Heart of Clay

by Shanna Hatfield

  Chapter Seventeen

  Callan heard someone screaming, only to realize the terrified sound came from her.

  Men reached through the fence, dragging Clay under the bottom pole. Someone talked to a 9-1-1 dispatch operator. The air reeked with dust and the smell of blood mingled with the stench of singed hair from the brands they’d been burning just moments ago.

  Callan felt hands on her arms, holding her up, only to realize Jenna and her dad were on each side of her, hurrying her around the pen.

  She reached Clay and dropped into the dirt next to him. His left leg twisted at an unnatural angle. Blood poured out of his nose, trickled out of his mouth, and flowed from multiple gashes.

  Gently, Callan lifted his head and held it in her lap as her tears dripped onto his face.

  Fear laced icy fingers around her throat, threatening to cut off her air. She couldn’t believe this had happened, especially now when they were so happy.

  “Please, Lord, please,” was all she could think to pray.

  She sat for an eternity with Clay’s lifeblood pouring out around before she heard the ambulance siren. Everyone seemed afraid to move him, afraid to touch him, uncertain of the extent of damage done to his body.

  Callan thought the least she could do was keep his head off the ground and hold his hand. She kept up a steady, soft murmur of reassurances that he would be fine if he would just hang on.

  Julie and Bobbi arrived on the scene at the same time as the ambulance crew. Bobbi threw herself into Steve’s outstretched arms. “My baby, my baby,” she cried repeatedly.

  The emergency medical technicians were quick and efficient in loading Clay into the ambulance. Callan climbed in beside him. One of the EMT’s called ahead and requested the Life Flight helicopter be ready to go when they arrived at the hospital. She groaned inwardly, knowing that was not a good sign.

  “Mrs. Matthews, your husband’s injuries are more than we can handle in Tenacity. We’re going to send him to the university hospital in Portland. You can ride with him there. I let your family know to meet you there instead of at City General.”

  Callan stared at the young man doing his best to keep Clay alive and gave him a look of gratitude. “Thank you.”

  Within a short time, they arrived at the hospital and transferred Clay to the chopper. Callan felt herself slipping into a state of shock and denial. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t.

  She forced herself to take a fortifying breath and grasp Clay’s hand as the helicopter lifted into the air. Somehow, they would get through this. She refused to think of the possibility of Clay leaving her now that they were once again so much in love.

  Once they arrived at the university hospital, a team of doctors swept Clay away and a nurse took Callan by the arm.

  “Mrs. Matthews, I need to have you fill out some paper work. Maybe you’d like a minute to clean up. There’s a restroom right over there. You’re welcome to wash up and then we can talk.” The kind nurse, who didn’t look any older than Callan, showed her to the bathroom. Callan turned on the light and stared in the mirror, noticing for the first time the blood that coated her hands, splattered her face, and soaked into her blouse and jeans.

  Furiously scrubbing at her hands, she hoped she could scrub away the pain of this day. Tears flowed unchecked as she washed. She took paper towels to her cheeks and wiped her face as best she could. Her clothes were another story.

  After rolling back her shoulders, she stepped out of the room and saw the nurse waiting for her with an encouraging smile.

  “Mrs. Matthews, I realize you don’t have your purse with you, but we can get some initial paperwork started. Would you please join me over here,” she said, indicating a chair next to a desk.

  Callan gave her what information she could, wondering about Clay and why no one told her anything.

  “Can I please see my husband?” she pleaded. “Just for a moment?”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Matthews, but as soon as the doctors have something to share, they’ll let you know. Can I get you something? Some coffee? Water? Tea?”

  “No, thank you,” Callan quietly refused, waiting.

  A few minutes later, a middle-aged doctor with friendly eyes approached her. She stood to meet him, but he motioned for her to sit down then joined her.

  “Mrs. Matthews? I’m Dr. Fisher. I wish I had better news for you, but your husband’s injuries are complex and extensive. If it was just his broken leg, that would be bad enough, but the blood loss is significant. He has several broken ribs, one dangerously close to puncturing his left lung. He also has an injury to his head that looks like a gash from a hoof. We’re monitoring his brain for swelling and will take him into surgery right away. With the number of injuries that require attention, it’s going to take a while. Do you have someone who can sit with you while you wait?” Dr. Fisher looked at her with concern.

  Callan could have dealt better with cold professionalism. Compassion weakened the bit of strength she had left. Despite her paralyzing fears, she liked Dr. Fisher immediately and knew she could entrust him with Clay’s life.

  “My family is on their way here. I’ll be fine. May I please see Clay before you take him into surgery? Please?” Callan didn’t know if she could keep herself together if he said no. She needed to see Clay.

  “Certainly, Mrs. Matthews. I want to prepare you though. Mr. Matthews is hooked up to a lot of machines and tubes and it can look kind of scary,” Dr. Fisher said quietly.

  “I don’t care what you’ve got him hooked to as long as he is alive.” Callan studied the doctor a moment. “I have a feeling we’re going to see each other frequently until Clay is better, so you may as well call me Callan. Mrs. Matthews is his mother and she’ll soon be here, wanting to know what’s being done to save her one and only child.”

  “All right, Callan. Would you like me to refer to Mr. Matthews as Clay?” Dr. Fisher asked, impressed with the young woman’s ability to hold herself together in the face of tragedy.

  “Yes, please.” Callan rose to her feet. “I’m ready now.”

  “One more thing. Clay is unconscious but that doesn’t mean he can’t hear you, so please think about what you want to say to him. I firmly believe it can make a big difference in how he pulls through the next critical hours.” Dr Fisher glanced at her and smiled. “And you will call me David.”

  Callan nodded her head, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She followed Dr. Fisher down a hallway and sent up a quick prayer before walking into a room filled with doctors, nurses, machines, tubes, and more equipment than she ever imagined one room could hold. In the middle of it all was Clay. He looked terrible. The skin that hadn’t bruised was a horrid ashen color.

  Shocked by his broken appearance, she took another breath before stepping up to the bed. A place was cleared for her to stand close to his head. She gazed longingly at his hand and started to pick it up before looking to Dr. Fisher for permission. He nodded.

  Ever so gently, she took Clay’s hand in her own and started rubbing her thumb on the back of it, careful not to disturb the tubes attached to it.

  “Well, Clay, if you were tired of running cows to the chute, you could have just said something. This is an extreme measure to get out of doing your job, even for you.” She tried to imbue a light tone in her voice. A couple of the nurses smiled at her efforts.

  “Next time, let’s think this through a little better, okay. But since we are here, I want you to know our new friend, Dr. Fisher, is going to take excellent care of you. You just need to do your part, Clay. Do you know what that is? Your part is keeping your promises. I’ve never known you to go back on your word and today is not the day to start. You promised me forever and we are nowhere near forever yet. You also promised me your heart and I’ve had it for all this time, but I’m not ready to give it back to you yet. I still need it Clay. I need it very much.” Callan fought her tears, desperately trying to keep her voice even.

  “I’ve ne
ver known you to be a quitter, so you go in there and fight, Clay Matthews. You fight with every fiber of your being, because we’ve got too many happy years ahead of us to stop now. You hear me, cowboy? I love you, Clay. I’ll be waiting just outside the door for you. Come back to me.”

  Callan leaned over and gave Clay the softest kiss on his forehead, then nodded to Dr. Fisher as he escorted her from the room.

  Walking her back to the waiting area, Dr. Fisher grasped her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Callan, we’re going to do our best for him. We’ll let you know as soon as we’re out of surgery.”

  Callan nodded then sank onto a chair.

  Dr. Fisher walked back into the room and looked at Clay again. He knew the next several hours were going to push him and the rest of the staff to the limits of their capabilities. “Let’s do this.”