Page 46 of Stormy Ride

Standing next to the stretcher holding her hand, I kept my mouth shut and let the doctor do his thing. Harlan sat on the only chair—eyes wide watching the doctor.

“You have a slight concussion, Mrs. Pellegrino. No point keeping you here. You’ll rest better at home. Do you have a driver?”

“Yes. Charlie followed the ambulance and he’ll take me home.”

The doctor helped her to her feet. “I’ll leave a headache prescription at the desk for you.”

“Thank you.”

I hugged her. “Come on. I’ll help you find Charlie. Your boys did a stellar job with the thieves. I have the tag for the truck now and there’s a want out on the rig and the driver.”

“Thanks so much, Travis.” She glanced at Harlan. “Who’s this?”

“Harlan.”

“A brother for Tammy? How wonderful.”

“She’s flying up as soon as I get her a flight and I’ll bring her over to talk about the spring training session. She’s got her own horse now and she’s keen.”

“Most girls are, but some don’t have what it takes. Is she a good rider?”

“Umm… a fairly new rider, but super keen to learn. I think she’ll be a great student.”

Marilyn laughed. “Call me, Travis, and I’ll set time aside for you and Tammy.”

We found Charlie in the waiting area, and he took Marilyn to his truck.

Harlan whispered, “She’s a babe.”

“You think so? Barrel racing champion of the world. She teaches young girls now at her ranch. Raises quarter horses for the rodeo too. Marilyn is a rodeo cowgirl.”

“Aw, fuck. When can we go back to her ranch and see them girls racing on them horses?”

“That will happen when Tammy gets here. We’ll drive over to her ranch again. You’ll see a lot of it when Tammy and Lucy start their training.”

“Who’s Lucy?” Harlan’s brown eyes widened. “You ain’t gonna tell me I got another sister, are you? What are you, like—dial-up stud service?”

“We’ll talk about Lucy later. Right now, we have a meeting with Wyatt from the paper, and we’ll eat lunch while we talk to him.”

“I can eat.”

Katie’s Good Eats. Cut Bank.

Harlan studied the plastic-coated menu while I ordered two coffees and waited for Wyatt Thompson to show up.

“They got pie here,” said Harlan.

“Yep. I’ve had the lemon, and it was good.”

“I don’t like lemon.”

Wyatt rushed in with wet hair and his glasses all fogged up and plunked down in the booth across from me and Harlan. “Did you get them, Travis?”

“Update.”

He fumbled around in his shoulder bag. “Wait until I get my pen and my notebook out.”

“You want lunch?” I asked him.

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