CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR Benedict

" G ood morning, doc," Agnes greeted, waving a medical file toward me. "Julia Garner's biopsy results," she added, registering nothing on her face that would give away the results.

I studied her to see if I could guess the results beforehand. "Do I want to read them?" I whispered. Agnes remained stoic. Uh-oh.

Opening the file, I quickly scanned the lab report, looking for crappy words like positive or cancerous cells. After all of the radiologist's blah-blah-blah about parameters and patient history, the best word in the world for a physician to read broke through the technical report. Tumor biopsy benign .

I exhaled and looked up at a beaming Agnes, not caring that I was tearing up. "Thank God," I said, trying to hold back the emotional relief.

"See what loving support does?" she asked. "Karma can be a bitch, but caring can be fiercer."

"I want Julia in every six months for breast exams, Agnes," I instructed, making notes in her file. "Mammograms yearly in Missoula as well."

"That's expensive on an annual basis, doc. You do remember that the Garner's are barely making it financially, right?"

"I'll pay the expenses," I stated. "With her family history, and all her kids that depend on having a mother, she's having them annually," I insisted. "I won't take the risk and either should she."

"Well, since you're in such a giving mood. Why don't you just buy a mammogram for the clinic?" she said.

I didn't catch the sarcasm in her voice because I had gotten so used to it. "Okay," I replied.

I continued writing in Julia's file until Agnes cleared her throat. I looked up to find her glaring at me with a hand on her hip. "I was joking, doc. Even used mammogram machines can cost around seventy-five thousand dollars."

"Terrific!" I exclaimed, returning her gaze with a grin. "I have minimal training on their use, but both of us can get extra training. We'll put it in the X-ray room."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," I confirmed.

Agnes slid into the chair across from my desk. "Okay, doc. What the fuck is up with you?"

"Might I suggest an improvement in your language skills, Nurse?"

She leaned forward and waited for me to look up from my work. "Cut the shit, Ben," she stated. "People planning on leaving town don't buy expensive shit for their old workplaces."

"Well, I do," I said. "It'll be an excellent investment for the clinic's long-term survival and the care of our patients."

"Something don't smell right, doc," she said. She pointed at me with her gnarled-up index finger. "I'll get to the bottom of it. Don't you think I won't, either."

"Fine," I agreed. "Now tell me about Triple H Ranch."

"What about it?" she asked, her eyes studying me for more surprise items.

"Apparently I own it," I declared. "And I want some intel. Who's going to know more than Agnes Brewster?"

She crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair. I'd seen this face before. Agnes was preparing her words, careful to see if she could outmaneuver me. But I had all the information now. She was finally at a disadvantage.

"The H is for Hawthorne," she began, still eyeing me cautiously. "But you know that. Hell, everybody knows that shitty information. Your grandfather, your father, and you are the three H's. When your dad drops dead, I assume there'll be one H left. You . I imagine you'll own it all then," she concluded.

"News update, Nurse. I own it all right now ."

"Bullshit!" she challenged.

"Classy," I quipped. "And I'm going out there tomorrow to introduce myself to Mr. Copeland."

A grave look covered Agnes's face at my announcement. She knew something that I didn't know. Her usual clever way of holding her hand like she had a royal flush had disintegrated the second I said I was going to make a visit to my ranch.

"Don't do that, Ben," she warned. "Not at least without the Sheriff along for the ride," she added, dragging a finger across the desk and making a letter X like it was a warning.

"It's his father. How bad can he be?" I inquired.

Agnes tilted her head. "Oh, trust me. He can be really bad. A bona fide asshole of the highest accord. And I can recognize the best of the best when it comes to assholes."

"But the man is Hunter's father, Agnes," I argued.

"So he is," she agreed. "But even honey badgers have fathers, doc. Just do me a favor and talk to Hunt before you go out there. Maybe even take him with you, please?"

What on earth was Agnes up in arms about? Hunt had already told me he disagreed with his father about selling the ranch back when he thought he could do that in exchange for a house and a small piece of land. He'd even admitted they hadn't spoken ever since.

"Spill it, Agnes."

"Nope! I'll leave that up to the Sheriff," she said.

This was another time that Agnes had given me an eerie warning about someone. A couple times it was her own grandson. She had secrets, obviously, but why and what were they?

"You warned me about Charlie last week with no reference as to why. And now you're adding Mr. Copeland into the mix. What gives?" I asked. She stood and waved me off, attempting to end the conversation. "You can't just walk away, Agnes."

She waved over her shoulder and headed for the waiting room door to call our first patients. "This is me walking away," she said, her back to me. "This is where you ask your friend the Sheriff those questions. You are still just friends, correct?" she asked, pausing at the door before opening it.

"Hang on, Agnes," I pleaded.

"Just ask the questions, Ben," she stated. "Please, just ask the questions."