Andy rolled his eyes and said nothing.
Curt stared hard at Slade. “Those are all lies! Just because Shah and I are damn good at what we do, there’s no reason to believe a bunch of whiners who are sore losers!”
Taking the change from Andy, Slade said, “In my experience, Downing, endurance riders are somewhat like knights of old: most of them have high morals and values, except for a few, like you. They aren’t whiners. They’re in those rides because they’ve put in a lot of hours and days of training with their horses.”
Downing could feel his face flushing. His anger flared, and he wanted to strike Slade. “Are you accusing me of not being moral out on the trail? I’ve never stopped anyone from going around me.”
A grin leaked from Slade’s tightened mouth as he pocketed his change and thanked Andy, who was sweating profusely. “Oh? Seems that just last year when me and my stud caught up to pass you, you had that whip of yours ready.” Slade had seen him pull it out to strike Thor. Slade had lifted his boot out of the stirrup and slammed it into Downing’s body. He’d shot off his startled mount like a bullet. And Slade had passed him safely and gone on to win the race. Downing had eventually caught his mount and come in fourth in the race. He’d never spoken a word about the incident to anyone. And Slade knew why. The judges might not take action on riders in general, but he had national standing. If he’d turned Downing in for his dirty tricks, the judges would have listened, and there would have been a convening of all involved. Slade knew no one liked Downing and would have sided with him on this charge. Downing’s career would have taken a big hit. Without proof, nothing could be done, but Slade’s word would have destroyed him in the endurance riding world. And Downing knew it.
Curt glared at McPherson. “We’ll settle this out there on the trail in September,” he ground out.
Slade halted at the door, turned and rasped, “You can count on it, Downing.”
Jerking the door open, Slade left. The late-afternoon sunlight was delicious compared to the air-conditioning within the Emporium. Anger lapped at him. How badly he wanted to expose Downing. This year, he was riding with a small camera around his neck. No one would see it until he brought it out from beneath the shirt he wore. Once and for all, Slade intended to prove the bastard was committing fouls out of sight of the judges. He smiled a little as he sauntered down the weathered wooden steps to his green Chevrolet pickup.
For a moment, he had a spontaneous urge to go see Jordana, whom he knew would be on duty at the E.R. of the hospital. She worked twelve hours at night so she could ride and get Stormy in shape during the day. Would she be surprised if he showed up? Pleased? Or not? Slade didn’t know as he opened the door to his truck. Getting in and pulling the seat belt across his body, he waffled over the idea. It was unlike him to be spontaneous. He’d had such a hellish day he ached to be with Jordana. Starting the engine, he decided to hell with it. He’d surprise her.
JORDANA’S MOUTH fell open. She was just coming out of a cubical where she’d attended a new patient when she saw Slade walking into the E.R. What was he doing here? Worried, she gave the nurse her orders and then pushed the door open to the entrance area.
“Slade?” she called.
Turning, Slade saw Jordana. He’d never seen her in her hospital clothing. She wore dark green scrubs with a white coat over them. The stethoscope hung around her slender neck and her name was sewn onto the lab coat. This time, her hair was tied up on her head, a far different look than he’d seen before. His heart pounded briefly as he managed a twisted smile.
“I was just passing by and I thought I’d come and see the world you live in.”
How tall, handsome and powerful he was as he stood in the waiting room. All around her, there were sick and suffering people waiting to receive help. Slade was like magnificent sunlight in the room. Grinning, she said, “What a nice surprise. Listen, I have about ten minutes’ worth of paperwork to finish before I get my dinner.”
Slade looked at his watch. “It’s only 4:00 p.m.”
Laughing a little because she suddenly felt like a giddy teenager, Jordana said, “I have the midnight shift. Dinner comes early. Can you meet me in the cafeteria? I’ll be there shortly.”
Tipping his hat, Slade said, “Like a cup of coffee waiting for you?” She always had a coffee thermos with her at his ranch.
Giving his arm a squeeze, she said, “Absolutely. See you in a few….”
The coffee was waiting for her when Jordana hurried into the quiet cafeteria later. She waved to Slade, who had chosen a large table near the window. Grabbing a tray, she went through the line choosing dinner items. After paying the cashier, she walked over to the table. Slade had laid his hat down on the chair next to him. Her cup of coffee sat opposite him. A sense of happiness threaded through her. Slade stood as she approached and pulled the chair out for her. She thanked him and sat down.
“That’s quite a tray of food,” Slade observed as he sat.
Chuckling, Jordana said, “It’s a full moon tonight. I know we’re going to get super busy. I tank up and top off for these times with a lot of protein.” She picked up the coffee and lifted it up to him in a toast. “Thank you for the surprise visit.”
“My pleasure,” Slade murmured. Just sitting here in her calming presence made the whole miserable day dissolve. How was that possible? What was happening? Slade didn’t know. He folded his large hands in front of him. “What happens when it gets busy for you around here?”
“I go into super doc mode.” She laughed. Cutting her beef steak, she gave him a shy look. Slade’s face was utterly relaxed for the first time. She was actually seeing the man, not his armor. It was an amazing gift for Jordana and her heart opened wide because he smiled just a little bit. It made Slade look even more handsome in her eyes.
“Super Doc. Is that what they call you around here?”
“You hit the nail on the head. I’m the manager calling the shots to my team of nurses.”
“I’ll bet you don’t yell.”
She salted her spinach and squeezed some lemon juice across it. “Yelling gets you nowhere.”
“You never lift your voice to Stormy. I’ve found that people who treat animals well usually treat humans pretty good, too.”
His observations were simple and yet profound. “I like the way you look at the world, Slade.” Jordana ate and simply absorbed his demeanor. Slade might be sitting quietly at the table, but there was such strength and sunlight exuding off him, it made Jordana feel dizzied by his utter maleness.
“How has your day gone?” she asked.
“You don’t want to know.”
Hearing the sudden heaviness in his voice and a darkness come to his eyes, Jordana realized she was watching him shift into a more protective mode. Would he ever open up and remain that way with her? She found herself desperately wanting that. “Is that why you dropped by?”
The softness of her voice opened him up. “Yeah, it was a bad day and when I see you, it doesn’t seem so bad after all….”
CHAPTER NINE
THE COOLNESS OF the early morning was dissipating as the sun rose higher in the sky. Slade took a deep breath and got ready to enter the corral where Diablo, the shorthorn bull, was standing.
“Boss, be real careful. He’s been pissy since the sun rose,” Shorty called, standing outside the pipe corral.
Grunting, Slade nodded. Yesterday Shorty had seen the bull limping out in his pasture. Now he’d herded the testy one-ton animal into the small corral where they could get a closer look at his left rear leg. After coming home yesterday, it had been one more thing that had gone wrong. The only thing good about it was having the impromptu visit with Jordana at her hospital. That had lifted his troubled spirits.
Diablo tossed his head, his short, thick horns sticking out of the top of his massive brown-and-white head. His dark eyes were ringed with white; a sign that the bull was highly unpredictable. As Slade opened the gate and quietly stepped into the small, rect
angular corral, the bull’s ears twitched. Not a good sign. Closing the gate and locking it, Slade never took his attention off Diablo.
Shorty moved opposite of where Slade was, his face filled with tension. The bull snapped his attention to the wrangler.
Perfect. Slade moved closer, within five feet of the massive animal so he could get a good look at that bloody rear leg. Shorty was keeping the bull’s attention. Diablo would never allow a human this close under ordinary circumstances. Leaning down, Slade had trouble seeing the leg clearly. He saw dried blood on the inside of bull’s pastern. The flesh had been peeled back.
“Look out!” Shorty yelled.
Too late!
Diablo whirled around, throwing his massive one-ton body straight at Slade, who was caught in a crouched position.
One second, Slade was leaping to his full height, and the next, he felt the bull’s powerful impact against his body. White-hot heat and pain roared through his right thigh. In seconds, the bull had hooked him with his deadly horns and tossed him upward in the air like a puppet.
Slade heard the bellowing of the enraged bull. He landed close to the gate, crashing into the ground with an oomph!
Shorty was screaming to get the bull’s attention. For a second, Diablo broke his charge and whipped toward the frantic wrangler.
Those seconds enabled Slade to scramble to his feet and lunge for the gate.
Diablo whirled around and charged, his bellowing echoing around the area.
Slade slammed and locked the iron gate. The bull hit it full force, sending him flying backward several feet into the dirt.
Safe! He was safe! Dazed, Slade sat up, breathing hard. Diablo eyed him through the pipe rails, huffing and snorting. He angrily pawed the dirt and lowered his head once more, wanting to get to Slade. But he couldn’t. That iron-railed gate had withstood his massive charge. It would hold.
“Boss! Boss!” Shorty scrambled around the corral and ran toward him.
Slade shook his head. He’d screwed up. Damn it! As he tried to get up, his right leg collapsed beneath him. Slade fell to the ground.
Shorty breathed in gulps as he knelt down next to where he sat. “Boss, you’re hurt. Oh, my God, you’re bleeding bad!”
In shock, Slade looked down at his right high. Diablo’s horn had ripped his Levis open and gored him. Blood was pumping and purling quickly out of a very deep wound. Mind numb and wrestling with the shock of the attack, Slade pressed his hand hard against the heavily bleeding wound.
“Get Jordana on the phone,” he rasped.
Shorty’s hands were shaking as he pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket. He dialed.
Slade sat there, knowing he shouldn’t move. He wasn’t a medic, but he knew there was a huge artery in his leg, and it appeared to him that Diablo had struck it. That accounted for the heavy bleeding. Cursing softly, he saw Shorty’s face grow hopeful as he connected with Jordana.
“Give it to me,” Slade ordered, holding up his other hand.
Shorty did as he was told.
“Jordana,” Slade grunted.
“Hi, Slade. What’s up?”
“I just got gored by my bull. It’s my right thigh. Where are you at?” He knew on three days a week she had her clinic in town.
“You’re gored?”
“Yes. I need your help.”
“It is bleeding badly?”
“Yes.” He heard her suck in a breath.
“Listen, I’m just next door to you. I’ve just finished a house call with Iris Mason. I’ll be right over. Whatever you do, keep pressure on that wound.”
“I will, thanks,” Slade said. Blood was oozing through his fingers no matter how hard he pressed down on the wound.
Handing the cell back to Shorty, he said, “Give me your belt.”
Without blinking, Shorty quickly pulled off his well-worn leather belt. He knew what Slade was doing. In ranching, knowing first aid was a must. “Okay, Boss, you just keep pressure on it. I’ll slide the belt around your leg above it and we’ll see if we can slow the bleeding.”
Slade was glad his brother was asleep in the house. He’d be useless in this kind of emergency, anyway. Pain was beginning to drift up his leg and into his torso. Diablo had nailed him but good. Shorty quickly slid the leather belt around his thick thigh, and then he hauled hard on it to tighten it. Grunting with pain, Slade clamped down, gritting his teeth.
“It’s working, Boss,” Shorty said, out of breath. He pulled again and locked the belt down. The bleeding was slowing.
“Good,” Slade said, his voice sounding far away to him. He’d lost a lot of blood. Maybe too much.
“You want me to help you stand?”
“No. Just leave me here. Jordana will be here any minute. Get some towels, a bucket of water and bring it to me.”
Shorty leaped to his feet and ran for the ranch house. Slade sighed. Damn, this was bad luck. He felt that the world was caving in on him. First Griff showed up. Now this. Even worse, Slade knew it would be impossible for him to ride Thor in the endurance race. A deep puncture wound like this would take a minimum of six to eight weeks to heal up properly. And if he tried to ride a horse while it was healing, it would simply tear it open and make things worse.
As Shorty came running out with the pail of water in one hand and a bunch of towels in another, Jordana drove in. She slammed on the brakes, dust rising all around the truck. In her hand she had her black physician’s bag. Running toward Slade, her face set with concern, she met up with Shorty as she got to Slade.
“Slade?” Jordana asked, kneeling next to him. “Tell me what happened.” She quickly donned protective gloves and pulled his bloodied hand away from the wound site.
“Damn bull hooked me,” he muttered.
Getting out a pair of scissors, Jordana quickly cut away the material to get a better look at the wound. She gently probed the area. She felt Slade tense. “Okay, this is serious, Slade. Call 911. You need to get to the hospital right away. I can’t fix this out here.”
“I’m not going to the hospital,” he growled. He felt faint and fought it.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” Jordana whispered. “That bull has hit a major artery in your leg, Slade. That belt is stopping most of the flow, but you need immediate surgery to repair this. What blood type are you?”
“Son of a bitch,” Slade whispered. “I’m O positive.” Of all things, he was going to have to go to the hospital. He glared up at her. Jordana was incredibly calm and centered. She saw things like this all the time, he reminded himself. “Are you sure? I don’t want to go to the hospital.”
Shaking her head, Jordana quickly wrapped it with a dressing. “You’re going, Slade.”
“I don’t want a damned ambulance out here.”
He was so stubborn! Compressing her lips, Jordana finished protecting the wound. “All right, then I’ll take you in myself.” She twisted a look up at the wrangler. “Shorty, get the passenger side door of my truck open and come back and help me get Slade to his feet. He’s lost a lot of blood and he’s going to be weak.”
“How can you tell?” Slade wondered, watching the red blood quickly soak through the thick dressing she’d placed over the injury.
“You’re white as a sheet, Slade,” she said tensely, closing her bag and standing nearby. “You’re going to need a transfusion. Has Diablo had all his shots?”
“Yeah,” Slade said. “So have I.”
“Tetanus?”
“Yes, two months ago. I’m fine.”
He wasn’t fine. Jordana saw how murky his eyes were looking. He was frighteningly pale, which told her he needed a blood transfusion pronto. Worse, he’d torn that major artery. If it wasn’t repaired quickly, he could bleed to death. She didn’t want to tell him the details. Pulling out her cell phone, she connected with the E.R. of the hospital, telling them to be ready to receive Slade. She ordered two pints of O positive blood to be on standby for him. Dr. Jonas Powers was the surgeon who was on duty
. She ordered them to prepare the O.R. to accept Slade as soon as she could get him there. Everything was in motion.
Shorty came running back, his face filled with anxiety.
Jordana hooked her arm beneath Slade and Shorty took the other side. Together, they hoisted Slade to his feet. He was none too steady and walked with a heavy limp toward her truck.
“I hate hospitals,” Slade growled unhappily as Jordana strapped him in and got inside the truck.
Shorty closed the passenger door after putting the seat belt across him.
Starting the truck, Jordana said, “It can’t be helped, Slade. That’s not a puncture wound you want to argue with. If we don’t get that artery repaired pronto, you’ll bleed out. I don’t think you want to die.” She gunned the engine as she turned the truck around. Luckily, Slade had had the road bladed by now, and it was smooth, graveled and flat. Forcing herself to pay attention to her driving, Jordana would occasionally glance over at Slade. His dusty cowboy hat was in his lap, his bloodied hand holding it in place. He had leaned back, eyes closed, his face pasty-looking. Heart pounding, Jordana knew the seriousness of his injury. He didn’t seem to, but she knew he was in shock and going deeper.
“Are you in pain?” she demanded, turning the truck onto the highway and speeding toward the town.
“Not much,” Slade muttered. It felt good to close his eyes. Suddenly, he felt sapped of all his mighty strength. He didn’t like it. Feeling the movement of the truck, hearing the engine roaring, he asked, “How fast are you going?”
“Fast enough for the police to give me a ticket,” she answered grimly. Both hands on the wheel, Jordana sorted out options of the quickest way to get to the E.R. Back roads were best because this was high tourist season with heavy traffic on major streets. Worriedly, she looked at his thigh. Blood was now leaking down his hairy leg below the wound. Even with the belt closing off a lot of the blood supply to that leg, it wasn’t enough pressure.
The Last Cowboy Page 10
