Not Just a Cowboy (Texas Rescue) by Caro Carson Page B

with it. Food, definitely. You may want to head over to the mess tent now for a quick inventory. Better yet, see if there’s anyone in that hospital building at the moment. They’ve been pretty good about letting us raid their pharmacy. There should be usable stores in their cafeteria.”
    As soon as she said it, Patricia thought of a better idea: put the town hospital CEO and the Red Cross directly in touch with each other, leaving Texas Rescue out of the food supply business altogether. She didn’t suggest it, because Karen was looking overwhelmed already, and Patricia had a feeling Karen hadn’t made contact with the hospital they were temporarily replacing. In Austin, Karen had seemed adequate, pushing paper and calling meetings, but here in the field, it was obvious that she was in over her head.
    “I’ll get you the van driver and someone to act as unofficial pet-sitter,” Patricia said. “I need to take care of the ER now. You get rope and water bowls.”
    “Okay, that sounds good.” Karen turned her walkie-talkie to the police frequency and left to start her assigned task.
    Patricia entered the multiroomed ER tent, stopping in its foyer to pull paper booties over her Docksides.
    Rope and water bowls. Pitiful that a simple task like that would keep a grown woman busy. Patricia couldn’t coach incompetence. It was easier just to handle everything herself.
    She took a breath and composed herself before entering the treatment area that she hoped would not see heavy use this day. At least she could be grateful to her supervisor for one thing: she’d managed to prevent Patricia from thinking about Firefighter Luke Waterson for two whole minutes.
    * * *
    Patricia no longer thought Luke or any fireman had any sex appeal whatsoever. It had been a moment of temporary insanity when she’d had the crazy idea that Luke Waterson could have made a memorable lover.
    Hours had passed. Darkness had settled in. Information was scarce, and the reports they received were inconsistent and sporadic as sooty and smoky patients arrived at her hospital, telling conflicting tales. The school had burnt to the ground; only a small part of the school was damaged; the top story had collapsed into the ground floor. Everyone had evacuated the building on their own; firemen had gone in to carry out injured people; a fireman had died while saving a pet—that one had made Patricia’s heart stop—but no, a pet had died but a firefighter had brought its body out of the building.
    Patricia heard enough. Luke with the sailing-blue eyes and the unfunny wisecracks was fighting a fire that could cost him his life. And Patricia cared, damn him.
    She told herself the knot in her stomach wasn’t unusual. She always cared for the people who were her responsibility, and although the fire crews were not technically part of her hospital, they’d made her relief center their home base, and she’d gotten used to seeing them around. Heck, she’d used them to get her extra waiting room erected today. But when she heard a firefighter was injured, she didn’t think of Zach or the Chief or the other guy—was the name Murphy?
    No, she thought of too-handsome, too-carefree Luke.
    She kept her walkie-talkie set to the police frequency nearly the entire time. The fire was burning itself out. Austin Rescue, Luke, was still on the scene, along with the Houston ladder truck, something from San Antonio and the town’s own fire department. Patricia’s emergency room hadn’t treated any life-threatening injuries, thankfully.
    The Red Cross had opened a new shelter—also thankfully, because the patients were starting to hurl accusations at each other about who had been burning forbidden candles. Patricia didn’t want to break up any fights tonight. She just kept loading people in the van, round after round, smiling reassuringly and ignoring her growing ulcer as they were driven away to their new shelter.
    Food might have helped settle her stomach, but she