CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
SCREECHING VEHICLE BRAKES caught Dr. Chance Freeman’s attention. That would be his three new staff members arriving. They should have been here last night but bad weather had delayed them. He’d needed them desperately. His other team had left that morning and today’s clinic had been shorthanded and almost impossible to manage.
Chance glanced up from the baby Honduran boy he was examining and out the entrance of the canvas tent located in a clearing near a village. Beyond the long line of waiting patients, he saw a tall, twentyish woman jump down from the rear of the army surplus truck. She wore a tight green T-shirt, a bright yellow bandana round her neck and tan cargo pants that clung to her curves.
Great. High jungle fashion. He’d seen that before.
Shoulders hunched, he drew his lips into a tight line, stopping a long-suffering sound from escaping. Years ago he’d helped Alissa out of a Jeep. She’d believed in being well dressed in any environment as well. They had been newlyweds at the time. That had only lasted months.
Everything about this new staff member’s regal bearing screamed she didn’t belong in the stifling heat of a rain forest in Central America. He bet she wouldn’t last long. In his years of doing medical aid work he’d learned to recognize those who would stick out the tough conditions and long hours. His guess was that she wasn’t one of them. Everything about her screamed upper crust, big city. Pampered.
When had he become so cynical? He hadn’t even met her yet and he was already putting her in a slot. It wasn’t fair not to give her a chance just because she reminded him of his ex-wife. Still, he didn’t have the time, energy or inclination to coddle anyone, even if he desperately needed the help.
From under her wide-brimmed hat she scanned the area, her gaze coming around to lock with his. She tilted her head, shielding her eyes with a hand against the noonday sun. One of her two companions said something and she turned away.
Shaking off the spell, Chance returned to the child. He’d hardly looked down when there was a commotion outside. People were screaming and running. What was going on?
He didn’t have to wait long to find out. Two men carried another man into the tent. He was bleeding profusely around the face and neck area and down one arm. Quickly handing the baby to his mother, Chance cleared the exam table with his arm.
“Put him here. What happened?”
The men lifted the injured man onto the table. Despite Chance’s excellent Spanish, they were talking so fast he was having to work to understand them. Apparently, the man had been attacked by a jaguar while trying to save one of his goats.
A feminine voice asked from the end of the table, “What can I do to help?”
A fragrant scent floated in the air. He was tempted to lean forward and inhale. There was a marked difference between the feminine whiff and the odor of the sweaty bodies around him. Unfortunately, he would need to warn her not to wear perfume in this part of the world because it attracted unwanted insects.
Chance looked up into clear blue eyes that made him think of the pool of water at the bottom of his favorite waterfall. The woman he’d just seen climbing off the truck waited. She’d removed her hat and now he could clearly see a long blonde braid falling over a shoulder. With her fair coloring she would burn in no time in the hot Honduran sun.
“Start with cutting away the clothing.”
She stepped to the table. The paper on the table was soaked with blood. He glanced up to see her face blanch as she viewed the man who would be disfigured for life from the deep lacerations.
“Don’t faint on me,” Chance said through clenched teeth. “Michael, get over here.” He nodded toward the other table. “Go help there. Michael and I’ll handle this.”
She moved off to see about the case Michael was working on. Chance didn’t have time to ponder why someone in the medical profession couldn’t handle this type of injury.
He and Michael worked to piece the Honduran man back together. It may have been the largest number of stitches he’d ever put into a person. There would be a long recovery time.
“We need some help here,” Michael called as he finished suturing an area.
The woman stepped to the table again.
Chance glared at her. “I thought I told you—”
She gave him a determined and unwavering look. “I’ve got this.” She turned to Michael. “What do you need?”
“Bandage this hand,” he said.
“I’ll take care of it.” The words were full of confidence as fingers tipped in hot pink picked up the saline and four-by-fours sitting on the table and began cleaning around the area.
Chance had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. That manicure wouldn’t last long here and there wouldn’t be another forthcoming either. He moved on to the next laceration. As he looked at the man’s arm Chance kept a watchful eye on the new staff member. With the efficiency of few he’d seen, she’d wrapped and secured the dressing and moved on the next spot.
At least she seemed to have recovered from whatever her earlier issue had been. He was used to temporary help, but he still wanted quality.
Many who came to help with the Traveling Clinic were filled with good intentions and the idealism of saving the world but didn’t have the skills or common sense required to work in such primitive settings. The clinic served the medical issues in the small villages outside of La Ceiba. Making it even more difficult was that the locals were often hesitant about asking for help.
A jaguar attack wasn’t the clinic’s normal kind of injury but they did see a number of severe wounds from accidents. He needed staff that could handle the unexpected and often gruesome. If Chance wasn’t such a sceptic he’d have given the new woman points for her recovery but he’d been doing this type of work for far too long. Had seen staff come and go.
He was familiar with people who left. His mother had done it when he’d been a child. He’d been seven when she’d just not been there. His father was a world-renowned surgeon and had been gone much of the time. With his mother’s absence Chance had starting acting out in an effort to keep his father’s attention, even to the point of stealing. That had got him sent to boarding school. Even in that restrictive environment Chance had pushed back.
In a stern voice the headmaster had said, “It’s time for you to decide if you’re going to amount to anything in your life. Right now I’d be surprised if you do.”
He was the one man in Chance’s
