Page 28 of Doctoring Dolly

Stopping just inside, she decided to make her presence known just in case whoever might still be around was busy.

“Hello?” she called, wondering how much trouble she would get into if she just wandered around and helped herself to what Sadie had sent her for.

“Hello?” a voice that was not the head chef responded. A moment later, a brown-haired Hispanic man with what appeared to be chocolate smeared on his white chef’s jacket stepped into view.

“There’s been a medical emergency and Sadie sent me for a bottle of water and a clean dishtowel please.”

The man blinked and nodded. “Yeah, I know about the emergency. Stay there and I’ll get what you need.”

He disappeared from view again, and Dolly took the opportunity to look around the kitchen. There were still a number of people cooking and putting plates together, no doubt for the restaurants, but there was no craziness, no chef yelling instructions or throwing tantrums as television and movies portrayed. Instead, it seemed like there was an air of concern and fear as the staff went about their duties.

“Here you go,” the man approached with a towel wrapped around several bottles of water.

“Thank you,” Dolly said.

She hurried back to through the dining room to the hall, wondering if she could sneak into the infirmary and find out what was going on.

Les had brought chairs so the three women were now sitting against the wall just outside the infirmary. After handing over the water and towel to Sadie, Dolly stood, unsure what to do next.

“Thank you for your help,” Sadie said, looking sadder than Dolly had ever seen her. “We’ll be okay now.”

With that, Dolly knew she had been dismissed. “If you need anything else, just call,” she offered before leaving the women to their waiting.

Wishing she knew what was going on in the infirmary, and why they had called Quincy, Dolly headed back to her room. She could spend some more time making notes about her trip and the magic that seemed to encompass Rawhide Ranch.

It was not until she was back in her room that she realized she had no idea where her notebook was. After tearing her room apart, she took a moment to think back to where she’d had it last.

The pool. It was still on the table by the pool.

Hurrying out the sliding door to the pool area, she walked as fast as she could manage without tripping around the pool. There were only a few security lights on, so she could barely see the table where she had spent the afternoon writing. Her heart pounded, but she was not sure if it was from exertion, or anxiety. When she reached the table, she sighed.

The table was clean and empty. No towel. No notebook. No pen.

Oh, shit.

It was nearly midnight before Quincy left the infirmary. The ambulance had finally arrived and taken away the injured guest. The man had cut himself while showing off during knife play. The knife had sunk deep enough into his arm that the infirmary staff had not felt comfortable treating the injury themselves.

Which was a good thing. As Quincy finished bandaging his arm, the man began to complain of chest pain. He then passed out and stopped breathing. Quincy was thankful the infirmary was fully stocked and had everything he needed when the man’s heart stopped.

At that point, Quincy demanded the nurse call for an ambulance to transport the patient to the nearest hospital while he performed CPR. After she made the call, she helped him resuscitate the man. Once his heart started beating again, the man tried to convince Quincy he was fine. But Quincy refused to release him until he went to a hospital and was fully evaluated.

“Want a drink or three?” Derek asked as he entered the lobby.

The resort owner was sitting in one of the wing-back chairs as if waiting for Quincy.

“At least. But I’ll settle for a hot chocolate and a couple of cookies.”

“I think I’ll join you.”

With Derek trailing behind him, Quincy headed toward the café, thankful it was open twenty-four hours a day.

After getting their late-night treat, the two men moved to the front porch and the same pair of rocking chairs he had used with Dolly the day before. Quincy was coming to think of these chairs as his.

The lights on the porch and around the drive gave off enough light to hold back the dark but were not glaring in intensity. Quincy sipped at his mug and ate half a cookie before looking at Derek.

“You did good work in there,” Derek said after a time.

“Thank you. All part of the job of being a doctor. So, what’s up?”

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