Page 39 of Gotta Dig Deep
“Goddammit.”
The bike wasn’t moving terribly fast, but the momentum was more than enough to push him past the dry ditch and through the fence, strands of wire parting noisily when the frame of the bike hit them. Then he was on his ass, literally, in a field of endless green grass. A few cows in the distance lifted their heads to look at him for a moment, then went back to grazing while Horse sat stunned, one leg underneath the now ominously quiet bike.
“Sonuvabitch.”
Wire was wrapped around the forks and when he tried to pick the bike up the metal-on-metal grind was loud in his ears. That sound seemed to bring back a soundtrack of ambient noise, bird song mixing with the ticking of the cooling engine.
A second attempt at extricating himself from the wrecked bike was successful, and he stared down at the twisted metal of the forks and front wheel, tire flat. Pain in his thigh was just more background noise, with his gaze fixed on the bike sitting damaged in front of him.
A vehicle pulled to a stop in the curve and Horse looked up in time to watch a tiny spitfire of a woman jump put, all dark brown hair and deep blue eyes, and judging mouth.
“You okay?”
Her voice was soft, pitched to carry to where he stood.
Horse nodded, then looked down at the bike again.
“I’m gonna need a ride somewhere.” Digging in his pocket for his phone, he was surprised to come up emptyhanded. “Not sure where my phone went to.”
“Well, drag that bike back through the fence. We’ll get you somewhere you can make a call. Town’s only a few miles back.” Turning to her truck, she rose on her toes to open a toolbox attached to the bed. Pulling on a pair of gloves, she shoved a tool in her back pocket and angled back towards him, making her way through the ditch. “Come on, we don’t have all day. Do you need help getting it back outside the pasture?”
“No, I got it.” The bike wouldn’t balance on the wheels, not with the front one angled to the side. He realized the frame was likely warped too. Horse wound up doing an awkward slide-flip-slide to get it to move, and by the time he’d made it to the ditch, he was winded and exhausted, head buzzing and dizzy. “There.” He turned too quickly and found himself back on his ass, watching the woman deftly weave the strands of fencing back together, threading in extra pieces as needed until she’d created a barrier. She twisted them together with the tool in one hand. “Wow, you’re good at that.”
“It’ll hold for now. It’s a poor patch job and needs two new posts, but it’ll hold.” She tipped her head to one side, studying him. “You okay, mister? Not hurt, are you?”
“No, just shaken up. Was a wild couple of seconds.” Horse managed to get to one knee before tumbling awkwardly back to the ground. He rested his elbows on knees and hung his head, trying to let the swimming feeling fade away. “Give me a minute.”
A hand appeared in front of him. “Come on, up you get.”
Grasping the gloved hand, he was surprised at how delicate her bones felt under his grip. Then was surprised again at the strength behind the tug to get him upright. “There we are,” he muttered, reaching out a hand to steady himself against the side of her truck. “Thanks.”
“You are hurt.” She was kneeling in front of him, face dangerously close to his crotch, giving him a momentary fantasy of her doing something wicked with that gorgeous mouth. Then those strong hands pulled at a rip in his jeans, widening the tear and he saw the hole in his leg, blood pumping out and down his thigh. “Boot’s got blood in it. This is a bad cut.” She stood and opened the passenger door, shoving something out of the way. “In you get.” He followed her directions and found himself angled into the seat, leg straight in front of him as she stood in the door. Something loomed over him, and Horse looked up at the strangest animal he’d ever seen. The giant hairless rat opened its mouth and growled at him.
He blinked twice, but the mirage didn’t go away before his eyes closed for a final time.
***
Glenna
“Stop it.” Her admonition to Shamu went unnoticed. Shifting with the bumps, he managed to stay in the same position, menacingly arched over the unconscious man, lips lifted and his growl still rolling through the cab of the truck. She pulled into the ranch driveway and sped up the lane to the house. It would have taken much longer to get back to town, and even then, the closest ambulance was twenty miles farther. This way she could evaluate the wound and decide if calling an air evac was warranted.
“Now we just have to get him inside.” She had a push-sled in the stables for the heavy bales of alfalfa they once fed to Penn’s horses. It should work.Maybe.Locking the brakes, she let the truck drift sideways towards the house, then slammed it into neutral, killing the engine as she pulled the handbrake. “With me,” she ordered Shamu, and he bailed out of the truck right behind her. Racing to the stables and back seemed to take a thousand years, but the man still hadn’t moved when she returned. She positioned the sled under the door and opened it, pushing her shoulder against his shifting body to hold him into place.
As gently as she could, she let him slowly drop to the sled, arranging his limbs and checking the temporary tourniquet she’d placed on him when he’d passed out. Satisfied that he was as okay as could be, she started the process of getting him into the house. One beach towel slide into the living room later, she gave up the idea of him being on the couch for the next part and went to the kitchen for the extensive emergency kit she and Penn had put together over the years.
Probing the wound with her finger, she was pleased to find the artery wasn’t punctured as she’d feared. The bleeding had come from other veins, and they were all clotting satisfactorily now that the tourniquet had temporarily held the worst of the bleeding at bay. She’d doctored Penn many times, and the process came back easily to her now.
The pre-threaded suture needle helped things move forwards smoothly, and with a mattress stitch she’d learned from her grandmother, she sewed up the three-inch gash in the man’s leg.
Releasing the tight belt from around his leg, she watched his appendage regain color, the repair not even seeping blood. She pulled off his boot, startled at the amount of blood that spilled out. His sock was saturated all the way up his leg, so she removed that too. The pulse in the top of his foot was strong and steady, if a little slow. Convinced she’d done all she could for now, Glenna let herself relax back against the side of the nearby couch, taking in a deep breath and pushing it out slowly.
“Jesus, Shammy. That was too close for comfort.” The dog stood beside her, staring down at the man lying in the floor. “I’ll get him on the couch in a bit, after I’ve recovered a little. Maybe the food would help.”
Struggling to her feet, she used an old blanket to cover him, removing and balling up her sweatshirt as a pillow for his head.
He’s good-looking.She shook her head at the idle thought. It was something she’d noticed right away, the moment she’d seen him standing next to the pile of twisted metal she suspected was the bike she’d waved to earlier in the day. He hadn’t argued with her directions, and now she guessed it was the shock that had already been setting in from his wound. Either way, it had been kinda nice to have someone respect her knowledge and expertise.Course, it’d have been better if he hadn’t been bleeding to death.
Shamu looked up at her as Glenna snorted a laugh. “Man tried to bleed out in the front seat of my truck. I fixed him. I guess I can feel a little good about today’s work.” Skin on top of his head wrinkling, Shamu glared at her. “Ready for your fries? They’ll be cold, but we can nuke them if you want.”
