our requests are the beginning of a series of treatments or doctor visits for a patient. Angel Fleet operates differently than some mercy groups. They feel it’s difficult enough when a very ill person has to be in and out of the hospital. If the patient gains confidence in a pilot flying them back and forth, it’s one less stress.”
Marlee knew what Mick was saying. “Surely no one expects weeks, months or years of continuous service. Rose drove Cole to treatments for four years.”
“Six flights is the most I’ve made for any single patient. If care is ongoing, most people arrange to stay temporarily near the hospital.”
“Then I can do this, Mick. What we went through with Cole was different. I’ll have no close ties, no relationship with anyone who may need us.” She broke away from Mick’s unwavering gaze to check her watch. Then she stretched out a hand toward her daughter. “Jo Beth, tell Uncle Mick goodbye.”
“Bye-bye. When I call Dean, is it all right to say you’re still getting a dog?”
Mick’s hearty laughter drowned out his twin’s reprimand. “Yes,” he said. “And when you call him, make sure you tell him how Mr. Maclean does in surgery. That’ll save your mother from having to communicate with an earthworm.” Mick pushed a button and lowered his bed. At once he groaned and grabbed for his bad hip, but he recovered enough to lean up on an elbow. “You two run along. Marlee, I’ll call Angel Fleet for you tonight. I’ll tell them to be kind to you.”
She gave him a tight smile over her daughter’s head. Mick’s bringing up Wylie Ames again produced a well-formed image of his brooding, handsome face, which Marlee did her best to push out of her mind.
CHAPTER FOUR
MARLEE LOCATED JOSH sitting in the B Surgery Suite waiting room, as she’d expected. The boy had his head in his hands. He looked up when they came in, and stood when he recognized Marlee.
“My dad’s been in surgery a really long time.”
“Josh,” Marlee said carefully, “it takes a while to prep a patient and get underway. I waited four hours for word the day of Mick’s operation.”
“Four hours?” The boy glanced at his watch. “I haven’t been here for two yet.”
“Did you let your mom know we landed?”
“It’s a pay phone. She said to call collect.”
Marlee dug in her purse. “Here’s money for the phone. I know the wait’s hard for you, but she’s sitting at home with no idea of what’s going on.”
“Thanks. I’ll pay you back.”
“Don’t worry about it. Would you like a soda? We passed vending machines in the hall. I’ll go get us something while you make your call.”
He accepted her offer, and Marlee and Jo Beth left the room.
By the time they returned, he was off the phone and looked markedly better. Marlee passed him the cold can and a ham sandwich.
“My Uncle Rod and Aunt Sammy are coming to help finish baling our hay.”
“That’s good. Will it take them long to get to the ranch?”
“They live in Spokane. It’s a hundred and fifty miles. Mom asked them to swing by here to see Dad and bring me home. Uncle Rod’s my dad’s brother.”
“I wasn’t sure if I needed to fly you back to the ranch. Forgive me if I’m out of line, but it looks like you came straight from work. Do you have money for food?”
He glanced at his dirt-and-blood-smeared shirt and jeans. “Mark Hart, our hired hand and me…we were repairing a fence knocked down by Chili Dog. That’s our bull. Dad went to track him. When we heard him holler, me ’n Mark dropped everything and ran to help, but the bull threw Dad against a fence post. Hooked ’im three or four times before we drove Chili Dog off.” Hunching, the boy rolled the cold can across his brow. “Don’t know what got into that ol’ bull.”
While Marlee tried to imagine the scene, Jo Beth went over and hugged Josh. “It’s okay if you wanna cry. Sometimes I did when my daddy had to stay at the hospital. And if your tummy aches, crying helps.”
The teen looked surprised, then looked guiltily at Marlee. “Did your husband get in a bad accident, too?”
Marlee shook her head, and took a long pull from her soda. “He had cancer. Of the lymph glands. Jo Beth and I are no strangers to hospital waiting rooms.”
Like everyone she told, Josh didn’t seem to know what to say. They were saved an awkward moment when the desk clerk told Marlee she had a call. She walked over, expecting it to be Mick. “Hi, there.”
“How’s Gordy Maclean?” The voice was familiar, but she didn’t immediately recognize it.
“Mr. Maclean is still in surgery. Who’s this?”
“Wylie. Ranger Ames. Mick transferred me. He said you’re upstairs with Josh. Oh, and he asked me to relay a message. Pappy’s about to go to bed, but he’s leaving a light on in the hangar.”
“Oh, well…thanks. Why don’t I let you speak with Josh?”
His answer was a low, rolling laugh. “Sure, but I was trying my level best to communicate better than a worm.”
Marlee choked on her soda, feeling the heat sting her face. She was going downstairs and she was going to murder Mick. “I…I…I…” She gave up trying to come up with something witty, and beckoned Josh over. “It’s RangerAmes,” she muttered. “Asking about your dad.”
Josh had barely said hello when a doctor in blue scrubs came into the room and headed straight for Marlee. “Mrs. Maclean, I’m Doctor Black. I was the surgeon on call when they brought your husband in.”
Josh dropped the phone, forcing Marlee to scoop it up. “I’m the Angel Fleet pilot,” she informed the physician. “This is Josh Maclean, Gordon’s son.” Into the phone, she hissed, “We should hang up. Mr. Maclean’s doctor is here to talk to Josh.”
“Wait. Take my number. Gordy and I are friends. I’d like to know his condition. If he’s likely to be laid up for months, I’ll organize help for his family.”
Marlee didn’t know Ames at all. She certainly had no reason to have formed a judgment against him. But she’d pegged him as a lone wolf. In a few minutes he’d blown that image to hell. “I don’t have anything to write on,” she murmured. “Can you call back on my cell in say, fifteen minutes?”
He hung up without answering or even muttering a goodbye. Definitely not verbose, she thought, turning to the surgeon, who was saying Gordon Maclean was in recovery. And after two pints of blood, his vitals had stabilized.
WYLIE WISHED he’d had longer to talk with Marlee Stein. He’d laughed when Mick told him what his sister had said about his lack of communication skills. Wylie knew he had the reputation of being a loner. It suited him to foster that with other rangers, especially after Shirl took off and left him to raise Dean. Friends were always trying to set him up. The rangers’ wives thought his son needed a mother. So, to get everyone off his back,
