then she heard Sheridan’s voice coming from behind the partially closed door of his office. She remembered the advice her father had given her in his letter about letting her siblings help her when she needed it. She desperately needed to talk to a family member and she chose Sheridan because he was the closest one around. She made her way to his door and tapped lightly.

  “Come in.” Sheridan looked up as he placed the phone receiver back in its cradle and smiled at her, “Hey, Stephanie. What’s up?”

  “I need to talk to you.” Stephanie took a seat in front of his desk and then looked at her brother. He’d taken over for their father in many ways years earlier, but since returning home, she’d noticed that Sheridan had really stepped up and become the leader of the family in so many ways. She trusted him to help her.

  “Sheridan, gosh, I don’t know where to even start.”

  “How about at the beginning?” he suggested with a smile, confusion on his face.

  “I haven’t been feeling well. My leg sometimes gives out on me, my vision gets all blurry, I’m dizzy and…sometimes I find it hard to write. The weird thing about it is these symptoms come and go. I will be fine for days, and then they start up again.”

  “How long has this been happening?” Sheridan asked with concern.

  “Since Christmas, I think. I thought they were happe
ning because of stress with my job in Denver and that they would go away when I moved back here, but they haven’t.”

  Sheridan sat forward in his seat and looked her in the eyes. “Have you a seen a doctor?”

  Stephanie shook her head. “No. Like I said, I was hoping it was all stress related. I’m scared.”

  “I think you need to go see a doctor. You can go to the physician dad went to. His name is Dr. Hansen. Let me call and see if he has any openings.” Sheridan picked up the phone and made the call. When he hung up, he gave her a comforting smile. “You are in luck. The receptionist said Dr. Hansen had a cancellation for tomorrow. You have an appointment for one o’clock.”

  Even though Stephanie didn’t want to go to the doctor, she felt relief that her brother was taking her symptoms seriously. “Sheridan, please don’t say anything to the others. I don’t want them to worry when it might be nothing.”

  Stephanie could tell Sheridan didn’t agree with her request, but she finally convinced him that it was for the best. She wanted to see what the doctor had to say before anyone else knew. “Thanks.”

  “I expect you to share with me what the doctor says. We’re family and whatever’s going on, we’ll deal with together,” he reminded her.

  Stephanie nodded her head in agreement and ducked out of his office before the tears that had sprung to her eyes could fall. She went into the small sitting room that was located off of her bedroom and sat in the dimly lit room with the curtains partially shut to keep out the heat until she felt back in control.

  She emerged from the room over an hour later and turned towards the staircase, only to run headlong into Bridger.

  “Whoa! Easy there.” Bridger held her upper arms until she was steady on her feet and then he let her move back from him. “I was just looking for you.”

  “What for?” she asked, smoothing her hands down her arms and crossing them over her chest.

  “Did you call the doctor?”

  Stephanie nodded her head. “I have an appointment tomorrow.”

  “Who’s driving you into Pinedale?” he asked.

  “No one. I’m capable of driving myself.”

  “No, you’re not! What if you have another dizzy spell or your vision fails while you’re driving? It’s not safe!” Bridger said firmly.

  “I’ll be fine,” Stephanie insisted.

  “You could not only kill yourself, but you could hurt someone else.”

  That thought made her stop and finally admit that he was right. She really wasn’t in a position to be driving over an hour by herself. Not with how often she’d been having symptoms. “Fine. I’ll ask Sheridan…”

  “I’ll drive you.”

  Stephanie shook her head. “I couldn’t put you out…”

  “I need to do some errands in Pinedale tomorrow anyway. I’ve got some supplies ready to be picked up as well.”

  Stephanie looked at him and then nodded, “Fine. Thanks.” She skirted around him and slowly made her way up the stairs. She pleaded a headache and avoided her siblings that evening for dinner, her stomach in knots as she wondered what the doctor would find on the morrow.

  Chapter 8

  The drive into Pinedale was the longest one in history for Stephanie. Bridger tried to make small talk, but she wasn’t in the mood. She’d gotten almost no sleep the night before, worrying about all of the things that could be wrong with her.

  “Do you want me to stay with you?” Bridger asked a few minutes before one o’clock as he pulled up in front of the doctor’s office.

  Stephanie looked at the office and shook her head. “No. Go run your errands and then come back for me.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, placing a hand on her upper arm in a show of support.

  “I’m sure.” Stephanie pushed the door open and then got out of the truck. She swallowed down her nerves and walked with purpose towards the front doors to the office. She entered the reception area, and after filling out some paperwork, was immediately taken back to an examination room.

  “Miss Collingsworth?” a gray-haired man asked as he entered the exam room with a manila folder in his hands.

  “Yes.” She extended her hand and shook the one offered back. “I’m Stephanie.”

  “I’m Dr. Hansen. I’m sorry about your father’s death. I hope he wasn’t in too much pain at the end,” Dr. Hansen said as he sat down on a round stool.

  “What?!” Stephanie asked, confused. Her father had died when his private plane crashed into the side of a mountain.

  “Your father? His illness was terminal and he rejected most of the treatment options available to him. I trust he was comfortable to the end?”

  Stephanie numbly nodded her head. Dad had a terminal illness? Why hadn’t anyone in the family known about that? We didn’t even know he was ill!

  “So, tell me what brings you here today,” the doctor requested, changing the subject.

  “I’ve been experiencing some puzzling symptoms,” her voice shaking a little as she spoke.

  “Like?” he asked, a pen poised in his hand as he prepared to take notes.

  “Well, my right leg gives out on me sometimes. My vision gets blurry and then clears up. Sometimes I get dizzy for no reason. And then there are the headaches and the inability to use my hands sometimes.”

  “Inability to use your hands?” the doctor questioned, a thoughtful look on his face.

  “When I write. Sometimes I can’t seem to make my hands cooperate.”

  The doctor nodded, wrote a few things down, and then started his examination. Stephanie’s head was still stuck on the fact that her father had been ill before his untimely death. “So, would the treatments for my father have helped at all?”

  The doctor looked at her and then sadly shook his head. “They might have extended his life by a few months, but the illness was too far progressed when it was discovered. And the side effects of the treatment would have been almost worse than the illness itself.”

  “Dad wouldn’t have wanted that,” Stephanie confirmed.

  “No. That’s just what he told me. Now, just relax. I want to test your reflexes.” He proceeded to do just that, and when her body didn’t respond, Stephanie felt herself becoming even more nervous.

  “Doctor, what’s wrong with me?”

  Dr. Hansen put his instruments away and then sat down on the small stool and looked her in the eye. “Stephanie, I want to run some more tests.”

  “What kind of tests?”

  “Blood work for starters. And I want you to have an MRI done.”

  Stephanie swallowed audibly and then whispered, “You know what’s wrong with me, don’t you?”

  The doctor slowly nodded his head. “I have a suspicion.”

  “What? Just tell me.”

  “I think you have the beginning stages of MS.”

  “MS? As in Multiple Sclerosis?” At the doctor’s words, she struggled not to start crying. She was familiar with MS because one of her coworkers in Denver had a mother who suffered from it and had died last fall.

  “Yes. Based on your symptoms and the results of your neurologic tests, I’m fairly certain that’s what is going on. I’d like to schedule you with a specialist in Denver soon.”

  “MS?” she whispered to herself, seeing her future disintegrate in front of her.

  “Don’t panic now. I’m going to have my nurse come back in and draw some blood. In the meantime, I’ll go make a phone call to Dr. Schwerzer in Denver. With any luck, he’ll have an opening in the next week or so.”

  The doctor patted her on the shoulders and then stepped out of the room. His nurse came back in and efficiently drew her blood and then left her to dress in her own clothing once again.

  Stephanie stepped out of the exam room and was met by Dr. Hansen holding an appointment card in his hand. “Dr. Schwerzer’s nurse moved some things around, and found a cancellation that will work for your initial appointment. You need to be in Denver Wednesday of next week. The appointment ti
me and address of his office is written on this card.”

  Stephanie took the card, almost numb from what she’d just been told. “I’ll be there.”

  “Good. I’ll send your bloodwork results over to his office as well.”

  “Thank you doctor.” Stephanie left the office and stepped out into the warm sunshine. The city park was only a block away, and she headed there with her head down and her heart heavy.

  Maybe the doctor is wrong. Maybe it is just stress. Maybe I just need to get more rest.

  She sat down on a park bench, placing herself so that Bridger would spot her on his way back to the doctor’s office. She sniffed in an attempt to keep her tears at bay, and dug her fingernails into her palms as she tried to keep her emotions under control.

  “Things are going to be fine. You just need to learn to relax and not get so worked up over things.” Her little self-lecture was still in process when she saw Bridger pull up next to the curb almost 30 minutes later.

  He started to get out, but she hurried and seated herself inside the vehicle before that could happen.

  “Ready to go home?” he inquired with a concerned look on his face.

  Stephanie nodded. She didn’t dare talk for fear she would break down in tears and that was the last thing she wanted to do in front of Bridger.

  “So, how did it go with the doctor?” he asked, pulling the car out and turning onto the road that led back to the ranch.

  Stephanie looked out the window and shook her head. I can’t talk about this with him. I can’t verbalize it right now, because that might make it true.