CountryCore Series: The Ranch Hand (WLW)

Chapter Seven

Hayley's eyes snapped open as she felt a pin prick on her hip. No, that was her butt!

"OW!" She shouted as she sat up, then clenched her sides.

Her chest yelled at her to obey and lay back again. She complied, yet kept her eyes open and peered around the room. Good... She wasn't in a hospital. She'd been in and out of it for days and heard someone's familiar voice along with one she didn't recognize. She looked toward the latter. An older man stood next to the bed she laid in, pulling a needle from her right buttock. Instinctively, she latched onto the covers and pulled them over herself as she scanned the man's face. His gray beard was long and full, but trimmed back neatly and he gently grinned down at her.

"Well, hello, ma'am. Welcome to the land of the livin'!" He appeared relieved and ecstatic at the same time. "Yesterdie we were considerin' takin' ya to the hospital if ya didn't show any progress today. But my dear, yer lookin' much better."

His drawl was just as thick as Chris', maybe even thicker, and she suddenly found herself wanting to see her. Hayley looked around the room for a moment, noting that Hazel sat nearby and must have been the familiar tones she heard, then grasped what she'd just been told. She whipped her head back around on the pillows and felt the horror covering her face.

"No! Please, no hospitals!"

"Shh, now." He told her with a pat on her arm like a doting grandparent. "Like I said, that won't be necess'ry. Ya just get some more rest now, ya hear?"

"Umm... Who...?"

"Ah, I'm doctor Fredricks. The Kilgore's family physician." He tipped his hat and turned towards the bedside table. She followed his gaze and saw several prescription medication bottles sitting next to a glass of water. "Keep takin' your medicine. Ya have an infection and it is a bad one at that. Now, Christine told me ya been workin' with the crops and pears and ya shouldn'ta done that, li'l missy."

He shook his finger at her and suddenly she felt like she was being scolded by her grandfather. He was one of the few people in her family she loved to be around and she welcomed his delicate chastising with open arms. Hayley missed her grandfather more than she'd known.

"Those signs ya ignored? Don't do it again, ya hear?" Hayley nodded her compliance. "That's yer body's way o' tellin' ya yer pushin' too hard. Listen to 'em and no more pesticides. You have walkin' pneumonia which wouldn't have gotten worse like it has if you'da just let yourself rest some. And if ya hadn't helped out with that there harvest. That's what really did ya in." He gathered his things as he finished talking and slung his bag over his shoulder. "Take care o' yourself, Ms. Locklear. Have Christine call me if ya need anythin' at all, m'kay?"

"Thank you." Hayley told him as he nodded towards Hazel, then went to the door.

With one more gentleman's gesture at her, he left the room. Hayley struggled to sit up now that her adrenaline had calmed and felt every inch of her body caked in sweat. It felt disgusting and she immediately wanted to shower. Just how long had she been in that bed?

She pulled back the covers, suddenly aware of the overwhelming need to relieve herself and felt a hand on her shoulder. Hazel stood beside her with tired eyes. The bags under them were dark and pooched out like she hadn't gotten any good sleep for days. The feeling of burdening others crept up Hayley's back and she hung her head in defeat.

"How long--"

"Three days." Hazel yawned and lifted a large bowl from the window sill behind the bed. She sat down and shrugged towards Hayley. "I'll help you wash up again."

"Umm... No. I think I may need more than--"

"Don't argue, lady. Just take off the shirt and let me help." Hazel's words left no room for arguments, but something struck her as peculiar.