Carried Away (Montana Miracles Book 1)

by Grace Walton

  Carrie ignored him completely in her attempt to get to Gage. She buckled down beside him on the cold asphalt. She gathered him into her shaking arms.

  “I’m so sorry Carrie, so sorry. I was just trying to make up for, you know, the whole thing at the Conclave. I talked to Sadie. She helped me. Helped me see how wrong I was.” His rapid worried words fell on deaf ears.

  Her world narrowed to Gage and Gage only. His blood was everywhere. It puddled on his chest. It dripped in a heavy viscous line down across his jacket. A swirl of dancing vapor played over his body as the heat from his lifeblood ebbed slowly away into the cold night air. Carrie’s hands were dyed with it. She used all her strength to press down on his gaping wound. But still it flowed sticky and metallic over her fingers, a hot contrast to the freezing darkness surrounding them.

  “Sadie said I needed to make amends. I tried Carrie, I tried so hard. I brought you that pretty rose and left it on your desk with Black Knife‘s business card. I knew you liked him. I could tell by the way you acted around him at the Conclave that you liked him. So I took it out of that backpack he had with him when they threw him in the jail. I put it on that pretty flower just for you Carrie. I thought it’d make you happy. And I’ve been watching over you ever since you got back. I’ve been watching over you just like a guardian angel.” He was panting and sweating.

  Carrie spared him one glance, but looked away again as she heard a painful groan come from between Gage’s parted lips. Harvey was still explaining. He was asking for her forgiveness as she pulled the lever on the GPS hidden in the back of the big gaudy gold cross around her neck.

  Within five minutes the parking lot was surrounded by police cars, and black unmarked vehicles. An ambulance was on the way. Several official types told her she had to leave. She had to go to a safe house, they said. But no matter what they insisted she refused to leave Gage.

  Finally the ambulance arrived in a blaze of revolving blue lights and shrieking sirens. She didn’t see the plain clothes federal officer take the EMT techs aside before they reached Gage. She didn’t feel one of the medics slipping the sleeve of her mercury colored blouse up and gently piercing her skin with a syringe.

  She fought like a wildcat when the two largest officers dragged her off to an unmarked car and shoved her in the back seat. And she blacked out seeing them lift Gage’s motionless bleeding body onto a stretcher then run with him to the ambulance.

  When she came to, she was in a hospital bed with a thick bandage applied to her throat and IV lines attached to her arm. Trying to sit up was impossible. Her head was spinning and she was sure if she moved she’d vomit. Opening her eyes was another feat that couldn’t quite be accomplished. But her ears worked fine and listening didn’t hurt. Amazingly amid all the machine hums and beeps she heard around her, she also heard a woman’s kind voice.

  “Carrie?” It sounded so loving and concerned. It sounded like a mother, maybe her mother? But that couldn’t be right? Mom was dead.

  “Carrie?” There it was again. Maybe it was worth the pain of opening her eyes just to see.

  “Carrie?” the kind voice said. “Can you open your eyes please? I need to give you something and the nurses are going to ask me to leave in a minute. I’ve got to get back to Gage.”

  The mention of his name worked like a miracle. Carrie willed her pained eyes to open. The dim light in the room hurt like fury. But she kept her eyes open until she could focus them on the lovely dark haired woman sitting by the bed. It was Cerise Ferguson. She’d been weeping.

  “Oh, there you are.” She smiled through a veil of tears. “I know you can’t talk. The nurses told me your wound would make speech impossible for a while. But I had to give you this.” A tired hand lifted a large official looking envelope. She laid it alongside Carrie’s hand in the bed.

  “It’s from Gage.” Cerise wiped a quick tear from the corner of her eye. “We found it in his car last night. And I knew he’d want you to have it as soon as possible. Carrie, he’s not… he’s not doing too well. He’s in intensive care upstairs. He’s had a lot of surgery, but the doctors don’t hold out much hope. They say… they say it’s just a matter of time. The bullet did too much damage to his chest. And, he lost a lot of blood. Too much blood.” She gave a little sob before she caught herself and kept on speaking. “I really need to get back up to the waiting room, but I had to… see you and give this to you.” She leaned over and kissed Carrie on the cheek and left.

  Carrie tried as hard as she could to get to the envelope, but with the restricting IV it was out of her reach. So setting her teeth, she pulled with her other hand until the IV needle slid out of her arm freeing her. Then she reached for it. In a daze, she read the bold, masculine scrawl across the slick surface of the envelope. ‘Carrie Cain Smith’ it read in big black letters. She ripped the top off in one clumsy motion. She pulled out his Rolex watch and a sheaf of papers. Tears rolled down her face as she fingered the wristwatch for a while before dragging the papers up where she could read them.

  The top sheet was a letter written in the same scrawl that was on the outside of the envelope. It read:

  Dear Carrie,

  If you’re reading this, things didn’t go the way I planned them to last night. I tried as hard as I could to keep you safe. And if you’re reading this, maybe I did.

  I love you. I should have been honest with you sooner. I wish I had. You deserve the words Carrie. And I’m a fool for not saying them.

  If life was fair, I’d have gotten the chance to ask you to marry me so we could spend our whole lives together. But we both know life is far from fair.

  Carrie, God has a plan. And His plan would surely be for you to have a wonderful life, with the love of a good man and lots of kids. If they’re yours they’ll be beautiful and loving and probably wild to a fault. Just like their amazing mother.

  Baby, don’t waste your life grieving for me. No man will ever be good enough for you. But do me a favor and give at least one of them a chance.

  You can’t imagine how hard it is to write this knowing I can’t be that man. I can’t give you those babies or help you raise them.

  I love you Carrie. I love the Lord. And I trust Him. I’ll be waiting for you, Gage

  Carrie was sobbing long before she got to the end of the letter. She couldn’t breathe. Great gasping sobs shook the bed. The commotion had nurses rushing to her side.

  “She’s managed to pull out her IV. Call the desk. She needs more sedation,” said the old nurse in a stern voice.

  No! No! She wanted to scream, but couldn’t. It’s all my fault. I shot him. I’ve got to go to him. I’ve got to go to Gage before it’s too late. She felt the bite of the needle and the sting of the medication. It burned along the length of her arm. She silently mouthed his name, before she sank back into the gentle darkness.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next time Carrie came to her senses she wasn’t in a hospital room. In fact, by the smoky aroma drifting her way and the loud creaking of the bed, she’d have sworn she was back with Grace in Eden. But that was impossible. Then she heard soft melodic humming. And she knew anything was possible

  Opening one eye, she saw Grace sitting by her fire. The old woman was humming a hymn as she slowly rocked back and forth in her scarred old rocking chair. The elderly lady stared into the flames. She seemed to have enough patience to wait forever, if that’s how long it took for Carrie to wake up. Her gnarled hands were folded calmly in her lap. A cheerful foot tapped the off beats as a cadence to her monotonous rocking.

  Carrie thought Grace was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. She had so much peace and wisdom, and so much hope. She wanted those qualities for herself.

  But then in a wave of anguish she remembered Gage. She remembered the terrible night in the church parking lot, and the letter. Dear Lord, she’d never forget the awful crippling beauty of his letter. She stirred again, desperate to know if he was alive.

  “So Sleeping Beauty is fin
ally awake?” Grace asked in a kindly voice. “I was beginning to wonder about you Child.”

  The old lady got up and slowly straightened her back before moving over to the bed. “You want some Mountain Cure-all?”

  Carrie shook her head and tried to speak. Only a rasp came out of her throat. With a hand, she felt a heavy bandage taped there. Her eyes questioned Grace.

  “You can’t talk for a while yet Carrie. You got hurt. Do you remember?’

  She did. She felt Sam’s straight razor tearing into her throat. She heard the last shot exploding out of the gun in her hand. Carrie nodded.

  “Well, that old Sam Dole, or whatever his name was- God rest his soul, didn’t do any permanent damage. But it’ll take a while to heal. So in the mean time I guess I’ll have to do all the talking.” She smiled.

  Carrie held up her hands to pantomime writing.

  Grace nodded. “I understand. You want to write out your words?”

  Carrie nodded. Grace walked over to her pie safe She drew out an old notebook and a stub of a pencil.

  “Here.” She handed them to Carrie. “Don’t burn this one.”

  Carrie had the grace to look ashamed. She nodded. She struggled to sit up in the old feather bed. Grace helped her. And soon she was propped up against a mound of pillows scratching furiously with her pencil in the notebook. She handed it to Grace.

  Grace frowned as she read it out loud, “Where’s Gage?”

  Carrie looked so hopeful. But Grace’s words weren’t encouraging.

  “Carrie, I don’t know nothing ‘bout Black Knife. The only thing I know is some official looking fellers came in on a helicopter with you last night. They told me what’d happened to you. They told me about that polecat Sam Dole. Who would have ever thought he was a hired killer? Guess he had us all fooled. Those government fellers left me a bunch of pills for you to take. They said I was to look after you for a while. Said this was the safest place for you until you testified in some trial or another. They said to give you your cross necklace and tell you to sit tight until they came back after Christmas to fetch you.”

  Carrie’s face fell. But she took back the notebook and started writing again. When she finished, she handed it over to Grace again. Grace took her time reading. The old woman shook her head once more.

  “No, I’m sorry. We don’t have any phones and nobody has one of them cell things as far as I know. And I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout no big legal envelope. And why in the world would you think Gage’s getting shot was your fault?”

  Grace pointed to the writing in the notebook. Grace read it all over again. Confused, she shook her head.

  “I don’t know Child. You’re just gonna have to trust the Lord and wait to find all that out, I guess.”

  Carrie started crying. How was she supposed to survive for an entire month not knowing if he was alive or dead? Had she killed him? Inside her heart, Gage didn’t feel dead. Everything she felt for him, told her he must be alive. But, she thought cynically, probably every woman who’d ever had a man go off to war felt the same way. And they didn’t all make it back.

  Grace brought her a pill and a tin cup of herbal tea. “Take this, Carrie. I know your neck must be burning like Billy Thunder.”

  Carrie did as she was told. But she knew it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Not if Gage was dead.

  The days passed slowly one by one. The sun came up, the sun went down. Carrie lived through it all. After a few days she could speak, if you could call her croaking whisper a voice. She learned to do chores she’d never even knew existed, like feeding chickens and drawing water from the creek to bathe with. And she learned something more important. She learned to trust the Lord. Trust Him for His will in her life and not her own. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

  Oh, the nights didn’t get any easier. She still cried silent tears into her pillow every night for the man she loved. She still fervently prayed he was alive, somewhere.

  But a part of her knew that if Gage Ferguson was alive, nothing would have kept him from coming to her. Nothing could have kept him from finding her, nothing. So every day after she’d done the things Grace asked of her, she sat on the cabin’s rickety porch and watched for him.

  She sat bundled in an old quilt Grace had given her and she waited, sometimes for hours. Sometimes when she couldn’t sleep at night she’d get up as quietly as she could and creep out and sit on that porch. The stars would shine down on her from the inky darkness. She’d wait for Gage and pray.

  She was sitting there waiting the morning the helicopter landed in the field by Grace’s house. She watched intently as two men climbed down from its interior. Her heart broke as she realized neither was Gage. She stood stoically as the rotors on the helicopter slowed and the men walked towards her. Grace, hearing the commotion, had stepped out into the thin winter sunshine to join her. Carrie felt Grace’s old chapped hand grip her own and squeeze.

  The two big men strode up to the porch and flashed FBI badges.

  “Miss Cain, I’m Agent Hollister and this is Agent Mills. Glad to see you’ve fully recovered from your injuries. We’re here to escort you to the trial of Diego Fuentes.”

  Carrie nodded. “Thank you, I’m ready.”

  “Ma’am, we need to inform you of a few things first,” he said with no voice inflection.

  Carrie nodded again steeling herself for what they might tell her about Gage. She clenched her hands together in a tight fist and asked God to help her bear whatever was coming.

  “Ma’am, I am to inform you that you will be removed from this place and taken to a safe house for approximately one week. While there you will be asked to cooperate in every way with the government attorneys who are prosecuting Diego Fuentes for capital murder, drug sales, fraud, money laundering, and racketeering. Do you understand this request and agree to it?” He asked formally.

  “I do,” Carrie responded.

  He handed her some official looking forms. She signed the paperwork without reading it. She handed them back to him.

  “I believe this is yours?” He gave her the envelope from Gage’s mother. The one she’d received that terrible night in the hospital. Carrie reached for it with a trembling hand.

  He gave her no time to look inside it. “Now Ma’am, we need to be getting back in the air.” He placed a hand on her arm to escort her away. She would have gone like a sheep to slaughter, if Grace hadn’t tugged her back.

  “Oh no, you ain’t.” Grace put a motherly arm around her. She hugged the girl tight. “You ain’t takin’ her till we get to pray. You can join in if you want.” She gave them a stern eye. They both shook their heads.

  “Ma’am, I can give you five minutes. We’ll be waiting by the copter,” he said striding away.The women were left standing on the porch.

  “Come on child.” Grace gave Carrie’s shaking shoulders a hard squeeze. “You still got the old spoon I gave you?”

  Carrie nodded. “It’s in a drawer back at my house in Burnt Hickory.”

  “That’s good, real good. You just keep polishing that old thing with your new faith. God’ll add to you. We’re kin now, you and me. The forever kind. Let’s take our trials to the Lord. There ain’t nothing He can’t do.” She bowed her gray head and started praying, “God, Carrie sure needs you, right now- this very minute. Make her strong Lord. Give her back her man and if that’s not your plan make her strong like iron. Take this terrible burden away or make her strong enough to bear it like the woman of God you’ve made her. I know that’s why you brought her here in the first place all those months past. You were drawing her closer to you even then.” Grace sniffed away a tear and kept on praying, “Take care of her Lord, I know you can do it better than me, but I sure don’t want to let her go. Cause Carrie here’s the closest thing to a daughter, I’m ever gonna get. So Lord you got to help me let her go.”

  They were both crying by the time she finished. Grace kissed her forehead and choked out, “God bless you Carrie child.”r />
  Then she turned away from the girl on the porch. She walked resolutely into her cabin. Carrie lifted a hand in farewell. Then she stepped off the porch and walked toward the helicopter. Agent Hollister helped her up into the helicopter. He fastened her shoulder harness. Mills got behind the helicopter’s controls.

  “The flight will take several hours Ma’am. And it’s going to be kind of noisy. I recommend you wear these headphones. Try to get some sleep.” Hollister handed her a pair of huge headphones and stepped up to the co-pilot’s seat.

  Carrie stared out of the window as the aircraft lifted. She watched as Grace’s cabin became just a small dot with a smoking chimney Then she turned to the battered envelope in her lap.

  In a perfect world she’d open the envelope and find a new letter from Gage. One that said he was alive. That he was sorry he hadn’t come to her. But he loved her and would be waiting on the ground when she landed. It wasn’t a perfect world. Everybody knew that. The world was a cold hard place rife with sin and pain. And so when she opened the envelope his battered Rolex fell out. She turned it over. On the back read a curious inscription. It said, ‘Isaiah 6:8- Send Me!’

  Carrie wished she had her mother’s Bible so she could look the passage up in Isaiah. It must mean something very important for Gage to have it engraved on his watch. She slipped it over her hand and onto her fragile wrist. The heaviness of the band was comforting. At least it was a tangible link to Gage. She slid her hand deeper into the envelope and pulled out a sheaf of papers. On the top was the precious letter from Gage. Her tears had stained the ink, but she recognized it instantly.

  She gave herself permission to read it again. The second of thousands of times, she was sure; she was destined to read it over the course of her life. It still was the most hauntingly powerful thing she’d ever read. It made her feel cherished and priceless. She cried again and cradled it against her heart for a long, long time.