“You—you collapsed,” Brynnie said, choking back tears. “Oh, baby, are you all right?” She nearly stumbled against the metal railing of the bed to reach for his hand. Her fingers laced with his despite the IV dripping into the back of his wrist.

“I’ll live,” he grumbled, apparently not too happy about the prospect. “Seems that every time I wake up I’m in some damned hospital.”

“A habit you’d better break,” Bliss said.

Brynnie patted his arm tenderly. “I talked to Mason and he’s made me an offer to buy back the ranch and, oh, John, if that’s what will make you happy, I’ll do it. I—I had no business trying to tell you what to do or make you do what I wanted even if it was for your own good. It was stupid of me to sell out. Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

“We’ll see,” John said with a sigh. He looked as if he’d given up on life, and a little part of Bliss died. Too many times in the past her father’s anger had taken hold of his tongue and he’d been rash, unreasonable and sometimes nearly cruel, but she’d love to see some of the old fight in him today. Instead, he looked old and beaten down.

“The paramedics were right,” a doctor said as he pushed aside the curtain. “Heatstroke.” The name tag on his white coat identified him as Dr. James Ferris. He eyed John’s chart. “Has anyone suggested to this guy that he should slow down?”

“Bah!”

“Only his cardiologist,” Bliss interjected and was rewarded with a warning glare from her father. “And a few other doctors.”

“So this is a hearing problem, eh?” the doctor joked as he picked up his patient’s chart and made a note.

“Listening problem,” Bliss corrected.

“I hope you’re having fun at my expense,” John retorted grumpily. “Now, when can I get out of here?”

“Tomorrow, if you’re lucky.” The doctor clicked his pen and jammed it into his pocket. “I still want to run a few tests and talk to your doctors in Seattle.”

“What do they know?” John complained.

“You listen to them.” Brynnie’s lips were compressed with new determination. “I’m not about to become your widow before I get to be your bride.”

“Hogwash. I’m not dying.”

“Not yet,” the doctor said. “And probably not for a while. But I want you to stay overnight for observation.”

“Doesn’t seem like I have much choice in the matter.”

“You don’t,” Bliss said, straightening one of the crisp sheets covering her father’s thin body. He’d always been such a robust, strapping man, but now he seemed frail.

“I’ll stay with you,” Brynnie promised.