marriage. He presented a bouquet to the animal, who stretched his neck out and took a big bite of the flowers. The crowd laughed and Lane’s wreck was forgotten as if it had never happened.
Sarah ducked back under the fence and edged through the crowd, following the signs that pointed toward the Justin Sports Medicine Clinic under the grandstand. The venue had turned a concession stand into a makeshift hospital, with a few folding cots laid out for the inevitable cowboy casualties. The scent of antiseptic burned in her nostrils, making her stomach tighten and twist. The scent of blood and sweat overlaid the smell of horses and cheap concession food, and she wished she’d taken one more breath of fresh air before she’d stepped into this space.
Maybe she should just go back to the truck and wait. Lane was sitting on the edge of a cot with his back to her, so he hadn’t seen her yet. He’d doffed his shirt and his bare shoulders were hunched slightly, as if protecting his ribs.
A short, bandy-legged doctor in a cowboy hat glanced up from the bulb of a blood pressure cuff and Sarah realized with a start it was a woman, dressed in the cowboy uniform of chambray shirt and jeans. Only her white coat and the stethoscope draped around her neck separated her from the rest of the crowd.
The world of rodeo was still overwhelmingly male, and Sarah felt a stab of something like sisterhood as the woman grinned, bright eyes dancing, and set one hand on Lane’s bare shoulder. “Well, this’ll make you feel better. You got a visitor. And it’s a girl!” She widened her eyes in mock wonder and grinned. “There’s a surprise for you.”
Lane turned and Sarah was stunned by the way the harsh fluorescent lights emphasized the prominence of his cheekbones and the deep set of his eyes.
“You okay?” she asked.
Dumb question. The man had just been gored. Of course he wasn’t okay.
***
“I’m fine.” Lane tried not to wince as he said the words. His shoulder was killing him, and his ribs hurt every time he tried to breathe. But he was fine, he really was. Pain was a part of rodeo, going hand in hand with the adrenaline and the cheers of the crowd.
Sarah looked appalled and he wondered just how bad he looked. “You got some dirt on your pants,” he told her. “Makes you look almost human.”
He gestured toward a row of plastic chairs set against the cinder-block wall, using the arm opposite the bruise. He kept the other one cradled in his lap, holding it motionless until he could figure out just how badly he’d been hurt.
“You might as well sit down,” he said. “Doc Myrna’s probably going to torture me for a while.”
The doctor swatted his good arm. She was a fixture at rodeos and could set a broken bone faster than most doctors could take your temperature. But she wasn’t much for sympathy.
“Sit still,” she ordered.
He stared straight ahead while she shined a little light in his eyes. “Didn’t anybody ever tell you to first do no harm?” he asked.
“Didn’t anybody ever tell you not to insult the lady with the white coat?” She poked him in the ribs with her index finger. “That hurt?”
“You bet it does. Sadist.”
“Whiner.” The doctor turned to Sarah. “You the girlfriend?”
Sarah straightened, ready to issue a denial, but Lane beat her to it. “No, she works for my brother. I think she’s supposed to make sure I behave like a good little Carrigan.”
The doctor slapped her leg and hooted. “You need a keeper all right.”
To his surprise, Sarah grinned. “I’m not keeping him. I’m throwing him back.”
Maybe she wasn’t such a priss after all. He’d sensed a sharp intelligence under her tightly wound demeanor, but he hadn’t expected her to tease him with the kind of good-natured joshing the other cowboys dished out. She fit into this world surprisingly well.
“She’s giving up,” he told the doctor. “Can’t handle me.”
“She’s gonna have to learn,”
Sarah ducked back under the fence and edged through the crowd, following the signs that pointed toward the Justin Sports Medicine Clinic under the grandstand. The venue had turned a concession stand into a makeshift hospital, with a few folding cots laid out for the inevitable cowboy casualties. The scent of antiseptic burned in her nostrils, making her stomach tighten and twist. The scent of blood and sweat overlaid the smell of horses and cheap concession food, and she wished she’d taken one more breath of fresh air before she’d stepped into this space.
Maybe she should just go back to the truck and wait. Lane was sitting on the edge of a cot with his back to her, so he hadn’t seen her yet. He’d doffed his shirt and his bare shoulders were hunched slightly, as if protecting his ribs.
A short, bandy-legged doctor in a cowboy hat glanced up from the bulb of a blood pressure cuff and Sarah realized with a start it was a woman, dressed in the cowboy uniform of chambray shirt and jeans. Only her white coat and the stethoscope draped around her neck separated her from the rest of the crowd.
The world of rodeo was still overwhelmingly male, and Sarah felt a stab of something like sisterhood as the woman grinned, bright eyes dancing, and set one hand on Lane’s bare shoulder. “Well, this’ll make you feel better. You got a visitor. And it’s a girl!” She widened her eyes in mock wonder and grinned. “There’s a surprise for you.”
Lane turned and Sarah was stunned by the way the harsh fluorescent lights emphasized the prominence of his cheekbones and the deep set of his eyes.
“You okay?” she asked.
Dumb question. The man had just been gored. Of course he wasn’t okay.
***
“I’m fine.” Lane tried not to wince as he said the words. His shoulder was killing him, and his ribs hurt every time he tried to breathe. But he was fine, he really was. Pain was a part of rodeo, going hand in hand with the adrenaline and the cheers of the crowd.
Sarah looked appalled and he wondered just how bad he looked. “You got some dirt on your pants,” he told her. “Makes you look almost human.”
He gestured toward a row of plastic chairs set against the cinder-block wall, using the arm opposite the bruise. He kept the other one cradled in his lap, holding it motionless until he could figure out just how badly he’d been hurt.
“You might as well sit down,” he said. “Doc Myrna’s probably going to torture me for a while.”
The doctor swatted his good arm. She was a fixture at rodeos and could set a broken bone faster than most doctors could take your temperature. But she wasn’t much for sympathy.
“Sit still,” she ordered.
He stared straight ahead while she shined a little light in his eyes. “Didn’t anybody ever tell you to first do no harm?” he asked.
“Didn’t anybody ever tell you not to insult the lady with the white coat?” She poked him in the ribs with her index finger. “That hurt?”
“You bet it does. Sadist.”
“Whiner.” The doctor turned to Sarah. “You the girlfriend?”
Sarah straightened, ready to issue a denial, but Lane beat her to it. “No, she works for my brother. I think she’s supposed to make sure I behave like a good little Carrigan.”
The doctor slapped her leg and hooted. “You need a keeper all right.”
To his surprise, Sarah grinned. “I’m not keeping him. I’m throwing him back.”
Maybe she wasn’t such a priss after all. He’d sensed a sharp intelligence under her tightly wound demeanor, but he hadn’t expected her to tease him with the kind of good-natured joshing the other cowboys dished out. She fit into this world surprisingly well.
“She’s giving up,” he told the doctor. “Can’t handle me.”
“She’s gonna have to learn,”
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