Samuel remembered little of the journey to town.
He remembered pain.
He remembered the smell of wet wool.
He remembered Thomas riding beside the wagon, his face strangely pale.
At the hospital, Dr. Edward Lang operated on him.
The surgery lasted several hours.
When Samuel woke, his pelvis had been badly fractured, and he could barely move without feeling as though his body were being torn apart.
For days, he drifted between sleep and fever.
Thomas visited every afternoon.
Eleanor came twice, but Samuel refused to see her after the first visit because he could not bear the thought of her witnessing his helplessness.
On the seventh day, Dr. Lang entered his room with a serious expression.
He told Samuel that he would recover enough to walk again, although the process would be long.
Then he spoke about the possibility of permanent complications.
Samuel asked what he meant.
Dr. Lang hesitated.
“Your injuries were severe. There is damage in the pelvic region, and we cannot be certain how it will affect you in the future.”
“Will I be able to have children?”
The doctor looked down at his notes.
“I cannot promise that you will.”
Samuel stared at him.
“That isn't what I asked.”
“No,” Dr. Lang said quietly. “It isn't.”
He explained that the injury might affect Samuel’s fertility. He also explained that the damage was difficult to assess while Samuel was still recovering.
A follow-up examination would be necessary.
Samuel heard the uncertainty.
He understood that the future was not settled.
But the fear in his mind was louder than the doctor’s qualifications.
He was twenty-eight years old. He had been thrown from a horse, cut open on an operating table, and told that he might never have the family he wanted.
He did not ask the doctor to repeat the explanation.
He did not ask what tests might determine the truth.
He simply turned his face toward the wall.
When Thomas came to visit that evening, Samuel told him what the doctor had said.
Thomas sat beside the bed.
For a moment, his expression was sympathetic.
Then he asked a question Samuel did not understand.
“What happens to the ranch if Father decides you aren't fit to manage it?”
Samuel looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
But Thomas did not forget.
Over the following weeks, Samuel began receiving letters from Eleanor. She asked how he was feeling, whether he needed anything, and whether she could visit again.
He answered only once.
He told her he needed time.
Then he stopped writing.
When he returned to the ranch, Joseph was waiting for him.
His father embraced him so tightly that Samuel winced.