Cowboy Dreamin' (Thunder Creek Ranch Book 8) (9 page)

“I’ll look forward to it, but call first in case they let me out of here.”

“Will do. Night, Jack.”

“Good-night, Allison. Thanks for dinner.”

She smiled, kissed him good-bye, and left. Although she’d much rather have stayed with Jack, his eyelids were drooping and she figured he’d had enough company for one day. Other than all the bandages he was plastered with, he seemed fine.

Allison nodded and smiled at the security guard standing outside of Jack’s room. He hadn’t been there when she arrived. Probably because Michael had been. “Keep him safe.”

He smiled back. “That’s why my boss, Michael Grayson, called me here. That family takes care of its own.”

“So I’ve heard.”

During the drive home, Allison couldn’t help but wonder who had it in for Jack. Although she hadn’t known him long, she knew he was a kind, caring man. She just couldn’t picture him with enemies—unless one of his classmates was overly jealous of him. Hadn’t Winnie mentioned that he’d been valedictorian? That took a lot of smarts, but didn’t usually make enemies.

He’d had a tire slashed, his truck scratched, and now this. It really was a good thing that he hadn’t headed toward town. All those sharp turns…

She shuddered just thinking about it.

Jack loved that truck. Someone was hitting hard, and it had to be personal. If they wanted him dead, he’d likely be dead by now. Was all this a warning of some kind? No, cutting a brake line was more than a warning. Someone definitely wanted Jack dead.

Chapter Nine

Jack woke through the night in excruciating pain. His chest felt as if it was on fire, and his head pounded like thunder. He could barely breathe. When he turned to reach the buzzer for the nurse, the machines they had him connected to went off and made a terrible racket. He put his hands over his ears to stifle the sound, but his head pounded worse than the world’s biggest snare drum. Thankfully, his nurse was there in an instant and reset the monitors as she recorded the information she needed from each one.

“I can’t breathe.” He struggled to get the words out.

She reached for the oxygen tubing that they’d removed earlier and reinserted it under his nose. After a few minutes, he breathed much better.

“Are you in any pain, Mr. Grayson?”

“Yes, my head and my chest.”

“Left or right?”

“Left.”

She noted his responses on the chart and took his vitals as well.

“I’m going to put a call in to the doctor, but before I do, I’ll increase your morphine drip. That should help a bit.”

“Thank you. Tell him my head is pounding, too.” Jack lay there wide-awake and in pain, hoping the doctor would show up soon. He’d been fine all day—not much pain at all. What went wrong? Why would he be hurting so much now?

The doctor arrived before the pain meds had a chance to work.

“Mr. Grayson, I’m Doctor Levy. I’m sending you for an immediate CT Scan to find out what’s causing your pain. An orderly will be with you shortly. Has the pain eased at all?” the doctor asked as he positioned the stethoscope to listen to his chest.

Heart or lungs? Jack had no idea.

“No.”

“On a scale of one to ten?”

“Thirty.”

“I’m not surprised. It sounds like you have fluid on your lungs, so I’ll have the CT scan show that area as well. Do you have pain anywhere else?” the doctor asked.

“No, just the head and chest. And I had a difficult time trying to breathe when I first woke up.”

“The oxygen has helped then?”

“Yes, for sure. But I don’t understand why I’m hurting now when I’ve been fine all day.”

“That’s what the tests will tell us. Any questions?”

“Where’s that orderly? The sooner you have the results, the sooner this pain will go away.”

Dr. Levy chuckled. “That’s usually how it works. I’ll be back as soon as I have the results. I’ve ordered blood and urine tests as well.”

“Great. I hate trying to aim into those little bottles almost as bad as getting poked with needles.”

“I love your sense of humor,” Dr. Levy said with a smile.

Jack tried to sit up in preparation for the orderly. “Ow! My head. And Doc, I’m not laughing,” Jack said to his back as the doctor left the room.

Lucky for him, the nurse brought a sterilized urinal. He smiled his gratitude and disappeared beneath the covers with it. What a relief. He pushed down the blankets and handed over the jug, then noticed the lab nurse, ready with her blood collection needle and tubes.

It seemed a long time before the orderly appeared, but in actual fact, it had only been a few minutes—just enough time to pee and get poked.

Jack was fully aware that he didn’t make a good patient. He’d hated hospitals ever since his father had died. The months, weeks, days, and then hours spent sitting at his bedside every day before and after school. Chemotherapy treatments had aged him. Cancer had wasted his father’s strong, muscular body down to a skeleton of the man he once was.

Just the smell of antiseptic brought back memories. And after all the doctors had put his father through, the cancer was too far gone and they’d sent him home to die.

Jack remembered the day his father died as if it were yesterday. He’d begged Jack to take him riding once more. And Jack found he couldn’t refuse. He’d wanted to, but he couldn’t. He’d never in his life heard his father beg for anything. So, after his mother had left to do some shopping, he had gone out to the barn and saddled two horses, his and his father’s. He’d had tears in his eyes. If the foreman had noticed, he’d never let on, but he’d walked with Jack and the horses up to the front porch where his father waited in a wheelchair.

Tom and Jack had helped Old Jack down the steps and up onto his horse. His father had taken a deep breath of air and smiled for the first time in days. Jack had passed him the reins, glad that he could do this for his father, but before he could mount his own horse, his father’s voice had rung out loud and clear as he’d sat straight in the saddle. “This is the life. Giddy up!”

“Dad! No! Wait for me.”

“I ain’t takin’ my last breath in no danged hospital. Tell your ma I love her.”

Jack had chased after him, which only seemed to make his father’s horse gain speed. How his dad had managed to hang on, Jack didn’t know. He’d been weak for so long. But he’d had to admire his father’s joy in the ride. Then the horse had stumbled, fell, and his father had gone with it, trapped beneath a thousand plus pounds of horseflesh.

“Dad!” Jack had yelled as he jumped off his horse and taken the reins still gripped tightly in his father’s hands. “Dad.” Tears had streamed down his cheeks as he’d tugged on the reins and then dropped to his knees beside his father once the horse was on its feet. He hadn’t dared to move his father.

The horse had stood beside them, his muzzle close to Old Jack’s face as if he, too, was sad and trying to apologize.

“Don’t cry, Little Jack,” he’d said, reaching out to touch his son’s shoulder. “You’ve allowed me to have my one final wish, and for that I am thankful.”

His father had gasped for breath, every word hard earned. “I don’t want you to die,” Jack had sobbed.

“I was dying inside, Little Jack. Had to have one last ride and put an end to it my way.”

“No, Dad. You can’t die on me. I’ll ride for help, and you’ll be okay. You’ve got to be okay.”

“My days were numbered, son. Take care of your mother and tell her I love her.”

“I will. You know I will.”

“You’re a good boy, Jackie. Now give your old man a hug.”

Jack had leaned over and hugged him, careful not to hurt him any more than he already was.

“Say goodbye, son.”

“I can’t, Dad. Don’t ask me to. I love you.” Jack had sobbed out the words as he’d held his father tight. “Please don’t leave me.”

But his words had fallen on deaf ears as his father breathed his last. Jack had lain down beside him, hugged him close, and wanted to die, too. Life just wasn’t fair. He’d sobbed out his anger and grief and had eventually fallen asleep. Tom and a few of their wranglers had found them before the sun went down. It had been a sad procession back to the homestead. He’d had to tell his mother—had to admit that he was responsible for his dad dying out on the range.

“Here we are. Just wait here a minute while I give your chart to the technician,” the orderly said.

Yeah. Right. And where am I supposed to go?

The hospital was strangely silent at this time of night. Footsteps shuffled quietly further down the corridor. Soft music came from somewhere. He tilted his head to one side to hear better, and the motion set off a completely new force of aches. He put both hands to his head and massaged the temples, but the bandages got in the way and the pain didn’t lessen one iota.

Finally, just wanting to get this over with, Jack unlocked the brakes on the chair and wheeled it over to the door the orderly had gone through. The door opened suddenly and sent his wheelchair flying backward. He hit another chair, which was stationary, and the action jerked his chair around to face the opposite wall. If he hadn’t been holding onto the arms, his head would’ve hit the wall as he took another forward tumble.

The orderly and the lab tech both rushed over.

“Are you hurt?” the lab tech asked as the orderly said, “I told you to stay put.”

“Yeah, I’m hurt. My head is pounding hard enough to jump off my shoulders.”

The orderly snickered. “That I’d like to see.”

His comment earned a glare from Jack and the lab tech, too.

“I have the room ready for you, Mr. Grayson,” she said as she took charge of the chair to propel him into the scan room and close the door. “The CT scan won’t hurt a bit, but I do need you to lie still.”

“I understand, and I’ll do my best. My head hurts something terrible when I move it.”

“Then let’s be gentle when you lay back on the table. I’ll cushion your head as much as I can.”

True to her word, the woman held his head as he laid down and prevented it from thumping the table.

“I need to insert a few units of radiation, but I can do that through the shunt to your IV and not make any new holes.”

“Sounds good to me,” he said.

“Hang onto the bar above your head if you can.”

He reached and grabbed it easy enough with his good arm, but couldn’t quite get there with the broken one. “Sorry. That arm doesn’t want to cooperate.”

“Is it hurting?” she asked.

“No.”

“Let me try supporting it while you reach.” She did, and it worked. “Is it pulling too much?”

“Nope. It’s fine.”

“Then let’s get this machine on the go. It’ll run for approximately twenty minutes. If you need me to stop, say so. I’ll be behind that wall of windows, but I will hear you.”

Jack started to nod and then thought better of it. “Okay.” He closed his eyes as the table moved into the machine. He wasn’t claustrophobic, but he wasn’t all that fond of small places either. He longed to be out riding the range and checking fences. Anything other than lying where he was. It didn’t seem all that long before the machine stopped and the table slid out.

“That’s it. All done,” she said as she brought the wheelchair over, reconnected his oxygen, and helped him to a sitting position and then to the chair. “I’ve already paged for an orderly. One should be down to get you shortly.”

“Thank you. How long before the doctor has the results?” he asked as she expertly maneuvered his chair into the corridor.

“As soon as I take a reading and send off the report. Good luck, Mr. Grayson.” She smiled and went back into the room, leaving him alone in the corridor with an excruciating headache.

He waited quite a while before an orderly showed up, pushing another patient on a stretcher. She took that person’s chart in to the tech and came out with his, consulted it and his armband, then smiled.

“Good evening, Mr. Grayson. I’m Heather. I’ll wheel you back to your room.”

“Thanks.”

She parked the chair beside his bed. “Need any help?” she asked.

“No, I can make it. But I need you to hold the oxygen.” Jack stood and turned to sit on the edge of the bed. He moved too fast, and the next thing he knew, the floor was rising up to meet his face. The dizziness was horrendous. He heard Heather holler for a nurse, and the high-pitched noise seemed to scratch his skull. He tried to cover his ears, but his arms wouldn’t cooperate. It was as if his arms and legs weren’t attached, except they hurt like mad. Curled into a fetal position, the staff had a difficult time rolling him onto a blanket so they could lift him back into bed.

Then the doctor arrived and took charge. Everything quieted, even the machines.

“Jack, can you hear me?” Dr. Levy asked.

He opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out.
What is happening to me? Why can’t I talk?
He turned pleading eyes toward the doctor, and he seemed to realize what Jack couldn’t put into words.

“Okay, I know you can hear me. You have some fluid on your brain. If I don’t operate and relieve the pressure immediately, you could die. Understand? If yes, blink your eyes.”

Jack blinked.

“Good. We’re taking you to the OR for immediate surgery. Is there anyone you’d like me to call? Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

Jack blinked twice. There was no need to alarm his family. They’d all been in to see him today and were so happy when they found him awake and alert. He had to come through this operation. He had to. He thought of his mother and of Allison. He’d like to see them one last time just in case… No, he wouldn’t even think it. He would pull through. He had too many plans made not to.

The orderly came and wheeled him down the corridor, bed and all. The operating room staff was ready for him. As soon as they transferred him to the table, the anesthesiologist was at his side. Jack wanted to tell him he didn’t like needles, but he couldn’t, so he closed his eyes and waited for oblivion to overcome him. He didn’t have to wait long.

****

Tuesdays were usually steady but not overly busy. Allison managed to call her clients and reschedule them so that, barring emergencies, her morning clinic would finish around ten or so. She hadn’t had any overnight patients and was able to start the day fresh once her first client arrived.

By ten thirty, she had locked up the clinic, switched the phone to voice message, and pinned a note to the door that read, “Back at one”. She pulled the files for her afternoon patients, left her lab coat in the office, and was soon in her truck and on her way to see Jack.