Page 34 of Whiskey and Wildfire

As Caroline returned with the coffee, the heavy doors swung open again. This time, a tired-looking doctor in green scrubs stepped out, his eyes scanning the waiting room. My heart leapt into my throat as he made his way towards us.

“Family of John Baker?” he asked, his voice low and serious.

My mother shot to her feet, her hands trembling as she clutched her purse. “Yes, that’s us. How is he? Is he...?”

The doctor held up a hand, his expression unreadable. “Your husband made it through the surgery. It was touch and go for a while, but he’s stable now. We had to do an emergency bypass, but he’s got a good chance of pulling through.”

A collective sigh of relief swept through our little group. I felt my shoulders sag, the tension of the past hours finally releasing its grip on me. Caroline’s hand found mine, squeezing it tightly.

“Can we see him?” I asked, my voice like gravel. I hadn’t spoken nearly all night.

The doctor nodded, his eyes softening slightly. “He’s in recovery now. We’ll be moving him to the ICU shortly. Once he’s settled, one of you can see him for a few minutes.”

“Only one?” Caroline said, a tone of anger in her voice.

“For now,” the doctor replied, feigning patience. “We want to keep everything around him as sterile as possible. He’s stable, but even small exposures to a sickness could mean he doesn’t recover. I know it’s hard to hear, but he needs his rest.”

My mother nodded vigorously, tears of relief streaming down her face. Caroline’s grip on my hand tightened, and I could feel her trembling slightly beside me.

“Thank you, doctor,” I managed to say, my voice still rough.

As the doctor walked away, I turned to Caroline. Her face was a mix of relief and lingering worry, her usually messy appearance even more disheveled after the long night.

“He’s gonna be okay,” she said, more to herself than to me. “Right?”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. I gave my sister a hug before I turned back to my mother. “You should stay here Mama. He needs you.”

Caroline looked affronted for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. You should be the one to stay.”

“But the ranch?—”

“I’ll take care of the ranch,” I said, shaking my head. “You take care of Daddy.”

“He was supposed to meet with a beef distributor today?—”

“Mama,” I said, more sternly than I meant. “I can take care of it.”

“And I’ll help him,” Caroline added. “And I’ll bring you whatever you need. Just text me and I’ll pack it up.”

Tears filled my mother’s eyes as she pulled both of us into a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. When she took a step back, she pulled out her key ring and pulled a key from the cluster, handing it to me. “Everything for the ranch is in your father’s office. His wallet’s in there too if you need to pay any bills… I can’t imagine he’s coming home anytime soon…”

“I got it, Mama,” I said softly, taking the key. “You go be with Daddy.”

With one last hug, she left with a nurse, heading back into the ICU alone. There was nothing else we could do for her or my father, so Caroline and I left the hospital, stepping out into thecrisp morning air. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, but the beauty was lost on us. We walked to my truck in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

As we climbed in, Caroline let out a long sigh. “Hell of a night,” she muttered, running a hand across her messy braid in a vain attempt to tame it.

I nodded, starting the engine. “Yeah. Hell of a night.”

We drove in silence for a while, the familiar landscape of northern Texas rolling by outside the windows. Fields of green grass stretched as far as the eye could see, dotted here and there with grazing cattle. It was a sight that usually brought me some sort of comfort, but today it just felt hollow.

“You really think you can handle everything at the ranch?” Caroline asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

I glanced at her, seeing the worry etched into the lines on her face. “I’ll have to,” I sighed. “Don’t have much choice.”

“If you need help?—”

“Don’t you have clients?” I said, interrupting her.

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