A Wild Ride (18 page)

“It was all him, fella,” the man said, continuing to back up. “I… I… I didn’t do nothing!” Before Dante could react, he turned and took off, running across the parking lot like the devil himself was after him.

“You broke my nose,” the whiner said, and Dante had grabbed him by the collar, ready to punch the fucker again, when Ryan moaned softly. Without a second thought, he shoved the other guy away and yanked out his phone, calling for help while he knelt next to Ryan.

“I’ll break a hell of a lot more if you try to go anywhere,” Dante said as his call connected. He gave his name and told the operator where he was and what had happened, then hung up the phone. Ryan’s attacker began moving away, but Dante didn’t try to stop him. He was too worried about Ryan, who continued to moan softly and was bleeding from the side of his head. While Ryan’s assailant continued putting more distance between them, Dante rushed over to his bag and returned with a clean T-shirt, pressing it to where Ryan was bleeding.

The sirens got louder, and Dante stayed where he was, watching the other man, ready if he tried to attack. Police cars, fire trucks, and ambulances all poured into the parking lot. Dante didn’t move as people rushed over. One of the EMTs took his place and began caring for Ryan while Dante told the police officer, whose name tag read Carlson, what he saw and did. “And I’d do it again.” He also told them where the other man had raced off to, and cars took off in that direction.

It was utter chaos for quite a while. Dante was questioned, and Ryan was loaded into an ambulance. The guy Dante had beaten the hell out of was loaded into another.

“He says you hit him for no reason,” Officer Carlson told him in his official, hard-assed voice. “He says he was trying to help your friend.”

Dante scoffed. “Then why did he ask if I was that fag bull rider?” Dante said, and the Officer Carlson wrote in his pad.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he presses charges,” the officer said, and Dante groaned, running a hand through his hair. The police officer’s radio sounded, and he listened. “They found the other guy. They’re bringing him over.” Lights flashed everywhere, and Dante paced slightly as he waited. The ambulance that held Ryan left the parking lot, lights flashing, siren howling and then fading as it moved further away.

A police car approached, and the officer who’d been talking to him walked over to meet the car. Dante watched as Carlson talked to the other man through the open car window. He saw the man motioning. He couldn’t see his face, but from his animated, almost frantic gestures, Dante figured the kid was about to pee his pants.

After a while Carlson returned to where Dante waited. “He confirms your story.”

“Good,” Dante said, rubbing his hand. “Can I go now?” He wanted to meet Ryan at the hospital, and his hand hurt like hell. He was getting jumpy now that Ryan was gone. He had to see him and know if he was all right.

“Yes. We have your contact information.”

“Can you tell me where Ryan was taken?”

“Karsten Memorial. It’s just a few miles from here,” Officer Carlson said, his tone distinctly different and much more sympathetic. “Are you sure you’re able to drive? Your hand is swelling.”

“I’m fine,” Dante said, already hurrying to his truck. He picked up his bag and threw it in the backseat before climbing in and starting the engine and speeding away. He forced himself to recall the directions Officer Carlson had given him. He made a few wrong turns, but eventually was able to follow the signs to the hospital. He parked in the lot and followed the signs to the emergency entrance.

Inside, he hurried to the desk, but the lady there wouldn’t give him any information. “Give me your name and the patient’s name, and I’ll check with the doctors,” she said. Dante told her, and she typed something into her computer. “Please have a seat,” she said. “It shouldn’t be long.”

It wasn’t. A few minutes later, a nurse came out and got him, leading Dante back down a spotless hallway and into an emergency ward. “The doctors are still with him. It may be a few minutes.” She motioned to a chair just outside the area, and Dante sat down to wait. Suddenly, alarms went off everywhere. People rushed into the room, pushing machines. Orders were shouted. Dante wanted to go inside to see if all that was for Ryan, but he knew he needed to stay out of the way. When everyone came out, low and quiet, Dante hoped and prayed Ryan was okay. Afraid to move from his chair and afraid to ask anyone about Ryan in case there was no hope, he kept to himself until the nurse returned.

“It’s all right,” she said and tilted her head toward the room next to the one everyone had rushed into. Slowly Dante stood up and stepped into the trauma ward, stopping when he saw Ryan lying on a bed, a plastic tube in his mouth, blood still clinging to the side of his head. “Are you Dante?” He nodded. “He gave permission to speak to you, and we noted it in his file. He’s going to be prepped for surgery in a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Dante whispered and walked over to Ryan. Carefully, he took Ryan’s hand, wishing he’d just once told him how he felt.

“Sir, I’m sorry but you need to step out now,” the nurse said quietly, and Dante pressed his eyes closed and did something he hadn’t done in a very long time: he said a prayer. Then he released Ryan’s hand and placed it back on the bed before leaving the room. “There’s a waiting room just down the hall,” the nurse told him, and Dante eventually found it, settling into one of the world’s most uncomfortable chairs to wait.

A strange ring tone sounded from Dante’s pocket, and he fished out a phone. It was Ryan’s, and Dante tried to remember how he’d gotten it. He must have picked it up while he was waiting for help. He didn’t even remember doing it, but the dang thing was in his pocket.

“Hello,” Dante said softly, not that it really mattered in the near empty waiting room. “Ryan’s phone.”

He got dead air for a few seconds. “Who is this?” a man’s voice demanded rudely.

“Dante,” he said.

“Oh, this is Ryan’s friend Jacky. Can I talk to him?”

Dante’s throat closed. “You were the guy at the signing who wanted to me to sign his chest and his shorts.”

“At least I wasn’t in them,” Jacky retorted with a laugh. “Ryan would probably have killed me for that.” Jacky paused for a split second. “Can I talk to him?”

“Um, I’m afraid not. He was attacked in the parking lot by two men. One of them hit him in the head.” Dante took a deep breath and sighed into the phone. “He’s in surgery now. They didn’t tell me very much, but I did get to see him for a few minutes before they prepped him. They caught the guys, and I beat the crap out of the one that hurt Ryan.”
His Ryan.

Dante’s hand ached, and he figured he might have broken something, but he didn’t care about that. All his thoughts and worry were for Ryan.

“Which hospital are you at?”

“Karsten Memorial,” Dante answered, and the line went silent. Dante pulled the phone away from his ear and saw the call had ended. He shoved it back into his pocket and settled in to wait. There was nothing at all that he could do but wait.

Time seemed to have very little meaning while Dante waited, jumping slightly whenever anyone came into the room. Every time the door opened he panicked that it was someone coming in to give him bad news. At one point he got up and found some coffee. The stuff was vile, some combination of bitterroot and pond scum, but he drank it anyway because the shit was strong and he needed to stay alert. Eventually, Ryan’s friend Jacky joined him, but Dante didn’t have any updates, so they both sprawled out on the chairs to wait. Jacky got coffee after a while, and Dante heard him take a drink and then spray the sludge all over the chair across from them.

“Jesus God. What are they trying to do, create new patients?” Jacky threw the nearly full cup in the trash. “I saw an all-night coffee shop just across the street. You want me to bring you back some real coffee?” Jacky asked, and Dante nodded. He didn’t feel like talking much.

While Jacky was gone, Dante folded his arms over his chest and tried to relax a bit. The chair pinched and his heart pounded faster than it did when he rode bulls. He could understand and deal with that kind of excitement and rush, but this waiting to hear if Ryan was going to live or not was almost more than he could take.

Jacky returned with a cup carrier and handed Dante a huge Styrofoam cup. This coffee smelled divine and tasted even better. Dante sipped the hot brew for a while and then put the cup on a table.

“What happened?” Jacky asked.

“I think some guys were waiting for us, and they hit Ryan first. I didn’t see it. All I saw was Ryan on the ground and a guy with something in his hand. I’m not really sure what it was. The lot was lit, but by the time I saw Ryan go down, I was so enraged I couldn’t see or do anything other than beat the crap out of the guy who hit him. The bastard actually tried to convince the police that I attacked him and he was trying to help Ryan. That is, until his buddy squealed like a stuck pig. They caught them both, but that doesn’t help Ryan much.”

“Hey,” Jacky said, “he’s alive because of you. Who knows what they’d have done if you hadn’t jumped into action.”

Dante shrugged. “They attacked him
because
of me.” Dante knew Ryan would never have been a target if it hadn’t been for him. “I didn’t hear what the men were saying when they hit Ryan, but based on the stuff they asked me, ‘the fag bull rider’ was the one they wanted. Ryan just showed up first and they went after him.” Dante picked up his coffee cup, wincing when he used his injured hand.

“You need to have that looked at,” Jacky said.

“I’m fine,” Dante said, lifting the cup with his other hand.

“If it hurts to lift a coffee cup, then you did something to your hand.” Jacky stood up. “Come on, you’re going to have that looked at.”

Dante was too tired and worried to argue, so he followed Jacky back to Emergency. The nurses got him in, X-rayed his hand, and pronounced that it didn’t look like he’d broken any bones. Then they wrapped his hand and presented him with a bill on his way out.

“They told me Ryan’s in recovery and then they’re going to move him to a room,” Jacky explained to Dante once he exited the emergency area and made his way back to the waiting area. “How bad is your hand?”

“I didn’t break anything, but they said everything’s swollen and it’s gonna hurt for a while. They gave me some pills I won’t take and wrapped it up.” He was about to complain about the hundreds of dollars they’d charged him, but he kept quiet. “Did they say how Ryan was doing?”

“No. Just that he’s out of surgery,” Jacky said as he gathered his things and threw away the coffee cups. “We should be able to go up and see him. He’s on the fourth floor. They should have the room number up there.” Dante simply nodded blankly and followed Jacky. At least Ryan was alive and had made it through surgery. He said a quiet prayer of thanks as they entered the elevator for the ride up.

The floor seemed relatively quiet, and Jacky spoke in a whisper to one of the nurses. “Visiting hours are over,” she said softly.

“This is Ryan’s boyfriend, and someone certainly needs to sit with him,” Jacky said, and the nurse nodded slowly and relented.

“He’s in 410,” she said. “I’ll be by to check on him in a few minutes.”

Dante was already heading down the hallway. He heard Jacky say something else to her, but he didn’t pay attention. All he wanted was to see Ryan. Dante walked in the room and stopped cold. Ryan was on his back, his head completely covered with bandages. Tubes went into his arm and came out from under the covers. There was a mask over his face for what Dante assumed was oxygen. It almost looked like the machines were part of him. His eyes were closed, and he looked almost as white as the sheets. “Is he going to be okay?” Dante asked the nurse as she walked past him into the room.

“I don’t know, honey,” she said. “The doctor should be in to check on him soon. You can ask him.” She got to work, and Dante sat in the chair next to the bed, resting his throbbing hand on one of the arms. Jacky came in and stopped just like Dante had. The nurse gave him the same answer she’d given Dante and then finished up, leaving them alone with Ryan.

“I called Ryan’s family and told them what happened,” Jacky said.

Dante nodded blankly, the words barely registering as he stared at Ryan, who hardly moved at all, even to breathe. Eventually the doctor came in and seemed a bit surprised to see them. “How’s Ryan?” Dante asked.

“He suffered a blow to the head that cracked his skull. Luckily, no pieces broke off and went into his brain. We pulled the bones back together, and they should heal. We also relieved the pressure that was building on his brain. But other than that, we won’t know anything for a while. It’s hard to say how much damage there was to his brain.”

“So you don’t know when he’ll wake up?” Dante asked.

“Right now we have him sedated, and in a day or so we’ll reduce the medication. He may wake up then, or it could be a few more days, or….”

“He may never wake up,” Dante supplied.

“That’s a possibility, I’m afraid,” the doctor said. “Nothing is going to happen tonight. I suggest both of you go home to get some rest. He’s just going to sleep.” The doctor checked Ryan over, and Jacky waited until he left before walking toward the door.

“Are you leaving?” Jacky asked, and Dante shook his head. “Okay. I’ll stop back in the morning.” Jacky left after leaning over Ryan’s bed to say good-bye, and Dante sat in the chair and closed his eyes. He knew he had to go home in the morning to see to the ranch and Gramps, but he’d stay with Ryan until someone came back in the morning.