When Dreams Collide (14 page)

“Well, I’m planning a nice dinner tomorrow night for Susan.” Dusty slipped his arm around Brock’s shoulder. “I don’t mean to break you heart, and I’m sorry old-timer. But you’re not invited.”

Brock chuckled. “I’m powerful disappointed, but I’ll get over it. Took some steaks out of the freezer to throw on the grill tonight. Thought you and me would have a little celebration. So, we’ll celebrate tonight, and you and your lady friend can celebrate tomorrow night.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dusty headed back to the ranch house with Brock in tow. “You know, Brock, sometimes I think this is all too good to be true.”

“Well, your dreams are coming true, son. Don’t question the universe when all the stars align or whatever happens that arranges your life exactly the way you want it.”

“Just count your blessings and shut up?” Dusty grinned.

Brock nodded.

“I’m looking forward to this adventure, and I can’t wait to celebrate with my lady tomorrow night.”

“Yep, I do recall that.”

Dusty waited a few seconds. “Recall what, Brock?”

“I recall the first night Sue and I celebrated in that ranch house as husband and wife.” Brock grinned. “What a night that was! She was yelling my name in ecstasy, and I was fit to howl at the moon. Hope your celebration with your lady goes as well.”

“Brock, are you’re pulling my leg?”

“Now, son, I wasn’t always an old man. I remember being young and in love with a pretty lady. Sue and I married six months after I bought this place. I proposed to her out there where the two creeks intersect. Dang it, I miss that woman. I hope you’re as happy with the love of your life.”

“I never said I was in love with Susan.”

“No, I guess you didn’t.” Brock chuckled and winked at Dusty. “But you never said you weren’t in love with her either.”

****

“Tonight’s the night,” he sang aloud to himself.

Susan had agreed to a celebratory dinner, and he expected her at six o’clock. He’d lost track of time while working out plans for another corral and extension onto the bunkhouse with a contractor he’d hired. He almost fell off the top rail on the existing corral when he glanced at his watch awhile ago. Five o’clock.

He showered and shaved and dressed in new duds in record time. While laying out everything for dinner, he realized he’d forgotten to pick up something for dessert, and he intended to ensure this dinner went perfectly.

Dusty grabbed his Stetson off the shiny metal hook on his way out the back door. He rounded the corner of the house, hopped into his pickup truck, and started the engine. As he headed down the driveway, he waved at Brock playing with the one-year-old collie the two of them had rescued from the local shelter this morning.

The dog barked and growled and carried on when the contractor drove into the yard, and he’d treed a raccoon an hour before that. The dog had inhabited the ranch for only seven hours or so and he was fitting in nicely. Brock had named his new four-footed friend Buster, and Lord knew what the two of them would be up to tomorrow. At least the old guy had company in his cabin. Besides, every ranch needed a dog.

Dusty turned onto highway 287 and headed for Helena. He’d be hard-pressed to finish his shopping and return to the ranch in time to complete his dinner preparations before Susan arrived. He continued on his way minding the speed limit and humming along with the Garth Brooks tune on the radio.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Dusty noticed an older model motor home approaching from the south on McClellan Creek Road. The driver swerved into the other lane for a second and then returned to his own side of the white line as if momentarily distracted. The driver slowed down only slightly as he crossed the rail link, unaware he was nearing a major highway. Damn tourists, thought Dusty.

Too late, Dusty realized their two vehicles would meet in the intersection at precisely the same time. He jammed on the brakes and the front of his truck skidded to the right. He heard the deafening crunch of metal when the motor home clipped his pickup just ahead of the driver’s door and sent it spinning clockwise. His airbags deployed smacking him hard in the face and chest. The truck’s wheels caught the shoulder on the other side of the highway, sending his Ford flying. The truck flipped in mid-air, hit the ground, rolled, rolled, rolled, while Dusty was slammed into the steering wheel and then thrown against the driver side door. Although restrained by the seatbelt, he continued bouncing around in his seat like a toy bouncy ball in an enclosed room.

Finally, the truck came to rest on its side in the ditch. His vision blurred and he felt himself losing consciousness. He’d been wearing his seatbelt, like he always did, and he hoped he wouldn’t wake up dead. Dusty wasn’t ready for heaven, since he’d just purchased his own little piece of heaven here on earth.

And then everything went black.

****

Jeremy Branigan strode across the tack room floor, settled his saddle onto an empty wooden stand, and dug his cell phone out of his pocket. The persistent ringing ticked him off when he was preoccupied working with his bucking horses, but it might be Amanda calling.

When he glanced at the caller ID, his heart leapt into his mouth.  The display read, St. Peter’s Hospital. Had his wife been airlifted into Helena, and he’d only heard about it now? Had something gone wrong with the pregnancy?

“Hello!” he bellowed into the cell.

“Oh, my. Is this Mr. Jeremy Branigan?” inquired an unfamiliar female voice.

“Yep, you got him. Is my wife there?” Jeremy headed out of the barn on his way to the main house.

“Ah, no. My name is Barbara Bensen. I’m a nurse at St. Peter’s Hospital in Helena. According to the gentleman’s driver’s license, a Mr. Patrick MacFarland was brought into the hospital by ambulance. The in-case-of-emergency contact info in his wallet lists you as next of kin.”

“Dusty?” Jeremy halted in his tracks. “Dusty’s in the hospital? What the hell happened?”

“Mr. MacFarland was involved in a vehicular accident, and he’s in pretty bad shape. The doctors are examining Mr. MacFarland right now, and I heard something about x-rays and surgery.”

“Is Dusty going to live?” whispered Jeremy.

“I don’t know what Mr. MacFarland’s condition is right now or the extent of his injuries. But I would suggest you come to the hospital as soon as possible.”

Jeremy scrubbed his face. “Has Susan Sanders been advised of the accident?”

“You’re the only one listed as next of kin in Mr. MacFarland’s wallet, and you’re the only one I’ve called.”

“You should call Susan. She’s the manager at the Ellis Bank in Helena.”

“Is she related to Patrick? His wife or sister?”

“Forget it, Ms. Bensen. The guy goes by Dusty, and you’d be wise not to call him Patrick. I’m on the way. I’ll call Susan myself. Bye.” Jeremy punched in Susan’s number as he raced toward the house.

****

Susan Sanders tossed a file folder onto her assistant’s desk and headed down the hallway toward the front door of the Ellis Bank. “Goodnight, Marie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Ms. Sanders. Wait!” yelled her assistant.

“What is it?” she called over her shoulder.

“There’s a call for you.”

Susan glanced at her watch. Quarter to six. She’d be late for dinner with Dusty as it was. Taking another customer call was out of the question. “Tell them I’ve already left for the day, Marie.”

“It’s somebody named Jeremy Branigan. He insists it’s urgent.”

Susan stopped in her tracks. Could the urgent call concern Amanda? As she retraced her steps to her office, she silently prayed nothing was wrong with her best friend or her unborn baby.

Susan flopped into the executive chair in her office and grabbed the phone. “What’s wrong, Jeremy? Please don’t tell me Amanda lost the baby.”

“Dusty was in a car accident. He’s been taken by ambulance to St. Peter’s on Broadway.” Jeremy sounded breathless, as if he’d been running.

“Oh my God!” Susan felt the blood drain from her face.

“I’m flying to Helena with David in the chopper. We’re leaving as soon as I hang up.”

“I’m leaving the office for the hospital right now. I’ll see you there.” She hung up the phone and dashed out the door.

Fifteen minutes later, Susan raced through the main doors of St. Peter’s Hospital and strode directly up to the admitting desk. She met eyes with the middle-aged woman seated there.

“My name’s Susan Sanders. Where can I find Dusty MacFarland?” she inquired, tapping her hand on the admitting desk’s countertop.

“We haven’t admitted anyone named Dusty...”

“Patrick,” interrupted Susan. “His name is Patrick MacFarland, but he goes by Dusty.”

“Are you a relative?” The nurse peeked over her wire-framed glasses and met Susan’s eyes.

“I’m his girlfriend. Dusty doesn’t have any blood relatives living.”

“I’m sorry. We can only...”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Just relatives. Well, he may be stuck here all alone for the rest of his life if that’s the case. He doesn’t have any living relatives. There’s just me and the Branigans. So, you’d better just go and tell him I’m here, and he’ll vouch for me.” Susan was quickly losing her patience. Something that never happened.

“Mr. MacFarland is in surgery. I can’t ask him anything right now,” blurted the nurse and then her face paled. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Surgery?” Susan grabbed hold of the counter for support. “Is he going to be okay? Why is he in surgery?”

The nurse lowered her voice. “Mr. MacFarland was in a car accident. The paramedics transferred him here by ambulance.”

“I know. Jeremy Branigan informed me of all that when I talked to him. I need to know how Dusty is doing now.”

The nurse consulted her computer screen. “You talked to Jeremy Branigan.”

“Yes. He called me about the accident and told me he’d meet me here as soon as possible. He’s flying to Helena by helicopter from the family ranch and should be here soon.”

“I’m sorry. All I can say is Mr. MacFarland is in surgery. I can assure you he is still alive, but you’ll have to wait until Mr. Branigan arrives. He’s the only person listed as next of kin.” The nurse leaned back in her chair, looking sympathetic and defiant at the same time.

“Okay. I’ll watch for Jeremy over there in the waiting area. If...if something happens in the meantime...” Susan met the woman’s eyes.

“Think positive thoughts, Ms. Sanders. That’s all I can suggest.” The nurse returned to her work, ignoring Susan completely.

Susan strode across the waiting room floor, slumped into one of the hard plastic chairs, and punched in the number to Jeremy’s cell.

“Hello,” Jeremy answered on the first ring.

“Where are you?” demanded Susan, rudely but unable to help herself. “The nurse won’t tell me a damn thing because I’m not a relative.”

“Okay, okay. If you can wait another twenty minutes, I’ll be arriving at the hospital. Hang in there. Did the nurse tell you anything at all?”

“She let it slip that Dusty’s in surgery. She assured me he’s still alive, but that’s it.”

“Well, you couldn’t see him anyway if he’s in surgery. And he is alive. At least that’s something. I’ll see you soon. David’s landing the chopper at the airport right now. Bye.”

Susan stuck her cell phone into her purse and burst into tears. “Dusty MacFarland, don’t you dare die,” she whispered aloud.

*

Dusty became aware of distant voices, talking in muted tones. He couldn’t understand any of the words, no matter how hard he concentrated. And the excruciating pain running rampant throughout his entire body wasn’t helping matters.

Where the hell was he?

He couldn’t recall what had happened to him, but every square inch of him seemed to hurt to one degree or another. His chest felt like a thousand pound steer kicked him a couple dozen times and then sat on him for good measure. Maybe one of Jeremy’s horses bucked him off. No, he didn’t work at the Lazy B anymore. With sudden clarity, he recalled being at home on his own ranch, preparing supper for Susan.

What happened to him?

That persistent, rhythmic beeping noise started to get on his nerves. A few seconds later, his brain figured it out. Oh hell, he was lying in a damn hospital bed. A heart monitoring machine was emitting the beeping noise. At least, his heart still beat, always a good sign. Maybe the noise wasn’t so annoying after all.

God he hurt all over. Pain, so much pain. Unbearable pain. And then he remembered seeing the accident unfold, slamming on the brakes but reacting too late, helplessly watching the motor home barreling toward his truck, anticipating the inevitable collision, his pickup rolling several times before the vehicle came to a stop on its side in the ditch. He’d lost consciousness. Sometime later, he thought he’d heard sirens when he came to for a brief moment, but too soon his world had faded to black again.

Dusty attempted to open his eyes, let someone know he was awake. But was he awake? For some reason none of his limbs would move when he ordered them to, his eyes wouldn’t open, he couldn’t speak, nothing.

What the heck?

Suddenly, he experienced overwhelming sleepiness again. Tired, so tired. His whole body relaxed and the pain dissipated significantly. He’d just nap for a few minutes, and then he’d talk to someone. Yeah, that’s what he’d do. Sleep. Just sleep.

****

Once Jeremy arrived with David in tow, Susan accompanied them up to the surgical floor to wait for a report on Dusty’s condition. Hearing he was alive, she’d assumed the worst was behind them. The three of them took turns pacing the floor, cursing under their breaths, and drinking the cold coffee the guys brought with them from the airport.

Two police officers talked to Jeremy and David for several minutes, but Susan didn’t move off the waiting area sofa to join the conversation.  She knew everything she needed to know—Dusty had been seriously injured in a traffic accident.

She’d never felt this helpless before in her life, with no inkling as to his condition. All the nurse would say was ‘the surgery was going well’. So informative, thought Susan. That could mean anything from ‘the procedure was simple and routine’ to ‘we’re delighted the patient hasn’t died yet’. Susan grimaced at her lack of confidence in the medical team tending to the man she loved. Naturally, the doctors were doing everything possible to ensure Dusty’s recovery. But the endless waiting was playing havoc with her patience.