by R. C. Ryan
“Grace.” She stretched out her bloody hands and the old woman hurried over to embrace her. “Make somebody understand that I’m not leaving Matt. If not for him, I wouldn’t be here. He sacrificed so much for me.”
“I know.” Grace stroked her hair.
“He’s my hero. Please tell them…” Nessa’s voice broke. “Please, Grace, tell them I need to stay with Matt. Oh, I love him so.”
The old woman sent a warning look to the medics, who nodded their agreement. “You’ll fly to the clinic with Matthew. It’s what you need. What you both need.”
“Thank you. Oh, thank you.”
Grace pressed a kiss to her tear-streaked cheek as the team lifted the gurney bearing Matt’s unconscious form. “Go with them. And hold on to the thought that it’s all in heaven’s hands now.”
Minutes later the Malloy family watched solemnly as a medical helicopter lifted into the air with a flurry of blades that flattened the grass and had the trees bending in a furious dance.
While several police units remained to photograph the crime scene and scour the area for evidence, a convoy of planes and vehicles began making its way from the Montana wilderness, all of them bound for the distant town of Glacier Ridge.
The scene at the tiny clinic in town was even more chaotic than the crime scene. A team of medics kept getting in the way of the lone, aged doctor, Leonard Cross, who had single-handedly run the Glacier Clinic for more than fifty years. Dr. Cross delivered babies, set broken bones, treated infections, and helped his patients through terminal diseases, and all with the same optimistic good cheer. But today, that cheer was being sorely tested.
He’d just brought his niece, Anita, here from Boston’s finest hospital, in the hope of persuading her to join his clinic. For the past few years he’d been thinking of a way of cutting back to take some time for himself without leaving the citizens of Glacier Ridge without a doctor.
Since Anita had arrived several days earlier, her uncle had been extolling the virtues of small-town medicine, boasting that she would find plenty of time to pursue her dream of practicing family medicine while also writing novels set in the Old West.
As he dashed from one examining room to the next, he muttered to her, “Sorry. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for your first days on the job. This isn’t the good impression I was hoping for.”
She shot him a sweet smile. “Uncle Leonard, no matter what life throws at me here, it can’t possibly compare to my hectic hospital days in the trauma unit in Boston.”
“That’s good to hear.” He led the way into the room where the entire Malloy family had gathered around the examining table.
Seeing them he skidded to a halt. “Is this Matthew?” The old doctor couldn’t tell with all the blood and dirt that masked the patient’s face.
Colin assigned himself speaker for the family. “My nephew Matt’s been shot, Doc.”
“I can see that.” Dr. Cross watched as his assistant, Agnes, cut away Matt’s bloody parka and shirt to expose his chest.
“And he survived a fiery truck crash.” Colin stared at his nephew lying so still on the table, and forced himself to swallow.
Anita Cross, noting his pallor, put a hand on his arm. “Sir, if you faint at the sight of blood, you may want to leave the room.”
He shook off her hand before giving her a look of pure outrage. “I’ve never fainted in my life.”
“There’s always a first time.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “Look Miss…”
“Doctor. I’m Dr. Anita Cross.”
“My niece,” the old doctor said as he began to probe Matt’s chest.
“Dr. Cross, I’m not leaving this room until I know my nephew will live.”
Colin’s harsh tone would have been enough to frighten most people, but seeing the fierce look in his eyes had Dr. Anita Cross nodding. “I understand completely. If you could step back a pace, we’ll share everything we can with you.” She turned to include the others. “With all of you. But this could be difficult, even painful, to watch. It might be better if you wait in the lobby.”
In answer, they crossed their arms over their chests and planted their feet.
It was answer enough for her.
When the young doctor turned to her uncle, she saw him vainly attempting to remove a young woman who was clinging to Matt as though to a lifeline.
Her voice lowered to a command. “Young lady, you have to give us room to do our job.”
As Vanessa looked up, her movements were slow and measured, as though she’d turned into a robot. Her face had gone ghostly white, and her hands were trembling.
Dr. Anita Cross took a firm hold of Vanessa’s arm. “This woman is in shock and needs a bed immediately.”
Before she could press an emergency button, Colin stepped up and swept Vanessa into his arms. “Where do you want her, Doc?”
The doctor turned to Agnes. “Show them to examining room two, and I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
As Vanessa was carried from the room, the others went deathly silent as the two doctors bent to examine Matt.
Dr. Anita spoke in low tones to her uncle. “Looks like he’s been through a war. How is his heart?”
“Strong. But then, I’m not surprised. Some men might be taken down by a bullet, or a fiery crash.” Dr. Leonard Cross muttered, “Though he’s been through both, I’m thinking it will take more than that to do in a Malloy.”
He stepped away and turned to the family, while his niece left the room to examine her next patient.
“I know you want to stay close. But I have to take Matt into surgery right now. We’ll get that bullet out, set any broken bones we find, and deal with his burns and other wounds. Since it’ll take the better part of the day, I suggest you return to the ranch, and I’ll phone you when surgery is over.”
Frank said, “We’re not leaving, Doc.” He turned to the others. “While you go to the waiting room, Gracie and I will head on over to the other room and check on Vanessa. She’ll want to know that Matthew is going into surgery.”
The family made their way from Matt’s room, and Frank and Grace walked down the hall.
Posted outside the door to Vanessa’s room stood two uniformed officers from the Chicago PD.
One of the men held up a hand. “Sorry. No one is allowed inside without permission.”
Frank shot them a look of authority. “We are Frank and Grace Malloy. Vanessa stayed at our ranch during the trial.”
The officers held a whispered conversation before one of them pulled out his cell phone and spoke into it. Listening intently, he stepped aside and held the door for the elderly couple.
As they paused just inside the door, a tall, handsome man in a rumpled white shirt, his tie undone, his mussed hair gray at the temples, looked up from the side of the bed with a look of pure anguish.
“Mr. and Mrs. Malloy, I’m Elliott Kettering.” He offered his hand.
“Frank and Grace,” Frank said as he accepted the handshake.
“I was on a plane from Chicago as soon as the verdict was returned. Captain McBride kept me aware of what was happening during the flight. How is your grandson?”
“Doc is taking him into surgery now.” Grace studied the young figure in the bed. “And your daughter?”
“I’ve never seen her like this. She was highly agitated and making little sense, insisting that she wouldn’t accept any medical help until she knows what happened to her hero. That’s what she kept babbling about. Her hero. Her Superman. And saying she was in love with him and willing to give up her own life if it meant he could survive.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Obviously she’s too badly traumatized to know what she’s saying. I demanded that the doctor give her something for pain. Dr. Anita said the wounds to her wrists and ankles are deep and need to be treated for possible infection. Apparently the plastic restraints those thugs used cut clear to the bone.”
Grace caught the young woman’s han
d, noting the heavy dressings at her wrists, and the bag of intravenous fluid hanging from a pole beside the bed. “I’m glad she’s no longer awake and suffering.”
“I’m glad, too. I had a wildcat on my hands until she was sedated. This terrible ordeal has really scarred her…” His tone softened. “My daughter needs the best possible care, so I’ve made a decision. Since the doctor said it would be a matter of weeks before she can completely forego pain medication, I’m taking her back to Chicago immediately.” His tone turned businesslike. “I’m grateful for all they did here at the clinic. I hope you understand. After all we’ve been through, I don’t want her out of my sight for a minute longer than necessary. Vanessa’s all I have.”
Grace managed a halting smile. “I understand completely.”
Frank moved in to lay a big hand on Vanessa’s arm. “I know you can’t hear me, darlin’, but I hope you’ll let your father pamper you. He’s earned that right. And so have you.”
Grace kissed her cheek. When she straightened, she turned to Elliott Kettering. “When Matt’s surgery is over, we’ll call you.”
“Of course. I appreciate that. And I want you to know that you have my heartfelt gratitude for everything your family did for my daughter. You’ll never know what agony I went through these past weeks.”
“No more than we did.” Frank cleared his throat. “We’re grateful for the outcome. There were some moments…” His voice trailed off.
After more handshakes, while Frank and Grace watched, Elliott Kettering was flanked by the police officers as he followed the gurney toward a waiting ambulance that pulled away from the clinic the minute they were settled inside.
It was their last glimpse of the young woman who had come to mean so much to all of them.
A young woman who had changed and been changed by their grandson forever.
Chapter Thirty
Matt lay a moment, eyes closed, listening to the now-familiar beeps and pings of monitoring equipment and the sudden squeeze of an automated blood-pressure cuff. He would rather face stampeding cattle than another day in this sterile room at the clinic.
He’d been here nearly a week now. Seven long days of being numbed with pain medication, shutting down his mind. He’d been poked and prodded, and forced to listen to plans for physical therapy in the coming months.
Seven long days of waking to find his family keeping vigil, taking turns being with him day and night. When he’d asked them to go home, they’d agreed to cut back on their visits, and then promptly doubled up their time with him.
The one face he’d longed to see was missing.
He’d called and left dozens of messages on her phone. At first her father had answered, saying she couldn’t be disturbed. After a while, the calls had simply gone unanswered.
It had to be by design.
As soon as the family noted his agitation, Dr. Cross had ordered all phones removed from Matt’s room, including his cell phone.
As the days stretched on, and his questions to his family were met with silence, he gave up asking.
Every time he closed his eyes, he could see her as she’d looked that last time, before he’d lost consciousness. Her wrists and ankles raw and bloody, the fierce look in her eyes as she’d knocked aside Homer’s gun and then whipped him with her ropes, desperately fighting to keep him from ending Matt’s life. She’d been fighting for both of them.
What an amazing woman.
And yet, because of his carelessness, she’d nearly lost her life in the Montana wilderness. It wasn’t something he could ever forgive himself for, nor forget. He’d let her down. Badly.
No wonder her father had whisked her away to Chicago. To have his own doctors care for her. To keep her safe and to ensure that she could resume the life she was meant to live.
Time spent back in her own environment had surely given her a chance to clear her mind and make her realize all she’d been missing.
A woman like that didn’t belong here, on thousands of uninhabited acres, chasing herds of mustangs, sleeping in rough cabins or, worse, under the stars. She might have rhapsodized about the wonder of it all, but that was simply because she was, for a brief time, living her childhood fairy tale. Now it was time for a reality check. She was an urban career woman, chasing what everyone wanted—success on her own terms.
Over time, when her wounds were completely healed, and she was back at work doing what she loved, the time spent on his ranch would fade into the background. He and his family would become a pleasant memory.
A feeling of desolation swept over him, dragging him down.
Colin and the pretty young doctor walked into his room talking quietly about something. When they realized he was awake, they hurried to his bedside.
“Hey, Matt.” Colin started to punch his arm, then checked himself and squeezed his hand instead. “How’re you feeling?”
“Fine.” He hated being coddled. Hated being the object of so much concern.
He turned to the doctor. “When can I leave?”
She smiled at him. “Your uncle and I were just talking about it. I think, if you promise not to do too much, you can go home today.”
Matt brows shot up. “You mean it?”
She nodded.
He turned to Colin. “Get my clothes.”
“Right. Quick, before she changes her mind.”
Colin and the doctor both chuckled before she left the room, giving Matt enough privacy to dress. With his uncle’s help he managed to get into his jeans, but when he lifted his arm to slip on his shirt, the shaft of pain in his shoulder had him swearing.
By the time he was completely dressed, he was sweating and hating the fact that he felt as weak as a newborn calf.
Agnes arrived with a wheelchair, and he gave her no argument, grateful he didn’t have to walk.
At the door to the clinic, Dr. Anita was waiting with a list of medications and physical-therapy sessions already scheduled.
“One thing before you go, Matt.” Her tone went from sweet and sunny to one of authority. “From everything I’ve learned about you, you’ll go home and expect to resume your ranch activities tomorrow. Please don’t push your body. It was seriously damaged, and it’s healing. But in order to avoid any setbacks, let it dictate when you’re ready to do all the physical activities you once did.”
“Sure thing.” He would say whatever it took to get out of here.
She glanced over his head to where Colin stood watching and listening. “I hope you’ll convey to your family what I said. When you see Matt pushing himself, remind him that he still has a lot of healing to do.”
“I will.” He stuck out his hand. “And thanks, Doc. For everything.”
Burke stepped out of the ranch truck and hurried around to help Matt up to the passenger seat. Colin stayed back to say something more to the young doctor before climbing into the rear seat.
As they started toward home, Matt was unusually quiet, holding himself tensely.
Burke glanced over. “That niece of old Doc Cross’s is one damned fine-looking woman. Quite an improvement over her uncle.”
“I didn’t notice.” Matt gazed hungrily at the scenery outside the window, grateful to be free of the clinic.
Burke chuckled and gave his elbow a nudge. “I guess your injuries were worse than we thought if you never even noticed a beautiful woman. Now if this had been your uncle, he’d have probably insisted on staying another week, just to have an excuse to look at pretty little Dr. Anita Cross every day.”
When Matt didn’t even smile, Burke exchanged a look with Colin in the rearview mirror. They both knew it wasn’t only Matt’s physical injuries that were causing him such pain. The damage to his heart was another matter altogether.
It looked like that injury still had a heap of healing to do.
Despite the doctor’s warning, Matt eased back into ranch life, mucking stalls, tending to the millions of chores required to keep a ranch of this size operating smoothly.
; But when the chores were done, his family watched helplessly as he rode off alone to the range shack to brood. The same shack where Vanessa had been abducted. The same shack where they’d once loved.
There, alone in his beloved wilderness, he chopped wood until his shoulder throbbed. He sat in front of a roaring fire, remembering what his grandmother had conveyed to him when Elliott Kettering had taken his daughter home. That Nessa wanted him to know how grateful she was that he’d come to her rescue. And that she loved him.
He didn’t want her gratitude. And she’d obviously had time to realize he wasn’t worthy of her love.
Not one phone call. Not a word. Not that he blamed her.
Everything bad that had happened to her had been his fault. Hadn’t he ordered Burke to keep the wranglers at a distance because he selfishly wanted time alone with Nessa?
Time alone. It had been everything he’d ever dreamed it would be. And then it had all gone wrong. And he’d had no one to blame but himself.
And now, judging by the silence from Chicago, Nessa blamed him, too.
Each time he returned from the hills, his family watched for any sign that he was ready to let go of the sadness they could read in his eyes. But it was always there. Like a bruise that told of a deep wound. The only problem was, a bruise around a broken heart was much harder to heal.
Burke stepped inside the barn and paused, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light. It was barely dawn, and already Matt was mucking stalls.
The foreman leaned against the stall door and watched for a moment before breaking the silence. “I’m worried about you, son.”
“I’m not overdoing anything.” Matt deposited a load of dung and straw into the honey wagon and bent to his work.
“It’s not the chores that worry me. It’s you.”
Matt paused to lean on the handle of the pitchfork. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
