Page 6 of Wild For You
“There. Is that better?”
“Yeah.” My voice was still scratchy, but at least I could speak now without the searing pain. “Where am I?”
“You’re at Atlanta Memorial Hospital. You’ve been out of it for the last three days. We’re glad to see you’re awake.”
As her words registered, I panicked as I looked around the room. My eyes immediately landed on the whiteboard withtheDayspace filled in asFriday. I would have been brought in late Monday evening.
“Do you… uh… know why I’m here?”
Betty pulled over a computer and started typing away. For an older woman, I was quite impressed with her speed.
“Well, I wasn’t on shift, but you were brought in around 11:30 p.m. on Monday by an unknown party. You sustained both a back and knee injury, and we’re assuming a concussion along with your head injury. You’ve been in a coma since then.”
“Oh.”
“Well, Mr. Renfield, now that you’re awake, I’ll go grab the doctor so he can go over your injuries and surgeries with you.”
Renfield?The name bounced around my head like a rubber ball.
“In the meantime, is there anyone I can call for you? Unfortunately, no one has come by looking for you since you’ve been here,” she added with a frown.
“Renfield?” I repeated aloud this time, and the nurse cocked her head.
“Yes, Wyatt Renfield. It was the only identification we could find.” She squinted as she read something on her screen. “You had a ticket of some sort and listed the name. Is that not correct?”
“I… I don’t know,” I admitted, trying to fetch something from the darkness of my mind.
The nurse smiled, but I could sense it was forced. “Well, that’s okay. We can figure it out later. There is a chance of somememory loss with head injuries, but the doctor can assess and discuss that with you in a few minutes when he comes in.”
Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long for the doctor to arrive. He went over the series of injuries. A bruised spinal disc, a dislocated right patella, and torn ligaments along my back and right leg.
With a description of each surgery and its recovery time, I became more agitated. The frustration grew when I couldn’t recall what sent me to the hospital in the first place. Let alone my name. The last memory I had was riding my horse around my family’s farm after promising my youngest sister I’d take it over so our father could retire and so she could travel with her professional-baseball-playing boyfriend.
It wasn’t the actual ride I remembered. It was how I felt the dichotomy between my fear of letting my family down and happiness on the back of the horse.
The doctor’s words began to jumble together until he sounded like the teacher inThe Charlie Brown and Snoopy Show. In the distance, the beeping of the heart rate monitor increased until it became deafening. My body tensed as the nurse stepped forward and pointed the doctor toward the screen, where the peaks of my heartbeat were popping up closer and closer together.
Their voices were muffled, and then the nurse darted out of the room. I tried speaking, to ask what was going on, but no sound came out.
“It’s okay,” the doctor said as the nurse returned with a prefilled syringe. “We’re just going to help you relax a bit.”
As the medication was plunged into the IV in my arm, I felt my muscles gently relaxing. Soon, I felt my gaze dim until I was lost in the blackness.
The growing crowd shouted my name as I settled onto the bronco. This was one of the largest events I’d participated in, and for the first time, my nerves were getting the better of me. It was so unlike the improvised stands and corrals I was used to. I had been invited to join the rodeo in a small town outside of Atlanta, and after second guessing my choice to take over my family’s farm, I agreed.
I didn’t know the team who put on this event, but I was friendly with a couple of the competitors, and they said it was legit and well put together. So far, I concurred. The stable hands had been nothing but kind and generous when I arrived. I even agreed to bunk with one of them instead of driving back to Ashfield after the event.
The pot was also significantly larger than others I’d won, which rattled my nerves more than it should’ve.
Beneath me, the horse’s lungs expanded against my thighs, and I worked to steady my breath to mimic his. Closing my eyes, I settled my mind, focusing on the smell of the arena.
Adrenaline coursed through me as my name was announced on a bullhorn.
Leaning back, I shifted my hold on the harness.
Arm free. Spurs in and up. Lean back.
My eyes popped open just as the gate did. The horse moved around like a chaotic tornado that was searching for the nearest town to destroy. I held on like my life depended on it, maneuvering my legs and spurs with each buck.
