Page 21 of Baker (Bastian Brothers #1)

“Where’d you learn to drive a stick? In the Congo or something?

” I asked as we rumbled along, bits of chaff flying out of the bed as we picked up speed.

The morning was a beauty. Clear skies, soft pink clouds, and a gentle wind.

Perfect day to get work done, but here I was riding to the hospital like a damn fool.

“Exactly. I learned to drive a stick from the shaman of an uncontacted tribe deep in the dark recesses of the Congolian rainforests.”

It took me a few seconds. “You’re being an asshole.” That made him laugh. I did enjoy the sound of his merriment, even when I was pissy. “Where did you really learn?”

“My father taught me. He refused to be a shiftless driver.”

“Granny taught me on this truck.” I patted the torn dash with a loving hand.

“She could shift gears like Mario Andretti. Still can, if I’m being honest, but her sight isn’t good, and the last time she took the truck, she backed into Winnie Cartwright’s red cedar decorative lawn well and tipped it over. ”

“Damn, I bet that upset her.” We slowed to a four-way and then pulled a sharp left to head into Bastian Grange. The heater was on low, but Hanley had his window cracked, the wind tugging at his dark blond hair. “I remember when my grandfather got too old to drive. He was heartbroken.”

“I think once she gets her cataract surgery, her vision will improve,” I replied while enjoying the play of wind in his hair.

God he was handsome. Rugged. Super toppy.

Everything that I really liked in a man.

“Just a few more months. There are so few specialists out here that we always need to travel to Oklahoma City for her eye appointments, which is a three-hour drive each way.”

“Yeah, rural healthcare is suffering badly and only getting worse,” he sympathized.

Something about his laidback ways helped put me at ease.

“I’m sure once she gets that surgery, she’ll have eyes like a hawk again.

” I nodded, unsure of why I was feeling so oddly close to this man. “So, where is the hospital?”

As we rode along, the signs of the storm last night were evident.

Trees lying on their sides, power lines trapped under limbs, and scattered bits of debris everywhere.

The swath of the twister was choppy, but we could see where it had touched down, skipped over the road and a small trailer park—miraculous in its own right since twisters loved trailer parks—and resumed rolling toward our place.

Later, when I ride out to find the few horses still on walkabout, I’ll be able to follow the tornado’s path, I’m sure.

They usually left a pretty clear trail of destruction in their wake.

It hit me then that Hanley was probably concerned about his camp.

“Soon as we get back, we’ll get you out to the redbud camp to check on your shit,” I said and got a soft shrug.

“Thanks. I’m pretty sure that if it hit my camp, things are destroyed. If it missed it, things will be fine. Getting you looked at seemed the number one priority.”

“That’s kind of you.” I felt awkward again. Like a teen trying to speak to a girl or guy he’s been crushing on for a long time. “We’ll ride out to check, though.”

“And that’s kind of you when you have so much to attend to.” I longed to plaster my mouth to his, but this was hardly the time. Also, my damn arm hurt like a bitch. Later.

We’d kiss later.

I fed him directions until we pulled up at the ER entrance at the Pellman Memorial Hospital just over the county border in Monroe Falls.

“You need me to come in with you?” he asked as I unbuckled. I threw him a look.

“Do I look ten years old? No, I don’t need you to come in.

And no, I won’t skip out. Just go get your shit.

” I slid to the ground, shut the door, and refused to look back.

My gut was ticklish enough being with him for a long time.

Probably just the overuse of aspirin all night.

Stuff always ate my stomach. The ER was hopping.

I spied Ollie hovering in the corner by the snack station, nursing a cup of coffee.

His dark eyes met mine as I registered, so I ambled over to him instead of taking up a seat.

We looked like warmed up dog shit. “What are you doing here?”

“Had to escort a prisoner from the city jail here for an X-ray. When the power went out last night, Lappy Jones kind of lost his shit.”

“Ah.” Lappy was an old Vietnam veteran who drank way too much.

Most times, Ollie just let him sleep it off in one of the twin cells at the sheriff’s office, a routine I was sadly knowledgeable about, and obviously had given him room and board for the night.

Lappy’s PTSD was incredibly bad, we all knew that, so a storm like we had last night was not a fun time for the poor guy.

He tried, bless him, coming in and out of meetings sporadically but never quite getting totally on the wagon.

I didn’t judge. I’d tumbled off that conveyance a few times myself before the program stuck.

“He took a tumble from the cot. ?Course I didn’t know about this until this morning when I was over at the Maynard farm calling in about downed lines on their back forty. Damn county is a fucking mess. What are you doing here?”

“My family insisted I come get a bruise examined.” I jerked my chin at my arm.

“Broken?”

“Doubtful. Just a hairline, if anything. The oak in the front yard came down last night. Some of that old elm that Granny uses for shade while shooting came down too. I had to bat a limb aside to keep it from hitting my head.” A call for a doctor floated around us as a baby in the back began to wail.

“Anyone out there hurt?”

“Anyone or just Dodge?”

“Well, since you brought him up…”

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “Everyone is fine aside from me.”

He took a sip, grimaced, and then looked around me. I glanced back to see Lappy being wheeled out with his arm in a cast. Poor man looked beat to hell. Guess we all did. It had been a night for sure.

Ollie handed me his coffee as he took the wheelchair from a young nurse with purple bags under her eyes. Long night for all, by the looks. Ollie thanked the pretty miss in the green scrubs.

“I’m taking Lappy home. You need me out at your place for anything?” Ollie asked. I smiled down at Lappy and got a weak little bob of his balding head.

“No, we’re good. Call and let us know where we’re needed to help, and we’ll be there.

We can split up to get our shit done as well as help out.

Show the city boys how us country folk pull together.

” Lappy grinned up at me. Ollie gave me a slap on the left shoulder and wheeled Lappy out the doors.

I glanced around, sighed, and carried my cup of cold, rancid coffee to the lone empty seat to wait my turn. Looked like it might be a while.

***

Five hours later, I exited the ER with a cumbersome cast, a prescription for pain meds, and a headache the size of the Ferris wheel at the Oklahoma State Fair.

Hanley glanced up from his phone when I was escorted out by a lovely nurse, Patty McNair, who had graduated high school with me and was just doing her job on a particularly busy morning.

She’d been quite kind considering I’d been like a grizzly with a thorn in its paw all morning.

“Hey.” Hanley pocketed his phone as he rose. “Looks like you broke it,” he added with a nod at the cast sitting in my old sling. Patty gave Hanley a look and glanced at me.

“He’s a friend,” I explained. “And my ride.” She nodded at Hanley. “It’s just a crack,” I mumbled, then stopped at the admissions desk to see about talking to someone to set up a payment plan. “A few aspirin and an ice bag, and it will be fine.”

“He has discharge papers with aftercare. Knowing Baker like I do, the hardest part will be keeping him from overdoing it. Remember to elevate and use ice. Wiggle those fingers and roll the wrist. Keep the cast dry. And do not put any weight on it, which would also include tossing feed bags or hay bales around. Follow up with a set of X-rays in two to three weeks to make sure the bone is healing properly.”

“His brothers will take good care of him,” Hanley said with a charming smile that seemed to work on nurses as well as it did on cow pokes.

“I need to go to billing,” I grumped and walked off. My whole morning had been wasted with this silliness. Texts had rolled in from home. I should have been on the ranch helping clean up and getting ready for the cattle, not sitting here on my ass being covered in plaster of Paris.

“Oh hey. No you don’t. The bill is taken care of already,” Hanley called as he and Patty easily caught up with me. I hit the brakes, spun, and gave him my best glower. “Dodge has it covered.”

“Like fuck he does.” I stormed around them, heading to the exit with a full head of steam.

Patty and my lover raced up to me. Patty was doing her best to escort me outside, which was probably part of her job, and Hanley was trying to be a decent dude.

Both could have saved it. I could walk perfectly fine without assistance.

Did I look like my grandmother? Not that Granny needed help to get around…

“Where are we parked?” I asked as I scanned the full lot before spying my truck.

“Never mind.” I stomped across the lot, each thundering step making my arm bounce just a bit, making it ache.

Stupid trees. Stupid wind. Stupid half -brothers waving their big city cash around like it was…

well, cash. I climbed into the cab, full of piss and vinegar, and then watched as Hanley settled behind the wheel and turned slightly to shoot me a rather stiff look.

“Okay, so here it is,” he said and sighed, placing his left arm atop the steering wheel as his attention fell solely on me. “I know I’m a stranger here, and your family business is private. I also know I’ve kind of been thrown into some personal drama that centers on your brothers—”