She tried not to jump at the deep, dark timber of his voice. “I, uh, want to help. In any way that I can.”
He said nothing to that, just set aside the empty bowl and spoon. She examined the IV setup carefully from the suspension hook to the catheter, just as if she hadn’t already done so repeatedly.
“Very neat job of stitching,” she commented. “Do you always stitch the catheter in place?” She didn’t think he would answer at first, but eventually he did.
“Even the smartest animals will instinctively pull out something sticking in their bodies, either intentionally or accidentally. Soldier might be too sick now to even realize it’s there, but as soon as he’s better, he’ll try to get rid of it. Can’t let that happen. And there’s always the chance someone messing around with him will accidentally pull it out.”
She shot him a dry look. “I’m the last person you have to worry about doing that.”
“Just saying.”
“And I’m just saying that I could be of real help to you if you’d trust me and show me what you need.”
“Is that right?”
“I’d go so far as to say that I could help out with a lot of things if you’d let me,” Meredith told him cautiously, thinking that had gone easier than she’d expected.
He folded his arms. “Ever seen a calf caught in barbed wire for so long that gangrene has set in?”
She blinked, caught off guard by the change of subject. Then she saw the quirk of his lips just before he swiped the napkin over them, and she knew instantly what he was doing.
Parking her hands at her waist, she said, “No. But I’ve seen plenty that would turn your stomach.”
They traded horror stories for several minutes, each more gory than the last.
Laughter bubbled up inside of her when she finally called a halt. “Look, I’m a nurse. You can’t gross me out.”
A grin split his tanned face. “Okay. Okay. Truce?”
She nodded. “Truce.”
“And thank you for the pudding,” he said, picking up the empty bowl and spoon.
Well, that was progress. She took a deep breath and plunged in.
“I was wondering...hoping you might need help with your practice.”
Sobering, he looked down. “No.”
Just like that? “But Rex says that you work alone and that your practice is huge, too big for one person.”
“Meredith,” he said, “I prefer to work alone.”
Her heart sank. Could he be that antisocial? “Truly?”
Shoving up to his feet, he held out the spoon and bowl, nodding. “That’s how I like it.”
“But why? Everyone says you have too much to do.”
“That’s true,” he admitted. “Still, I prefer to work alone.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Why would you want a job with me, anyway?” he asked, not even denying her last statement. “You’re an RN.”
“In case you haven’t noticed,” she retorted, snatching the bowl from his hand hard enough to rattle the spoon, “there aren’t any nursing jobs around here. I’ve checked. I’ve put my name on the lists at all the hospitals and nursing homes within driving distance, and I’ve registered with every local agency. I’ve even called every doctor I can find. No one’s hiring.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “What happened to your job in the City? I’m sure Rex told me you were taking a leave of absence.”
“It’s still there,” she admitted glumly. “But I don’t want to go back. I want to be here. I’ve always wanted to be here. Not at the ranch, necessarily, but in War Bonnet or close to. And now that Rex and Ann have come home to stay...” She shook her head.
“Just because they’ve come home doesn’t mean you have to,” he pointed out.
“You aren’t listening. I never wanted to be in the City. You’ve no idea how much I hate it there. I want to come home. I want to be close to my family. I wasn’t really close to Dad growing up, and now it’s like we have a second chance. I want to be here.”
“I want lots of things I’ll never have again, Meredith,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”
Struggling not to weep, she shrugged, nodded and whispered, “Well, I have some time yet. Something might turn up.”
“You never know,” he said.
But she did know, all too well, and his tone said that he did, too. The truth was that if he didn’t give her a job, she wasn’t going to find one locally. The worst part was that it didn’t make sense. She could help Stark. They could help each other.
Why wouldn’t he take what she offered?
Did he dislike her that much?
Or was something else going on here?
Either way, unless God intervened, she was on her way back to Oklahoma City. Like it or not.
As tired as he was, Stark had a difficult time dropping off to sleep between the hourly alarms set on his phone. He’d been too long without rest and knew his judgment would be impaired without it, but he couldn’t get Meredith Billings out of his mind. If she’d been male or fifty or as ugly as a mud fence, he’d have hired her with gratitude last night, but he had no room in his life, such as it was, for a pretty little thing like her.
No, the last thing he needed underfoot was an attractive female like Meri. He couldn’t afford to take a chance that one or the other of them might form an attachment. After losing Cathy, he was never going there again. He’d never survive a second loss like that. Truthfully, he hadn’t really survived the first one. All that was left of him was an empty husk and the work. He tried to concentrate on the latter and ignore everything else.
The horse seemed unchanged when Stark checked around four in the morning. He considered belting back one of the energy drinks that he lived on but decided against it. Instead, he stretched out on his bedroll again. The next thing he knew a woman’s shrieking voice woke him.
“Stark! He’s not breathing! Stark!”
The smell of strong black coffee cut through the odors of the stable, but he didn’t have time to think about it as he all but vaulted the stable gate. Meredith stood at Soldier’s head, her expression one of sheer horror. The horse’s head hung almost to the floor. Only the sling kept the animal upright. Stark grabbed his kit and found his stethoscope. After a quick examination, he was able to think.
“His heart’s still beating, but I don’t know how long he’s been without oxygen.” Stark began palpating the horse’s windpipe and giving orders. “Quick. I need a trach kit. Right side of the bag. And lay out a sterile sheet. Blue.”
Kneeling in the stall, Meredith worked swiftly, pulling on gloves and following instructions to the letter while Stark suited up. They had the tube in place in less than two minutes. Immediately Soldier twitched his ears and rasped in air. Holding the tracheotomy tube with one hand, Stark reached up to mop his brow with the other wrist, but Meredith beat him to it, blotting his forehead with a gauze pad. When he looked down, she had the suture kit open. As soon as he picked up the curved needle with the sewing silk threaded through it, she squirted antiseptic around the incision holding the breathing tube. It was as if the woman could read his mind.
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