Montana SEAL (Brotherhood Protectors #1)(8)

“That bad?”

“Yeah, it seems the shot hit the rotator cuff and shattered the bone.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Allie touched her arm. “I’m glad the bullet didn’t kill him. We can deal with a bum arm.”

Sadie wished she could have done more to protect Mr. Patterson from the shots fired. But she couldn’t have known someone would target that intersection on that day. “Agreed. Rather have him around than not.”

“I’m going to the cafeteria for more stump water,” Allie said. “I think I’ll need it, if he’s this cantankerous the rest of the afternoon. Can I bring you anything?”

“No, thank you.” Girding her loins, Sadie pushed through the swinging door, the scent of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant filling her nostrils.

Mr. Patterson sat up in bed, half of his hospital gown worn on one arm, the other half draped over his chest, exposing the swath of bandages covering his right shoulder. He was frowning, fumbling with the controls for the bed, punching the button that raised his feet. “Damned bed has a mind of its own.” He hit another button and the other end of the bed lowered. “Goddamn it!”

“Mr. Patterson?” Sadie called out softly.

He glanced up, his frown deepening. “I hope you have news about that son of a bitch who shot me.”

“Sorry, but I don’t.”

“Then why the hell did you come all the way to Bozeman?”

She fought the grin teasing the corners of her mouth. The man had the personality of an angry badger even back when Sadie had been a teen, hanging out at the barn, waiting for Hank to finish his chores. Time and age hadn’t softened his edges one bit. If anything, they were even sharper.

“I came to see how you were feeling,” she said.

“How do you think I’m feeling?” he groused. “Got hay to stack in the barn, the first snow is right around the corner and I can’t use my arm. The doc says I might not get full use of it…ever.” Lloyd laid his hand over the bandages and winced. “What’s he know anyway? He’s young enough to be my son. I’ll get a second opinion before I accept that quack’s sentence.”

“I’m sorry about your arm, Mr. Patterson.” Though she was quite grown up, Sadie couldn’t bring herself to call the man by his given name. As Hank’s father, he would always be Mr. Patterson to her. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

The grouch glanced down at the controls again and punched a button. Once again, the foot of the bed rose, tipping him backward. “You can get me the hell out of here before this bed kills me.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s not up to me. Allie and the doctor will have to spring you.” Sadie closed the distance between her and the bed and took the controls from him. “What is it you’re trying to do?”

“I want to sit up, not put my feet over my confounded head.”

Sadie studied the directions and pressed the button to lower his feet, and another that raised his head. “Better?”

“A little higher,” he muttered.

She pressed again and the head of the bed rose a little higher.

“There,” he said.

Sadie handed him the control and pointed to one of the buttons. “When you get tired, press that one, and the head of the bed will go down.” She fussed with the sheet and blanket, pulling them up around his chest. The air was cool in the room and his skin was puckered with gooseflesh.

“I can do that,” he said, brushing her away. “I still have one good arm.”

“Yes, sir.” She set her purse on a chair, reached for the plastic pitcher of water, filled his cup and set it within his reach on the bedside table.

“What are you still doing here?”

“I thought I might visit with you for a while. I’m sure you must be bored out of your mind, lying in bed when you’re used to being out working from dawn to dusk.”

“You got that right. But I don’t need some Hollywood actress to entertain me.”

She nodded. “I’m not here as an entertainer. Just here as a friend.” Sadie sat in the chair beside the bed and pulled a magazine about ranching out of her purse. She’d borrowed it from her brother’s stack of reading material. The man tried to keep up with the cattle industry and best practices for raising livestock and the crops to feed them. “You don’t mind if I read out loud, do you?”

“I’d rather you left me alone so I can get some rest. When the doctor comes in, I’m going to demand that he release me.”

Sadie didn’t mention anything about the possibility of his staying longer or that he might be undergoing surgery. Allie could tackle that with her father. She had more practice. In the meantime, Sadie opened the magazine and read aloud about the latest in organic fungicide to battle such diseases as leaf spot, mildew and black patch in alfalfa. She went on to the next article about symptoms, diagnosis and treatment of corneal ulcers in horses. The next article was a personal account of a North Dakota rancher’s encounter with a bear in his barnyard.

Mr. Patterson had stopped complaining and grown quiet.

Sadie glanced up.

Hank’s father leaned back in the bed, his eyes closed. When he wasn’t frowning, he reminded her of Hank so much her heart squeezed tightly in her chest. What would it have been like if she’d stayed here, married Hank and lived on the Bear Creek Ranch? They’d have had a kid or two by now. She’d always imagined them growing old together. A sharp pang of regret hit her hard, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. No use crying over choices made. She had her life. Hank had his. They didn’t fit in each other’s worlds anymore.