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There are plenty of reasons that Philip Callahan doesn't love the county hospital. Two buried up on the hill. Babies don't die in childbirth any more. They just don't. Never happens. One in a million—less. One in ten million.
But it had happened, and there was no way around it.
And then, when Sara had left him, too… wasn't there something they should've done? Wasn't there some way to see that shit coming? They're God damned doctors. They should know how to save a woman's life.
But there's more than just what happened to him, in this world. More than just a bunch of sappy sad stories of times where Phil Callahan didn't get what he wanted. Those doctors facilitated all that. They made it possible for other people to get what he never got.
They saved peoples lives every damn day. And if they weren't getting paid… well, that wasn't really a consideration, not in the long run. Because they were going to get paid, regardless of what the insurance company said.
The problem was… Phil Callahan's fingers rub into the side of his head in the last few minutes before James comes in and he has to turn back on as the boss, rather than as some old man with worries of his own.
The problem was, that just meant he needed money more. He needed money worse than ever, now. He had money lined up. Probably plenty for a little hospital stay and setting a few broken ribs.
But there's no guarantees in this life. Not even when your wife goes, smiling, into a maternity ward, and leaves you worrying in the waiting room. It had been so simple. There's nothing to worry about.
And then the doors had shut and he'd lost—
The sound of boots on the floor outside pulls him out of his thoughts. He rubs away the wetness that's developed in his eyes. He's fine. He'll be completely fine.
There's nothing to do now but get back to work, and make sure that if the plans to sell don't work out, he's going to have some kind of backup plans.
There's one other place that he can get money. Probably a hell of a lot more than twenty or thirty measly grand.
He loves the ranch. No doubt about it. He'll fight as hard as anyone can, if it means protecting that space. If it means
protecting Sara's home.
But if it's a choice between the dirt and the boys, well… Somebody's got to be on their side.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The last thing that Morgan Lowe expected, after giving him a week to himself, was a phone call. She'd only actually managed to get him on the phone once before, but as she looked down at the caller I.D. to confirm to herself again, there was no mistaking it.
Phil Callahan, who she'd privately decided wasn't a concern any more, because she wasn't going to take away the land and the only things he had left of his wife and daughter, was calling her cell.
For an instant, she thinks about not answering it. Should she? Her thumb moves automatically to the green button and presses it. The call connects and she puts it to her ear. Her muscles move for her, which is thankful because her brain is too caught up to make clear decisions.
"Hello?"
Callahan's voice on the other side comes through clear. He sounds a little different on the phone, but it's not an unappealing sound.
"Is this Morgan Lowe?"
"Speaking. How can I help you, Mr. Callahan?"
"Are we back on last names again?"
She laughs a little. "Do you want to be?"
"I want to talk with you. Just talk."
"What did you want to talk about, Philip?"
She leans back in her chair and allows herself, just for a moment, to imagine the sort of talking that they could get up to. Goosebumps raise in her skin almost the instant that the thought runs through her head, and her face flushes deep red.
"About anything. I need some time to myself, and I know that you've been about the only one who I've been able to talk to the past few days."
"That's sweet of you to say." Her face flushes a little deeper. The man knows how to give praise, she has to admit.
