Stables (Black Gulch Ranch #2)

5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Dixon

The last hour of a shift is the worst. I hope for no patients, but then it goes by so slowly I feel like every tick of the large clock is a hammer knocking on the back of my skull.

Trying to convince the nursing manager we could get rid of it didn’t matter. She insisted it was a staple in the clinic.

I don’t think she’s quite joined the digital age, yet.

Days like today makes me contemplate breaking it and swearing it was an accident.

At least in my office I can’t really hear it.

But as I finish my dictation, I hear the low murmur of Maggie’s voice.

Is she talking on the phone? Nope, there’s another person out there.

I bet it’s the admin clerk, Erin, by the timbre.

Yep, there’s the nasally laugh.

What I don’t expect is the knock at my door.

“Doctor? We have a question for you.” Maggie’s voice carries through the thin wood.

“Just a second.” I’m done with my charting, but the last one of the day still sits on my desk.

Charlotte.

I wish I could be optimistic that I’ll never see her again. Wade should have that asshole that beat her up behind bars by now.

But I know jail sentences end. And anger has a way of festering in a man behind bars.

There’s a chance she’ll come back through. The truth of the inevitable leaves a sour taste in the back of my throat.

Flipping the folder closed, I find Maggie and Erin staring up at me.

“Yes?” I cross my arms over my chest, already feeling defensive about their overly cheerful expressions.

“Remember that woman that came in earlier? Charlotte Hughes?” Maggie points to the phone with the orange blinking light of a held call.

Of course. It will be a long time before I forget the set of her jaw and determination in her gaze.

“I do. I just finished her transcript.”

“She’s on the line. Her little girl, the one that was with her?” She pauses and looks at me expectantly.

Waving my fingers, I try to prompt her. I really wish she’d get to the point. “Yes, I remember. What about her?”

Maggie glances up at Erin. “She asked Erin to bring her some Tylenol if possible. The daughter has a fever and Charlotte isn’t sure she can drive tonight.”

My chest tightens.

Her injuries were bad enough, she shouldn’t be alone. What happened to her friend? The blond looked like she was going to take care of her.

“What other symptoms does the little one have?”

Why do I remember her name is Paisley? Usually those kinds of details disappear the moment the discharge papers are handed out.

Erin shrugs her slight shoulders and tugs her tan shawl tighter. “I didn’t ask.”

A low growl escapes me. “There are a lot of reasons a child that age can have a temp, she should be evaluated. Can you bring her in?”

Erin’s brown eyes widen and she shakes her head. “I was just going to swing by on my way home. I have to pick my boys up at football practice.”

My teeth clench, restraining myself. I want to bite back that a baby is sick, but I know it’s not Erin’s problem.

The giant clock behind her taunts me, marking the last five minutes before my shift ends.

“I’ll just do it myself.” I bark out.

Maggie’s brows bunch over her nose. “Seriously?”

“Yes. There’s no sense in expecting her to come in after the morning she’s had. A fever isn’t exactly ambulance worthy.” I temper my tone and make a point of relaxing my stance. It isn’t their fault the whole situation rankles me.

I’m just not sure why I’m agitated about it.

Waving my hand towards the blinking light, I turn away. “Tell her I’ll be there soon. Find me some children’s Tylenol.”

Maggie’s chair squeaks when she swivels towards the phone.

Charlotte’s chart has her address on the front. When I plug it into my GPS on my phone, it comes up as only twenty minutes from here, and not much of a detour.

Grabbing my bag, I dig out one of my protein bars and peel it open. Who knows if I’ll have a chance to eat dinner tonight.

When I’m on rotation in the ER, it’s difficult to make time to cook.

And I absolutely detest microwave meals.

I’d rather have one of these cardboard equivalent snacks than soggy rewarmed dog food.

“Good luck, doc.” Maggie hands me a small dropper bottle as she swings her purse over her shoulder.

“Thanks.”

I salute the incoming night crew in the hall as I pass.

“Anything I need to know about?” Dr. Melvin asks while pulling her hair back into a thick gray ponytail.

“Nope. Empty house for you.” I give her a nod and push out into the cool night.

One of the best parts of Montana is that no matter how hot the July sun is, it’s always comfortable once it sets.

But my Tundra is still toasty when I climb in. The leather seat creaks when I slide across it. My pickup is six months old, yet smells brand new.

If I drove it more, it’d break in. Trips are relegated to work and the ranch, with very little in between.

Hughes Farms

My headlights bounce off of a white panel fence when I turn into the long gravel driveway. Two huge grain silos catch illumination from my truck and the house.

This place looks vaguely familiar. If I’m right, there will be a large barn just…yep. There it is.

Did Sophia buy a horse here a while back? Pretty sure this is where she bought Misty, her barrel horse that broke her leg last summer.

Huh. It’s a helluva mare. Sophia said she’s already back to record breaking speeds again, despite the tumble and time off.

Grabbing my trauma bag first, I stuff the small bottle of meds into the side pocket before slinging it across my shoulder.

Skipping the bottom step puts me up on the wrap around wooden porch of the old farmhouse. A warm yellow glow bathes the rocking chair and swinging bench seat suspended from the eaves.

It might look worn, but it’s tidy.

Knocking just above the peeling paint on the front door sends a deep echo inside.

A horse nickers from the darkness, but otherwise, silence.

She should at least have a dog. I can’t get within thirty yards of Mason’s front door without his border collie raising hell.

My knuckles rap again, rattling the stained glass inset.

Fuck. Am I in the right place?

Yes. I know I am.

Shit.

One more time.

Still no answer.

Fine.

The knob is ancient brass and probably original to the house, so at least a hundred years old. That would be an easy upgrade to make it harder to kick in.

“Hello?” Letting my voice bellow through the small living room, I’m surprised to see it’s just as neat as the porch.

There’s a playpen near the couch, but the toys are in a cloth bin.

For some reason, I’d expect a musty smell, but there’s a hint of lavender and vanilla.

“I’m in the bathroom!” Charlotte calls from somewhere down the hall to the right.

“It’s Dr. McCullough, from the clinic.” I want her to know who I am.

There’s a pretty solid chance I’m violating all kinds of ethics by being here.

Strangely, it doesn’t seem to bother me.

Moving my way across the carpet to the hardwood floor, I notice too late the shoes in a row by the entrance.

Damn. I hope I’m not leaving a mess wearing my cowboy boots across her rug.

The sweet smell of children’s soap hits me before I lightly tap on the half-closed door.

“Yes, come in.” She has a sing-song lilt to her words.

When I swing the tiny room open, she turns to look up.

Her face is an angry purple, darker than when I saw her this morning.

It takes every ounce of my will not to ball my fist at seeing her hurt.

Stupid move. Don’t scare her.

Paisley’s big blue eyes stare up at me from the lip of the tub, her round cheeks flushed with fever.

“Did you get a temp?” I squat so I’m not filling the door frame, and drop my bag on the pink daisy shaped rug in front of the sink.

“One hundred and one.” Charlotte gestures to a forehead thermometer sitting on the counter.

“A cool bath is smart. She doesn’t seem in too much distress at the moment. Can I get closer to look in her ears?” Pulling the otoscope from my kit, I flick the switch to make sure the battery is working. A tiny beam of light appears on the flowery wallpaper.

“Sure.” Charlotte pivots on the toilet lid so her legs press the side of the tub.

I catch the grimace of pain she tries to stifle.

“Charlo—”

She cuts me off. “Char, please. Only my mother called me by my full name.” She turns to give me a lopsided smile.

“Fair enough. Char, you don’t need to hurt yourself. What can I do to make this easier?” There’s a red hot ball of hesitancy within me because of this foreign situation.

I’d rather be on an accident scene than knowing she’s purposefully causing herself discomfort on my account.

The corner of her mouth drops and her lower lip betrays her with a quiver. “I don’t know.” Her fingers fidget with the towel she has folded across her lap.

When she looks down, a lock of her auburn hair falls and shadows the bruises on her face, revealing the glimmer of beauty hiding beneath the marks.

It’s hard to not feel anger when she turns back and there’s fresh blood staining her lip where the scab split.

“Can you help me get her out? She’s almost too big for me to carry tonight.” Char shakes out the cloth she’s holding to reveal a cartoony princess embossed on the fabric.

“Where’s your blond friend? Will she be able to come back and help you?” When I roll forward onto my knees, my shoulder brushes hers in the narrow space.

Paisley scoots a hair away from me, then glances up at her mom.

“Libby had to work. Her folks own Taylor Dairy.” Char leans over me, holding her hands out to Paisley. “Come on, baby girl. Time to get out. The nice doctor is going to help, okay?”

Char’s arm burns against mine as she reaches down and half lifts Paisley into a standing position. “Here’s your Princess Paisley towel. Can you be Mommy’s princess and stand up straight?”

The toddler gives her a serious nod and extends her pudgy arms over her head.

Char wraps her and pulls a corner over her curly hair that has a crown illustration on it.

“I’m going to lift you up, okay?” I try to lighten my tone to mimic the patterns in Char’s.

Paisley drops her chin, and I take that as a “yes”, then whisk her up and over the edge, landing her on her feet on the rug in front of me.

“Good job, Paisley. Can I look in your ear?” I catch the look of doubt on Char’s face as I say it. “I mean, in your royal ear, your majesty?” My mustache twitches as I try to keep my composure.

Paisley reminds me of my niece with her big eyes and dark hair.

Sophia and Sawyer, twins, but in every way different. Sawyer would have already been streaking through the house, where Sophia was more reserved like Paisley.

Hard to believe they’re both nearing twenty.

But now, my brother has a new baby, and told me he wants a houseful.

Paisley lifts her chin and tilts the side of her head towards me. “Princess Paisley.” She manages to lisp out through the terry cloth she buries her face into.

I get a fast look into each ear, long enough to confirm my suspicions. “She has slight swelling in the left side.” Moving back in front, I tilt up the little girl’s chin. “Paisley, can you open your mouth for me? Nice and wide.”

She purses her tiny lips and looks at me.

“Like this, baby.” Char tries to open her own, but stops with a wince.

Fuck, that makes me twinge seeing her.

“Watch me.” I make an “O” and then drop my jaw as she parrots me.

I’ve dealt with enough children through the years, all I need is a glimpse. “Thank you. That was perfect.”

Rocking back on my heels, the leather in my boots creak. I thread my stethoscope out of my bag. “Last thing, Princess. I just need to listen to your lungs. Do you think you can take a big breath for me?”

I’m only inches from Char, so close the heat of her body warms my arm in my short sleeved scrub top.

After Paisley rapid fires some long inhales, I peel the earpieces out.

“She has a slight ear infection. Keeping the fever down, it should resolve itself in a few days.” I reach behind me to my duffel, inadvertently brushing Char’s hip when I twist.

“Sorry,” I murmur before turning back. “Here’s the Tylenol. Do you have a current weight on her for dosing?”

Char nods as the pink corner of her tongue darts out and dabs at the split on her lip.

I guess I’m done.

Standing, I grab my bag and move to outside of the doorway. “I’ll get going then. Is there anything else before I leave?”

That was a ridiculously open ended question and likely inappropriate given the circumstances.

I’m glad she shakes her head.

“No, thank you though. I really appreciate you stopping by.” Char clutches the small bottle while her other hand moves over Paisley’s head, exposing the soft curls.

“Wasn’t a problem.” I step away, the bathroom feeling much smaller than when I started.

Turning the corner, I catch a glimpse of the red stain on the kitchen floor with the broken bottle still in the middle of it.

Damn. I bet it hurts her to move at all.

There’s a fresh roll of paper towel near the fridge. I might as well just clean it up. The rest of the kitchen is clean except for that spill.

She could use the help.

It only takes me a second to wipe the floor and throw it away.

“Char?” I call from the front door.

“Yes?” She sounds like she’s moved out of the bathroom and is maybe in a bedroom?

“Are you safe?” I don’t know if I could live with myself if I thought otherwise.

“I am, thank you.” Her voice cracks slightly.

My nose wrinkles. I don’t know her enough to tell if that was a lie.

All I can do is take her at her word.

“Have a good night.” I don’t wait for a reply before leaving.

When I slide behind the wheel, I’m not sure how I feel.

I did something to help.

But it’s hollow. I’m not sure I did as much as I could.