and Juneau has—”
“I know how big the hospital is,” she answered in a tone as crisp as an ice chip. “He’s my patient. It’s my call.”
Giving his head a stupefied shake, he turned to focus on the plane’s controls. The only thing that kept him from arguing was the fact that he didn’t want to waste any time. The patient could be airlifted from Rankins if necessary. Although, at some point in the very near future, he and Ms. Mowak were going to have a conversation about patient transport protocol when he and his company were involved.
* * *
AS LOUIS DRIFTED in and out of consciousness, Ally held his hand, touched his cheek, told him stories, all the while closely monitoring his condition: listening to his breathing, checking his pulse, scanning every inch of him from head to toe and back again. There was some oozing through the dressings but no serious bleeding. She wished she could check the injuries on his back.
What she really wished was that she’d been there to protect them.
Ally had been lingering behind on the trail taking photos when she heard the boys’ screams. She’d sprinted toward the commotion, but by the time she’d arrived at the scene the bear was gone and the damage done. Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a few seconds to appreciate how lucky Louis was to be alive. She still wasn’t sure why his injuries weren’t more severe. Ally was proud of him for keeping his head covered like he’d been taught, his scratched and raw forearms proof of the defensive move. A bear’s powerful jaws could remove a person’s entire face or crack the skull with a single bite, as easily as a nutcracker splitting an acorn.
Quinn said that in those few seconds of awareness before the attack he’d thought they were both dead. The boys had been standing maybe ten feet apart when they heard a noise in the brush behind them. They hadn’t had time to do more than turn before three-hundred-plus pounds of muscle, claws and teeth were charging toward them.
For whatever reason, the bear had gone for Louis first. As Quinn scrambled to retrieve his bear spray from the holster on his hip, the sow, seemingly distracted by something in the trees, had dropped Louis almost as quickly as she’d attacked and loped back into the brush. Probably her cubs, Ally theorized, as Quinn had seen two little ones scooting ahead of the bear’s retreating form.
It seemed like only a few minutes before the plane was descending toward the waters of the bay adjacent to the town of Rankins. After a smooth-as-glass landing, they were ferrying toward the dock. Red and blue lights from the waiting ambulance were a balm to the gnawing worry in her gut. She’d thoroughly assessed Louis’s injuries, but with the conditions and the limited resources in the field, she knew there was a chance she’d missed something.
With efficiency and care Ally approved of, the onshore team rushed Louis into the ambulance for the short ride to the hospital. She joined him inside and was soon handing her cousin off again, this time to a team of doctors and nurses.
Relief rushed through her when she saw Dr. Ramsey instead of Dr. Boyd. Like her, Flynn was new to Rankins Hospital but old to Alaska, meaning he’d grown up here, too. He was also sympathetic to traditional medical practices. He would understand the clay.
“IN THIS HOSPITAL, Ms. Mowak, we don’t treat patients with dirt.” Dr. Robert P. Boyd leveled his glacier-blue glare at Ally. He even looked like ice, she decided, with his white hair and snowy-smooth skin. The sharp edges of his shoulders and elbows jutted against his white jacket.
So much for her hope that Dr. Boyd wouldn’t get wind of her use of clay on Louis’s wounds. Poof went her plan to ease into a relationship with the chief physician at Rankins Hospital.
Ally already knew that an education, even one as extensive as a doctorate, didn’t guarantee wisdom. Knowledge, sure. Wisdom, not so much.
Her grandfather, Abe Mowak, had been using medicinal clays on patients ever since Ally could remember. Clay from Sullivan’s Spring was among his most valued. She’d collected some for him last time she’d visited Jessie, which was how she’d gotten the idea to use it on Louis.
“As an Army medic and a paramedic, I know you’re aware of the proper treatment for lacerations and punctures of this severity.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dr. Ramsey informed me of the fact that the patient is a relative of yours, but that makes no difference where medical procedures in this hospital are concerned. I acknowledge that Louis’s mother, your aunt I understand, has no problem with it. But trust me when I tell you that family connections are no guarantee when it comes to lawsuits.”
Dr. Boyd flipped through a sheaf of papers on the desk in front of him. Best guess, the file contained her résumé, Army record and reference letters. Then again, there could be anything in there—photos of his grandchildren, sudoku puzzles, his grocery list. The point was to intimidate her. Obviously Dr. Boyd didn’t know her yet.
Flynn Ramsey, Ally’s supervisor and friend, sat beside her. He tilted his head and mouthed a silent “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Ally mouthed back and added a wink.
Dr. Boyd addressed her again. “In case you haven’t had time to consult the hospital’s policy, I’ve had my secretary highlight the portions...”
The reprimand continued, and after much longer than necessary, he finally quieted and looked at Ally expectantly. Apparently it was time for her to respond.
She’d love to tell him exactly what she thought of his antiquated opinions, but she knew better. “Actions heal, words incite” was one of her grandfather’s favorite sayings. But she couldn’t resist trying to plant a seed, at least.
“Have you heard of the antibacterial properties of mineral clay, Dr. Boyd?”
“That’s what antibiotics are for, Ms. Mowak. Perhaps you’ve heard of penicillin?”
Perhaps you’ve heard of MRSA, Dr. Boyd? The sarcastic retort tap-danced silently across her tongue. Ally knew that Rankins Hospital had battled a bout of the antibiotic-resistant staph bacteria a few months back. MRSA and other superbugs like it were a direct result of the overuse of antibiotics. But she didn’t say that, either. She wouldn’t want the inference to be that she thought Louis shouldn’t receive antibiotics. Dr. Boyd seemed like the word-twisting type.
Then there was the fact that this was her first day on the job, a job she’d been training for and working toward her entire life. Her grandfather had sacrificed so much for her. No way would she let him down by getting fired before she even started. She knew that technically Dr. Boyd alone couldn’t fire her. That decision would require a vote by the entire hospital board. But Dr. Boyd was the ultimate medical authority here at the hospital, and she knew that her job, as well as her overarching mission, would go so much smoother if she could establish a good relationship with him.
“Of course,” she responded. “I’m a huge proponent of antibiotics when administered correctly. I’m grateful Dr. Ramsey prescribed them for Louis.” Ally flipped an appreciative smile in Flynn’s direction.
Dr. Boyd sat back and studied her. His long surgeon’s fingers curled over the arms of his chair, where they twitched menacingly like two hungry albino spiders.
An
