Page 46 of Canyon of Deceit
“Blane, we will get through this.” I visually explored around us. The wind blew like a vicious attack, and the narrow trail offered no shelter. I placed his hand in mine. “This cold makes it hard to breathe. First order of business—and I will do all I can to make it less painful—I’m going to put my blanket under your head, and I need you to hold it in place with your right hand. This will reduce the pressure on your head. Then I’ll drag you down the trail by your feet to a rock cropping that offers protection from the weather. Once there, I’ll tend to your head and set your arm. What do you say?”
He closed his eyes. “You’re the expert.”
“None of this haseasytagged on it.”
“I might cuss a streak.”
“I’ve heard them before.” I kissed his forehead. Not sure why. Except he battled with a lot of pain. Who was I fooling? I cared about Blane far more than I should.
I carefully removed my backpack and carried it to the rock cropping that would serve as my ER room, a good fifty feet from where Blane lay. Once back at his side, I positioned the blanket under his head, placed my hands under his feet, and slowly maneuvered his body down the incline. Unfortunately, his left side with the twisted arm took the brunt of the move.
He closed his eyes.
“Stay with me. Please.”
He clenched his jaw. “Hurry.”
I told myself the slow descent had to be less strenuous on both of us than the hoist up the cliff. A hawk soared above in an incredibly blue sky. “You’re missing a cloudless sky that would make a beautiful painting.”
He whispered something unintelligible through tightly closed eyes, and I responded as though I understood. “Yes, you can take me to dinner when we’re back in Houston. But I’m buying. Open your eyes so I can see you.”
He obliged. “How much farther?”
“We’re under overhanging rock where I’ll make camp.”
I positioned him under the rock cropping away from the wind, heat of day, and cold of night. I lifted my blanket from beneath his head and covered him. I shrugged off my jacket and used it as his pillow. I’d give him first aid, then build a fire. God understood my doubts, and He’d help me.
The flesh beneath his ripped and bloody clothes held my attention. The question of internal injuries bothered me—only a doctor could handle bleeding or damaged organs. I offered him a sip of water, and he thanked me.
Easing onto his back, he licked his bleeding lip. “If I need stitches... do it after... my arm’s set.”
“Okay. I’m sure every bit of your body hurts, but what I’m about to do will be worse.”
He inhaled and stifled a groan. “I’ll pacify myself that a beautiful woman is taking... care of me.”
“Thank you for your vote of confidence.”
A faint smile formed on his lips. “I will make it down these mountains, right beside you and Alina.”
“We will.” Turning to his arm and its awkward angle, I braved forward. “You told me you didn’t have any health issues, was that the truth?”
“Yes. Please, get this done. At this moment, patience is not my virtue.”
“I understand.”
“Steak. I want a steak dinner.”
I brushed my hand across his forehead and kissed it, dirt and all. His eyes were dilated. “Hush. You need your strength. Two steaks.”
I used my pocketknife to cut away the jacket sleeve. Lots of blue and purple bruising. I breathed relief the bone didn’t stick out through the skin. A three-inch gash above his elbow required stitches. Blane didn’t need infection setting in and all those complications.
While I cleaned his arm and head with antiseptic pads, I shared about his injuries and what I planned to do. “Are you numb below or above your break?”
“I wish,” he said through a pain-laden grimace.
I cautiously touched below and above the broken bone. He uttered a string of curses, then apologized. “You’re doing what’s best, but it hurts like—”
“It will be over soon. Please take another sip of water. Just a sip.”
