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He drew in a breath. “It was an eighty-pound mutt that doesn’t belong in a hospital.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Riley’s eyes filled with tears. “We had a dog. A small Yorkie. She died a few months ago. I know Kalinda misses her terribly. I remember reading something about hospitals using therapy dogs. Do you think that would help?”
She was a mother who loved her child and would do anything to help her. To keep her from suffering. Simon had seen it hundreds of times. The greatness of a parent’s love never ceased to amaze him. Perhaps because he hadn’t experienced it himself.
Simon would rather eat glass than have a filthy animal in his burn unit, but he also understood that the healing powers of the human body could be triggered by unexpected sources. If Kalinda was to survive, she would need something close to a miracle.
“I’ll see what I can find out,” he said, and turned toward his patient’s room.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Riley said, smiling bravely through her tears. “You’ve been amazing.”
He’d done very little. Surgery was a learned skill. The gift he brought to those skills came at a price, but one he was willing to pay. He lived for his patients, to heal them as much as humanly possible and then move on. To the next tragedy. The next child whose life had changed in a single flash and the lick of a flame.
“YOU’RE NOT GOING TO PRISON,” Max Thurman said firmly.
“I should. He was right. What happened was criminal.”
Montana had had nearly an hour to beat herself up and she’d made use of every second. Her bravado when facing the angry doctor had faded and now she was left with little more than a sense of having messed up in the worst way possible.
“Dramatic much?” Max asked, his dark eyes bright with amusement. “You’re taking this way too seriously.”
“Fluffy was loose in a hospital. She ran around, knocked over a couple of carts, then got into the burn ward.”
“I’m not saying we want wild animals running through a sterile facility, but it was an accident and, according to the hospital administrator, no damage was done. You need a little perspective.”
They were in Max’s office, a bright room at the back of his house. The kennels were on his property, as was the training facility. Montana wasn’t a very good judge of how much land made up an acre, but she would guess Max owned more than a few of them. She knew she had to drive a good three minutes from the road to even get to the house. Which could be challenging in winter.
“If you’d seen that doctor …” she murmured, remembering his coldness most of all. “He was beyond furious.”
“So, apologize.”
“To him?” She never wanted to see him again. That would really work best for her. “Or you could call back the administrator and tell her I’m really sorry.”
Max’s blue eyes crinkled with amusement. “Very mature.”
“You know her.”
“So do you.”
“She likes you.” Every time they’d had a meeting, the administrator had been unable to keep from staring at Max.
Montana thought he was pretty nice looking, although a little, well, old. He had steel-gray hair, rugged features and piercing blue eyes. He was tall and rangy. He looked like the kind of man who could take care of himself in any situation. Although nearly sixty, Max looked and acted much younger.
“If you’re that concerned, you should call her yourself,” he told Montana. “She understands it was an accident.”
“Dr. Stick-Up-the-Butt didn’t,” she muttered, but without a lot of energy. Max was right. Montana should be the one to call. “I’m going to work with the dogs while I gather my courage,” she told him and left the office.
Once she was outside, she crossed the large expanse of thick, green lawn. To the east, she could see the mountains rising high against the blue sky.
Max’s property was nestled in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada at the edge of the town of Fool’s Gold. South of Reno, east of Sacramento, the area was beautiful, with wineries, a large lake in the center of town and winter skiing only a few miles up the road.
Montana loved her town and she loved her job. She didn’t want to lose either. Not that anyone could take the town away from her, but still … She was feeling a little vulnerable. Despite Max’s support, she worried about what Fluffy had done. What she’d allowed to happen.
She walked around to the large play area where, during the day, the therapy dogs ran free, playing or sleeping in the sun. Several of them hurried up to greet her as she let herself inside the gate. She gave pats and hugs, then looked into Fluffy’s happy brown eyes.
“Max was right,” she told the dog. “You’re not therapy material.”
Fluffy wagged her tail.
“We’ll find you a nice home with kids. You’ll like kids. They have as much energy as you.”
She had more to say. She wanted to explain that none of this was the dog’s fault. That sometimes you had to try something before you could figure out you weren’t very good at it. But before she could get started, she heard a car pull up. She walked around to the other side of the play area and was surprised to see the town’s mayor climbing out of her car.
Marsha Tilson had been mayor of Fool’s Gold longer than Montana had been alive. She was a warm, caring person who had given up much of her life to serve the town.
“I was hoping to find you here,” the mayor called when she spotted Montana. “Do you have a minute?”
“Sure.”
Montana let herself out of the play yard and walked toward the mayor. The older woman was elegantly dressed in a suit and pearls. Her white hair remained perfectly in place, despite the light breeze. By contrast, Montana felt a little scruffy. Her sundress had been old last year and she’d slipped off her sandals as soon as she’d gotten in her car. Red marks from her new sandals dotted her feet, and a few puffy areas promised to turn into blisters later.
“There’s a conference room in the kennel,” she said. “Is that all right? Or do you want to go up to Max’s house?”
“The conference room is fine.”
Mayor Marsha followed her along the path, then into the large building. There was an office, a small bathroom, the conference room, a kitchenette, then wide doors led to the kennel area.
“Something to drink?” Montana asked when they’d entered the conference area. The oval table could seat twelve, although they rarely had that many people out for a meeting. “We have soda, or I could make coffee.”
“I’m fine.”
Marsha waited until Montana had pulled out a chair before taking the one across from her.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” the older woman began.
“To sell me raffle tickets?”
Marsha smiled. “I need your help on a special project.”
Montana’s first instinct was to bolt. A few months earlier, Mayor Marsha had asked Montana’s sister Dakota to help on a special project. Dakota had ended up working on a reality show as the liaison between the town and the producer. The good news was Dakota had met the love of her life, gotten pregnant, engaged and had adopted a beautiful baby girl. It had been a busy time.
But even if the idea of another special project made Montana nervous, running wasn’t an option. She was a Hendrix and a member of one of the founding families of the town. Not exactly as thrilling as being a member of the Daughters of the Revolution, but history was important.
“How can I help?” Montana asked, knowing she was making her mother proud.
Marsha leaned toward her. “There’s a doctor visiting town. A gifted surgeon. He’s brilliant, a little difficult, but what he can do for people…. Simon Bradley specializes in patients who have been burned. He also performs regular plastic surgery. We have him here for nearly three months. That’s what he does—goes from place to place performing miracles, then moving on. I want him to stay. He would be a wonderful asset for the town.”
Montana frowned. “He sounds really great, but what can I do to help?” She was assuming Marsha didn’t want her to set herself on fire to get close to the good doctor. No doubt he was the type who would—
She instinctively started to stand, then forced herself to remain sitting. The room suddenly seemed a little stuffy. She wanted to say it wasn’t possible, that no one’s luck was that bad. But she knew differently.
“You, ah, said he’s new in town?” she asked.
“Yes. He’s been here about a week.”
Montana swallowed. “Have you met him?”
“Yes. As I said, he’s not the most talkative of men, but he has a gift.”
“Does he also have a scar on his face? Just on one side?”
“Oh. You know him.”
“Not exactly. I had a run-in with him earlier. Literally.”
Montana explained what had happened. Instead of looking shocked, Mayor Marsha started laughing.
“I wish I’d been there,” she admitted with a chuckle.
“Only if you’d taken my place.” Montana sighed. “As much as I’d love to help, you can see why I’m the wrong person.”
Marsha’s humor faded. “Not really.” She leaned forward. “You are absolutely the best person I can think of.”
Montana nearly fell off her chair. “Why?”
“I have a feeling in my gut. I can’t explain it better than that. I’ve met Dr. Bradley and there’s something about him.”
“A stick up his butt,” Montana muttered under her breath. “He’s already mad at me. Don’t you want someone without such an unfortunate history?”
“I want you. Just be your normal, charming self. Befriend him. Show him around, maybe take him to meet your family. That sort of thing. Help him to see that Fool’s Gold is a wonderful place to live.” The mayor straightened. “I need you, Montana, and so does the town.”
Montana wanted to offer more reasons why this was a mistake but the mayor had already said the magic words. Giving back was part of Fool’s Gold’s culture. When asked, the good citizens said yes. Even if they really, really didn’t want to.
“I’ll talk to him,” Montana promised. “But if he still hates my guts, you’ll have to find someone else.”
She couldn’t imagine any circumstances under which Dr. Simon Bradley would want to spend time with her, which made her acceptance slightly less meaningful.
“Agreed,” the mayor said, coming to her feet. “If the good doctor refuses to have anything to do with you, I’ll find someone else.”
Montana stood as well. They walked toward the door.
“I’m glad you’re growing your hair out,” Mayor Marsha told her. “It makes it so much easier to know which triplet is which. I don’t have any trouble telling you three apart, but I’ve had complaints.”
Montana laughed as she fingered the hair that had grown down to the middle of her back. “Seriously? People have complained?”
“You have no idea what I deal with on a daily basis.”
Montana led her outside. “Last year my hair was dark. That should have helped.”
“It did, although I prefer your natural blond color.” As the mayor spoke, she eyed Montana speculatively. “I wonder if Simon likes blondes.”
Montana held up both hands. “How far exactly am I supposed to go to convince him to stay in town?”
The mayor laughed again. “You don’t have to sacrifice your virtue, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Virtue as in … virtue? That ship had sailed several years ago but she wasn’t going to discuss that with someone old enough to be her grandmother.
“I’ll do my best,” she said instead.
“That’s all anyone can ask for.”
After the mayor left, Montana returned to the play area and worked with the dogs. Max was a big believer in constant reinforcement. Therapy dogs were expected to be well behaved and well trained. She worked with those dogs still in training twice a day and ran the more experienced members of the team through different sequences a few times a week.
Working with the dogs meant not having to think about the mayor’s extraordinary request. Montana knew she would have to do her best but had exactly no idea of where to start. Apologizing to the man in question was probably a good place.
At noon, she went into the house to tell Max she was heading into town for lunch and would be back in an hour. Her boss grinned when he saw her.
“Guess who called,” he said.
“Publishers Clearing House? I’ve won twenty million dollars?”
Max laughed. “Not exactly. Dr. Simon Bradley phoned. He would like to come by this afternoon.”
Montana’s appetite vanished and she had to resist the urge to whimper. “Why?”
“He wants to talk to you.”
“Talk or throw rocks at me?”
“He said talk. Maybe he wasn’t as pissed as you thought.”
Oh, he’d been plenty pissed, Montana thought as she walked to her car. The question was what he was going to do to her as punishment.
CHAPTER TWO
MONTANA SPENT THE NEXT COUPLE of hours trying not to go crazy. Although Dr. Bradley had threatened to visit, he hadn’t said when that would happen, leaving her to constantly check the long driveway leading to the house and kennels. Knowing she wasn’t at her mental best while she waited, she decided to clean out the outdoor runs.
The interior of the building had large individual kennels with raised platforms and size-appropriate beds. The space was kept heated in winter and air-conditioned in summer. Skylights and windows filled the cavernous room with light. Although several of the dogs had learned how to unfasten the simple latch on their kennels, they stayed where they were supposed to. Each dog had his or her own toys, water and a door leading to an outside area.
Pads of cement were enclosed by chain-link fencing. During the day, the dogs were either working or together in a common area. The pads were rarely used, but still got dusty. A brief rain shower the previous night had left them muddy.
Montana kicked off her sandals, stepped into a pair of rubber boots and grabbed the hose. She started spraying down the cement, reminding herself as she worked that her conversation with Dr. Bradley was going to be a great learning opportunity. With her personality, her default position was to feel guilty and act like a doormat, something she didn’t want to do anymore. So this time she would be strong.
Yes, it was unfortunate that Fluffy had escaped into the hospital. It was a mistake. Neither Montana nor the dog was mean or evil. As far as Montana knew, there hadn’t been any lasting damage, so Dr. Stick-Up-the-Butt was just going to have to get over it. If he thought he could come over and intimidate her, he was wrong. Well, mostly wrong.
By three she’d finished with the outdoor runs and had managed to work herself up into a frenzy of righteous indignation. Just because someone was a doctor didn’t give him the right to make people feel bad about themselves. She wouldn’t stand for it, and as soon as he got here she was going to tell him that.
She stomped over to the main faucet and turned off the water. Her feet were hot inside the rubber boots, but she still had to coil the hose before she could slip them off. She would take a few minutes, tidy herself and then—
