For a moment, Dusty flashed back seventeen years, to the day their father had told them about their mother’s terminal condition. Sam had grabbed her small hand and rubbed her palm with his thumb, like he was doing now. His thumb was callused now. She swallowed hard.
“Is it the money?” Sam said. “Because if it is, stop worrying about it. That old ranch isn’t worth it. We’ll be fine.”
Dusty swallowed. The time had come to tell him. “The ranch may not be worth it, Sam. But my life is. The hospital called yesterday. My white cell count is up.”
Chapter Ten
“God, Sis, I’m so sorry.” Sam’s grip on her hand tightened.
“They want me back in three weeks for a recheck.”
“That’s good.”
Dusty let out a breathy scoff. “How exactly is that good?”
“If they were overly concerned, they’d get you back in right away.” Sam loosened his grip, but tension shone on his face. “It could be something as harmless as your immune system fighting off a cold.”
“Yeah, that’s what they said.”
“So we’ll think positive until we know more.”
“Easy for you to say.” Dusty sighed. “So close to my five-year mark, and now this.” The trickle of a tear tickled her cheek, and she wiped it away. “Plus, the bill for this stupid hospital stay, which is totally my fault, I know.”
“It won’t be much. A couple thousand…”
“A couple thousand that could have gone toward the ranch. But no worries. I can pay the bill.”
“How? You didn’t win the barrel race.”
“Regina. I sold Regina to Harper Bay.”
“Dust…”
“I didn’t have a choice. We need the money, and I blew the barrel race. If I need more treatment—”
“You’ll get the treatment you need, if I have to work five goddamned jobs. We haven’t come this far to lose the battle now.”
“I don’t want you working like a dog, Sam.”
“It’s the least I can do. I’d take the treatment for you if I could, but since that’s not an option, I’ll at least see that we can pay for it.”
Dusty reached for her brother, and he took her in his arms.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.”
“You shouldn’t have to take care of me. You’re twenty-seven. You should be settling down, raising a family. Not burdened with a sick sister and a bankrupt ranch.”
“You’re not a burden.”
An anvil settled in Dusty’s stomach. “I sure feel like one.”
“You aren’t. You never were.”
She turned from her brother’s gaze. “Papa thought so.”
“No, he didn’t. What Papa did had nothing to do with you.”
“It was because of me he needed money.”