The Coyote's Cry Read Online Free Page B

minutes.”
    Bram looked away. His chest ached and his eyes burned. He wanted to take Gran from that gurney, carry her out to his vehicle and drive her home. She hated hospitals. Always said that people died in hospitals and no one was ever to bring her to one. He felt like a traitor because she was here, and he also felt the same kind of pain he’d suffered when his parents died, the kind of pain one couldn’t eradicate by good-intentioned doctors with common-sense explanations.
    There was nothing Bram could do except long for the way things had been only hours before. Gran was now seriously ill and he had to leave her here. He brought his gaze back to Dr. Vadella.
    â€œI’ll tell the family what you said. Thanks for talking to me.”
    Nodding, Dr. Vadella left to return to his patient. Bram went out to the waiting room and his family. He knew now that the fishing trip was off and that he would have to drive out to Great-grandfather’s place and tell him that his daughter was in the hospital.
    Life had fallen apart very suddenly, very quickly.

Chapter Two
    W ill and Ellie offered sympathy and any help Bram might need when he told them about Gran. There were so many Coltons, though, that assistance from anyone outside the family wasn’t likely to be needed. Still, the Mitchells’ gesture was heartfelt and genuine, and Bram appreciated their concern.
    Bram put work and everything else out of his mind and spent almost the entire weekend at the hospital. The rest of the family came and went, each spending a few minutes in Gran’s room and hoping to hear some good news. Actually, there was no news at all, either good or bad. The doctors and nurses that Bram waylaid in the halls and in Gran’s room had only one message to impart: there would not be a credible diagnosis or prognosis until all of the test results came in, which would occur sometime on Monday or Tuesday.
    Time had never moved so slowly for Bram. He dranktoo much bad coffee and worried. He walked the floors of various waiting rooms and worried. He sat slouched on one uncomfortable chair after another and worried. And he took only an occasional break from his self-imposed post to dash home to the ranch for a shower, shave and clean clothes.
    He kept putting off that drive out to Great-grandfather George’s place because merely telling him that his daughter was in the hospital, obviously seriously ill, wasn’t enough. It would be much better to convey the news with some concrete information from the doctors about her condition, Bram rationalized, which he would have along with the test results in a day or two. Sharing incomplete and possibly false information based on Bram’s own fears might extinguish the small light still burning in George WhiteBear’s ancient chest, and Bram wouldn’t take that chance.
    On Monday he had to tend to his job. He talked to the family and made sure that there would always be at least one Colton at the hospital, around the clock. Most of them worked, too, but they coordinated their hours off, which should have eased some of Bram’s concern but didn’t. Monday was a bad day for him, yet he ran to the hospital every chance he got just to look in on Gran, to make sure she was still breathing. He had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, which he tried to ignore or at least minimize, and couldn’t.
    It was while Bram was with Gloria on one of his quick stops that she opened her eyes and tried to speak. He jumped up from the chair he’d been anxiously perched on, and took her hand. “Gran,” he said gently, though his heart was in his throat and unshed tears stung his eyes.
    She tried to speak again, failed, and he saw painful understanding in her eyes. “It’s okay, Gran.”
    She made angry noises. It wasn’t okay, and Bram didn’thave to hear the words to know what she meant. And then she got out a word. “Home!”
    Bram