Chapter Nine
Pain ripped up Dair’s left knee, bringing her out of unconsciousness. She was moving. Forcing open her eyes, she felt the cold March air against her face. Recognizing Garret Fleming’s back in front of her, Reese on the other side, Dair realized she was being carried on a litter. Her gaze shifted and she saw Noah walking beside her, his hand on her shoulder. In the background, she heard Harper shouting something to someone.
Noah looked down at her. “Just rest, Dair. We called the fire department. The paramedics have arrived and they’re taking you to the Jackson Hole hospital. How are you doing?”
She saw the terror banked in Noah’s eyes, heard the tightness in his voice.
“W-what happened?”
“That damned stallion turned and charged you.” His hand tightened for a moment and then smoothed her shirt across her shoulder. “He spun around so fast. A dove had flown down by his face and it spooked him.”
“Oh . . .” she groaned, lifting her hand, pressing it to her hair. She felt dirt on the strands, the whole event downloading and coming back to her. “He used the bird as an excuse to attack me,” she mumbled. The up and down motion of the litter aggravated her left knee. She was lying beneath several thick wool blankets, strapped in.
“Yeah,” Noah growled, “the bastard was just waiting to charge you.”
“What happened after I got hit, Noah?”
“He charged you once you were down, striking at your metal leg. And then as I ran toward him, he turned and his hind hoof caught you in the side of the head, knocking you out.”
“Damn . . .”
Giving her a tender look, he lifted his hand and barely grazed her dirty cheek. “This wasn’t your fault, so don’t go there.”
She saw Shay running from the house, out the gate and down to the gravel parking lot where the ambulance was parked. “Where’s the stud?” Dair asked Noah.
“Harper got him and he’s in his stall. The vet’s coming. We think he broke his right front leg when he tried jumping over the arena fence.” And then he added darkly, “Just deserts. That’s an animal who isn’t safe for anyone. He needs to be put down.”
“He hates humans,” Dair agreed weakly, feeling the pain radiating upward from her knee. “What did I do with my knee? Where’s my prosthesis?”
“Well,” Noah said, “it’s pretty beat up. It took the bulk of Champ’s attack. Harper is going to bring it along in a minute, but it’s pretty well destroyed, Dair.”
Groaning, she saw Shay arrive, breathless, her blue eyes dark with worry.
“Dair, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she whispered. “I’m alive, that’s all that counts.”
The litter halted and one paramedic opened the rear doors. In moments, they had slid her in on the gurney and into the ambulance. Dair saw everyone looking at her was concerned.
“I’m going with her,” Noah called to Shay.
Harper ran up, out of breath, carrying Dair’s badly dented prosthesis. “I’ll follow you in the truck. You’ll need a way to get back to the ranch.”
“Oh, dear,” Shay said, studying her prosthesis as Noah slid in beside the gurney in the ambulance.
“Yeah,” Noah said, “if that stud hadn’t attacked her there, he’d probably have broken her leg, maybe her pelvis. I’ll call you once we know something about Dair’s knee, Shay.” He hopped into the ambulance.
“Okay,” Shay called. “Stay in touch! If you need anything, let us know.”
Noah lifted his hand. “We will.” He saw Harper running down the slope to get in his truck to follow them.
The doors shut with such finality that Dair closed her eyes for a moment. One paramedic drove the ambulance. The other firefighter, in his midthirties, remained with her. He hooked her up to a blood pressure monitor and made sure she was comfortable for the fifty-mile ride to Jackson Hole. Glad that Noah sat next to the firefighter, on a bench against the wall, she saw how upset he really was. Things settled down quickly after the paramedic, named Jason, called the ER at the hospital and gave all her medical stats to the person at the other end. He gently pulled the covers aside and placed a chemical ice pack on her left knee, as well as a pillow beneath it to support it and take the strain off it.
“How does that feel?” he asked her.
“Good,” Dair said. “Thank you . . .”
Jason nodded and brought the covers back over her legs to keep her warm. “Just rest. We’ve got a damned good ortho doc up in Jackson Hole. He’ll take good care of you.”
Dair grimaced. “Do you know if he works with amputees? I’d bet everything that he’s very unfamiliar with amputees.”
“He just left the Marine Corps. He was one of the head ortho surgeons at Landstuhl Medical Center in Germany.”
Relief shot through Dair. “That’s really good news.”
“Yeah,” Jason agreed, sitting down, giving Noah a quick look. “His name is Dr. Elliot Radke. You’ll like him. He’s a cool dude. And he’s on duty at the hospital right now, so I’m sure you’ll be assigned to him.”
Dair hoped so. She glanced up at Noah, whose gaze had never left hers. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, reaching out her hand in his direction.
Noah nodded, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped between them. He lifted his hand, encasing hers. “Are you in any pain?”
“My head aches a little.” She touched her dusty hair near her left temple. She felt a swollen lump. “But I’m far more worried about my left knee. It hurts a lot.” Noah’s face tightened and she saw turbulence in his dark gray gaze. His fingers grew firmer around hers, as if to comfort her.
“Well, let’s get there. I’m sure they’ll x-ray your knee first, and we’ll see what happens next. I’ll be with you every step of the way, Dair. I’m not leaving your side.” Reluctantly, Noah released her hand.
The ice pack was helping with the swelling of her knee. Glad that Noah was so close, she felt more stable with his hand around hers. Inwardly, Dair worried about her knee. Torn ligaments? Torn tendon? ACL injury? She didn’t know, and it scared her badly. She needed that knee to be strong because that joint was the only thing between her being mobile or being reduced to a wheelchair for the rest of her life. She wanted to cry, but fought back the urge. Just having Noah nearby helped her emotionally and she drowned in the melting look he gave her.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” he soothed.
She knew he didn’t know the mechanics of her knee. She hadn’t either, until the ortho people at Bethesda had taught and trained her knee to be as strong as it could be to support the loss of her lower leg and foot. If only this attack hadn’t happened! Closing her eyes, she felt deep depression stalking her. She’d wrestled with it for over a year after losing her leg. The last few months, she’d felt so free and happy, so many things going so well in her life. And now this.
* * *
Noah kept his game face in place once they admitted Dair to ER at Jackson Hole. It was a middle-sized hospital and they weren’t that busy, which was good. It meant that Dair would be quickly seen and taken care of. He remained at her side at all times and stood guard when they wheeled her into a cubicle where blue fabric curtains were drawn open. One of the nurses, a blonde in her twenties, pulled them closed to give them some privacy. Noah walked over to the gurney where Dair lay. Her hair was mussed and filled with the sand from the arena. Her clothes were dusty, as well. He could see the turmoil in her gold-brown eyes, her brow wrinkled with worry.
Halting near her right shoulder, moving a few tendrils away from her cheek, he said, “It’s going to be okay, Dair,” slanting a look in her direction as he moved his hand tenderly across her shoulder, where he could feel her tension.
“I’ve been so careful not to hurt that knee,” she whispered brokenly. “If it’s bad, I don’t know what I’ll do, Noah.” She gave him an anxious look. “I have to be able to be mobile. I can’t be stuck in a chair.”
Moving his hand across her shoulder, Noah said, “We’ll take this one moment at a time, Dair.”
The curtains parted. A physician in a white coat, a stethoscope around his neck, short blond hair and blue eyes, entered. On his name tag it read: Radke, E., MD.
“Hey, I hear you tangled with a pissed-off stallion, Dair,” he said, smiling, holding out his hand to her. “I’m Doctor Elliot Radke. I’m the ortho man around here. How are you doing?”
“Better now that I know you were at Landstuhl,” she said.
He released her hand. “Yeah, I’m one of them.” He laughed. Turning, he held out his hand to Noah. “And you are?”
“Noah Mabry. Dair and I live together.”
“Good to know.” Radke devoted his attention back to Dair.
“So? You’ve been through Bethesda or the Naval Medical Center in San Diego?”
“Bethesda, Doctor. I was a WMD dog handler in the Army over in Afghanistan.”
“Tough job,” he said, losing his smile. “Let me examine that leg of yours.” He carefully removed the blanket from her lower body.
Noah remained close, wanting to keep contact with Dair. The doctor seemed warm, friendly, and it was just what she needed right now. Dr. Radke brought the gurney into a semi-upright position so she could lean comfortably against the support. Her pant leg had been cut off above her knee by the paramedics. The knee was the size of a cantaloupe, and even to Noah, it looked pretty awful. Plus, the skin was rubbed raw, bleeding a little here and there. “The stud hit her prosthesis at least four times, down on the metal part of the leg,” Noah told Radke.
“Is the prosthesis here?” he asked, moving his hands gently around Dair’s swollen knee as he carefully examined it.
“Yes.” Noah left the room and went to retrieve it. Bringing it back into the cubicle, Noah held it up in both hands so the doctor could look at it.
“Wow,” he murmured, giving it, and then Dair, a look, “that stud meant business, didn’t he?”
Dair snorted. “I don’t remember most of it. Noah, here, saw it all.”
“Paramedic said you suffered a level-two concussion. We’ll look at that in a minute,” Radke said, moving his hand down her residual leg, pushing here and there, but gently. “I’m going to carefully move your joint around, Dair. You’ll tell me when it hurts?”
Nodding, her whole focus was on her knee.
Noah watched as the doctor slowly moved her joint one way, and then the other. At some angles, Dair stiffened. The doctor would instantly stop, allowing the knee to go back to its normal position. And then he’d slowly stretch, pull, or twist her knee in another direction. It hurt Noah to see her stiffen, knowing she was feeling pain. Finally, Radke was done with his exam and he eased her leg down on the gurney, keeping his hand just above it.
“I suspect a torn ligament,” he told her. “I’m going to have my nurses take you to get a CT scan to prove it.”
With a moan, Dair said brokenly, “No . . .” That meant six months for it to heal. “I won’t be able to use my prosthesis . . .”
Noah held her hand, hearing the absolute despair in her voice. “What does that mean, Doctor? She can’t wear her prosthesis?”
Radke shook his head. “No, unfortunately she can’t. Maybe starting at the third or fourth month, but that means she’s coming up here to my ortho center and getting therapy as well as exercises to strengthen it in the meantime.”
Miserably, Dair whispered, “I’ll be bound to a chair. I won’t be able to do horse training, Noah.”
He heard the tremble in her strained voice, saw tears edging her eyes. “Don’t worry, we’ll work around this, Dair.”
“But,” she said, “I’m useless without my leg!”
“Nah,” Radke said, “don’t go there.” He gave her a kind look. “Let’s get the CT scan. I’ll know a lot more after looking at it, okay? Don’t jump to conclusions just yet.”
Dair gave a bare nod, staring in anguish at her injured knee.
Noah moved away as the doctor checked the side of her head where she’d taken a glancing blow from the stud’s hoof. It was swollen, but the good news was the doctor said she was fine.
“You’ll have a headache off and on for a day or two, I’ll bet,” he told her. “Maybe dizzy on and off, also. In about a week, you’ll be back to normal, Dair.” He examined her arm where the stallion had bit her. “Nasty,” he muttered. “You’re going to have this lump for a few weeks, but it’s the least medically important and will heal up on its own.”
“Tell me that same thing about my knee after I get through that CT scan,” she told him.
Radke smiled and jotted down some info on his tablet. “I got all kinds of work-arounds up my sleeve for you, so don’t go there. Okay?”
Noah could see the anxiety subside in Dair’s eyes as the ortho doctor left the cubicle. She was gripping her dusty hands and he could feel her ballooning anguish over the accident. He slid his arm around her slumped shoulders. “It doesn’t matter, Dair, if you have a torn ligament or not. Okay?” She lifted her head, utter misery in her expression. “No one is firing you from that job. It’s yours. If you have to be wheelchair bound for a while, we’ll figure out things you can do to help me at the arena until it heals up.”
“But there’s eight horses in training, Noah! And if I can’t use both my legs, I can’t train. Then, it all falls on your shoulders because there’s no one else who can take that load off you.”
“There’s always work around, Dair. I don’t want you going to the worst-case scenario just yet.” He squeezed her shoulders a bit. “Your job is safe. You’re living with me. Nothing changes. No one at the Bar C is going to abandon you because of this accident. We’ll make this work. We’re a team.”
* * *
Dair listened to Elliot Radke’s interpretation of the CT scan taken earlier on her injured knee. She was back in her cubicle in the ER, waiting for the results. She liked the man. He was upbeat, kind and sensitive toward her. Most of the surgeons at Landstuhl that she’d dealt with after her leg was amputated, were just like him. He was a bright spot in her life right now. Her last hope. And having Noah nearby, his hand rarely leaving her shoulder, helped her so much more.
“To put this in English,” Radke told them, standing at the end of the gurney, “Dair, you have a partially torn ligament. Now, it’s not a bad tear. It’s only about thirty percent of the ligament, and that’s good news for you.”
“How is it good news? I still can’t wear my prosthesis, Doctor.”
“Not for the first six weeks,” he agreed, “but depending upon how well you do your exercises, which I’ll give you before you leave here, we might be able to put you back on your feet with a little tinkering on your socket. Now”—he went to the corner where her prosthesis was propped up against the wall—“this socket is pretty well destroyed,” he said, holding it up for her to look at closely. “You’re going to need a new limb. That stud tore the hell out of the center metal area and bent some other things on it that can’t be repaired.”
Dair’s heart sank. “Even if I could come back and stand on my legs in six weeks, Dr. Radke, the VA will never have me fitted for another prosthesis that quickly.”
“You’re right,” he said, setting the prosthesis in the corner and returning to her gurney. “But here’s a game changer in your favor. I happen to be one of the ortho doctors working for a manufacturer that is looking for amputees to try out their new, super-duper prosthesis. I’m on the board and I make recommendations, and I’ll get you into the program. It’s free. All you have to do is get properly fitted for it, give the team feedback about it, and wear it. The company is BiOM. Have you heard of them?”
Her heart raced. “Well, yes, I have. BiOM produces the most advanced prostheses in the world. They’re considered the best.”
Radke smiled warmly. “It’s true. Dr. Hugh Herr owns it. He’s associated with Biomechatronics, a research group at the MIT Media lab. They’re doing groundbreaking work for amputees.”
“He’s considered the most brilliant inventor in the field of limb replacement and rehab,” she said, suddenly excited, feeling hope drizzle through the darkness inhabiting her. “You can really get me a replacement limb through BiOM?” She could barely believe how good this news really was.
Nodding, Radke said, “I’ll have my staff put your name up for consideration and I’m sure BiOM will accept you, Dair.” He pointed to her knee, which he’d fitted with a brace around it to give it stability. “All we need is for your knee to lose the swelling and then wait six weeks to see where that ligament of yours is at. With all the advancement in BiOM, they may well be able to produce a socket and suspension system that will allow you to begin to use the limb at that time.” He added, “You’re young, you’re a military vet, and that means you’ll work consistently at your exercises to help make that happen.”
“For sure,” Dair whispered, feeling mildly in shock over her turn of good fortune.
Radke shifted his gaze to Noah. “I’ll give you the address of my clinic. I’ve already called over to my office supervisor, Eugenia Ross, and she’s going to have a file of information and instructions on Dair’s exercises that she’s to do daily.”
“We can drive over there as soon as you release her from this ER,” Noah agreed.
“That’s gonna happen right now. You can pick up her prescriptions here at the hospital pharmacy up on the second floor.” He turned to Dair. “Now let this cowboy take care of you. Okay? I know you’re a big girl, a vet who has seen her share of combat, but sometimes it’s good to lean on your partner for a bit, eh?”
Dair felt heat moving to her cheeks. “Yes, Doctor. I’ll do that.”
Noah gave her a look that double-checked it. She managed a partial smile and saw his light gray eyes grow warm.
“Okay, so I’ll be seeing you at my office in seven days, Dair. By that time, we should have everything in place and I’ll be able to tell you that you’re going to be looking forward to getting the most advanced prosthesis in the world and that you’ll be able to wear it in about week six. Sound good?”
Did it ever! She reached out, shaking Radke’s long, spare hand. “Yes, sir, it does. Thank you for everything.”
He leaned over, giving her a light embrace and patting her back. “We take care of our vets around here. Don’t ever forget that. Okay?”
Tears jammed into her eyes as she watched the doctor leave the cubicle. “Okay,” Dair choked out. The nurse came in and pushed the front curtains aside so that they could leave. She brought up a lightweight wheelchair.
“Now, Dr. Radke has these real sporty, bright red models he keeps here when he’s on duty,” she told Dair. “Have you ever been in a chair like this one?”
Dair knew it was an ergonomic sports-type model wheelchair, one that amputee sportsmen and -women used. “No, but it sure looks sleek.”
She smiled and brought it over to her. “Well, he’s loaning it to you. He thought you were a real outdoors type and would probably want to be active, plus your arm and hand strength will match this chair’s capability,” she said.
Grinning, Dair said, “He’s right.”
Noah came over, lending his hand to her as she slid off the gurney. She felt his strength, his quietness, and it helped stabilize her. Sliding gently into the well-padded seat, she liked that the wheels were canted toward her; it made it easy to place her hands on them to move in any direction she wanted. Noah then released her hand and covered her lap and legs with a wool blanket. Dair was grateful. She knew people would stare at her odd-shaped residual limb.
“Do you want help?” he asked her.
“Oh, give her some, Mr. Mabry,” the nurse urged. “I know she’s the kind of woman who is very independent and young, but the doctor wants her to truly rest for the next three or four days.” The nurse bent over, catching Dair’s gaze. “Let others help you for a bit?”
“I suppose I can,” Dair grumped.
“It’s temporary,” the nurse reassured her, patting her shoulder. “Go home now. I’m sure you’re dying to get a shower to wash that dust out of your hair.”
Wrinkling her nose, Dair muttered, “Yes, it’s the first thing I’m going to do.” Noah came up behind her, hands closing around the handles of her chair.
The nurse walked out with them. “Now, Mr. Mabry. You’re going to have to help her wash her hair and such. The doctor wants her to have someone close by to help her for the next week. With that level-two concussion, she might suddenly get dizzy in the shower and she could lose her balance, falling and reinjuring that knee of hers. She needs your close support for the next few days.”
Dair gave Noah a look that spoke volumes. He grinned like a little boy, amusement and tenderness in his gaze.
“Oh, we’ll make it work,” he promised the nurse.
Dair gave him a grudging smile and shook her head. It felt odd for someone to be pushing her along the tiled ER floor toward the exit door in her chair. Given how her knee was throbbing, she was grateful to Noah for squiring her around the hospital.
They went to pick up her prescriptions and then Noah guided them out to the parking lot. The day was brisk and cold. Noah had thoughtfully brought her jacket in after shaking the dust off it. Now she hugged it tight to her body as he wove between parked cars to get to Harper’s truck. Inside, Harper was busy on his iPhone when Noah approached the window.
He quickly put the iPhone away, climbed out of the truck, and came around to the passenger-side door. “How are you doing, Dair?”
Harper was always the optimist, and that was one of the many things Dair liked about the vet. She filled him in as he opened the door for her. Noah was being attentive. She wasn’t going to be able to climb into that truck by herself, not with a bum leg. Instead, he leaned over her.
“Hold on. I’m going to lift you up and out of the chair and I’ll slide you into the seat. You okay with that?”
Dair inhaled his scent and she nodded. “Yes, I guess I am.” His eyes gleamed with concern as he carefully and slowly scooped her up into his embrace. Automatically, her arms fell around his shoulders. The bruised, bitten arm throbbed a bit, but it was nothing in comparison to her knee issue. There was nothing soft about Noah’s hard, lean body, and Dair absorbed the unexpected contact with him. He smelled so good to her.
“Relax,” he rasped, waiting for Harper to pull the wheelchair out of the way, “I’ve got you . . .”
And she did just that, relishing their closeness despite the thick, heavy winter jackets they wore. She wasn’t a lightweight, but Noah lifted her easily up onto the black vinyl seat of the cab, carefully placing her legs so that her foot didn’t accidentally hit the door. Grateful, Dair released him, whispering, “Thank you, Noah . . .” He was so close that she wanted to lean forward and kiss his stubbled cheek, but resisted. Dair told herself it was the shock and trauma making her feel so emotional, so needy and wanting him to hold her right now.
Noah brought the seat belt across her body and snapped it into place. “There,” he murmured, “are you comfy?” He placed the blanket over her lap and rearranged it once more.
“Yes, I am.” She saw Harper open up the rear cab door, fold up her sleek wheelchair, and lift it easily into place behind where she sat.
“I’ll drive,” Noah told Harper. “You hop in the back.”
“Yeah,” he said, “I’ve got a bunch of emails that need answering.”
In no time, they were leaving Jackson Hole and heading south on Route 191. It was midafternoon and Dair leaned her head back against the head rest, closing her eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. She felt Noah’s hand on hers for a moment.
“You doing okay?”
Nodding, she turned her hand over and he squeezed her fingers and then released them. “Yes, just suddenly very tired.”
“Shock,” he said. “Go to sleep. We’ve got fifty miles to go before we get home, Dair.”
She didn’t need any coaxing. Just the low growl of the truck, the humming of the tires against the asphalt road leading toward Wind River Valley, soothed her fractious state. She’d taken some pain pills Dr. Radke had ordered for her. Maybe that’s why she tired so quickly? Unsure, Dair moved her hand toward where Noah sat driving. She needed his touch once more. He made her feel as if everything would be all right. His fingers met hers and he weaved them between hers, holding them gently on the seat. Dair didn’t want to have to explain why she’d done it. He gave her such a sense of calm in this chaotic world of hers.
Her mind rolled around like an aimless bowling ball in her head for a moment. She worried about her job, despite what Noah had said. She wondered what would happen to Champ. Had he really broken his leg trying to leap over that metal rail fence? What would Reese and Shay think of her getting injured? They had such high hopes for her. Would they be horribly disappointed in her? Especially since she had a minimum of six weeks before she could put her prosthesis back into place and be mobile once more? Her heart lingered sweetly on Noah. She liked being picked up and held by him. She loved his smell, part man, part alfalfa, and part sweat. Dragging in a long, ragged sigh, Dair succumbed to the darkness swirling around her. She needed to sleep and heal.