Leave of Absence

Bobby POV

The wall clock read O800. The flight to Newark was delayed due to summer storms. My planned 6 hours down time ended up barely two hours. Lost sleep affects me more than it did in my youth. With luck, today won't be a medical disaster. I've been gone several days, I'm sure Woody covered the clinic for minor problems. The rest, if any, probably went to St. Francis or Helen Fund hospitals.

First, though, I need to talk to Ranger and Tank. I emailed a request to meet with them this morning, both have agreed to a 1000 meeting. Meanwhile I must make several calls.

Entering the 5th floor from the stairwell, I see Ranger and Tank conferring outside Tank's office door. Ranger is dressed in a suit instead of Rangeman black cargos and t-shirt. He must have an important business meeting today. Tank is in cargo pants and Rangeman polo shirt, not the t-shirt. It's semi-dressy for him. He may be visiting clients later in the day. Ranger sees me and motions into his office. Instead of sitting down, I walk to the extra thick bullet resistant glass window and stare out. I hear both men come in and close the door close.

Ranger begins, "Welcome back Bobby. How is your mother?" Ranger bypassed his desk and came to one of the leather chairs allowing Tank and me to select another chair or the couch. Deferring to Tank's size, I take the couch and leave him the larger chair. This will be an informal discussion, Ranger assumed.

I lowered myself onto the couch, "She is dying Ranger. She has maybe 6 months left." No amount of medical training or practice makes that statement any less painful.

"I'm sorry," he says kindly and I know he means it. He's known my mother for nearly twelve years.

"She's fought the battle but treatments aren't working any more. She says she's ready to go. I want to be with her until the end. I've missed so much with her over these recent years; I'd like to get to know her again before she's gone."

I paused and realized Ranger already knew what I was going to say, "Ric, I'd like extended leave." Ranger stiffened a bit, calling him by his Army name took this down to the very personal level.

Ranger replied in a quiet voice, "You are important here Bobby."

"I know, but not irreplaceable," I sigh. "I've made some calls to Miami and Atlanta, Gabe is back from Afghanistan and is available."

"But in what shape?" he asked cautiously.

"I also called your sister in Miami and Gabe passed all the post deployment psychological tests. The Deacon feels Gabe would work well here. He doesn't need two medics."

Ranger nodded but I knew he would call Celia and The Deacon for confirmation.

"The Deacon is seemed excited about the chance of her coming up here. He had to fill her position when she was called back and deployed. He doesn't want to put her totally into surveillance and apprehensions; it's a waste of her medical degree. Plus she needs to keep up her medical certification. She's ready to split Rangeman totally. She's looking at going back to the Army full time, either for deployments, at the VA, or teaching at USHUS. There's even a chance she could do contract work."

Ranger snorted, "Contract work, for a medic?"

I looked at him like he had lost his mind, "Ah, yeah, that's what I did, remember."

"But you were Special Forces," Ranger replied.

"This was her fourth tour in a war zone, Ranger; the first started as physician in the field hospital but ended up out in the field when things got hot. Turns out she's a heck of a solider as well as a doctor. Do you remember where you met her Ric?"

"Ft. Benning."

"Exactly….she wasn't working the hospital there; she was there for advanced training. She was one of the first female soldiers to train there. Her last three deployments she was also classified an FET-female engagement team in addition to a field medic and doctor. She can handle anything I can and more in the clinic. Maybe where she's lacking is urban work, but she did put eleven months in with Miami and Atlanta."

"Bobby, why would a physician want to work for Rangeman?" Ranger asked.

"I'm surprised you don't know that; after all, you are the one who offered her a job."

"Not exactly, we didn't talk much. I saw a woman solider with medical training who appeared to know what she was doing and was looking for a job when she got out of the Army. I told Dominic and The Deacon about her as we didn't have a place here for her. I think The Deacon was the one who hired her initially. I'll ask again why does a physician want to move into the private field?"

"You'll have to ask her and Celia. Maybe she needs a break. She's still in the Reserves. She and the Army have to decide what they are going to do for each other. That's all."

Tank spoke, "Not only could she be our medic, she can do patrols, apprehensions with the guys, and distractions for Bomber. Even Bobby can't do female distractions."

"You never asked," I laughed. "Not that I would have done them, I can't wear high heels."

Tank arched an eyebrow, "You've tried?"

"I had sisters, remember."

Tank continued, "Bomber's position here as assistant office manager and searches keeps her busy. If and when Bomber does go out on interviews, Gabe would be far safer with her than she ever was with Lula."

I saw Ranger grimace. No doubt he was thinking of the last time Stephanie and Lula were on an apprehension, Stephanie was nearly killed because Lula had become distracted by a "trunk" sale of stolen purses. While Stephanie did survive, Tank's relationship with Lula did not. "Bobby do you plan to return after your mother passes?"

"I'll have to attend to her estate, but at this time I plan to return."

"That's not definite," Ranger said warily.

"Life isn't definite, Ranger. I'm not looking for a different job." Ranger thought he risked losing me entirely forgetting than whenever of us went on missions, contract jobs, we risked not coming back, even him.

"When do you plan to leave?"

"As soon as possible, but I'd like to work with Gabe for a week getting her used to the routine here."

Ranger turned to Tank, "Do we have accommodations?

"We do, next door to Bobby and the clinic."

"Good, I'll call Celia and The Deacon," Ranger said as he stood. "And Bobby, give your mother my love."

Tank noticed Ranger's expression as I walked out the door. "What is your concern, boss?"

"An officer and a physician, I still don't understand why she's available. Did she screw up somewhere?"

Tank shook his head, "Call Celia and The Deacon."

Gabe Ybarra

Gabe POV

The call into The Deacon's office came just in time. I assumed I had a Rangeman job so went into Reserves. Stupid. Now I had no job. One option is returning to full time service hopefully serving at a VA hospital, maybe teaching medic trainees at Ft. Sill. I'm not keen on returning to combat but if I'm needed, I'll go. The other option was private government contract work as medic on a team, but I put that far down the list. It was a soul destroying job. The call to Rangeman Trenton will give me chance to delay my decision by working with the corporation I really enjoy. I've served in the Miami office and Atlanta; I'm looking forward to Trenton, something new.

Since returning to the states, I haven't purchased a car. I've done all my traveling here on my Harley RoadGlide. Ranger nixed my riding up on my bike. He said the I-95 corridor was scheduled for rain over the next week and was too dangerous to ride and he wanted me up there within 48 hours. I seriously considered ignoring his order, but figured it wouldn't be a good way to get started in a new job.

The Trenton Rangeman driver sent to take me and my possessions back north laughed. "This is it? You could have flown up." I was thinking I could have ridden the bike up.

I looked at the big Suburban, "Yeah, I think this is overkill. We could have used something a lot smaller."

"Ranger's 911 Turbo," he said.

I hummed approval and I stuck out my hand, "I'm Gabe Ybarra."

The Latino/Hispanic was several inches over 6 feet tall, broad well developed shoulders and chest, tight waist, medium brown hair and green eyes, "I'm Lester Santos. I assume its Gabriela," he said a soft Spanish pronunciation.

"It is but most Anglos slaughter the name with a hard "G." My basic training officer called me Gobrella or Godzilla. Everyone else calls me Gabe."

The sun was setting when we climbed into the behemoth vehicle. "Let me drive Lester, you need some down time." He accepted graciously which is unusual for a Rangeman. They want control.

Lester slept until dark was well entrenched. When he woke he sleepily asked, "How far are we?"

"We've gone a little over 300 miles. That's Greensboro ahead, need a break?"

"Yeah, I do."

We stopped at an all-night diner. Lester looked like he had been rode hard and put down wet. "Les, you are looking a bit rough."

He shook his head, "I haven't had much sleep before Ranger sent me to get you. Mind if I sleep a bit more?"

"No problem, if I get tired I'll find a place to pull off, though with this coffee, I'll be wired for hours," I chuckled. "You sure you don't want something to eat?" I asked as I finished off a plate of eggs, bacon and toast.

"No, I'm good."

A little tingle told me he wasn't good but he truly seemed tired. When we got back into the behemoth vehicle, Lester was talkative.

"Tell me about Gabe Ybarra."

"You want the long or short version?"

Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, "We've got hours, let's start with the long."

"I was born on a ranch west Texas, near the Pecos River. Family was encouraged to move north by the Mexican government to in the early 19th century to settle the lands north of the Rio Bravo…..now called the Rio Grande. Family has lived in the area since before Texas became a republic let alone a state. Once Texas became a state the Anglos wanted to steal the ranch. Racial bigotry back then too. So my ancestors married Anglos and the ranch name was changed to Johnson and the ranch was J-Bar for a while. My grandfather changed it back to Y-bar. The ranch has grown and shrunk over the generations for many reasons; war, homesteaders, drought, cattle prices and such. When my great grandfather owned it, it was far larger but he sold sections and bought new ranches for his two sons. In total the ranches now total 250,000 acres, some on the Edwards Plateau, other parcels in the Trans Pecos. Two holdings up north and to the east are called the JY-bar ranches. Depending on the ranch it is corn, sorghum, hay fields, cattle, some sheep and goats, gas and oil, mesquite trees, pecans, feral hogs, rattle snakes, water moccasins, and scorpions."

"Did you say oil? You have oil wells?"

"Ever hear of the Permian Basin?"

"No."

"It's a huge oil and gas region stretching from southeast New Mexico and into West and Southwest Texas. Think over 60,000 square miles of oil and gas, the largest petrochemical area in the US. With new extraction techniques, the experts figure there is more gas and oil in the Permian basin that all of Saudi Arabia. Or so they hope."

Did you say 60,000 acres?

"No square miles. It's about the same size as New York and New Jersey. My grandfather started pumping oil in the 1920's but big time production over the whole area didn't begin until late 20th century. Mainly we are cattle people, oil and gas is a side line, or was. I don't know now."

"So you came from money?" he asked with awe.

Laughing, "You've never ranched. The overhead is tremendous. Some years if we didn't have the oil and gas leases, we'd be under water…if we had much water to begin with. Also if you have money, you need someplace to spend it to enjoy it. When you are isolated, you don't exactly run to Neiman Marcus every Saturday."

"Where's the nearest town?"

"Define town? My definition is probably different than yours."

"Over 30,000 population."

"Heck Lester, that's a city. We have whole counties with fewer than 10 people. Let's see up north there are Midland and Odessa; further east San Angelo and far to the west, El Paso, down south is Big Bend country. If you go far enough east, you hit San Antonio."

"What's close?"

"Nothing."

"How do you get around, horses?"

I laughed, "They are toooo slow. We are modern, we have SUVs, pickups, ATVs, and flying. In my family we all fly. First we learn to ride horses, then drive, then fly."

"Flat country?"

Sorta. Up north on the Llano Estacado, Staked Plain….Lubbock area, yes it's flat. The saying is if you stand on a nickel in Lubbock you can see all the way to Dallas. As you go south and east, you hit the Edwards Plateau and the far east side of that is the Hill country."

"No tall mountains?"

My mind flashed on a t-shirt I saw in Papa's drawer. The caricature on the front was a cowboy in skis coming down a very small hill with the lettering "Ski Texas" across the top. "No, we Texans go to New Mexico or Colorado to ski," I laughed. I was quiet for a while. When was the last time I went skiing? Fifteen years ago at Sierra Blanca outside of Ruidoso?

I continued my dialog, "I was raised by my father and 4 older brothers. Mamma died when I was young and Daddy never remarried. School was between 30-60 miles away depending what school system would have us. We didn't have friends over for sleepovers or after school play time; we grew up entertaining ourselves. I rode horses, hunted, especially feral hogs. The hogs are doing tremendous damage to the ecosystem down there and other southern states."

"Four brothers, I bet they were protective of you."

I nodded but was cautious; I didn't want to get into my childhood. "Think smothering. Nobody was allowed to mess with their sister. Fernando, the one closest to my age was my play mate, but Diego, the oldest was more dominating over everyone, including my father. They had some tremendous fights from time to time. Carlos and Manuel, in the middle, pretty much stuck together. When I was old enough to become interested in boys, they'd all run interference…of course being 50 miles from people didn't help me. Papa wanted to send me to a girl's school in San Antonio, but Diego fought it. He shouldn't have had any say so."

I gripped the steering wheel way too tight. I needed to relax.

"When I started high school, I expressed an interest in going to college to study medicine. It was vetoed. Then I said I could study business, agriculture, or petroleum engineering….all something to do with the ranch. They too were vetoed. One day I heard Diego arguing with my father. Diego wanted to marry me to some big oil company exec's son in Mexico. My father was mostly against it, but was wavering. I wrote to the Army enlistment office in San Antonio and the next time I was there, I enlisted. Hours after high school graduation I took the family plane, flew to San Antonio. From there I caught a flight to Oklahoma City and Ft. Sill."

You stole the family plane?

I laughed a little which helped reduce the stress, "I prefer to think of using it without permission. I did refuel it before I had the airport manager call Papa and tell him the plane was ready to return home. I also sent a letter to the family attorney explaining my actions; he was always kind to me."

"What did your family do?"

"They called the police, FBI, Senators and Congressmen but to no avail. I wasn't kidnapped; I was of age and eagerly went into the Army."

"Have they forgiven you?"

I shrugged, "Lester, I don't know. I haven't talked to anyone since. For all I know I've been disinherited or there's a warrant out for stealing the aircraft. I do send my father an annual birthday and Christmas card, so far they haven't been returned. Nor has he sent replies."

"It doesn't bother you? You turned your back on your family and the ranch?"

"I knew the man they wanted me to marry. Trust me; the marriage would have been a living hell. I am not chattel. My life is my own to live as I want. They days holding up the family enterprise through marriage are over."

"But you might own part of the ranch?"

"Lester I did love the ranch, but I left. Carl, Manny, and Fernando should get it."

"Not Diego?"

"Never," I growled. I shook my head slowly. "It would not survive under his care. He never worked on it, only spent money. He cared only for himself and what he could take from others."

"Why the Army?"

"Fernando stuck around almost two years after high school mainly to watch over me until I graduated and then together we'd go into the Marines. But Marines didn't fit me. So he enlisted as soon as the Army wrote and said they wanted me. I had no college and not much money, only what I had been saving, several hundred dollars. Once I finished basic training I wrote to him and told him I was safe. He wrote back and said he was proud of me. Fernando was the only family member who ever said that."

I was quiet for a while. Yes, Papa said he was proud of me….but….it always came with a but. "Gabriela, I'm proud of you, but…you must not, should not, etc."

I continued, "First posting was in Germany in a hospital doing various jobs. I also was in school taking science classes. Came back to OCS, then USHUS where I earned my MD. After graduation I was sent to Ft. Carson, VA Hospital in San Antonio, then Ft. Jackson before I was sent to on my first tour of Afghanistan. Somewhere along the way I found myself out in the field, not a hospital. Next tour FET was added to my resume; Female Engagement Troop. Years of shooting hogs paid off, I guess. I served another tour then met Carlos Manoso who asked me to consider employment with Rangeman. I served another tour and decided to go reserve. The Deacon in Atlanta hired me. I was just getting comfortable with Rangeman when I was called back, nine months in Afghanistan….again, fourth vacation over there. I got back 6 weeks ago, cleared by Celia. While I was gone Atlanta hired a full time medic so I came back to no job.

Isn't that illegal? Aren't business' supposed to keep your job open.

"A job, not THE job. It wasn't fair to put Atlanta without a medic. I came back to the monitors and in field surveillance. I'm antsy Lester, I don't sit well. Plus I need to keep working in the medical field."

As I talked I noticed Lester wipe his brow a few times. "You OK Les?" I asked.

"Yeah." he said without conviction.

"Can't fool a medic mister, you are sweaty. How long have you been with a straight 8 hours sleep?"

"Four or five days, I guess."

"You need more down time." I tossed him a jacket and he put back the front seat and went back to sleep. He didn't argue….again.

The drive up I85 and then I95 was mostly quiet until I got to the big cities like Washington DC and Baltimore. Even in the late night, early morning hours, the traffic was bad. I chuckled, an 800 mile drive in Texas would be from border to border and could be done in less than 10 hours providing one avoided the highway radar, ran close to 90 miles through long stretches and hit Dallas at O Dark Thirty hours thus avoiding traffic. Here in the East, the 800 mile drive will be 13 or 14 hours, through seven states.

The refueling stop was south of Wilmington, Delaware. When the lights of the service station shone on Lester I noticed he was still sweaty. I didn't have to feel his brow to know he was running a fever. I got out and went around and started refueling. As the gasoline flowed I opened the cargo area and got my medic bag. Using a dermal thermometer Lester registered 102.8

"Lester," I said gently shaking him, Lester. He woke with a grimace then quickly changed to a neutral face; he doesn't like to show vulnerability. "Where do you hurt?" I asked in my medic voice.

"Must be something I ate…," he mumbled.

"Les let me feel your abdomen."

"You just want to feel me up," he mumbled.

"Yeah, all Rangemen have 8 pack abs, just checking yours."

"You sure you don't want to lower?"

"I'm a medic, not your date." When I got around his naval and right side he reacted to the pain. I covered him up and took out my cell and called Trenton Rangeman. "This is Gabe Ybarra with Lester Santos, is Bobby Brown available?" I looked at the time, geez it was 0330.

Instantly I was transferred. "Gabe," he said in a very sleepy voice.

"Bobby, I'm sorry to wake you. It's a medical situation. I'm outside of Wilmington; Lester's fever is 39.3 C, pain and heat from navel to lower right abdomen as well as upper left clavicle area."

"You are thinking appendicitis."

"Yes. I need some history before I take him to a hospital. He's not real communicative. Does he have concerns with anesthetics or pain control?"

There was a pause as his mind cleared, "He's had reactions to opiates….hallucinations and violence depending on type and quantity."

"Lovely."

"Where are you planning to take him?" Bobby asked. He was more awake.

"Wilmington Hospital off 14th . We are about 20 minutes out."

"I'll have them waiting for you plus I'll talk to the ER doctor. We should be down there in 2 hours."

Drive carefully, storms have been following us," I cautioned.

The Wilmington hospital is just off I95 and the emergency entrance well marked. When I pulled up to the portal there was a tall dark skin male orderly with a wheel chair coming out the door.

"You Rangeman?" he asked.

"Yes sir," I answered as I opened the passenger side door. Lester was in pain but trying to hide it. "You want to feel me up again Gorgeous?" he mumbled.

"Les, how long have you been in distress?" I asked as the orderly and I helped Lester into the wheel chair.

"Couple of days."

"And you didn't say anything in Trenton or Atlanta?" I hissed.

"No, Ranger wanted you in Trenton ASAP."

"Remind me to pound some sense into your head, later," I said as he was rolled into the ER. I parked the SUV and returned to the building mumbling the whole time. "They all think they are invincible…."

I had barely begun the emergency room's paper work when a nurse came out and said, "Dr. Johnson wants to talk to you."

I followed her through the double doors and into the treatment bay. "Mr. Santos says you are an Army medic."

"Yes sir." No way was I mentioning being a physician as well.

"You must be the Army's worst medic!" he screamed. "You couldn't see his condition earlier? Does he need a bullet hole for you to react?"

I wondered who pissed on his Cheerios. I automatically stood straighter, "Sir, I met Mr. Santos at 1700 hours. Since he had already been driving 12 hours I urged him to take some down time. His coloring was fine and he didn't express distress. We stopped for coffee around 1200, he ate nothing. Returning to the vehicle we talked for a while, he never once mentioned any pain. He returned to sleep about 0100. At 0300 I stopped to refuel and with the light of the service station I could see he was flushed, shivering. I took his temperature and preliminary abdominal exam. Upon completion I came immediately to this facility."

Lester had been listening and cut in, "Cut her some slack Doc," Lester moaned. "I'm at fault. I tried to tough it out. I never said a word."

"Mister you need surgery now, hopefully you don't have a ruptured appendix," the doctor barked back.

"Can she scrub in?" Lester asked.

"No! I don't allow incompetents in surgery," the doctor said firmly.

Now was not the time to mention I was a surgery qualified physician. I spoke up, "Sir, did you get the contra indication from Les' doctor regarding anesthesia and opiates?"

"From another incompetent Army medic?" he hissed.

"Sir, there are details that will impact anesthesia choice and post-operative treatment."

"I'll check them now," he huffed and stormed off. At least he didn't have a God complex thinking only he knew what should be used.

"Nice guy," Lester said, "Glad I'll be asleep." I didn't want to tell Lester about spinal block anesthesia where he might be awake.

"You can be assured, Les, I'll be hiding from Dr. Sunshine. When you come out, Bobby should be here." I returned to the waiting room and finished the paper work then was directed to surgery waiting room. I was the only one there and the God forsaken television was off. I fell asleep, two hours later a nurse woke me, "He's in recovery. You can go back."

Lester was awake, but still groggy. A nurse was typing into a laptop beside his bed. "High Gorgeous, how'd I do?" he asked.

I came alongside his bed opposite the nurse, "I don't have your chart Les, but you are awake, aware, and speaking well; looking at your monitors, your vitals look good.

Lester turned to the nurse, "May she read my chart?"

The nurse was listening to us, "Sorry Mr. Santos, that's only for staff and your physician."

"She's the new company doctor when we get back to Trenton. She will be my physician," he said.

She smiled, "I'll leave the lap top here for a few minutes while I get you some apple juice, just don't let Doctor Johnson catch you."

I quickly scanned Les' chart to see what anesthesia was used, post-surgery medications….Dr. Johnson actually read Bobby's report. There were no special notes regarding the surgery. "Nothing frightening. The appendix didn't rupture so no massive antibiotics for you. Oh, they also gave you a vasectomy while you were under, you know since they were in the neighborhood."

His eyes shot up but realized I was kidding. "Not funny Gorgeous."

"Les, you plan on a family? If not a snip job would be a guarantee against unplanned paternity. The alternative is radiation, we could cook your testicles, they might shrink a bit but they wouldn't be putting out soldiers."

"Really not funny Gorgeous," he mumbled.

I smiled and held the side of the bed, it was vibrating, "What the heck?" Suddenly the lights went out and emergency lights came on. Something slammed into the building, the air pressure changed; ceiling tiles and light fixtures worn torn free and flying around. TORNADO?