Trish Milburn - The Texan's Cowgirl Bride

She sat at the rest area making calls until she found not only an office open to take her call but one that could fit her in on Monday. Glad to have a plan of action, it still felt as if Monday were aeons away.

When she pulled up to the barn on the ranch a couple of hours later, her dad was sitting at the entrance in his wheelchair. As if she needed one more thing to worry about. What was he doing, tracking the GPS on her phone?

She forced herself not to wince or make any sounds signaling pain as she slipped out of the truck and approached him. “Hey, Dad. What are you doing out here?”

“Needed to get out of the house. I’m about to go stir crazy.”

That she could understand. If she had shattered bones that prevented her from working, from riding, from even getting around by herself, she’d go bonkers, too.

Savannah looked beyond her father to the interior of the barn and caught the look on her brother Jet’s face. Yeah, just as she thought. Her dad had directed that he be brought to the barn to make sure everything was exactly as he wanted it. She still wasn’t convinced he hadn’t known she would be appearing earlier than she’d mentioned and had set up camp to wait for her.

Choosing not to invite the conversation, she moved to the back of the trailer to let Bluebell out.

“Your brother can take care of that.”

She wanted to take her father up on the offer, but she refused to do anything that would show she was hurt worse than she’d indicated on the phone the night before. Or to give any clue that anything else was wrong.

“I’m good.” As if to negate her words, a sharp pain skewered her side as she opened the trailer. Thankfully, her back was to her father because this time she couldn’t prevent gritting her teeth.

Forcing her expression to relax, she guided Bluebell out of the trailer just as Julieta, her stepmother, pulled up in her SUV.

“You don’t look any worse for wear,” Julieta said as she got out of the vehicle, looking just as lovely in jeans and a casual pink blouse as she did when wearing her sharp business suits at the Baron Energies office. “To listen to your father last night, I expected you to be rolled home in a full body cast.”

Brock huffed. “You are exaggerating.”

Julieta lifted a dark brow at him. “I know what I heard.”

Savannah hid a smile. Julieta might be considerably younger than Brock, but she wasn’t only a pretty face. She could hold her own with her husband despite his tendency to be gruff and demanding. Brock acted put out with Julieta’s sass sometimes, but Savannah knew the truth was he admired it even if he never said so.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Julieta said to Savannah before turning toward her husband. “Now, you, in the car. Time for your follow-up appointment.”

“I’m fine.”

“Then this should go quickly.” Julieta wasn’t letting him talk his way out of going to the doctor as instructed.

Her father was still grumbling as Savannah led Bluebell into the barn. At least his imminent departure would give Savannah a reprieve, however brief, from the conversation about the store.

She ached, was bone tired from not sleeping well the night before, and her stomach was in knots and likely would be until she saw the doctor on Monday.

Jet reached for Bluebell’s reins. “I’ll take care of her.”

“I can do it.”

“You can also go home and get some rest. I know you’re hurting and were hiding it just now.”

Savannah let the facade drop away. “I do sort of feel as if I’ve been body slammed by King Kong.”

He nodded his head toward the barn’s entrance. “Go rest while you can.”

“Thanks.”

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find anything beyond the most superficial sleep for the rest of the weekend. By Monday morning, she felt dreadful, wrung out like a wet cloth. She was ready to cut the lump out of her breast herself just so she could get away from it.

By the time she was being led back to be examined by a doctor she’d never met, she felt as if she was going to hurl. It suddenly occurred to her that she needed to explain her injuries before a nurse or the doctor thought she had been beaten.

The nurse, a peppy young woman named Becky, led her to an examination room. “There’s a gown on the table. The doctor will be with you shortly.”

“By the way, I have some significant bruising, so tell the doctor not to be shocked. I was in a rodeo Friday night and took a nasty spill.”

A hint of suspicion flickered in the nurse’s eyes, and Savannah couldn’t blame her. She knew lots of women came in with injuries from domestic violence that they tried to pass off as something else.

“You can check with the hospital in Mineral Wells, and with anyone who was at the rodeo.”

Becky finally nodded and headed out of the room.

One of the worst things in the world was sitting in a hospital gown in a chilly room waiting forever for a doctor to make an appearance. If she hadn’t been so incredibly anxious, she would have brought a book to read.

She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but her anxiety level increased after the doctor came in and started her examination. When she finished, Dr. Fisher sat on a rolling stool in front of a laptop and started asking a battery of questions.

“Do you do regular breast self-exams?”

“Have you ever had a mammogram?”

“Is this the first time you’ve found a lump?”

Savannah answered all the questions, wishing the doctor would instead just tell her it was nothing to worry about.

“Do you have a family history of breast cancer?”

Savannah opened her mouth to answer as she had with all the other questions, but nothing came out.

“Miss Baron?”

“I don’t know. Not that I’m aware of.”

“If possible, check with your parents.”

That was going to be difficult since she had no desire to talk to her father about the lump, not when he’d overreacted about her falling off a horse. Oh, and the fact that she had no idea where her mother was, or if she was even alive, would make it difficult to ask her.

She fell so deep into her thoughts of her mother that she nearly missed what the doctor said next—that Savannah was being sent for a mammogram. Not next week, not the next day, but in a few minutes. That wasn’t good, was it? They always made you wait for these things, making you live in a perpetual state of freaking out until the test was done and results received.

As she maneuvered the hallways of the clinic to the mammography area, she felt as if she were trudging through a dense fog that slowed her thoughts while making it seem as if they were racing at the same time. A part of her buried deep inside wished she had her mother beside her, holding her hand. But that wasn’t possible. Delia Baron had abandoned her and her siblings, walked away from them and their dad as if they meant nothing.

Savannah pushed thoughts of her mother away. She’d stopped trying to figure out the why behind her mother leaving a long time ago. After all, she couldn’t think of a single reason that wasn’t at its core purely selfish. Add in the fact that her father refused to even speak Delia’s name, and gradually she just stopped coming up in conversation anymore. Honestly, until Lizzie had gotten pregnant and started worrying about not being a good mother, it had been a while since Savannah had even spared her mom a thought.

But now, as she endured the boob smashing that every woman dreaded, she couldn’t help but think about the mystery of her family medical history on her mother’s side. As she left the clinic half an hour later with assurances that she’d be contacted as soon as the test results were available, she couldn’t stop wondering about her mother. Where was she? Was there a history of breast cancer in her family? Had her mother ever found a lump?