A Marriage In Wyoming. Lynnette Kent

the minister at Bisons Creek Church. My brother built the sign and I said I’d hang it.”

      “Oh.” Her glow of excitement seemed to dim. “Well...thank you for all your help.” She walked away, toward the front of the clinic. “I’ll let you get on with your day. I’m sure you have things to do.”

      Following, Garrett felt dismissed. “We do have a friend in common, though. Caroline Donnelly, who recommended you for the job, is my brother Ford’s fiancée.”

      In the waiting room, she faced him again. “You’re one of the Marshall brothers. Now I see.” She thawed slightly. “Caroline has talked a lot about all of you in her emails this summer. I understand you have a camp on your ranch for some of her at-risk kids.”

      “We do. And I should be getting back to them right now. I just wanted to be sure you had a sign to welcome you to town.”

      “I appreciate the effort. Really.” But her pretty face was empty of expression. The contagious enthusiasm of a few minutes before had vanished. She held the door open and actually waved him out. “Have a good one.”

      “You, too.” Garrett found himself on the porch, the door firmly shut behind him. Staring at the panel, he couldn’t figure out what the heck had happened, why Rachel Vale’s attitude had changed so fast—from friendly and outgoing to almost hostile. He didn’t remember anything he’d said or done that accounted for the difference.

      In fact, he’d been anticipating getting to know her better, maybe building up to the suggestion of a cup of coffee at the diner, or even some lunch. He’d been reflecting what a welcome addition to the Bisons Creek social scene she would be...

      Funny how the tone of the day could change so fast.

      After replacing his hammer and the package of nails in his toolbox, Garrett climbed behind the wheel of his truck, intending to head toward the Circle M Ranch, where he and his brothers lived and worked. But just as he put his hand on the key to start the engine, he heard a door slam. He glanced at the clinic to find Rachel Vale hurrying down the walk. She opened the back of her SUV and pulled out a large duffel bag, then came up to his truck.

      She opened the rear passenger door. “I just got a call from Caroline. There’s some kind of emergency at your place.” After slinging the duffel into the backseat, she climbed in the front. “We need to get out there right away.”

      “Welcome to Bisons Creek,” Garrett said, pulling out into street. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re here.”

      * * *

      “DID CAROLINE SAY what happened?” Garrett Marshall asked.

      “Only that one of the kids was very sick,” Rachel told him. “I didn’t get any other details.”

      After a short, mostly silent drive out of town, they turned in underneath the iron arch of the Circle M Ranch. Though her mind was preoccupied with the situation waiting for her, Rachel could appreciate the landscape of rolling, grassy plains and the big blue sky stretching overhead.

      “A beautiful setting,” she said. “You must be proud of your property.”

      “Not so much proud as grateful.” He smiled as he glanced over. “We feel pretty lucky to be able to take care of this parcel of land.”

      Even though he’d said he was a minister, he certainly looked the part of the traditional rancher—close-fitting jeans, a dark blue work shirt and the quintessential white Western hat. With medium brown hair in a conservative cut and those sharp blue eyes, he made a very attractive cowboy, for those who found the type appealing.

      Telling herself she wasn’t one of them, Rachel turned her gaze back to the view outside. “Has your family lived on the Circle M for generations?”

      “No, as a matter of fact. My brothers and I lost both our parents before I was twelve. My oldest brother, Wyatt, was hired on here by Henry MacPherson, the man who owned the Circle M at that time. Eventually Henry had us all move out from town to live with him. When he died, he left the ranch to us. The Marshall brothers are relatively new to the ranching business, all told.”

      She saw buildings in the distance—a timber-sided house and a big red barn on the hill above it. “Mr. MacPherson must have thought very highly of you.”

      “Well, Wyatt is a responsible and dedicated worker—Henry knew he’d do his best for the place. The rest of us help out as much as we can, given our other responsibilities. Especially this summer, because Wyatt got bucked off a horse and broke a couple of bones in his back, so he’s out of commission for the time being.”

      “That’s too bad. I hope he’s taking good care of himself.”

      They approached the sprawling, single-story house, where a group of teenagers had gathered on the porch, most of them staring at their phones. Garrett stopped the truck in front of the steps. Before he’d even shifted into park, Rachel swung out of her seat, pulled the duffel from the rear seat, then crossed to the door and knocked.

      Dark-haired Caroline Donnelly opened the screen door. “Oh, Rachel, I’m so glad you’re here. And so glad I could call you.” Behind her was a blond man who looked enough like Garrett that he had to be one of his brothers. Handsome evidently ran in the Marshall family.

      Rachel gave her friend a one-armed hug. “Me, too. What’s going on?”

      Across the room, a young girl lay bonelessly on the sofa.

      “We were doing rodeo practice on the bucking barrel. Lena said she wanted to ride and walked over...but then she just sort of staggered and fell down. We carried her in and called an ambulance. And you.”

      “Smart thinking.” Rachel knelt by the sofa. One deep breath of the fruity aroma surrounding the patient gave her all the information she needed. “Did she say anything?” From the front pocket of the duffel, she pulled out a glucometer to test Lena’s blood glucose level.

      “She was acting kinda crazy this morning.” A tanned, black-haired boy sat in a recliner nearby. “I said she shouldn’t ride, but she wouldn’t listen.” His dark eyes were wide with fear. “Is she okay?”

      Caroline came over and put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve got help now, Justino. Dr. Vale will know what to do.”

      “Did she eat breakfast?” Rachel asked. The blood-sugar result was high. And her blood pressure was low.

      Justino shook his head. “She’s been sick for a couple of days. Throwing up and stuff.”

      “Why didn’t she say something?” Garrett asked. “Why didn’t you?”

      Rachel cut in. “She’s quite slender. Has she always been thin?”

      “Yeah. But she said her jeans are getting loose, even though she’s been hungry a lot.”

      “And thirsty?” Rachel asked.

      “Oh, yeah. She drinks all the time.”

      Lena fluttered her eyelashes and moved her head slightly.

      “There you are,” Rachel said. “Hi, Lena, I’m Dr. Vale. How are you?”

      “So thirsty,” Lena whispered without opening her eyes. “So tired.”

      Turning again to her bag, Rachel began pulling out materials—an IV bag of saline and tubing, a syringe and a bottle of insulin. “Raise her legs,” she ordered over her shoulder. “Above her heart.”

      While the others bustled around to help her, she handed the IV bag to Justino. “Hold this up high.” After inserting the needle into Lena’s arm, Rachel attached the tubing and adjusted the flow. Then she drew up ten units of insulin and injected it into the IV. “You’ll start to feel better soon,” she told the girl. Lena didn’t answer.

      “That’s all I can do,” she said, getting to her feet. “She’s got to get to the hospital. How long ago did you