Mystic Cowboy: Men of the White Sandy, Book 1 (3 page)

“
Find a nice cowboy
.” Mellie’s voice floated back up her from their last conversation. “
Ride him a little. Have fun!
”

Now, Madeline wasn’t exactly a thrill-seeking adrenaline junkie. On more than one occasion, she’d been accused of being the party pooper, the stick in the mud, a real-bring-me-downer in the room. Several times, it had been pointed out that she wouldn’t know fun if it walked up and bit her in the ass. And that was just what Mellie said to her face. God only knew what everyone else said behind her back.

But there he was, standing in her waiting room. Fun in cowboy boots. No biting in the ass required, because she knew him immediately, and all she wanted to do was find a horse and ride. With him. The heat started at her neck and flashed southward. She could feel her curls trying to break free into a full-fledged frizz with the sudden temperature change, which only made things that much worse.

“Jesse!” Tara said in a voice that was just one small step below shouting. “What did you do now?”

“Give me a hand, will you?” Fun in Cowboy Boots called back to Clarence. He pivoted just a little, revealing the other man who was leaning all of his weight on Fun’s right side.

Not good. The second guy’s leg was being held together with what looked like broomsticks and duct tape. His right arm hung limp, and his scratched face was contorted in pain.

“Damn, Rebel, what happened?” Clarence was already hefting the broken man—Jesse?—onto the nearest free table, leading to a volley of clenched grunts from the injured man. “I thought we might get through this month without you trying to kill yourself, you know.”

Did Clarence really just call this guy
Rebel
? Well, it was official. She’d heard it all today.

Rebel—if that was his real name—was shaking his head when he caught her staring. He had beautiful black eyes, the kind of black that didn’t so much show you the window to his soul, but reflected yours back on you. Those eyes widened in surprise. “You know how it goes, Clarence,” he said, his gaze bearing down on her with enough heat that the rest of the clinic felt suddenly cool by comparison. “Life with Jesse is always an adventure.”

Tara was next to the exam table now, holding Jesse’s hand as she felt his head. “Do I even want to know?”

“Not really,” Rebel replied, taking his time as he looked her over. His thumbs were hanging from his belt loops, which only made the shifting thing he was doing look more intentional. Aside from the long hair, he looked like every cowboy fantasy she’d ever had. Did he have a horse, or was her imagination way out of control? “You must be the new doctor, ma’am.” He took off his hat and nodded. All that black hair, so straight it made her jealous, flowed around him like a cape.

Oooh, her first
ma’am
. From an honest-to-God cowboy, no less. She felt the sudden urge to curtsey, but then realized what he’d said right before the ma’am. She was the doctor, and she had a job to do. Wrenching her eyes from the caramel-colored cowboy to the patient, Madeline tried to regain her professional composure. “Dr. Mitchell, please. And this is Jesse?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

That wasn’t helpful. “I need to know how this happened, Mister…”

“Rebel,” he said, those hips still moving.

She was
not
staring like a schoolgirl at this man. “Excuse me?”

“Just Rebel, ma’am.”

A shiver ran down her spine. One more ma’am and she might swoon. “Dr. Mitchell,” she said with more force as she turned to her patient. Clarence had finished cutting the duct tape off. “And how did this happen?”

“Dirt bike,” Rebel said with a shrug. “Thinks he’s going to make the X-Games circuit.”

“Jesus, Jesse.” Tara edged ever closer to hysteria. “That’s your
fresh new start
? You’re going to get yourself killed!”

There was something else going on here, something that went a little deeper than the friendly compassion Tara had shown everyone else.

“Nobody’s dead yet.” Madeline kept her voice low, hoping to regain some semblance of control. “What exactly happened on the bike?”

Rebel finally stopped looking at her. She could tell, even though she had her back to him, because her neck stopped sweating. Then he was standing by her side, pointing to the splint. “He rolled it. Heard his leg sort of snap.” Tara’s face turned white as Jesse groaned, but everyone else just nodded.

“And the arm?”

“Hit the ground funny. Obviously.”

Madeline considered the situation. They only had four films left for the X-ray machine. In good conscience, she could only take two films—one for the leg, one for the shoulder. “Only two,” she said to Clarence, and he nodded. Hopefully, she’d get the shots she needed on the first try. The phone rang. “Tara.” But the young woman didn’t move. “Tara, the phone.”

“I got it,” Rebel said, moving so fast that he picked up the phone before the third ring. “Clinic.”

“Um, Clarence?” She wanted to tread carefully—first impressions and all—but she’d never worked anywhere where a patient just jumped into the fray. But Rebel wasn’t a patient, her brain noted. And was an entirely different matter. “He can’t answer the phone—can he?”

“Sorry, Doc.” Clarence wheeled the X-ray machine over to Jesse and loaded the precious film. Mentally, Madeline added film to the list, which made it the most expensive item out of all of the must-haves. “Rebel helps out some. He knows how to answer the phone, but he hasn’t learned the machine yet.”

He helped out? This was bordering on insane, but she tried to ignore that fact. Frankly, at the moment, she could use a little help. Really, was this any different from a normal day at the E.R.? The only difference was that she didn’t know everyone. She didn’t know Rebel.

Yet
. She glanced back at him. She didn’t know him
yet
.

“Hiya, Irma,” Rebel was saying as he sat in Tara’s chair. “Yup—new doctor.” Despite her confusion, Madeline’s ears perked up. What would Fun in Cowboy Boots say about her? “Yeah, she’s a little busy right now. Jesse crashed his bike. No, really.” His eyes settled on her again, sending her temperature up a notch. God, was she imagining things, or was he interested? “She looks like a good one.”

Not imagining
that
. Her cheeks warmed at the compliment. If things got much hotter, she was going to officially melt.

Now Tara was crying. “What about Nelly, huh?” She was never going to take her phone away from Fun named Rebel. “You promised you’d help out with Nelly more now that you’re home, Jesse,” Tara sniveled. “How are you going to do that if you’re all busted up?”

Days of Our Lives
. Madeline cut the rest of Jesse’s shirt off.
That certainly isn’t any different than Ohio
, she thought with a smirk. Jesse had
Army
tattooed on his biceps.
Ah. He must be home from the Middle East.

“How about Thursday?” Rebel was saying. “Earlier would be better. I think you’ll like her.”

Okay. Yes. This was insane. Beyond certifiable. But she still had a broken bone to set. She forcibly directed all her attention to her patient. “Get him some of that Tylenol. Sorry, Jesse, but it’s all we’ve got.” Jesse nodded, his eyes watering. “Do we have enough fiberglass?” she asked Clarence. Because all signs up to this moment pointed to no.

“We don’t have fiberglass. We got a little plaster of Paris,” he said as he shifted Jesse around on the bed. “Rebel can mix it while we do this, if it’s okay with you.”

Plaster of Paris? No one used that stuff anymore. And Rebel could mix it? What the hell? She turned to look at the man in question. He whipped his hat off his head again. “I help out,” he explained, somehow managing to look both sheepish and sexy. “But only if it’s okay with you.”

She looked from the ancient X-ray machine rattling to life to Jesse’s broken bone and back to Rebel. “Do you know how to mix plaster?”

Anything sheepish about him disappeared, and her temperature shot up another few degrees. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Rebel’s okay,” Tara said between sniffs. “Better than Jesse is.”

“I’ll do better,” Jesse muttered as Madeline tried to position his leg for the best shot. “Promise—
Ow!
” He tried to sit, but didn’t manage much more than some unproductive shouting.

Lord, she had her hands full, and nothing about Rebel said he was a problem. Well, not the bad kind, anyway. She nodded, and Rebel spun on his heel and made straight for the supply closet in one smooth motion. Madeline knew she shouldn’t just stand there and watch him walk away from her, but she couldn’t help it. She’d never seen jeans sit on a man like that. But then, she’d never seen a man like Rebel.

“Uh, Doc?” The humor in Clarence’s voice snapped her out of her little cowboy fantasy. “The X-ray?”

Excellent. Everyone was noticing. She hadn’t been staring, she reasoned. She’d been keeping an eye on a strange man in her supply closet. That’s all. “Of course,” she said, trying to play it cool as she bent over Jesse’s leg. It didn’t look swollen—hopefully it was a minor fracture so she could cast it now. To be sure, she’d have to get the angle just right… “Tara, does Jesse have a file?”

Tara nodded, but she made no move to leave Jesse’s side. “You were supposed to watch Nelly tomorrow so Mom could have a break. Now what?”

The old man from the waiting room appeared at her shoulder. He said a bunch of stuff, but the only thing Madeline understood was “Jesse,” and even that was iffy.

So that’s Lakota
, she thought as Jesse nodded. Didn’t sound anything like it looked in the textbook she’d tried to study from.

“What?” Tara demanded. “Albert, you know I don’t understand.”

“He said bring her over. Jesse can read her stories,” Rebel informed them, arm-deep in a bucket of plaster of Paris.

Okay. So Tara had a daughter—Nelly—and Jesse was the most likely father figure. She still had nothing on Rebel, and who the hell was Albert? But none of that mattered. She didn’t have to understand any of the drama to do her job. “Okay, everyone who’s not broken, please go to the waiting room. I’ve got to shoot this film.” Although she wasn’t sure the walls of the clinic were enough to protect them from the X-ray’s radiation, she shooed them around the corner anyway.

Everyone crowded near the front door, and Madeline found herself standing side-by-side with Rebel. He was still moving, mixing the plaster with his bare hand. Each muscle in his arm twitched in turn, leaving no question in her mind. This was a man who was good with his hands.

“You got a first name?” he asked, so low that she wasn’t sure she’d heard him at all. But he was staring expectantly at her.

She opened her mouth, but then caught herself. She knew nothing about this man, including whether or not he was the sort of person who should know her first name. And as far as she was concerned, an attractive set of musculature and a couple of well-placed ma’ams gave him no right to expect anything from her. “You got a real one?”

His eyebrow moved up as the corner of his mouth curved into something that might have been a smile if it hadn’t been so focused. “Rebel is my real name.”

She knew she was staring at him, but she couldn’t help herself. If she could, she’d stare all day long, but that would undoubtedly be an even bigger problem than it already was. She had to stand with her whole arm hanging out in the room because the cord didn’t stretch. The X-ray machine rattled and hummed and finally clicked. She didn’t even want to think how old it was, but it was all she had, and there wasn’t enough money in the world for a new one. Some things would have to wait.

Twenty minutes later, Madeline had set Jesse’s femur with absolutely no plaster to spare and was reviewing his hefty medical chart. Clarence dug up a used sling for Jesse’s separated shoulder. Tara finally roused herself from his bedside to add fiberglass to the list while Rebel was talking in quiet tones to Jesse. Albert had disappeared, only to reappear with a mop and a bucket. He began to mop the floor and wipe down each exam table with the kind of efficiency that said he’d been doing it for years.

Madeline had regained her bearings now that everyone had stopped talking all at once, and she was pretty sure she’d come off as cold and overbearing to the man who emptied her trashcan. “I’m sorry—Albert, is it? I didn’t realize you worked here. It’s nice to meet you.”

Albert smiled and nodded his head. He said nothing.

Madeline tried again. “Thank you for cleaning up. I appreciate it.”

“He doesn’t speak much English,” Clarence said as he carried the sheets they’d used as table covers back to the world’s loudest washer. Apparently, it had been invented before ball bearings.

“Oh.” That was a problem. She was unable to talk to a full one-third of her staff? Big problem. She made sure to slow down this time. Keep it simple. “Well. Thank you.”

“He can hear, you know.” Rebel was at her side again, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “You don’t have to yell.”

It should sound like a criticism, but the way it came out of his mouth was something much closer to a sweet nothing he was whispering in her ear. The heat spread from her stomach up to her face. She hated blushing, that betrayal of a physical reaction. And this Rebel was making her blush with every single word he said. She took a deep breath and ignored the heat. “I wasn’t yelling.”

He moved his hand, like he was about to reach out and touch someone—her—but he caught himself. “You got louder,
Doctor
.”