“Look, right now my main concerns are Dusty’s kidneys and the injuries to his shoulder. He’s on heavy fluids and anti-inflammatories, but it’s too soon to know how extensive the internal damage is.”
“Will he live through this?” Hope cracked his voice.
Mattie shielded her expression to offer encouragement. “I’ve seen horses older than Dusty come out of worse conditions. It depends on his strength — his determination to live.” Some horses had all heart, went full blast until they breathed their last lungful. She prayed this patient might be among that rare breed.
“I raised him, you know.”
“John mentioned that.” Though the sun warmed the air outside, Mattie felt chilled in the barn and zipped her jacket. “You should know I recommended putting him down the night of the accident. Your father wouldn’t allow it.”
Gil returned his gaze to the horse resting with his nose to the ground. “How long before he’ll be up and walking?”
“I’d like to see Dusty stand within the next ten hours. If that doesn’t happen, we’ll try other measures.” She met the resolve on Gil’s face with her own. “I’m a firm believer in prayer. That and positive thinking. Maybe your presence will help Dusty heal.”
“You think he knows I’m here?”
“I know he does.” She stood to check the horse’s monitor and recorded the increase in heartbeat. “How long since you’ve seen him?”
“Two years ago August. I counted it up last night at halftime. The way my mind rambled, it’s no wonder we lost.” He got up and walked to the barn door, staring out at the graveled parking lot. “It was my mother’s birthday, and she insisted I go for a ride. She died two months later.”
Mattie wondered what drove Gil from the ranch. The shock when she’d mentioned John’s heart attack and his obvious torment suggested a soft spot in Gil’s heart for home. She knew better than to get involved but was intrigued.
“I’m sorry I never met your mother. From the stories your dad tells, she sounded like a wonderful woman.”
Gil turned back to her and jammed his hands into his jean pockets. “Mind if I stay with Dusty for a while?”
Mattie removed the near-empty bag of fluid and replaced it with a full one. “I’ll check back later.” She gathered her instruments and set them in a bucket. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re home.”
A momentary look of surprise creased Gil’s brow. Reminding herself to stay out of other people’s business, Mattie left her client to deal with whatever haunted him.
GIL RETURNED TO THE LIGHTNING M RANCH LATE THAT AFTERNOON. He knocked on the heavy, wooden door to his father’s room, and it screeched open. Gil stared at the man on the bed, his dad’s face more pallid and drawn than it had been earlier that day. Moving closer, he touched the wrinkled hand, surprised at how fragile it felt under his own.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the heart attack?”
John McCray’s thick lids opened, his eyes glazed from sleep. “What’s the matter? Afraid I might die, and you’d miss out on your inheritance?” He jerked his hand away. “Don’t bother.” His dad hacked out a deliberate cough and glanced at the door. “Did Mattie bring you?”
“One of her staff gave me a lift. Dr. Evans stayed at the clinic.”
“She’s a hard worker. Real serious about her job, especially with her run of bad luck.”
Gil’s interest perked like a horse’s ears at an unfamiliar sound. “What sort of bad luck?”
“Nothing that amounts to a hill of beans. ’Course, she don’t see it that way, but she’s young. She’ll learn.”
“You know she’s Jenna’s sister?”
“Do I look stupid? What does that matter?” His father sat up and reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. Gil noticed a prescription bottle of pills.
Some things were better left in the past. “I’m not here to fight.” He glanced up at the high ceiling and watched the cobwebs sway in the drafty currents.
“Why did you come? I’m sure you have more important stuff to do than visit a sick man on his deathbed. Don’t you have parties or press conferences to attend?”
“Not much to celebrate, remember?” Gil shifted his weight on the wingback chair. Thoughts of last night’s game resurfaced. If he’d kept a clear head, made better calls, his team might have gone on to the championship game. “My legs and arms aren’t as quick as they once were. I’m thinking it’s time to retire and settle down.”
The old man sipped his water. “You ever