12-Alarm Cowboys

by Cora Seton

  Chapter One

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  Austin McBride watched from the fence with disinterest as five of his ranch hands crowded into the chute to help Tanner Douglas mount the new bucking bull Zack Taylor had delivered to the Double Bar Tee ranch yesterday. He wasn’t really interested because it wasn’t him mounting that bull, feeling the adrenaline surge through his veins as they tightened his rigging, helped him settle, then opened the gate.

  No, as ranch foreman, Austin now got to watch all the action from the fence, so he could assess the bull’s moves and the probability the bull would be leased by one of their rodeo clients. At least before he was made foreman six months ago he could act as the pick-up man when they tested bulls. Before ranch owner Zack Taylor decided he would miss his wife, country music star Haley Morgan and their baby girl too much when she toured without him, and put him Austin charge.

  That was at least a little exciting. This was boring as shit. Lately sometimes Austin wondered if the damned good money he made here made up for his boredom. He could be making a lot less money, but doing what he loved.

  Damn, he missed being a firefighter-medic.

  He’d been at this ranch for three years now, and in that time the most exciting thing he’d treated using his now rusty medic skills were strained muscles and blisters. His advanced firefighting skills had been of no use so far.

  The decision to follow the money and this rough stock herd to Glanville had been a tough one, and he wasn’t so sure the right one as far as job satisfaction went. He missed his damned family, and he missed having it all. Being both a rough stock manager and a firefighter-medic. Those had been the days when his life was good, and he missed it something awful.

  But Austin knew he made the only decision he could.

  The herd moved and that left being a part-time firefighter his only employment if he’d stayed in his hometown. He might have been able to make it on full-time firefighter’s pay at the Captain’s level where he’d been when he left, but there weren’t any full-time openings in the poorly funded rural department. They had too many men as it was, most of them his relatives.

  One day he’d go back to Gladewater, but probably not for a long time. Not until he saved enough money to buy his own spread and run a herd to support himself. There just weren’t any decent jobs there.

  His expenses were zero here, so Austin was saving every penny he made toward his goal. One day he’d have enough to do that, but not today. Today, he was watching the grass grow while his ranch hands fought to get Tanner strapped to a mean ass red bucking bull.

  With a sigh, Austin rested his chin on his forearms to watch Tanner mount the bull they were testing to see if he was fit for the rodeo clients who’d signed stock contracts with Taylor Bucking Stock Company. Tanner scooted forward on the bull, Rowdy yanked the rigging rope tighter, and the big red bull snorted, danced and kicked the chute. Finally seeing Tanner nod, Austin held his breath while Camron yanked open the gate and quickly pulled it wider, then jumped behind the bars to ride it back to the fence.

  The angry animal shot from the chute like ball from a cannon with Tanner on his back, then immediately crouched low. The thick muscles under his skin twitched before he sprang upward like a rocket launching, all four of his feet left the ground, and the ranch hands roared, as Tanner’s ass floated high above his back. When Furious George touched down again, Tanner went to work, leaning back, pointing his toes to hit the sweet spot near the animal’s neck with his heels, doing everything to get a good ride out of him, but George wasn’t having it.

  As soon as the bull’s front hooves hit the dirt again, he violently twisted his backend to the left, and Tanner’s body slid right. The bull seemed to know he had the advantage, because he didn’t give Tanner time to recover his balance. His backend bucked hard, going almost vertical and Tanner’s head slammed into his hip. When he came down hard, Tanner was jarred further off-center. Austin wondered why Tanner didn’t just dismount when the ride was obviously over, then he realized Tanner’s hand hung up in the rigging.

  Austin tensed, put a foot on the lower rail and pushed up, but before he leapt over the fence, Tanner had freed himself. Falling to the ground, the ranch hand rolled away from the bull’s sharp hooves, and Austin huffed a relieved breath as he eased back down.

  Tanner scrambled to get his feet under him and tripped, falling face first in the dirt, and Austin’s heart skidded to a stop when, as if in slow motion, the bull rounded, pinned his ears and fixed his flat, black eyes on the retreating cowboy. Ransom, their pickup man, saw too and shot forward on his horse. Austin scaled the fence, but knew neither of them would get to Tanner before the bull.

  “Run, Tanner!” Austin shouted, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he threw his leg over the top rail to drop into the arena.

  Tanner pushed up to his knees, giving the bull a perfect target. It was made more perfect by the fucking red kerchief stuffed into his back pocket. Ransom’s rope flew through the air and caught one of the bull’s horns, but Furious George shook it off. The bull turned, lowered his head and scraped his left hoof, kicking up a cloud of dust. Tanner finally got his feet under him, lifted his ass higher and stumbled toward the fence, but the bull charged.

  Ransom’s lariat flew again, the others who’d jumped the fence too tried to distract the bull, but it was too late. Head down, the bull ran full out toward the cowboy. His right horn connected with Tanner’s left back pocket, hooked in the denim, ripped the material and probably his skin, up to his belt. A high-pitched scream rent the air, as the bull tossed Tanner, throwing the cowboy against the fence so hard it rattled. Thankfully, the hands managed to distract the bull then, and Ransom and his horse dogged the bull through the gate into the holding pen.

  Heart pounding, Austin ran over to Tanner, who was entirely too still. The other men gathered around, but Austin shooed them back and turned Tanner onto his stomach. His whole ass was covered in blood that trailed down his left thigh too. Austin could see the ragged flesh through the rip in his jeans, and the adrenaline inside him evened out as his paramedic training kicked in.

  “Call 911 and get them out here fast,” he said to one hand, before looking at another. “Get me some clean towels from the tack room.” When none of the five pairs of boots surrounding him moved, he glanced up at Ransom. “Now, Ransom!”

  The men scrambled as Austin pulled his t-shirt over his head, before ripping the split in Tanner’s jeans wider to press it to the wound.

  “Tanner, you awake, bud?” he asked, putting his weight into the pressure on the wound, but the inert cowboy didn’t respond. Blood immediately soaked through his t-shirt to wet his hand, and Austin was damned scared he was dealing with a nicked artery.

  Dyson was the first to get back with a stack of towels, and wouldn’t you know the cowboy sat them down beside Austin in the dirt?

  “Clean towels in the dirt defeat the purpose, Dyson!” Austin yelled.

  “Sorry, boss,” Dyson replied, stepping back, looking a little green.

  There was no time to look green, Austin needed another set of hands so he could take Tanner’s vitals. “I need you to grab one of those towels on top and hold pressure on the wound, while I turn him.”

  “I’m sorry, Austin, I don’t do blood,” Dyson replied, holding up his hands as he backed away looking as if he might bolt.

  “Well, your friend might be in big trouble and I’m trying to help him. You being a pussy isn’t helping him.” Austin lifted the t-shirt to expose the wound, so he could check it and Dyson gagged loudly. He separated the wound to see if he could determine where the bleeding was originating, and Dyson spun on his heel to run toward the fence.

  Thankfully, Ransom came back right then, carrying a second set of towels. Setting them beside the first pile, he knelt beside Austin, who didn’t bother to mention he put those towels in the dirt too. “What can I do to help?” he asked, which was a helluva lot better response than he got from Dyson.

  “I n
eed to you hold pressure on this towel in a second.” Austin tossed his t-shirt aside and replaced it with a towel. “Did you call 911?”

  “Cam is on the phone with them,” Ransom replied. “But they said it would be at least forty minutes before they get here.”

  Austin blew out a breath, knowing it would be more like an hour if they were responding from the local station. He knew, because he’d checked out that station in Glanville when he moved to the ranch thinking he could volunteer, but it was too far.

  “Hold pressure on this towel when I turn him on his side.” Austin moved, and Ransom took over. Austin crawled over Tanner, then eased him onto his right side so he could check his vitals. When Tanner’s eyes fluttered open, Austin finally breathed again.

  “What happened?” Tanner croaked, reaching back toward the wound, but Austin grabbed his wrist to take his pulse.

  “Bull gored your slow, dumb ass and you deserved it. You know better than to tuck anything, much less a red fucking bandana, in your pocket.” Tanner sighed, and concentrating, Austin counted the ranch hand’s thready, rapid heartbeats then decided to double check at his carotid artery. Pressing two fingers at the side of Tanner’s throat, Austin counted. Still too fast, and not strong. He hoped he wasn’t getting shocky. “Breathe slower, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Just relax.”

  “Easier said than done, boss man. My ass is on fire and I’m bleeding to death,” Tanner replied weakly.

  “Suck it up…it’s a flesh wound,” Austin replied, knowing it was more than that. At the very least he’d require stitches, quite a few of them. At the worst, probably surgery to repair his gluteus muscle, or an artery. Thank goodness the bull had missed his kidney. A few inches higher and they’d have a whole different situation on their hands. Maybe a dead cowboy, if it was going to take EMS forty minutes to get to the ranch, and then another hour ride to a hospital.

  But five minutes later, only fifteen minutes after they called, Austin was surprised to hear sirens, which drew his gaze to the front entrance of the ranch just as a white Suburban fishtailed through the gate, bounced over the cattle guard, then hauled ass down the driveway toward them.

  “Looks like the cavalry is on their game today.” And it was a good damned thing considering how weak Tanner appeared to be, how much he was still bleeding despite Austin’s efforts to staunch it. The truck passed the big house and headed toward the barn but it was the wrong barn, so moving behind Tanner again, Austin nudged Ransom aside.

  “Go tell them we’re over here, Ran, and that’s not a medic truck, so get my kit from the barn on your way back.” Maybe the fire emergency response unit had been closest to them when the call went out and the medic truck would follow. Austin would use the stuff in his kit to stabilize Tanner in the meantime, or he hoped he could at least help him with the pain some.

  Ransom left and Austin lifted the towel to see that the bleeding had slowed just a little. Throwing the blood-soaked towel aside, he replaced it with a fresh one.

  “How bad is it, boss man?” Tanner moaned.

  “You have a spare hole they’ll have to sew up, but I think you’ll live to be stupid another day,” Austin replied gruffly.

  “Move aside cowboy, so I can assess the patient,” a female voice said authoritatively.

  Austin’s eyes landed on a pair of heavy, well-used fire boots, glided up long, long, very long legs to the hem of a navy blue suit skirt, then flew up to meet narrowed bright blue eyes. The woman looked ridiculous in fire boots paired with the fitted business suit.

  They’d sent a desk jockey trying to play fireman out here to help them? Or maybe the dispatcher hadn’t sent her at all. Austin had seen it before. Perhaps she heard the call on the radio while she was out for lunch and whizzed over here to show off the CPR skills she’d learned, but never put to use to add a little excitement to her life.

  Well, he didn’t have time for her to practice.

  “I’ve already assessed the wound, ma’am, and I’m keeping pressure on it to control the bleeding.” Austin let his eyes take another tour of her athletically curved body then met her eyes again. “Besides, you’re not dressed for the job. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to get blood on your nice suit if you’re going back to the office.”

  Her lips tightened, and her blonde eyebrow lifted. “I was on my way to a job interview this morning, but heard the call so I came since I was closest.” Just as he suspected, this woman would be of no more help to him than Dyson. But her eyes glided over Tanner, and she squatted down beside him. “Move aside, before your friend dies,” she growled, nudging Austin with her elbow. “By the amount of blood, it looks like he may have an arterial or vienous bleed.”

  Austin laughed. “No shit? You don’t think a band-aid will cut it, princess? Is that your professional assessment?”

  She pinned him with hot blue eyes. “You’re wasting precious time this man might not have.” Her mouth pinched, and she elbowed him again. “Move your ass out of my way, so I can treat him before he dies!”

  Tanner whimpered as he reached back again, but Austin caught his wrist. “He’s not dying—I have the bleeding under control, and his vitals are stable.” As stable as they could be considering he’d been gored in the ass by a bull, but this woman was upsetting the patient. She had the bedside manner of Nurse Ratchet. “We don’t need your help—we will be fine waiting on the medic truck, so feel free to go on to your interview…ma’am.”

  “Captain,” she corrected angrily, glaring at Austin. “And I can’t leave now that I’m here. You called us, so move aside and let me do my damned job.”

  Austin didn’t move, he continued to hold pressure on the towel, and held her impatient gaze until Ransom walked up to set his medic kit down beside him. Her eyes tracked to the kit, and she frowned.

  “Are you a licensed paramedic?” she demanded.

  Austin laughed, as he flipped the latches with his right hand. “Probably longer than you’ve been out of high school, sweetheart.”

  She stood again, stepped closer to the kit and put a boot on top of it so he couldn’t open the lid. Austin took another tour of those amazing legs up to the hem of her skirt. “Move your damned foot, ma’am. I need my supplies,” he growled.

  “Not in this dusty arena,” she replied with tight lips, and a lifted brow. “We need to move him somewhere else to treat him, and as far as waiting on the medic truck, it won’t be coming. Both our trucks are tied up on calls, so I’m the transport, unless you want to call a helicopter.”

  The stubborn set of her chin, and her eyes challenged him to argue.

  “Would y’all quit your damned bickering and get me to a hospital?!? My ass hurts, and I’m bleeding to death!” Tanner shouted hoarsely.

  “I have a backboard in the back of my truck,” the woman said, turning toward the fence, giving him a prime view of her deliciously round backside, which formed a heart at her narrow waist. Without a thought to modesty, she put a boot on the lower rail and threw her leg over the top rail. Austin caught a flash of her white panties as she vaulted over the fence. It wasn’t until that minute, he realized she must be nearly six foot tall barefooted.

  If that’s the way the local firefighters were built, Austin was definitely missing out by not volunteering. He’d like to volunteer for a lot more than fighting fires if they were. And if she was a Captain, according to the research he’d done when he got there, she was the only full-time paid firefighter other than the Chief and a Lieutenant at that station, which meant they must have a shortage of qualified people.

  This woman was too pretty and looked much too young for the job to be effective. Add her abrasive, superior attitude to the mix, and he couldn’t imagine a bunch of rough and tumble experienced firefighters listening to a thing she had to say, much less taking orders from her. Maybe she was a political or relative hire, he thought. That happened a lot at rural stations, hell, his station at home was rife with that shit. Austin would just have to go in to town and
check out the situation, maybe offer them his experience.

  A minute later the woman, whose name he hadn’t gotten yet, handed the backboard over the fence rail to Ransom, before she hopped over the fence again. Without hesitation, she knelt in the dirt beside Austin, helped him turn Tanner so he was on his side on the board, then strapped him down securely.

  “He needs to be in a C-collar,” she informed brusquely. “I have one in my truck, but forgot to grab it.”

  “His neck is fine,” Austin replied, pulling the roll of silk tape out of his kit. “We’ll just tape the helmet to the board and leave it on in case he has a concussion.”

  The woman’s hand dropped on his forearm before Austin could pull the end off of the tape roll. “How the hell do you know his neck is fine? And if we leave the helmet on, how will we get to his airway if we need to with that screen?”

  “I assessed the patient, ma’am. That is how I know his neck is fine.” This woman’s attitude was wearing on Austin’s last nerve, and he had an hour of it to endure while they transported Tanner to the hospital. But she was right about airway access—and Austin’s face heated. “Ransom go get a screwdriver and a pair of tin snips so we can remove the mask, and grab a couple of horse blankets while you’re in there.”

  Resting her ass on her heels, the woman put her hands on her trim hips. “We’re not doctors, we’re paramedics. Our job is to stabilize the patient for transport to the hospital where a doctor will diagnose him.”

  Austin huffed a breath and pinned her with his eyes. “I know what my job is here, and I’ve been doing it long enough to know that his neck is fine. However, I am going to stabilize it by making a neck roll with those horse blankets since you forgot your C-collar in the truck.”

  Tanner issued a pained grunt. “Call the damned helicopter, because you two will probably kill each other before we get to the hospital and I’ll be left on the side of the road.”