Page 3 of The Cowboy’s Secret Lover

A lone cowboy hat, teetering on its side, lay more than three yards away. It was a testament to how far the man had been thrown.

“We need to get him into a brace,” said Faith. Certainly, she was concerned about the rider’s leg, but her biggest worry was for his spine and his skull. A brace would keep his back, neck, and head steady as he was transported to the hospital. She assumed that he was concussed, but was there more? Internal bleeding? Vital organs that had been bruised—or worse?

“Once he’s in the ambulance, I want his vitals.”

A gate, that led to the enclosure, was pulled open as they approached. The paramedics were in the lead and they dropped the stretcher down to the ground next to the rider. Faith knelt at the patient’s side and sucked in a breath.

“Kurt Crawford,” she said, her voice a whisper. How long had it been since she’d seen Kurt? Faith knew without thinking. The last time had been the night before she left for college.

For now, she didn’t have the luxury of sentimentality. Kurt was still unconscious. He needed medical care, not a smitten school girl. She made a mental note of all his obvious ailments. Contusion to the cheek. A split bottom lip that bled freely. Scrapes and bruising to the knuckles of the right hand. None appeared life-threatening—and yet, Faith knew that looks could be deceiving.

As a team, Faith and the paramedics slid the backboard under Kurt’s body to keep him steady. Holding her breath, she placed a neck brace under the cervical curve. She fastened the closures, keeping his neck immobile.

To Kurt, she said, “Mr. Crawford, we are going to put you on a stretcher and take you to the hospital.” She wasn’t sure if the patient could hear her or not. Yet, Faith believed that even while unconscious, some part of each person remained—and that her comments helped them to remain calm.

To the paramedics, Faith said, “We lift the board on three. One. Two. Three.” As a single unit, they heaved the board onto the stretcher. Two paramedics pulled straps across Kurt’s chest and feet, securing him in place. In less than a minute, he was removed from the paddock.

Yet, Kurt Crawford was far from being stable or safe.

As the paramedics pushed the stretcher down the hall. A round of applause erupted from the crowd, the sound of cheering followed. For a brief moment, Faith hoped that Kurt could hear the appreciation of his fans. Certainly, all the positive energy would help him heal.

The stretcher was placed in the rear of the ambulance. There were two jump seats, situated on either side of the gurney. A narrow cabinet, that held medical equipment, was affixed to the wall. Everyone knew their job. A saline drip was started as the patient’s vitals were taken.

Grabbing a clipboard, Faith scribbled down the patient’s blood pressure, pulse, and rate of respiration.

“Call the hospital and have radiology ready,” she said, while buckling into one of the two jump seats. “I need a complete x-ray and also want a CT scan.”

Both paramedics went to the front of the ambulance. Lights flashed and the ambulance’s siren wailed. Faith checked the patient’s pulse and respiration again. Both were slightly elevated, yet that was to be expected.

“You’ll be okay,” she said to the prone figure.

Kurt groaned and Faith leaned forward. His eyelids fluttered as he fought to regain consciousness. His eyes opened and his gaze met hers. “Damn,” he said, his voice rough as gravel. “I must be dead. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be looking at an angel.”

The line was cheesy, but at least Kurt still had his sense of humor.

Better yet, he was awake.

“Mr. Crawford,” she said. “You were thrown from a bull and lost consciousness. Can you tell me if anything hurts?”

“Aside from my pride?” He continued, asking another question. “And what’s up with calling me Mr. Crawford? We knew each other back in high school. I’m Kurt Crawford. You’re Faith McGregor.”

“Actually,” she said. “I’m a nurse practitioner and you’re in my care.”

“Oh, a nurse practitioner, is it?” Kurt’s gray eyes opened wide. “That’s impressive. I’m still not calling you anything other than Faith. After all, I lost my virginity to you.”

She quickly looked over her shoulder, making sure that his comment had gone unheard by others. It was a ludicrous reaction considering they were alone. Moreover, Faith was allowed to have a romantic history.

Deciding to ignore his comment about their time in high school, Faith asked again, “Your pride notwithstanding, are you feeling any other pain?”

“My knee hurts like hell.”

“Anything else?”

“I have a headache.”

Reaching for a clipboard, she made a note about the knee and head. “What else?” she asked.

“What are you doing in Bear Creek? You haven’t been back in years.”