He reached up to finger it and her scold stopped him. “Don’t touch it!”
“I pulled some glass from her paws,” he said, wanting the attention back on Grace. “But I think there’s more.”
He dropped to his knees beside the vet, wanting to get a closer look for himself. Strobe lights hung from the frame of the tent, creating too many shadows. Dr. Avelyn pulled on headgear and flipped on her own light. She grabbed a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and forceps, ready to get to work.
Creed lifted Grace up, cradling her back against his chest, his chin on the top of her head, making it easier for Dr. Avelyn to get at her paws.
“This might sting, Grace.”
“She has a freakishly high tolerance for pain,” he told the vet, watching as she removed small fragments of glass and debris. Every time she dropped one on the stainless steel tray Creed wanted to wince.
“She’s like her master.”
When Creed didn’t respond, Dr. Avelyn said, “I heard you might have a few busted ribs. If you want, I brought the portable X-ray machine. We can take a look.”
“Medics hog-tied me with ACE bandage. Would you do anything different if we found out the ribs were broken?”
“Not for a dog. I’m not sure for a person, but I’ll check. An X-ray could show whether a rib’s poking or threatening to poke something important. How’s your breathing?”
“Okay, I guess.” He nuzzled the top of Grace’s head. She was starting to get impatient with staying still. “Almost done, girl.” Then to Dr. Avelyn he said, “My head hurts. Maybe I broke something up there.”
He smiled but she shot him a concerned look, one that made him regret mentioning it.
“They checked you for a concussion, right?”
“I guess. I don’t know for sure. I don’t really remember much. I was out for quite a while afterwards.”
“Ryder! That’s like one of the top symptoms. Have you felt nauseated? How’s your vision?”
“Vision’s okay.”
“Do you remember what happened?”
“You mean being buried?”
She nodded. She was swabbing Grace’s paws now.
“Not all of it.”
“Did anyone clear you today before you went back out?”
“Nope.”
“How do you feel right now? Any dizziness? Ringing in the ears?”
“Ringing off and on. No more dizziness.”
“No more? That means you had some?”
“A little. Right now the headache feels like someone’s drumming a hammer into my head.”
“Some symptoms of a concussion can be delayed for hours. Even days. Sounds like you definitely had one. You might still have one.”
“Do you have something you can give me for the headache?”
“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate in answering. She finished with Grace, taking one last look. “No more work for you, Grace.” To Creed she said, “She needs to rest for at least twenty-four hours.”
“Absolutely.”
“And so should you,” she told him. Then she looked up over Creed’s shoulder at someone behind him and said, “I hope you don’t have any scorpions this time.”
Creed turned, surprised to find Maggie O’Dell.
41.
No scorpions,” O’Dell told Dr. Avelyn.
The vet was referring to the last time the two had seen each other. O’Dell had fallen into a pit filled with scorpions. The thought of it usually made her shudder, but right now her focus was on Ryder Creed.
She hated that her heart seemed to skip a couple of beats as soon as his eyes met hers. Creed’s clothes looked like he had rolled in the mud. His hair was slicked down. His face bruised and cut, jaw dark with stubble. But eyes bright and clear. The corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. Battered and dirty, the man still managed to look like the poster boy for GQ if they had an outdoorsman edition.
“What brings you down to this mess?” he asked.
“Official request.” And she left it at that. There was time later for business.
Both Dr. Avelyn and Creed stood up. He still had Grace in his arms. When the little dog recognized O’Dell she started to squirm. He tucked her more securely under his arm and took a couple of steps closer for Grace’s sake. Or at least, O’Dell thought it was for Grace’s sake.
She offered the dog her hand to sniff and lick, then she petted Grace’s head, careful so she didn’t brush Creed’s fingers.
Silly. Totally ridiculous. But she’d forgotten how powerful his presence was, and already she was annoyed that her pulse was racing and that she was avoiding his eyes.
“Did you and Grace find the lost woman?”
“Grace did. And we think Mrs. Hamlet will be okay. She’s dehydrated and worn out from being out in the elements for almost two days. Twisted her ankle. Otherwise she seemed okay.”
She felt his eyes run over the length of her. “Looks like you’ve been out all day, too?” he said.