Page 8 of Chance (Wild River Ranch #3)

C hance couldn’t find a thermometer. Why the hell weren’t the hunting cabins stocked with thermometers? Her temperature had to be dangerously high for her to pass out like that. He’d checked her breath but detected no alcohol. He needed to get her back to the lodge.

How had he not known she was here?

After spending every spare second the past week trying to track her down, you would have thought he would check in what was practically his own fuckin’ backyard.

Instead, he’d called every hotel and shelter within fifty miles.

No one had seen her, of course. Because she’d been hiding in a hunting cabin on the back side of his own damn ranch.

If it hadn’t been for Grant calling him earlier that day, saying he thought there might be a squatter holed up, they might not have found her until it was too late. He kicked himself for waiting the four hours he had before driving to check it out.

She could have died. When she passed out in his arms, he’d damn near had a heart attack. He put her on the couch to make sure she was breathing and get a cold rag to put on her forehead. Once he realized how high her fever was, he knew he would need help.

Pulling out his phone, he made two calls. The first was to his younger brother, Trace. Trace picked up on the third ring.

“You got me. What’s going on? Find an animal down?”

“No, I found a woman in the cabin at the back of the north pasture. She’s burnin’ up with a fever. I’m headed to the lodge, and I need you to meet me there.”

After a short pause, Trace said, “You do remember I’m a veterinarian and not a medical doctor, right? How sick is this woman?”

“Sick enough that I’m willing to call a veterinarian who can look after her until Brad gets there. I’ll be at the lodge in ten minutes.”

He cut the call and then called the people doctor , Brad Weatherby. He’d grown up with Brad, and he made sure his friend had a freezer full of bison meat for just such emergencies.

Brad took his call. “I’m on my way, but I’m on the other side of the county. Take her vitals and call me back. It’ll take me at least thirty minutes to get there. Probably more like forty-five.”

By the time Chance made it back to the lodge, Trace was waiting for them. “Is this the photographer from the Friendsgiving?” he asked as he helped Chance get Joy to the couch. “Get her out of her coat. Why are her clothes wet?”

“Yes, it’s the photographer. And you don’t want to know how her clothes got wet.” The memory of her sliding off the roof would haunt him forever. She could have been killed. When he’d seen her up there, he’d almost lost his mind.

She must have climbed the tree next to the cabin, though how she reached any of the branches he didn’t want to know. As soon as she was better, he was cutting the damn thing down.

Trace glanced at him before turning his attention back to Joy. “Okay. Where did you find her? ”

“In the north cabin. I’ll fill you in on the details later. She’s got a fever, and I need you to try to figure out why.”

Trace nodded. “I’ll take care of your girl, brother. Let’s take her temp. I don’t like that wheeze when she takes in a breath.”

Chance didn’t waste time correcting his brother from calling Joy his girl. He wasn't sure what she was to him, but it wasn't that.

Not yet.

He had no business thinking that way. After the way he had treated her, she probably never wanted to speak to him again.

Not that he could blame her. If he could go back in time and handle that whole situation differently, he would.

But if there's one thing he'd learned the hard way, it was that life rarely gave second chances.

He wasn't used to being out of control. It wasn't a feeling he enjoyed. He liked to give his brother, Boone, a hard time about leaving the ranch to join the military. But they both knew managing Wild River Ranch was what Chance had been born to do.

He was good at his job, usually. He might not be able to keep anything bad from ever happening to his family, but he could damn sure keep it from happening on this ranch. At least, he usually could.

He should have done the same for the little gypsy. She wouldn’t be in this condition if he’d been watching over her. The trouble she would have brought with her didn’t seem important at all anymore. All that mattered was making sure she was okay.

He stood behind the couch, brushing Joy’s hair from her rosy face. The last time he’s seen her he’d thought her face was flushed because of the cold. Why hadn’t he checked to make sure she didn’t have a fever?

Trace’s whistle snapped him back to the present. “Tilt her head back a little so I can look down her throat,” Trace said. He was all business now, which was good .

Chance did as his younger brother instructed before asking, “What is her temperature?”

Trace shook his head and threw Chance a worried look. "It’s just over a hundred and three. That’s not good."

Taking a penlight from his shirt pocket, he looked down Joy’s throat. The grimace he gave a minute later didn't bode well. "She has white spots on her throat, which is a good indication she’s got strep. What the fuck is taking Doc Brad so long?"

“You’re doing fine. He'll be here in a few minutes.” While Chance echoed his brother’s sentiment, they both needed to stay calm and figure out what to do in the meantime. “What now?"

“Well, the first thing we've got to do is get her temperature down. We need to get her in a tub or, better yet, a shower. As weak as she is right now, I'm not sure she'll be able to do that by herself."

Not a problem. If she needed a shower to keep from having a seizure, he’d make it happen. "I'll take care of her. One cold shower coming up."

Trace shook his head. “Not cold. You need to make the water lukewarm. Trust me, that will feel cold to her."

Chance didn't waste time with any more words. He lifted Joy carefully from the couch and headed to his home in the lodge. Like his siblings, he had his own apartment within the lodge building. It was his private retreat.

Joy roused and began to talk again when he lifted her, but she wasn't making any more sense than she had been when she’d spoken to him before.

"Don't you worry, gypsy." Chance did his best to speak gently. "I'm gonna take care of you. It's gonna be all right. You just need to focus on doing what I tell you and getting better."

When he arrived at his apartment, he carried her straight to the bathroom. After starting the shower, he set her on her feet and peeled off her adorable boots and wet socks.

"No. Mine!" She slapped at his hands, trying to keep him from removing her socks. "No. Give me my shoes back. I don't have any more. Stop it! No!" Her head lolled back and forth as she drifted in and out of coherence.

Keeping his voice low, he grabbed her hands.

"Hush now, babygirl. I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm not stealin’ your boots and socks. I know you don’t feel well, but we have to get your fever down. That means we’re taking a shower.

Now, be still and let me remove the rest of your clothes so I can make it all better. ”

She whimpered, but at least she stopped struggling.

He made quick work of stripping her jeans and shirt off.

She still didn't have any warm clothes. There was no way she would survive without someone looking after her. He wasn’t going to think about why he’d decided that someone had to be him. It just had.

His first order of business once she was better was to shop for winter clothes. If she was going to be staying on the ranch, she should damn well be dressed in clothes that would keep her from freezing to death.

Once he’d checked the water temperature, Chance toed off his boots. Wrapping one arm across her chest, he eased her into the shower, holding her to his chest so she wouldn’t slip.

She struggled against his hold as soon as the water hit her fevered skin. “Cold. It’s too cold. I want out. Let me out! It hurts. Please. Please! Let. Me. Out! I hate you.”

She was killing him. Her skin was hot to the touch, but he didn’t care as he wrapped both arms around her, pulling her back to his chest. “I know, babygirl. I know. You’re being so brave. It won’t be long. As soon as you’re all better, we’ll get you a warm shower, or you can soak in the tub.”

She looked down and screamed in fear. “Snake! I have snakes on me. Get them off. Get them off me!” She rubbed her arms and abdomen, trying to swipe away things that weren’t there.

Chance grabbed her hands and held them to her chest to keep her from hurting herself.

He’d never heard of strep causing hallucinations like this.

Was she on drugs? Was that what this was, a bad reaction to some illegal drug?

He’d heard around town that drugs in Wilder were on the rise, like they were everywhere these days.

Had she gotten pills off the street that were laced with something dangerous?

That would explain her cheap car and lack of decent clothes. But it didn’t fit the woman he’d met a week ago.

Her anger finally exhausted her. She grew heavier in his arms, and her anger melted into pain-filled pleas. “It's c-cold. I want out… please? I’m sorry, Daddy! I’m sorry I was bad. I’ll be good. I’ll be good. Promise, Daddy. Promise.”

“You are not bad, sweet girl. You’re sick. We have to do this to get you better. It’s almost over, babygirl. I’m so proud of you. Daddy's gonna take care of everything."

Whether from the tone of his voice or his use of the word, Daddy, she calmed. Eventually, she began to shiver. That was his signal to get her out and dried off. She leaned against him and sobbed.

His poor girl. With perfect timing, Trace called to him from the door to Chance’s suite, “Doc Bradford is here. Call me when you’re ready for him to come look at Joy.”

"Hear that, gypsy? We can get you out now. Daddy's got you. You're gonna feel better in no time. That's my good girl. You just trust Daddy, and he'll take care of everything."