Must Love Cowboys by Cheryl Brooks

at least keep their undies on.
    Guess not.
    I peered through the doorway. The ambulance crew had already put Calvin on a stretcher, hooked him up to a monitor, and placed a mask over his nose and mouth that I recognized as the type that delivered 100 percent oxygen. One guy was taking his blood pressure and the other was starting an IV.
    All of that should have pleased Wyatt, but judging from his taut, anxious posture, he was still itching to do something—anything—to help the old man. After taking care of Grandpa for as long as I had, I understood the need. Unfortunately, while I was pretty well versed in emptying bedpans and urinals and changing soiled sheets, this sort of thing was way beyond my level of expertise. If I stuck around, I would only be in the way.
    â€œLooks like you guys have everything under control. I think I’ll go back to bed.”
    My comments had been intended for Dean’s ears alone. Nevertheless, Wyatt must have heard them. His piercing gaze met mine. “You saved his life. You know that, don’t you?”
    The blushes I’d been spared earlier that evening returned with a vengeance. Unable to look him in the eye any longer, I shifted my focus to the indeterminate space between us. “I think you and Nick deserve the credit for that.”
    â€œSome,” he admitted. “But you could’ve ignored the sounds you heard.”
    I shook my head. “Not after I realized he was tapping out SOS.”
    â€œYou know Morse code?”
    A short laugh escaped me. “Everyone knows that much, don’t they?”
    His eyes narrowed. “Maybe.”
    â€œWe’re just glad you did,” Angela said. “What did you say your name was?”
    Only then did I realize I had never introduced myself; I had merely explained my reasons for being there. “Tina Hayes. Calvin and my grandfather served together in Vietnam. They…kept in touch.”
    For the first time, Jack Kincaid looked at me with something bordering on approval. “I’m very sorry to hear of your grandfather’s passing, ma’am.” He drew in an unsteady breath. “Calvin is a good man. I sure don’t want to lose him. Thank you.”
    Much more of that, and I would be in tears. I didn’t even trust myself to speak. With a nod and a tight smile, I went back to my room.
    * * *
    I awoke the next morning wondering if Wyatt’s firefighting skills might be the next ones he demonstrated because judging from the smoke and the beeping smoke alarm, the bunkhouse was on fire. Then again, nothing smelled quite like burned eggs.
    When I dashed into the kitchen, my only consolation was that Dean wasn’t naked.
    Consolation? Hmm… I wasn’t too sure about that, but he was the one holding the fire extinguisher while Sonny, Joe, and Nick were fanning the smoke out through the open doorway. Ophelia took the opportunity to make a hasty exit.
    â€œSorry about that,” Dean said. “We were trying to fix breakfast for you.”
    A quick head count revealed two missing cowboys. “Where are Bull and Wyatt?”
    â€œThey followed the ambulance to the hospital and aren’t back yet,” Nick replied. He aimed a scornful glare at Dean. “Wish Bull had gone by himself. Wyatt actually knows how to cook.”
    â€œI’m sure he does.” If Wyatt had been stationed in a firehouse, he’d undoubtedly done his share of kitchen duty. “It’s nice of you to try, but once the smoke clears, I can fix my own breakfast.”
    Sonny gazed at me with hopeful eyes. “Could you cook something for us too?”
    â€œYou mean you haven’t eaten either?” I glanced at the clock, which read eight thirty. By that time, I’d have expected a bunch of cowboys to be up and gone for the day.
    â€œNot yet,” Nick said. “We, uh, kinda slept in this morning.”
    â€œI don’t blame you. None of us got much sleep