‘No one’s giving me a general anaesthetic.’

‘Says who?’

‘Says me.’ Abbey glared again. ‘Ryan Henry, are you going to take me into the hospital or do I sit here, looking stupid, on this trolley for the rest of the afternoon? I have things to do, even if you don’t.’

Ryan ran his hand through his hair.

‘Let’s push her inside,’ Rod said helpfully, ‘otherwise she’s just as likely to hop off and push the trolley herself. She knows what she wants, our Doc Wittner.’

He gave Ryan a sympathetic man-bossed-by-women grin, and helped the near-speechless Ryan take Abbey into X-Ray.

The bones were intact.

Thanks be, Ryan thought, and Abbey echoed his thought aloud as she stared at the X-ray.

‘That’s great. I’ll have Eileen dose me up with morphine and we’ll get it back into position. It’ll hardly slow me down at all.’

It was hurting like crazy now but she wasn’t admitting to that.

‘No way.’ Ryan shook his head. ‘I’m putting it back into position. Abbey, I’m an orthopaedic surgeon so lie back, shut up and let me get on with it’

‘An orthopaedic surgeon…’ Abbey’s face cleared. Despite her bravado, the thought of trying to tell Eileen how to manipulate her leg back into place had had her feeling faint. And she just had to look at Ryan to see he was competent.

She closed her eyes. ‘Thank you, Ryan. That’d be great. If you could patch me up before milking…’

Ryan stared. ‘Milking…? Abbey, I’ll patch you up before bed. That’s where you’re going and nowhere else.’

‘I’m not going to bed.’

‘Yes, you are. For a week!’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘What’s the alternative here, Abbey?’ Ryan demanded. ‘You produce another bicycle and pedal off into the sunset? You won’t even be able to drive.’

‘I will.’

‘Not while the Robert Jones dressing is on. For a start, the bulk of the thing will hinder you and, bluntly, Abbey, the leg will just be too painful. When we get it back into position you’ll be left with residual swelling that’ll take a week to go down.’