Page 9 of Stockman's Stormcloud

‘I’m putting down twenty that it’s a cracked rib causing the trouble with your breathing.’ The redhead crossed her arms, watching Dex walk around the room. ‘Pop, you want in on that bet?’

‘Yeah, I’m in. I reckon it’s a proper broken rib, the way his rib cage is swelling on that one side, for sure. You’ve got a helluva bruise there, lad.’ The old man sat in the chair by the wall, poking up the brim of his wide hat with its crusty-looking hatband.

‘You in, Dex?’

Dex scowled deeper. ‘I’ll put down twenty for a hairline fracture.’

‘Are you betting on your injury?’ Sophie shook her head at these people.

In the short time she’d been here, she’d learned quickly that stockmen were a tough crowd. They’d walk in with wounds that would have had many in the city screaming the roof off, such as injuries from a bull’s horns tearing into their shoulders, hands crushed in drafting gates, or from falling from road-train trailers, or muster bikes. She’d even had a guydrive four hours from his cattle station, with a star picket hanging out of his side from fencing. But they were all the same, looking for a quick patch up so they could leave and get back to work. And they all had one thing in common—cowboys and farmers only came here during extreme cases of pain.

And the way Dex was struggling, it was more than a fracture.

Then he wobbled for just a split second to lean his hand against the wall.

‘You. Bed. Now.’ Sophie grabbed his arm and steered him back to bed. ‘I’m not having you faint on my shift.’

‘Behave, lady. I don’t faint.’ Dex scowled at her.

‘I saw it too, Dex. You’re getting light-headed. Is he lacking oxygen?’ The redhead looked concerned, grabbing Dex’s hand as she helped him back to bed.

‘Put this mask on, it’s pure oxygen.’ Sophie then turned the nozzle, hearing the hiss from the gas bottle. ‘Slow breaths. Try to get them as deep as you can. And stay right there.’

‘Why? Where are you going?’ demanded the bossy redhead.

‘To find the doctor.’ Sophie calmly walked out the door. As soon as she was out of sight, she hurried for the nurses’ desk, dragging out her work phone. With her years of experience, if she was willing to make a wager, she’d bet it was a lot more serious than a fractured rib.

Three

‘It’s a pulmonary contusion,’ explained the blond-haired doctor.

To Dex, the doctor could have been speaking a foreign language as he lay back on the hospital bed. But the drugs they’d given him were goooood.

‘What’s that mean, Doc?’ Charlie asked.

Dex was floating on air. He felt nothing as his eyes roamed the new room they had in the emergency section. It was smaller, filled with all sorts of gadgets. But they had a cat somewhere. And a cute nurse, too, who’d been walking that cat. Who did that? Walk a fat cat like a dog. A fat orange cat.

The doctor held up some black X-ray images as he explained to the room that was slowly spinning. ‘A pulmonary contusion is from a severe blow to the ribs, common in car accidents. But you said Dex wasn’t in a car accident?’

Bree shook her head. Damn, that woman was tough. Not once did she spill the beans to the doctor. Bare-knuckle fights were illegal, and so too were the hot goods being sold in the paddock’s car park where they held those fights. It was a cops’ smorgasbord of crime if they ever busted them.

‘I wasn’t in a car accident.’ No siree. But he’d had a big payday tonight.

‘But something kept hitting you in the ribs.’

That prick who’d dared to take on Dex, earlier tonight. Kudos to the kid who’d busted a few heads to earn his shot at fighting the champion, but he didn’t have what it takes tomake a living out of this sport. A sport Dex couldn’t even brag about, especially to doctors, in a hospital that sat right next to the police station. He didn’t say a word, and he’d bet both Bree and Charlie were thinking the same thing.

‘It may not be immediately obvious,’ continued the doctor, ‘but it’s clearly a repeated pattern.’

So what? Dex was trained to read the repeated punching patterns in his opponents, except that prick tonight loved jabbing his ribs. Next time he saw that prick, he was going to dish it back as his own brand of medicine.

‘Do you mean this is something that has built up over time?’ Bree asked.

Oh, good question.

Yet it irked him when the doctor nodded.

‘Bruising can create scarring on the lungs that can lead to complications such as difficulty breathing, chest pain, and an impaired lung function, like Dex is suffering with now.’

---