back from her father’s face. Joe had expected her to be fluttery and helpless, but she was surprisingly calm.
“I don’t know what he can do,” Joe said. “But we need to find out. Stay with your dad while I get some help. I’ll get Mason, too. He shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Minutes later, the team had been hitched to the buggy and brought around to the front of the house. Joe and Ralph Tomlinson, a cowboy who’d been promoted to foreman after Joe had left the ranch, helped Loren into the buggy, laid him half reclining on a pillow in the rear seat, and covered him with a light blanket. The raised hood on the buggy would keep off the sun.
“I can drive if you want,” Tomlinson offered.
“That’s all right. Joe can do it,” Amelia said. “We’ll need you to look after things here.”
“I don’t want to stay here! I want to go with you and Grandpa!” Mason was crying again. But after Amelia promised to bring him candy if he was good, he stopped crying and went with the friendly cook, who’d agreed to watch him.
Joe took a moment to get the Winchester rifle he carried from his saddle and put it under the buggy seat, as protection from any trouble they might meet. Then he helped his wife into the buggy.
Amelia leaned back and tried to give her father a drink of water from a cup, but he only choked on it. How long could they keep Loren alive if he couldn’t eat or drink? That, and a plethora of new worries, nagged at Joe as they drove back toward Blue Moon, headed for Miles City.
* * *
Sarah was walking home from the store, holding Blake’s hand and Humdinger’s leash, when she saw the approaching buggy, coming at a fast clip. Tugging her son and the dog with her, she moved back into the long grass at the roadside to give the rig room to pass safely.
As the buggy came closer, she recognized Joe driving the team. Beside him sat one of the prettiest women she’d ever seen, with doll-like features and russet curls falling below her fashionable hat. She had to be Joe’s wife.
In an instant the rig passed her. In another instant, they were speeding away down the road, growing smaller with distance. She’d hoped Joe wouldn’t see her, standing there with their son. It appeared that he hadn’t. He was too intent on going somewhere in a hurry, maybe to Miles City.
At least, seeing his wife and how pretty she was might make it easier for Sarah to put him out of her mind. She’d never believed in taking things that weren’t hers, and that included other women’s husbands. She’d told Joe to stay away. It was time she gave the same advice to herself.
Forget him. Whatever had passed between them, it had ended the night he’d kissed her good-bye and ridden away from Ogallala. This new Joe was a stranger, someone she no longer knew. And that was how things would stay.
* * *
In Miles City, the doctor, a young man with a hawkish nose and spectacles, examined Loren, looking into his eyes, checking his reflexes and his vital signs. Loren was conscious and still trying to talk, but the words spilling out of his lopsided mouth made no sense. The harder he tried, the more frustrated he became until, at last he gave up and sat slumped on the examining table.
“It does appear to be a stroke,” the doctor said. “His heartbeat is irregular, and his blood pressure is somewhat elevated, which may be due to stress. Otherwise . . .” The doctor shrugged. “The human brain is a mystery. We can only guess how severe the damage is. It seems confined to his left side—the face, the weakness in the body. That’s typical of a stroke.”
“But what can you do for him?” Amelia demanded.
“Unfortunately, there are no miracle cures. For now, all we can do is try to keep him healthy and comfortable and hope he improves over time. I’d like to keep him here, in the infirmary, for a couple of days to get him stabilized and watch for any changes.”
“I tried giving him water, but he choked on it,” Amelia said. “He’s going to need fluids.”
“We’ll work on getting him to drink,” the doctor said. “You should be able to take him home on Friday.”
Amelia put her arms around her father and kissed his cheek. Loren responded with a string