Waiting For A Tango

By A. J. O'Dell

Tango, a man to be reckoned with in the arena and standing on a ladder, painting her house; tan sexy, naked to the waist. His was a charm that if you were dying of thirst you'd give him your last drink for the pure joy of just watching him swallow.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781597053419

Book preview

Dedication

I thank God for the chance to publish the book of my heart and next I thank my children who are my best fans.

Special thanks to Mary Anne and Jim for their editing help.

One

Dr. Kelly Mason frowned and shook her head as she looked first at the intern facing her, then at the dust-covered bull rider lying on the exam table in front of her.

Four cracked ribs, a sprained ankle and splinters every place your body hit the wood corral. Fun night at the rodeo?

The man moaning on the exam table in front of her couldn’t appreciate her sarcasm.

Mr. Delaney, could you turn on your side for me, please? We need one more X-ray of your ankle. Hmm, nice thighs. Nevermind, Kelly, he’s a bull rider. She put on her lead apron while the radiology technician shot his final X-ray. When he nodded that the films were okay, she threw the apron over the end of the table and smiled at her patient. All finished.

Being a trauma physician, Kelly never underestimated the damage a fifteen hundred-pound bull with a bad attitude could do to the human body. She’d been around rodeos too long.

Let’s move him over.

She and the flavor-of-the-month intern rolled the injured cowboy onto the side opposite his broken ribs.

This one nearly turned himself into road kill. She paused and looked at the shiny-faced intern. One thing you learn when you work the ER during Cheyenne Frontier Days, there’s never a dull moment and there’s always plenty of practice setting every bone imaginable. Bull Riders can manage to break just about every bone possible. They’re all good ole boys, but they don’t have the brains God gave a duck. She carefully straightened her patient’s ankle, and secured a small ice pack in place with an ace bandage.

Thanks for the vote of confidence. Now, when can my partners come in? Michael Delaney growled with pain through clenched teeth. He turned back over and looked up at her with eyes the color of a stormy sea, angry and wild. His was a thick head of chestnut colored hair that teased the edge of his furrowed brow. When he stared at her, he looked like a man who’d seen hurt beyond what his years told. No matter, treat ‘em and turf ‘em was her motto. Not out of meanness, but necessity.

Kelly felt a twinge of sympathy as she watched Delaney grimace with each movement. His fractured ribs had to be hurting with every movement, in spite of the shit-load of morphine Kelly had pumped into him.

Momentarily, they were alone in the exam room. Kelly saw him close his eyes. Working with trauma patients during the rodeo had hardened her over the past year. Rule number one: never let yourself care too much about reckless cowboys.

But she had to admit that even with half the dirt from the arena still caked on his face, this one’s looks had a way of grabbing a woman’s attention.

Kelly cocked her head to one side and allowed her eyes to wander over the man’s sun-bronzed chest, rubbed the color of bruised apples where the bull had grazed him with a lightning-quick hoof. Mentally, she tried to blame her lack of sleep for her fascination with the cowboy’s muscular body. Snap out of it, Kelly!

Mr. Delaney, I have to palpate your ribs to see—

Damn it! That smarts like a son of a bitch Dr. Jekyll, or maybe I should call you Mr. Hyde? he snarled. And while you’re mashin’ on my cracked ribs, you might just as well tape ‘em up tight enough for me to finish the next event!

Kelly scowled at Delaney, her seventh patient on a six-night stretch, feeling her empathy drift out the door like stale cigar smoke.

The only event you’re gonna enter tonight, my rowdy friend, is the Intensive Care waltz! And before you think of pulling this chest tube out, I will remind you that it is sutured in place. It’ll stay in your chest for a day or two, then I will take it out and turn you over to your red-necked friends—so you can drive to the next rodeo and ride yourself into the ground! For now, you’re going to have to take a deep breath and hold it.

Sliding the elastic binder carefully over his bruised ribs, she secured the Velcro straps under the chest tube while Delaney intermittently clenched his jaw and uttered profanities.

She made a mental note that his strong, well-defined chest muscles had recently been decorated with three fresh scars, still pink around the edges.

Kelly injected titrated doses of Morphine Sulfate into his intravenous line, trying to calm him. As she watched the man’s chest rise rhythmically, she was sadly reminded of another time and another place. A time when she had placed her hand for the last time on her husband’s chest—a chest that held no more breath.

A cold chill ran up her spine, sending shivers up both her arms. She rubbed her hands over the goosebumps and mentally shook it off. No time for ghosts now. If I start thinking about all the times I’ve sutured Charlie back together, I’ll never make it through the rest of this shift.

Damn! Why did I have to volunteer to work for Dr. Riley during Cheyenne Frontier Days?

When she gave it some thought, it was a no-brainer. Dr. Riley, the other half of the team of ER residents, had been brown-nosing the administrator all year. Everyone did his or her share of kissing the director’s ass, but Riley had it perfected to a fine art.

When Kelly was appointed to Chief Resident’s position, Riley had pouted like a five-year-old. Since that time, she’d had to cover three of his nights, plus her own shifts. It was only recently that she’d heard through the hospital grapevine that the rest of the staff had begged the director not to appoint Riley.

Kelly felt sorry for Riley and offered to split the extra on-call time with him to give him added income. That way she could get back into her photography and learn how to use her new Nikon.

God, I’m tired. Her mind was weary of the decisions, management problems, scheduling of conferences, tired of being dead on her feet. She placed more tape over the chest tube to secure it in place as the cowboy squirmed.

Take it easy, will ya? Delaney recoiled.

I’m sorry, she continued, but if you guys could think about what you’re doing to your bodies... Back in the arena, my ass, she grumbled.

Kelly. Sadie Brown, a large nurse with skin like polished ebony, touched her arm with one hand. Why don’t you let me transfer this patient to the unit? Your eyes look like two burnt holes in a blanket, and those dark circles... my, my, Sadie clucked. You’ve been dealing with too many drunks and banged-up cowboys. Go take a break, Honey. I swear, Girlfriend, you take better care of that pregnant mare of yours than your own self.

Sadie stood with her hands on her hips, like solid rock. She may have been raised in a backwoods Mississippi town, but she was wise. Sadie was a good trauma nurse and Kelly usually reaped the consequences when she failed to heed her suggestions.

Besides, this ‘ole boy’ ain’t going nowhere.  That morphine should be knocking his ass out colder than a mackerel any minute now, Sadie laughed with the bodice of her uniform rolling and dipping over her large melon-shaped breasts in waves.

See? She pointed to the cowboy’s half-opened eyes.

You’re right, but this one’s different. He’s liable to walk out of here or die trying. I’ve seen his kind. Kelly shrugged off her protective paper gown and discarded it in the trash. No offense, but I’d feel better if I took him to the intensive care unit myself. Kelly saw an argument coming. Then I’ll take my break, after I get him settled. Kelly gave a crooked smile and a quick Girl Scout salute. Promise.

You’d better get going then, ‘fore I tan your hide.

Okay. Kelly turned toward the battered cowboy’s gurney and noticed that the muscles around her patient’s eyes and mouth had relaxed. When she finished checking the x-rays for chest tube placement, she leaned over the cowboy to make sure the pleurovac, keeping his lung inflated, was secured to the gurney frame.

Okay. Let’s go.

But, Doc, this is so sudden. I usually don’t get intimate on the first date. Delaney teased.

In your dreams, Cowboy. You’re going to the unit and if I have to, I’ll restrain you. Is that clear?

Sorry to disappoint you, Dr. Jekyll, but like I told the ambulance driver, I paid my entry fees and I’m not going home ‘til the fat lady sings.

Overhearing his comment, Sadie growled, What’s that you say, white boy?

No offense, but I’m outta here. He made one last attempt to roll to a sitting position, then fell back, grimacing in pain.

Listen, Mr. Testosterone, I have a news flash for you. You nearly died out there tonight. Kelly secured a protective restraint over his waist.

I’ve nearly died a lot of nights, but tonight I scored damned high and I’ve got a good chance to place in the finals. Then, I’ve got a date in Las Vegas. World Champion bull rider, that’s me, Michael Delaney.

Delaney’s speech slurred as Kelly pushed two milligrams of sedative into his IV port. Nighty, night.

Michael Delaney... that’s me, Tango. His speech slurred as she and the intern pushed the cart into the hallway.

You know, Doc, I ain’t exactly a newcomer. Not to the rodeo circuit, I mean. I’ve competed from Texas to Canada. I’m good and I know it. He attempted a cock-eyed grin. You know what a money bull is, Dr. Jekyll?

Call me Dr. Jekyll one more time, cowboy, and I’ll place you on a seventy-two hour psychiatric hold!

Sadie rolled her eyes. Now the boy’s done it.

Michael Delaney’s mouth wasn’t ready to give up, in spite of his brain being disengaged and floating down the hall on a cloud of drug-induced euphoria.

Sorry, but seriously, Darlin’... I drew me a money bull tonight. So, if you’ll just take this here belt off me and let my buds drive me back to the arena, I’ll show you how to ride the hair off a big-ass bull.

Not if you die on the way, cowboy. Now lie quietly and let me do my job. Okay? She took a deep breath and rolled her head side to side, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand. Her energy was failing, she needed chocolate or coffee or... sleep.

As if in answer to prayer, his shoulders relaxed and a boyish grin came over his face. His eyes finally closed and thankfully, so did his mouth.

Kelly figured that when Michael Delaney wasn’t being a smart-ass, he was probably a fun guy—in an ornery sort of way.

While waiting for the elevator, she looked down at her patient. Being in his late thirties, she figured the poor fool had been kicked around by every bull this side of the Mississippi.

Poor, stupid cowboy.

Sadie walked up behind Kelly and affectionately rubbed her shoulders. He ain’t Charlie, Sadie’s voice was soft. And they don’t all die.

Mine did.

Kelly looked at her sleeping patient and gently smoothed the damp hair out of his eyes. It’s just hard treating all these young rowdies with their broken legs, torn muscles and separated shoulders. Reminds me too much of Charlie. I never should have worked rodeo week with this being so near the anniversary of Charlie’s death. She shoved her hands down in the deep pockets of her lab coat. Damn it.

Hang in there, girl. You only have to make it through tonight, then you’re on a long-overdue vacation.

Can’t happen soon enough for me. She patted the large black hands that rested on her shoulders. What would I do without you, Sadie?

Don’t mention it, girlfriend. You’re my favorite white girl.

Kelly smiled when she heard Sadie laugh.

Later, Sadie. Kelly followed the intern and cart, with her patient, into the elevator and gave Sadie a tired smile as the doors closed.

The elevator opened to a restricted access hall for the ICU.

The small, but well-equipped Willow Creek Medical Center functioned as overflow for the Cheyenne ER. When Cheyenne went on ‘divert,’ the less critical patients were transported to Willow Creek. If a trauma patient went sour, Willow Creek had the option of sending them back to Cheyenne or by Air Life to Denver Health Medical Center.

During her trauma residency at Denver Health, Kelly figured she’d seen everything from pediatric traumas to high-risk obstetric patients. Too bad she didn’t have a dollar for every crash C-section she’d done in the ER.

Let’s move him out, Dr. Bartoli. He’ll stay in the unit tonight and if he gives the nurses any trouble, they can hog-tie him! Dr. Jekyll, my ass— She grinned at the young intern.

Bartoli nodded, You got it. A full smile spread from his mouth up to his dark eyes. I’ll help you get him settled. His friends are waiting to talk to you in the visitor lounge. Bartoli motioned in the direction of a dimly lit room just off the main hall.

I figured as much—The Friendly Brotherhood of Bruises’—you have to have fifteen broken ribs to join."

Bartoli nodded in agreement.

They passed the visitor lounge where a group of cowboys, wearing worn, leather chaps paced the length of the room like caged animals. A young one sat at the far end of the old couch, nursing a cup of black coffee and looking lost. His hands were bandaged and dirty.

She paused momentarily. I’m Dr. Mason, Chief ER Resident. She smiled and shook hands with the oldest man in the group, the only one who approached her.

Montana Yates; my friends call me Tanner. This here’s Cody and Jack with Marty over yonder.

Kelly nodded.

Michael Delaney’s my best friend. Is he gonna make it, Doc? Tanner’s face looked like an old leather baseball glove that someone left out in the sun too long, but his pale blue eyes were as clear as a mountain lake. Is he?

Tanner’s worried expression made her think that she’d be wise to soften her response.

Yes, she said softly, now sorry for the comment she’d made to Bartoli. Yes, he’ll make it, but he’s badly injured. Badly injured... how many times that week had she told family members bad news?

Looking at Tanner’s face reminded her of all the times when she had waited in emergency rooms, wanting to hear good news.

You see, Mr. Delaney has three fractured ribs and one broken. The one that broke punctured his right lung. I inserted a chest tube, causing negative pressure to help the lung fill with oxygen again and stay expanded. As Kelly spoke, she could see Tanner’s face pale. Far too technical, she thought. Sorry, Tanner. Let me rephrase that. The chest tube serves to re-expand the lung, you know? Like a balloon? In a couple of days, we’ll be able to tell if the lung’s going to stay expanded. Mr. Delaney will have to remain in the ICU for tonight and maybe tomorrow as well. So, yes, barring all complications, he should survive, but he’s taken some bad blows to his head and chest. He also has a badly sprained left ankle. I put him in a walking boot.

But, he’ll make it? Tanner’s face lit up.

As I said, barring all complications, yes.

Damn! That’s good news. Dr. uh—

Mason. Kelly Mason.

Thanks from all of us. That old boy’s kinda special. Took us all in and gave us a home and jobs on his ranch in Montana.

She inched farther down the hall. I’d love to stay and hear this, but I think we’d better get Mr. Delaney settled. Then, you can finish your story. She pushed by them and rounded the corner through a large set of automatic glass doors. Kelly hoped Tanner didn’t take her seriously and think she was going to listen to rodeo talk for the rest of the night. She could barely keep her eyes open as it was.

The ICU was glassed on three sides with a full view of the Rocky Mountains on the west end, rolling hills and prairie to the east. In the mornings, the view was nothing less than spectacular with its clear blue skies and no smog. The only other view that beat it was the one from the hill overlooking her ranch.

They rolled the cart into a room that resembled a fish bowl, close to the nursing station. Kelly noticed the cowboy was drifting in and out of a sedated fog now.

What kind of a man would spend his life straddling a bull every chance he got despite the beating his body had taken? She never understood it with Charlie and didn’t now.

Watching Delaney breathe slow and deep made her feel like she’d done a good thing that night. There were other nights when she just couldn’t win.

Once, she’d infuriated the head of obstetrics by sending one of his hypochondriac patients home after undergoing what proved to be an uneventful pelvic exam, showing absolutely nothing. Kelly knew the rich biddy would report her to Dr. Becker for not admitting her overnight, but the hospital had packed its walls to capacity. Kelly had never practiced society medicine and damned sure didn’t plan to change.

Michael Delaney grimaced as they slid him onto his bed and placed the cardiac leads on his chest. The man scarcely looked like the type who would throw caution to the wind. No, not this one. This one seemed strong-spirited, yet intelligent with a spark of imagination.

As Bartoli and Kelly worked to get Delaney settled in his bed, Kelly thought about what the cowboy had said about his dream of being the world champion. Why was she so cynical? Had one year without Charlie drained all hope from her?

When Delaney was talking in the exam room, she had wanted to believe him. Right now, she wanted to believe in anything again—anything that would give her life back to her, minus the nightmares. She wanted to feel alive again.

Go on without me, Dr. Bartoli, and page me if we get any new patients, okay?

You got it. Bartoli pushed the empty gurney ahead of him, through the automatic door and down the hall.

Mentally, Kelly reeled in her thoughts and walked to the nurses’ desk. It was absent of light, except for the green glow of the cardiac monitor screens and one small lamp.

The rhythmic beeping of the monitors was the only sound that could be heard over the tapping of one nurse’s pen on the counter.

You gonna give me a report some time tonight? The tall, thin Amazon-like nurse, Edna Washington, rested her upper torso on her bent arms like a preying mantis, ready to devour her next live victim.

Edna had always made Kelly uncomfortable, but oddly enough she never heard complaints from the woman’s patients. Either they liked her, or they feared retaliation. The latter was more likely.

Sure, I was just thinking. She took a long look in the cowboy’s direction, then turned to face the Amazon.

"I would hope your brain is still functioning. After all, you’ve been on duty the whole week without a break. Anyone with a lick of sense would want to go home, wouldn’t they?"

Yes. As a matter of fact, I’m going to do just that when I get finished here.

Kelly suppressed her irritation and started her report.

The patient is Michael Delaney, a thirty-eight-year-old professional rodeo cowboy, who was trampled by a bull after the buzzer declared he’d won the first stage of the competition. He evidently got hung up on the rope and slid underneath the animal’s hooves. The rodeo clowns were quick to free him and pulled him to safety. She paused. That’s what his friends told us. Kelly pointed her pen toward the entryway to the unit, where five heads peered nervously through the glass.

Go on. Edna was feverishly copying down every word Kelly said on a yellow notepad, her nose practically touching the paper. She tried to focus through thick coke-bottle glasses that kept sliding down her nose comically. Edna, in turn, would then jab them back up over the bony bridge of her nose with a quick poke.

Slip—poke. Slip—poke. Slip—poke.

Kelly knew if she laughed now, it was all over. She stifled a giggle, and continued her report.

Four cracked ribs, stabilized—for the time being—with a rib belt. A chest tube to twenty centimeters of suction—to the pleurovac—and a slight basilar concussion. His pupils are equal and reacting to light. His pressures are here on the sheet and he has a badly sprained right ankle in an immobilizer boot. Other than that, he had a pretty good ride.

She could see by the nurse’s expression that her sarcasm was wasted.

Questions?

IV?

"Lactated Ringer’s Solution, one hundred milliliters per hour. It’s all on my order sheet. I’m on my pager. If there’s any change in his condition, page me stat. Understand?"

Edna’s eyebrows peaked over her long, horned beak. Page you—stat?

That’s what my orders say. Kelly turned and walked through the automatic doors in the direction of the waiting cowboys.

She took selfish pleasure in the silence that hung heavy in the nurse’s station after she walked away. The other nurses had overheard her last comment and were whispering between themselves.

Kelly smiled. It was none of Edna Washington’s business why she wanted to be paged. What was she supposed to tell her? That this patient was different? That she felt shivers of excitement when she looked at him. Like she’d understand? What the hell? She’d never cared for Edna and both of them knew it.

Some people can sure bring out the worst in people, Kelly grumbled.

The men stood aside to make room for Kelly to sit down. The looks on their faces were all too familiar. She didn’t dare think about her own past right now. Not if she wanted to make it through the rest of her shift. Yet, she could afford to stay for a few minutes. Then she’d excuse herself, clock out and head for home.

The man named Tanner pulled a chair close to her.

Ma’am, I’d like to... all of us want to thank you for what you did for our bud, Tango. He’s a good ‘ole boy from the word go. He never should’ve got hung up on that bull. He got talked into using my rope ‘cause I loaned his out. It’s my fault. Tanner’s eyes misted over and Kelly thought for a moment that she’d cry along with him.

It never should’ve happened. He wagged his head side to side.

They’re never supposed to get hung up under the bull, are they? She swallowed hard. But they do, don’t they?

Kelly took a detour in plans. She found she enjoyed hearing each contestant briefly tell of his victory. As each related their hard luck story, she thought of all she’d lost in the past year: her husband, their unborn child, and nearly her ER residency. She had never allowed herself to give up. And crying was for sissies. Her dad had said so... Bury it, hide it, Kelly, but don’t let ‘em see you cry.

Not wanting to be pitied, she’d gone back to work soon after Charlie’s death. She’d functioned mechanically, like some medical robot, until her director insisted that she seek counseling.

Tanner’s strong baritone voice broke into her thoughts. You gotta get back up and ride, you know?

Kelly nodded. Funny comment for him to make. Over the last year, Kelly’d decided that caring hurt too much. She’d made a promise to herself to never let anyone into her heart again.

I’m going to go now. I’m off duty. Kelly stifled a yawn. She managed to shake each cowboy’s hand. It was nice meeting all of you. Good luck and thanks for the great stories. I’ll check on Mr. Delaney once more before I go.

She glanced at her watch. More than an hour had passed since she’d given report. She checked her pager for messages. No pages.

All the ICU nurses were busy with other patients. Kelly went directly to his room. Only the lights from his monitor and a small panel next to his bed illuminated the room. Kelly ran her fingers along the foot of his bed and picked up his clipboard. Vital signs are in line.

Moving to his bedside, she warmed her stethoscope in her palms before laying it softly on his chest. Kelly moved it to each strategic point, listening to the quality of each respiration, careful to note any unusual rubs or signs that his lung wasn’t going to stay re-expanded. His chest rose slowly, steady and strong under