Why would he stay? She tried not to let this bother her. “Will you come back?”
Gil kneaded his forehead. “How long will it take Dusty to heal?”
Hadn’t the man heard a word she’d said? Right now, her record with high-risk patients equaled that of a losing football team. She took one last bite of her hamburger and shoved the remains in the sack. “Your horse has heart, but he has a long haul ahead of him. With no further complications, Dusty could be out of here in four weeks, sooner if he receives the love and care of someone he trusts.”
“Will you take care of him while I’m gone?”
“That’s my job.”
“No, I mean, will you encourage him to get better? Treat him like he was your own?”
Mattie’s throat tightened. “Dusty’s your horse. He’d be more receptive to your attention than to mine. If you want what’s best for him, you should consider staying longer.”
“That’s not an option, at least not now. Will you fill in for me? Until I can get back . . .” His brow furrowed with expectation. “I’ll pay for the extra effort.”
Gil knew, as she did, that Dusty’s chance of healing would increase if they added love to the equation. Someone who cared. But after so much recent loss, her only defense had been to distance herself from her patients. How could he make such an unfair request? She closed her eyes and felt assurance that she was not alone.
“Well, Miss — Doc Evans?”
Mattie stood and tossed the paper sack into an aluminum trash bin. Her intuition told her not to become involved in such a precarious situation, but how could she not? She wanted Dusty to live too.
“I’ll do my best. But I warn you, Dusty might not be alive when you get back.”
EIGHT
GIL CLIMBED INTO JAKE’S TRUCK AS THE TOWER CLOCK ON THE courthouse chimed eleven. He sat in the chilled cab and stared out the front window until the glass fogged with steam. Though late, he had one more thing to do before going back to his father’s ranch.
The yellow headlights shone on the brick paved streets, and a few blocks later, they lit the way down the gravel road. A lone cedar marked the small cemetery he last visited for his mother’s funeral.
With trembling fingers, he shut off the motor and made his way in the faint moonlight to the family headstones. Synthetic poinsettias decorated each, and Gil wondered if his dad had brought them, or someone else. He knelt down and pulled the faded flowers from the moist ground.
“I’ll bring you fresh ones next time, Mama.”
Gil fingered the inscription on the cold marble stone. Emily Jean McCray, loving wife and mother.
“I’m sorry for worrying you all those years ago and causing you grief, Mama. I wish I’d been a better son.” His voice sounded foreign in the crisp night air as he stared up and watched a shooting star trail its way across the atmosphere. He edged closer to his brother’s grave.
“Why did you have to go and die, Frank?” He picked up a clump of dirt and threw it into the dark, heard it hit against the dead grass. “We could have gone on in rodeo; you might have married Jenna. I could have stayed home to take care of Mama.”
Gil gripped the edge of the headstone until his fingers tingled from the pressure. A sob escaped his mouth. Frank had always been good at everything he did — his father’s pride and joy. Gil figured that was the reason for his own secret fascination with Jenna. But he never wished his brother dead.
Jenna. He compared Doc Evans to her sister, but the resemblances seemed few. Jenna was tall, with dark hair and an unpredictable hunger for mischief that matched Frank’s. Gil thought back to that reckless summer night when his life had turned into one big ball of barbed wire.
A huge, tangled mess.
An owl screeched high overhead, and at the shrill sound Gil lived the nightmare once again . . .
He and Jenna had been skinny-dipping out by Coover’s Bridge less than a mile from the highway when they’d heard the first siren. Gil ignored the intrusion and reached out for Jenna, more interested in holding her glistening curves close to his body. The moon shone down on them, and her creamy skin glowed next to his.
“How come you stayed with me tonight, ’stead of going with Frank?” Gil rested his hand on her cheek and kissed her neck,