Shelter Mountain (Virgin River #2)(95)

“I can check that out,” Mike said. “I’ll make it a quick trip, see if I can find out anything. How’s that?”

“Good,” Preacher said. “Thanks.”

“I’ll wear a gun around the bar,” Rick said. When all three men swiveled their heads toward him, frowning, he said, “What? I’m licensed to carry! Why wouldn’t I get in this?”

“No,” Jack said.

“You’ll be sorry when I’m caught without a gun.”

“Nothing like that’s going to happen,” Mike said calmly. “He’s not going to storm the bar and get himself shot. If he does anything, he’s probably going to call Paige, try to convince her he’s a changed man, see if he can work a deal with her to get that order of protection lifted, maybe take a new look at custody. His type is manipulative.”

“He attacked her once,” Preacher said. “Right here, in the street.”

“So, defense makes sense. And watching him makes sense. But remember, that was before he was risking a long-term prison sentence. He’s a badass, but he’s a smart, manipulative badass. Let’s see if he went home….”

“The house is gone,” Preacher said. “Sold.”

“Well, Jesus, finding him could be a challenge. But anybody can be found.”

“Preach,” Jack said. “Go to Paige. Tell her we’re on board. We’ll do everything we can to keep her and Chris safe. Best-case scenario, we get the message he’s doing his chores in L.A., trying to get his life back, and we can move on. But we don’t quit early, huh? Tell her that. We don’t quit early.”

“Yeah,” Preacher said. “Yeah.”

Getting used to seeing Jack wearing a gun behind the bar was not easy for Mel. She had adjusted to the fact that everyone in Virgin River owned guns, out of necessity. They had livestock issues, wildlife concerns. Those guns in the racks of pickup trucks were loaded; children were educated in gun safety early. But where she’d come from in L.A., people with guns were either law enforcement or dangerous.

Paige was understandably upset when she’d learned her ex-husband was released from jail, but a week later and a phone call from Mike in L.A. saying Wes seemed to be making his probation and community service arrangements put her more at ease. It gave her hope that maybe all this precaution could be just an exercise.

In the meantime, Mel’s baby was lowering and her back was aching. She was a small woman for such a load, and the pressure could be intense. The back pain came and went for a few days. Sometimes if she took a break and lay down for a while, it would go away. She knew she was getting close.

“You’re starting to look like you should stop working,” Doc said.

“I’m starting to look like I’m going to give birth to a whole football team,” she returned. “What am I going to do with myself if I don’t come into work? Sit out at the cabin all day and watch fuzzy TV?”

“Rest up,” he said. “You’re going to wish you had.”

“You know, I’m only wishing for one thing right now. My mouth waters at the thought of that stupid epidural….”

“How about a little gin? After you wax me, you can go home and take a nap.”

“Sounds good to me.” She got out the cards, but before they could deal, a patient came in. Doc stood up to see who had come in the front door, Mel behind him.

Carrie Bristol had her hand under the elbow of her thirteen-year-old daughter, Jodie, while Jodie was gripping her tummy. “Bad tummyache,” Carrie said.

“Let’s have a look,” Doc invited, preceding them down the hall and standing aside so they could enter the exam room ahead of him. A few minutes later, he called Mel to the exam room. “I have a possible positive appy,” he said, meaning inflamed appendix.

“Ew,” Mel said. She went into the room and looked down at Jodie’s squinting eyes. “Bad, huh?”

“Fever, vomiting, pain,” Doc said.

“You tap the soles of her feet?” Mel asked. If that technique jarred the appendix painfully, it was a sign.

“Of course. Start an IV for me, will you? I think we’ll take her.”

“Do you have to operate?” Carrie asked. “How can you be sure?”

“You know what, we often aren’t,” Mel said. “In fact, surgeons remove a fair number of healthy appendixes simply because to err on the side of surgery is safer than to err on the side of a rupture. If there’s time at the hospital and her appendix isn’t too hot, they’ll do a few blood tests to see if her white count is elevated—that’s a sign it needs to come out. But Jodie’s symptoms are strong—it’s better to just hurry and go. Let the surgeon decide.”

Mel got out her IV setup and started a line. Before long they were ready to put her on the gurney.

“Want me to go?”

“Hell, no,” Doc said. “Carrie can ride in the back with her. I don’t need a delivery along the way.”

“We’d be going in the right direction,” Mel put in.

“Just close up the office, go home and take a nap.”

“Well, at least you’re not going in the back of a pickup. Take the Hummer,” she told him.

“Right. Let’s go. Carrie, you help me with the gurney. Melinda is ready to whelp.”