Quinn (4 page)

“A heart monitor.”

“Yours? Or mine?”

Quinn laughed out loud. Oh, it felt so good to be able to laugh. “Yours. The doctors tell me you had a heart attack.”

“Liars. The whole pack of ’em.”

“That’s what I told them. I said you were just lying in Scout’s stall taking a catnap.”

The two men shared a quick grin.

Cole closed his eyes and took in a long, deep breath. “Think I’ll take another quick nap.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be here when you wake up, Pa.” Quinn
took his father’s hand and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, willing him to continue to breathe.

It was Quinn’s last coherent thought before he tilted his head back in the chair and slept.

Quinn awoke to his brothers, Josh and Jake, standing on either side of a hospital bed. The minute he lifted his head they hurried over.

His arm was punched fiercely by Jake. His shoulder slapped by Josh with enough strength to stagger most men.

He looked beyond them. “Where’s Big Jim?”

“At the airport.” Josh grinned. “He was here and talked to the doctors. Now he’s going over our plane with the mechanic, so he can fly Pa home whenever the doc releases him.”

Jake nodded toward their father. “What’s the verdict?” His voice was little more than a whisper.

“The patient will live,” came the gravelly voice from the bed.

Seeing that their father was awake and alert, they hurried over to grasp his hand.

Cole Conway managed a weak smile. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry, Pa.” Josh shot his father a grin. “I was up in high country. Took me some time to make my way down. At least, once I got within range, I was able to learn why you were here. What’d the doctor say?”

“You can ask him yourself.” Cole nodded toward the doorway and his three sons turned as the white-coated physician strode across the room.

“Dr. Whittacre, you met Quinn, but you haven’t yet met my other two sons. Josh and Jake.”

The three exchanged handshakes.

“Dr. Whittacre’s the finest cardio surgeon in Wyoming.” Cole’s eyes twinkled. “Or so everyone on this floor tells me.”

“From your lips.” The young surgeon, with soft hands and an engaging smile, moved to the foot of the bed. “The test results are in. You suffered a mild myocardial infarction. In layman’s terms, a heart attack, which always results in some damage. But since you were lucky to get in as quickly as you did, the damage seems minimal.”

“Great. When can I leave?” Cole was already swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Hold on.” The young doctor moved quickly to lay a hand on Cole’s arm, restraining him. “You’ll be released. But not until you meet with my associate, Dr. Bradley, who will give you a list of things you’ll need to do going forward.”

“Do? Hell, just tell me when I can get back on a horse, drive my tractor, and when I can fly my plane again.”

“It’s a lot more complicated than that, Mr. Conway. There’s diet, and exercise, and—”

Cole swore and glanced at his sons. “See why I avoid doctors and hospitals?” He looked over at the doctor. “I have a ranch to run. A herd to see to. Ranch hands depending on me to pay them. Several international companies that depend upon my land to remain in business. And some young intern fresh out of medical school is going to talk to me about what I should eat and how many push-ups I need to do every day? I don’t have time for this.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” Dr. Whittacre kept his easy smile in place. “But if you don’t follow orders, Mr. Conway, you may find yourself with all the time in the world.
You could find yourself sitting in an easy chair, drooling into your bib, and trying to tell your family what you want, which won’t be easy after you’ve suffered a major stroke.”

Cole fell back against the pillows as though he’d been slapped.

Jake’s protective instinct kicked in and he draped an arm around his father’s shoulders before giving the doctor a steely look. “That’s some bedside manner, Doctor. Do you really think that was necessary?”

“Sometimes my patients just don’t understand the gravity of what they’ve come through.” He spoke directly to Cole. “You were lucky, Mr. Conway. This time. But your heart can’t be pushed like a string of horses on a roundup. If it wears out, you can’t saddle up a spare. So you need to take better care of the one you have, from this day on. After you’ve spoken with Dr. Bradley, who, by the way, has been out of med school for a number of years and is a much-respected professional, I’ll have your discharge papers ready. And I’ll want you to set up an appointment to see Dr. April Walton in Paintbrush in four weeks. By then I’ll have all your data sent to her, and we’ll come up with a plan that you can live with. Can I count on you to follow through on this?”

“You’ve got my word on it,” Cole said gruffly.

The doctor shook hands with Josh and Quinn and reached across the bed to shake Jake’s hand before walking away.

“That arrogant—”

Before Jake could finish, Quinn grinned at his father. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you cave in so easily.”

Their father shrugged. “Gotta know when to hold ’em
and when to fold ’em. I figure he’s holding all the aces on this one.”

The four men tossed back their heads and laughed.

Jake gave a shake of his head. “I guess some things never change. While Rome is burning, the Conway men make jokes to cover the seriousness of the situation.”

“It’s better than crying.” Cole turned from his angry youngest to study his firstborn. “You look rough. Have you slept at all?”

Quinn realized that his father was eager to change the subject. Cole had never been one to bare his soul, and knowing his father so well, Quinn figured the old man was more embarrassed at having been felled by a heart condition than worried about the consequences of it.

Quinn chuckled. “There’ll be time enough for sleep later. Right now, all that matters is that you’re going home.”

Something flared in Cole’s eyes and he blinked quickly before looking away. “Okay. Why don’t you three go find something to eat while I wait for Dr. Bradley? When I’m through with him, I’d like to get out of here.”

Jake clapped a hand on his father’s shoulder. “It can’t be too soon for me.”

Quinn turned away and the other two followed, eager to learn whatever knowledge he’d gleaned that would fill in the gaps of their limited information about their father’s shocking medical crisis.

A
s soon as the room emptied, Cole Conway gave a long, deep sigh.

Until this moment, he hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed having his three sons around him.

This event—he refused to allow himself to even think the words
heart attack—
had left him stunned and reeling.

What if Quinn hadn’t come home when he did? How long could he have survived alone?

His last clear memory before waking in the hospital was working out in the main barn, mucking out the stall of his favorite gelding, Scout. Cole had been doing the same down-and-dirty chores since he’d been a kid, and the last thing he’d expected was to be flattened by hard work.

Or had this event been caused by something else?

Stress? The doctors kept mentioning that word, but wasn’t the life of every rancher filled with stress?

While mucking the stall he’d been thinking about his sons. About how proud he was of them. Not only were they able to pursue their own distinct interests, but they did so while managing to pitch in and help keep the ranch running smoothly.

Take Quinn. He’d carved out an amazing career as a wildlife expert, yet he was always around when he was most needed. Despite his frequent treks in the wilderness chasing after his pack, he always returned renewed and energized.

And there was Josh, back from climbing somewhere in the Wind River Mountain Range, searching for another careless climber who’d gotten himself lost. It was always Josh those rangers called when they ran out of hope. As though he had nothing better to do than leave a dozen ranch chores unfinished while he traipsed off in search of the lost. Cole felt a thrill of pride at the knowledge that his middle son was as comfortable hiking in the treacherous snow-covered mountains as a city kid would be walking to a neighborhood park. He supposed, to Josh, it was like a walk in the park. His neighborhood. His childhood home. His comfort zone. Spread over thousands of acres of the most desolate mountains in the West.

Cole sighed. And then there was Jake. Pursuing veterinary medicine. Cole shook his head in amazement. Who would have believed that the wild, fearless boy would suddenly settle down and decide that what their ranch needed most was a veterinarian? What was even more amazing to Cole was the fact that his youngest son had aced every test and had gotten himself into one of the toughest veterinary programs in the country.

Thinking of Jake always had Cole thinking of Jake’s
mother. He had been so young when Seraphine had disappeared. Did the lad have any memory of her at all? Of her laughing eyes? Her fabulous hair, which she’d dyed every color imaginable. Black. Red. Platinum. As though she couldn’t decide who she wanted to be—earth mother or seductress. Not that it ever mattered to Cole. He’d loved her no matter what part she was playing. He’d loved everything about her. That fine porcelain complexion. Those green eyes, all fire and ice. That lithe dancer’s body. He swore under his breath. And that hardheaded attitude that Cole found both endearing and infuriating.

Cole suddenly frowned. He remembered something else that had flashed through his mind just before the incident. He’d been worried about the fact that sometimes he couldn’t remember Seraphine as clearly as in years gone by.

Was she slipping away from him? Was he letting her slip away?

Drained by too many memories and lulled by the steady drip of the intravenous in his arm, Cole slept and dreamed of home.

“That beef stew hit the spot.” Cole, seated at the head of the table, mopped up the last of the gravy with a biscuit and sat back, glancing around at the others.

Though he appeared as rugged and rock steady as ever, with that rogue smile and handsome, Irish countenance, there was a weariness in his eyes that he couldn’t hide.

Big Jim, an older mirror of his son, except for the white in his full head of hair, was seated at the opposite end of the table. Both father and son were lean and muscled, eyes crinkled at the corners as much by laughter as by the effects of a lifetime squinting into wind and sun.

Big Jim drained his mug of coffee and nodded. “I bet you didn’t get food like this at the hospital.”

Cole shared a smile with his father. “I have to say, it wasn’t half-bad. But then, all I remember having is some broth and some mashed potatoes.”

“Saving your appetite for the homecoming, were you?”

The two men laughed. Around the table, the others joined in.

As they had been for years, Quinn and Josh were seated to the left of Big Jim, with Jake and Phoebe and Ela on his right.

Phoebe wasn’t exactly seated. During the meal she’d been up and down half a dozen times, fetching a forgotten pitcher of water, then a batch of biscuits from the counter, and later the freshly baked apple pies that had been cooling in the kitchen. There had also been refills of coffee, a tray of mugs, along with cream and sugar, and, finally, extra plates for the dessert.

All of these would have ordinarily been handled by old Ela, who, it was whispered, had been old when Big Jim hired her to cook and clean for him and his infant son more than fifty years ago. No one was sure of her age, but she was still going strong. She was barely five feet tall and nearly as round. Her constant attire was a shapeless native dress of doeskin and, over that, a crisp white apron. Her gray hair was braided and pinned up like a crown around a face so deeply lined it resembled aged parchment.

“Where’s your mind today, woman?” Big Jim studied her as Phoebe was forced to retrieve yet another forgotten part of their meal, Cole’s favorite tall glass of foaming milk with his dessert.

Ela pretended not to hear while Phoebe’s cheeks
turned pink. “We’re both just a little distracted. But we’re so glad to see our patient home where he belongs.”