Hideaway

Dane slumped against the outside of the fence while Gavin shoved the gate latch home.

“You okay?” Gavin asked, bending over him.

Dane gritted his teeth against the pain in his thigh. “I’ll be fine.”

“Sorry, I forgot Willy said Gordy had a mean streak.” Gavin gestured over his shoulder toward the cow and calf. “I know better.”

Dane caught sight of Gavin’s blood-streaked sleeve. “You’re bleeding.”

Gavin held his arm up and inspected a small cut at the base of his wrist. “I’ll get that taken care of. Guess that old cow hasn’t seen many black guys with locks like mine, huh?”

Dane rubbed his thigh. “I don’t think that had anything to do with it.”

“Do you want to vaccinate the calf while we’ve got her in the lot?”

“Thanks, Gavin, but I think we’ll let them go this time.”

“When’re you going to start calling me Blaze?”

“When it becomes your legal name. What are you doing out of school early?”

“Last hour’s PE, and I didn’t have dress-out clothes, so I told the teacher I’d be good and come straight here if he let me leave early. Why do you have such a fuss with a silly ol’ nickname? Everybody else calls me Blaze.”

“Good for them. We’ll find you some exercise clothes and shoes tonight.”

“Guess you know I’ll be sixteen in three weeks.”

“Yes. What do you want for your birthday?”

“To quit school.”

“Sorry, no way. Anything else?”

“It’ll be legal then. A guy doesn’t have to go after his sixteenth birthday.”

“He does if he plans to stay here at the ranch.”

Gavin blinked at Dane. “You mean I have to keep going to school just to stay here?”

“That’s the deal. Gavin, you’re still bleeding.” An inch-long cut should have stopped bleeding by now, unless it was deeper than it appeared. The end of Gavin’s sleeve was soaked red.

The teenager pressed his fingers over the wound. “Nobody told me about that rule when I agreed to come here.”

“You may find there are a lot of things around here nobody told you about.”

Gavin gave a disgusted grunt.

“Come on,” Dane said. “Let’s get you to the house and clean your—”

“Okay, fine, then there’s something else I want for my birthday.”

“I hope it’s Gordyburgers,” Dane muttered, still aching from the kick.

“Call me by my chosen name.”

Dane put a hand on Gavin’s shoulder and nudged him toward the house. “I don’t understand the logic of calling yourself Blaze when you aren’t an arsonist.”

“Something my daddy taught me.”

“I thought he was a veterinarian.”

Gavin gave Dane an impatient look.

“Sorry. What did your father teach you?”

“To take the sting out of the name. Beat ’em to the punch.”

“Did kids at school call you names?”

“That’s for me to know. Why’re you limping?”

“Gordy kicked me.”

“Better get some ice on it.”

“I plan to.”

“Come on, you can say it. ‘I plan to, Blaze.’”

“For three more weeks, your name is Gav or Gavin, take your pick.”

“Missouri Regional, this is 841, we are currently inbound for your facility….”

Cheyenne glanced at her watch, groaned, straightened at her desk, still fighting the nausea. “Go away,” she muttered. Twenty more minutes, and Brillhart would be here. Why hadn’t she asked Ardis to call him sooner?

“…Caucasian female, late twenties, class one trauma from an MVA. Patient’s car was struck in the driver’s side, had to be extricated. Patient is fully immobilized, responsive only to pain. We are attempting to establish IV at this time. BP sixty over forty by—”

“Coming here?” Ardis exclaimed. “Did you hear that? They’re bringing us a class one.”

Cheyenne reached for the ambulance radio and keyed the microphone. “Eight-forty-one this is medical control. Divert to University Hospital. We are not a designated trauma facility.”

“Missouri Regional this is 841, we copy but cannot comply. University and Boone are both on full trauma diversion at this time. ETA of five minutes.”

Cheyenne pressed the button again. “Eight-forty-one, this is medical control. We roger your last transmission. Please advise of any change in patient’s condition. This is medical control at Missouri Regional out.” She disconnected.

“Oh, my. What do we do now?” the secretary asked.

“Advise RT and X Ray we’ve got a hot one coming in fast.” Cheyenne turned in her chair. “Quickly, Deanna.”