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Frank Kaminsky is an old and dear friend. When we were teenagers, he worked this very ranch with me and my grandfather, stomping on chicken shit in the back of a spreader as we used it as compost. And now, he’s the owner of the Salt Lake Slammers professional basketball team and one of the smartest guys I know.
It rings twice in my ear before he answers. “Tex Jameson,” he says fondly. “To what do I owe this extreme pleasure?”
I laugh slightly, but with the way the whole situation with Rhett’s got me feeling, it’s not with a ton of humor.
“Ah, cut the shit, Frank. You quivered when you saw my number on the screen.”
He chuckles. “Only a little. Years of summers spent with you have dulled my sensitivity a good bit.”
I smile. “That’s good. Most people find me incorrigible.”
“Don’t worry,” he remarks. “That’s only because you are.”
Sounds about right.
Sighing heavily, I dive into the meat of why I’m calling in the first place. “Listen, I need your help. My son hurt himself real bad about a month ago, and as you’d imagine, he’s not great at following the doctor’s treatment plan.”
Frank laughs. “Mm-hmm. Good to hear he’s like you.”
I roll my eyes. “I know. But it’s the younger, more stubborn version of me, and both of us know what a problem that can be.”
“Damn straight,” Frank agrees.
“I thought maybe with your players gettin’ ortho injuries and such, you’d know of someone I could reach out to for individualized treatment. His doctors here are fine and all, but none of ’em are willin’ to do a home health plan and oversee it in person. And Rhett needs the kind of rigidity he can’t escape. Any recommendation would be appreciated.”
“I tell you what, Tex, I’ll do you one better. The team just hired a new secondary physician. She’s smart as a whip but could probably use some training in showing these big old guys who’s boss, too. I can’t think of a better crash course for either of them than throwin’ them together.”
“He’s got a broken patella and a torn patella tendon, Frank. Had surgery to repair it, but it’s the whole rehabbin’ the fuckin’ leg that’s causing the problem. I’ll probably need her expertise full time for about two months. I’m willing to compensate her well, but the biggest question is, do you think she can handle it?”
Frank laughs. “Definitely. She’s smart as all get-out. Top of her class and came highly recommended from her previous employer. I think she’ll do exactly what you need her to.”
“And you think she’ll be okay with a grumpy cowboy like my son?” I question on an exasperated sigh. “I mean, are you sure she’s prepared for what she’s walkin’ into?”
“Not at all,” Frank says. “But I’ve got a feelin’ that’ll be at least half the fun.”
I smile. “Call me if you have any problems talkin’ her into it. The sooner she gets here, the better.”
“You bet.”
“I owe you one, Frank.”
“Nope, buddy. This just makes us even.”
I hang up the phone and scrub my hands over my face.
And hope like hell that this girl finds a way to be exactly what Rhett needs.
June 14th, Monday
Leah
The small plane comes to a stop on a dirt runway, and I look out the window to a vast Southwestern Utah view. Giant cliffs sit off in the distance, surrounding us on all four sides.
To my right, a large meadow filled with yellow flowers contains giant cows with big-ass horns, grazing on grass.
And when I glance out the window on the opposite side of the plane, I note what looks to be the peak of a large, rustic building, possibly a lodge, nestled down a hill.
Holy shit. No wonder Frank Kaminsky let me take one of the small team planes out here. This place, the location of my new but temporary job, is in the middle of nowhere.
So much for your daily Starbucks runs…
“Welcome to Shaw Springs Ranch,” Tom, the pilot who flew me out to No-Man’s-Land, USA, announces over his shoulder. “I’ve known the Jameson family for a long time, Dr. Levee, and I can’t deny this ranch is downright breathtaking. People come from all over the world just to enjoy the peace and serenity here. I’m certain you’re going to love it.”
Love it? That feels like a bit of an overstatement for a woman like me.
I mean, if I could choose my dream vacation destination, it would revolve around art museums and drinking expensive coffee at cafes in Paris.
Not locations where the only place to land a plane is on dirt.
But despite my inner concerns over Wi-Fi connectivity and wondering how I’m going to curb my caffeine addiction, I do manage a smile at his words. I might be a city girl through and through, but I can appreciate the beauty of my new surroundings.
