Page 4 of Ride With Me
“Mr. Wilder, this is Danielle at University of Colorado Hospital. I’m a nurse taking care of Thomas Wilder. I have you listed as his next of kin.”
I sat straight up in bed at the mention of my father. “My dad? Is he okay?” Fuck, this was not how I wanted to start the day. The last time I’d talked to my father, we hadn’t left things so well. And that was putting it mildly.
I grew up on a ranch—Wild Horse—that my parents owned, just southeast of Denver. After my mom passed away when I was 13, it was just me and my dad. My father had always assumed, without discussing it, that I would join him in running the ranch when I finished college, then eventually take over one day. Keep Wild Horse in the Wilder family.
When I decided to go to law school after graduating from University of Denver, my father hadn’t been able to keep the disappointment off his face. I hadn’t been back to the ranch in almost 4 years.
Danielle was still talking on the other end of the phone. “Your father was admitted to the hospital last night. One of the gentlemen that works with him brought him in. He had a stroke.”
“What?” I was fully awake now, running on adrenaline. I pulled on jeans as I spoke, balancing the phone between my jaw and shoulder. “Is he—how is he?”
“He’s stable for now, but he’ll need to be in the hospital for a while, and likely rehab afterward. The gentleman who brought him in said that we should call you, though. He seemed concerned about the running of a ranch, said you would be the one to contact. A Mr. Jennings, I believe.”
Craig Jennings was my dad’s ranch foreman. He was at least my dad’s age—if not older—and he’d been a permanent figure in my life growing up, practically a second dad. And unlike my real dad, Craig had actually seemed proud when I graduated from law school.
“I’m on my way. Where is he?” I grabbed a scrap of paper to jot down details as she rattled them off. The past didn’t matter right now. My dad needed me.
I swung my SUV into the driveway next to the hospital entrance. I practically tossed my keys at the startled valet, then strode through the revolving doors and into the lobby, still carrying my jacket in my hands. When I’d rushed out of the house, I’d tossed it on the passenger seat, but hadn’t even had time to put it on.
I ignored the other people in the lobby, honing in on the elevator in front of me as I walked quickly. The doors slid open almost as soon as I hit the button to call the elevator.
I stepped inside, stabbing at the button for the seventh floor. The tap-tap-tap of a foot on the floor had me looking around the empty elevator before I realized it was me. I forced my foot to still just as the elevator let out adingand the doors slid open.
I was at the nurses’ station in five strides. “Hello, I’m here to see Thomas Wilder. Room 704.”
The secretary nodded and buzzed me in, gesturing to the right. I followed the numbers on the doors. 702, 703… 704. The door was open just a crack. I pushed gently on it.
“Dad?”
No response.
I peered around a curtain as I stepped into the room. There was my dad, sleeping on a hospital bed. He looked smaller than I’d ever seen him. The old rancher had once seemed unbreakable.
I stood there silently, fighting the lump that formed in my throat. Several minutes passed, or maybe just seconds that dragged on forever.
Someone entered the room behind me and flipped on a light. “Good morning, Sunshine! I’m Karla, your nurse today. How are you feeling, Mr. Wilder? I see you have a visitor!” She addressed my dad before she turned to me. “Good morning, Sir. Are you Mr. Wilder’s family?”
I swallowed against the lump that was still there, willing myself to be strong. “I’m his son. Logan Wilder. How is he?”
“He’s stable. His friend brought him in quickly, so we were able to give him medicines to dissolve the clot in his brain. The faster we’re able to do that, the better his chances of recovering. For the next couple days, we’ll keep a close eye on his vital signs and his neurologic function, and then he’ll have an MRI early next week.”
I nodded, trying to keep the information straight in my head. “So how long do you think he’ll be in the hospital?”
“I’d guess at least a week or two. He’s likely to have some difficulty with walking or talking. Most folks this age who have a stroke need to go to a rehab hospital for several weeks after they’re discharged from here, too. Does he have other family besides you?”
I shook my head. It was just the two of us. That’s why my dad had taken it so hard when I told him I didn’t want to take over the ranch.
The ranch. Who was going to run it while Dad was in the hospital? I looked at my phone as the nurse wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my dad’s arm. I scrolled through my contacts to Craig’s numbers.
The call went to voicemail.
Crap. I shoved the phone back in my pocket and looked at the nurse. “I think—I need to go see to his ranch. I’m not sure who’s there, who’s taking care of things, while he’s here. Will you have someone call me when he wakes up?”
4
Logan
IfrownedasIdrove down the dirt driveway to the ranch, wincing as I hit another deep pothole. My BMW SUV did well in snow—I lived in Denver, after all—but it wasn’t meant for terrain like this. I glanced over the fields as I navigated around a pile of hay. Except for some paint that was peeling a bit more and a fence that had been repaired, four years ago might as well have been yesterday. The ranch was almost identical to the last time I’d seen it.
