Free Western Man by Janet Dailey Page B

could advise them of the changed situation. Her mother answered on the fourth ring.
    After Sharon had informed her about Ridge’s condition and explained her subsequent decision totake care of him at the ranch when he stubbornly refused to stay in the hospital, there was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the line.
    “Under the circumstances, I don’t see what other decision you could have made,” her mother finally concluded with a trace of a sigh.
    “Ridge is certainly in no condition to take care of himself,” Sharon reaffirmed. Neither of them directly alluded to her past infatuation for Ridge, but it was behind every word that was spoken—a silent reminder to proceed with caution. “Would you pack me some clothes for the next few days?”
    “I’ll have Scott run them over to the ranch. He was planning to go to the hospital to see Ridge tonight anyway. Oh, I almost forgot,” her mother declared suddenly. “Andy Rivers phoned. I told him you’d be home later tonight. He’s going to call back. What do you want me to tell him?”
    Sharon hesitated. It was funny, but when she tried to conjure up an image of his face, it was all fuzzy and out of focus. Ridge’s overpowering personality was to blame for that. Friendship had been the mainstay of her relations with the young geologist—for both parties. But even that feeling had dimmed dangerously in the few short days dominated by Ridge or thoughts of him.
    “Have Andy call me here,” Sharon stated firmly, determined the Latigo Ranch wasn’t going to become a desert island with only herself and Ridge as occupants. Retaining contact with the outside world was essential. “Was there anything else?’
    After exchanging a few more words, Sharon rangoff. She had just begun investigating the contents of the kitchen cupboards to find something soft and easily digestible for Ridge to eat when there was a knock at the back door.
    An incoming ranch hand had noticed the car and came to inquire about Ridge’s condition, thinking that someone from the Powell family had been to the hospital to see him. After Sharon explained that Ridge had discharged himself from the hospital, the cowboy went in to see him.
    While he visited with Ridge, Sharon went back into the kitchen to prepare a meal. The cupboard had yielded a can of creamed split pea with ham soup and a jar of applesauce. Beyond that, she had to improvise. With a dish towel tied around her waist to protect her peach-colored dress, Sharon peeled potatoes to boil and mash and scrounged around to find some kind of tray to serve the meal on while the potatoes were cooking.
    The ranch hand was still in the room when Sharon carried in Ridge’s supper, using the top part of a TV tray she’d found tucked away in the pantry. From the little conversation she’d overheard before entering the room, she had the impression Ridge had been grilling the man on the amount of work that had been done the last two days. The cowboy seemed glad of her interruption and the excuse to leave.
    “I’ll tell Hobbs what you said. He’ll be gettin’ back with you,” the cowboy said as he backed out of the room.
    Sharon paused beside the bed with the tray in her hands.“How do you want to do this?” she asked. “Do you want to sit up and cushion the tray on your lap with a pillow? Or shall I feed you? I’ve had a lot of practice playing airplane with Tony. The spoon is the airplane and your mouth is the hangar it flies into.”
    “I’ll feed myself,” Ridge replied, unamused by her mocking suggestion.
    Flattening his hands on the mattress, he levered himself into a more upright sitting position. He went white with the effort, briefly baring his teeth against the ensuing pain before clamping his mouth tightly shut. Sharon pretended not to notice, aware he didn’t like the thought of anyone, especially a woman, seeing him so weak that he could barely sit up by himself. Neither would he welcome any show of sympathy, so she