Page 51 of From Rivals to I Do

“Joseph was with me all night,” Mitch says. “I saw him get in his car and leave.”

“So, you’re saying he doesn’t have the capability to come back and mess with it?” I say.

“How do you know Darla didn’t do it to herself?” Mitch asks. “Who got there first?”

“She did,” I said. “But—”

“But what?” Mitch growls. “You don’t think that wench is capable of popping her hood and rearranging some cables?”

“Watch your tone when you speak about my girl,” I say angrily.

“Ah, so she’s your girl now,” Mitch says quietly.

“That’s right, she is,” I reply. “And your ol’ buddy Joe needs to stay away.” Mitch gets quiet again, and the silence is deafening, even as the massive sea of cows moves past us.

“Well, if that’s the case,” Mitch says before he pushes me as hard as he can off Tango, and my head slams into the ground below.

What. . . what just happened? I think to myself, dazed and trying to get to my feet, shaking my head as the ringing in my ears lessens until it’s more of a dull roar.

“What the heck, Mitch?” I say, and I just barely make it to my feet before I get trampled by oncoming cows, using Tango’s rump to steady myself.

“It’s really too bad you couldn’t take the hint, cowboy,” he says, and he leans over Tango with something in his hand. “Now I got to take you out of the equation.”

Before I can even register what he’s said, Tango rears up, whinnying in pain as he begins to act wild, and I try my best to calm him down. I fail miserably, feeling the slam of one of his hooves smashing into my skull, and as I lay on the ground and watch Tango take off, everything fades to black.

***

I’m still riding the emotions of earlier into the night as I get into work, settling in at the nurse’s station and looking over my list of patients for the night. I’m still grateful that LuAnne was able to switch with me, but there’s something about nights in the ICU that always makes me nervous. The silence is unsettling and a little bit eerie, not knowing which one of my patients wouldn’t make it through the night.

“Got a new one for ya,” an ER nurse says as she pulls someone through, his face all bandaged and taped up.

“No one called me to tell me anything,” I say.

“Well, emergencies aren’t planned are they,” the ER nurse snips, and I hold my tongue. I know the ER is stressful, but there was no need for attitude!

“I suppose not,” I say instead, forcing a smile as the woman thrusts the clipboard from her hands into mine.

“There ya go,” she says. “What room’s open, so I can get him set up?”

“Right there is fine,” I say, motioning to the empty room directly in front of me.“Thanks,” she says as she rolls her eyes, ruffling my feathers further. I decide to ignore her and look through the chart.

Elijah Garcia, 70 years of age, severe brain injury. . . emergency brain surgery. . . Jesus, this guy’s in rough shape.

I look up from the clipboard to see the nurse still working on hooking him up. Getting the IVs plugged up, sticking the EKG modules on his chest, and blood pressure cuffing his free arm. That eerie feeling comes flooding back again and riles up my stomach.

I can’t wait to get the heck out of this ward.

The hours go by, and whenever I’m not helping a patient, I’m nearly falling asleep at the desk. Already, one has almost died on us, an open-heart surgery survivor, and another woke up and tried to pull their breathing tube out and had to be sedated.

I don’t know how people keep this up all the time, I think to myself. Just me and another nurse covering the sizeable ward all by ourselves really isn’t enough. And I’m not even sure if it’s legal, even on overnights.

“Hey, Darla,” Jennifer says, the other nurse on duty, as she walks back to the desk. “Look alive, we have another one coming up.”

“Another?” I say sleepily. “Jeez, tonight is just full of surprises, isn’t it?”

“Never a dull moment,” she replies as she looks at the clipboard.

“We got a name?” I ask.

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