“I remember… some… of that,” she said, still trying to fight off the confusion.
“Good,” he said. “You were banged up pretty good. There were cuts on multiple places on your body. The windshield exploded and really did a number on you. The wounds were mostly superficial except for the cut on your leg. It was deep and may have nicked the femoral artery. It was bleeding like a gusher. You were losing a lot of blood. Are you a bleeder?”
“Not that I know of,” she said.
“Well, you used a tourniquet,” he said. “Good thinking. That may have saved your life.”
“Please go on.”
“Once your Jeep rolled, the men tried to finish the job on foot. Why they just didn’t shoot you, I have no idea. They may have wanted to take you alive, I’m not certain.”
“They wanted me dead,” Vandy insisted.
“How do you know?”
“Gut instinct.”
He nodded as he considered what she said, and then continued.
“I approached from behind in my truck and engaged them in gunfire. I wounded two of them and they took off. I’ve never seen them before. They took off in a different direction so I’m sure we weren’t followed here. They don’t know where you are. You’re safe here for now.”
“I want to call my chief of staff, Pam,” Vandy said.
“My satellite phone was out a few moments ago,” he said. “Bad weather blocks the satellite signal, and the weather out there is the worst I’ve seen here in ten years. As you know, there is no conventional cellular service out here, so we’ll have to wait for the satellite phone to come back up. You can call whoever you want then.”
“What else happened, after I passed out?”
“The weather was very bad and has since gotten worse. The radio is saying we’re looking at a record blizzard. The high winds have made travel pretty much impossible. I have medical background and have medical supplies. I brought you here and treated you. Your vitals are stable now, that’s great news. I did manage to call the hospital before the satellite went down.”
“So, they’re sending someone, like a helicopter?”
“Yes, but it may be a while yet,” he said.
“Because of the weather?” she asked.
He nodded, “Your condition is stable. They won’t send the chopper until the storm lets up. We officially have a new record-breaking blizzard in process. I’m not sure they’d risk it even if your condition was life threatening. Fortunately, it isn’t.”
“We need to call the police,” she said.
“I did,” Sam replied. “Chief Frank Stone is a friend of mine. I told him everything I know. There’s not a lot they can do until the storm subsides. They will want to question you as soon as possible when the weather clears. I did get the license plate on the truck, but Chief Stone said they were stolen plates. This might take a while to solve. Do you know those men?”
She shook her head, no, “I’ve never seen them.”
Vandy rubbed her aching head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Most of what he was saying was ringing a bell, up to the point where he brought her here.
“This is a lot to take in.”
“I realize that,” he said.
He pulled off his coat and scarf and hung it up on a hook by the front door. He was older than she originally thought—between 45 and 50, she guessed. He had on a simple light-blue shirt with dark stripes, unbuttoned half-way to his belt and tucked into his pants. He left his tan cowboy hat on. She noticed he frequently looked down and away, allowing the hat and viewing angle to block the burn marks on his face as much as possible.
“I have a bad headache and my leg is killing me,” she said. She lifted her covers to look down at her leg. A wave of panic instantly overwhelmed her.
“Holy shit!” she screamed. “I’m stark fucking naked. Did you take off my clothes, you oversized pervert?”
“Yes, I’m sorry about that,” he said, calmly but remorsefully, ignoring the insult. “Your clothes were covered in blood and you had cuts all over you. Your clothes were soaked in blood through and through and you were totally unconscious. You were losing blood. I had to stop the bleeding, clean and dress your wounds and get an IV in…”
“I don’t see much blood on my body,” she said. “Did you… did you… wash me?”
“Around the wounds only, but yes,” he said. “I needed fresh dressings…”
“Get away from me, you twisted sack of shit. You had your filthy hands all over me. You’re disgusting. Do you get off on that? You’re an abomination!” she cried out. She pulled the blanket up to her neck.
“Did you… hurt me?” she asked in a near-whisper, now in tears.
The man sat back calmly, “No ma’am, of course not, but I can understand your concern. I swear to you I did nothing that…”
“Where are my clothes?” she demanded.
“They’re in a plastic garbage ba—.“
“Get them! Bring them to me—now!” she commanded.
“Ma’am, they’re—.”
“I said now, dammit!” she yelled. “I could have you arrested for this.”
He sighed, and shook his head.
“Okay, I’ll get them.” He slapped his thighs as he stood. He walked to the door, retrieved a dark green plastic bag and brought it to her. She sat up, making sure the blanket continued to cover her breasts. She used her arms to secure the blanket around her chest under her armpits. She jerked the bag out of his hand and opened it.
“Now back your Jolly-Green-Giant ass up away from me!” she barked.
“I will. Be careful to not yank out the IV from your arm,” he warned. He walked to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and retrieving a bottle of water.
Vandy looked at her clothes in the bag; the stark reality set in. The smell of blood was the first thing she noticed. The odor was pungent and foul, it nearly gagged her. The clothes, her pants and shirt, her coat, bra, underwear, everything, were literally soaked in blood. He was not wrong. She looked at him. Instinctively, he turned his face down and away, again hiding a clear view of his facial burns.
She felt embarrassed. She breathed a heavy sigh and rubbed her temples. She had just called the man who had risked his own life to save her an abomination. How could she be that insensitive? After seeing the blood-soaked clothing, she realized there was no way he could possibly have left her in them and still treated the lacerations on her thigh, her shoulder, her neck, stomach, chest and head.
He had saved her from certain death. He had brought her back to his cabin and treated her wounds. He had shown her nothing but kindness. She should be thanking him profusely. Instead, she was all but accusing him of rape.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, handing him back the bag. It was her turn to look down and away. “Here, take these. I don’t want to put them back on.”
“I was going to wash them,” he said, “but I had to cut them off to remove…”
“No,” she interrupted. “They’re goners.”
He nodded. He stood and handed her the bottle of water. She took the water, opened it and drank a healthy portion. He took the bag and tied it closed, leaving it on the floor by the door. He turned and walked into the kitchen, opening cabinets and removing cans from them.
“My leg really hurts,” she said. “Do you have anything for the pain?”
“I do, but we need to get some food in you or it will play havoc with your stomach.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I am a little hungry. Again, I’m sorry for my behavior. I’m not feeling myself.”
“Understandable. You’ve been through a lot, ma’am,” he said, moving about in the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m heating up chicken soup,” he said. “Do you like tea?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said.
“Good, I’ll just be a few minutes.”
She paused for a moment and looked up, watching him prepare the soup and tea. His movements w
ere slow and deliberate. He was a mountain of a man, tall and built powerfully, far different from the petite models and actors she saw every day in California. He seemed patient and at ease.
“Hey… Sam, is it? Sam Steele?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thank you for what you did,” she said.
“Of course, ma’am.”
“And you don’t have to call me ma’am,” she replied. “My name is Vandy.”
He smiled and nodded but didn’t respond.
“The way I reacted to you—I didn’t mean it that way,” she said.
“Like I said, it’s understandable,” he replied. “After what you went through…”
“No,” she interrupted. “I mean when I screamed when I first saw your face, and then called you an… well, you know.”
He paused, instantly looking down and away again. It was very obvious to her that he was very self-conscious about his appearance. She wondered if that’s why he chose to live so isolated.
“You don’t have to apologize,” he said, finally. “I get that from time to time.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied.
“You shouldn’t be.”
“Yes, I should,” she insisted. “It was insensitive and horrible and totally unlike me. I have this habit of saying shit before I think things through. You wouldn’t believe the crap that comes out of my mouth sometimes. I didn’t mean it.”
“It happens,” he said. “I’ve heard it all before.”
“Where am I, again?” she asked.
“You’re in my cabin,” he said, softly. His voice was easy-going and calming.
“I know that much, but where is your cabin?”
“About four miles northwest of where I found you.”
That was even further away from town, she thought.
“You’ve obviously saved my life,” she said, “so please don’t take this the wrong way, but why am I here? Why couldn’t you take me to the hospital?”
“It was a judgment call. I didn’t feel I could make it in time,” he said. “The tourniquet you tied on your leg stopped the bleeding and saved your life but it was on too tight for more than thirty minutes. I had to get it off soon. Your femoral artery had probably been nicked and the wound was bleeding badly. I had to get the tourniquet off before your leg suffered permanent nerve, muscle and blood vessel damage. There were too many risks leaving it on. I had no medical supplies with me in the truck. With the severity of the wound if I had removed the tourniquet in the field, I’m not sure I could have stopped the bleeding; you may have died.”
“How far away is the nearest hospital?” she asked.
“The nearest one is in Whitefish, which is 45 minutes away on a clear day. It was probably an hour and a half in way in this weather, if I could have made it at all. There was no cell service to call an ambulance, not that it would have mattered. No ambulance could have made it out here in this weather. I thought about trying to make it to Whitefish, but if I had got stuck in the snow during the drive, you might have lost the leg or even died. My cabin was only ten minutes away. I had a judgment call to make. I did it.”
She listened carefully, and nodded at the end.
“I understand. It makes sense. You saved me,” Vandy said. “I can’t argue with the result. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied. “Okay, the soup and tea will be ready in a few minutes. I do need to do one other thing.”
He walked to the night stand and pulled a medical electronic ear thermometer from the drawer.
“You had a 102-degree temperature an hour ago,” he said. “I gave you some medicine through the IV to see if I could get that fever down. Let’s see if it worked.”
He positioned the device in her ear. She heard a beep.
“You said you had medical background, but you’re not a doctor, are you?” she asked.
“I’m a Licensed Emergency Medical Technician, an EMT, and at the moment, I’m an unemployed EMT,” he said, looking at the display on the thermometer. “99-degrees. Not bad.”
“Can I see your leg?” he asked. He could see her pull away and draw a breath. Her body stiffened with trepidation.
“I think you’ve seen enough of my snatch for one day, don’t you?” she snipped.
“We can pull the blanket over just that area and keep the rest of you covered,” he added, softly. “I need to see if the stitches are holding and whether I need to change the bandage. May I?”
“Hey, you didn’t take pictures of me naked, did you? I mean, when I was out?”
“No, of course not,” he said.
“You better not have,” she warned. “If I see any of my junk on YouTube, you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.”
“You’re kind of paranoid, aren’t you?” he noted. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
“Where I live everyone takes advantage of everyone else every chance they get,” she said. “It’s part of the Hollywood culture.”
“If that’s the case, I’d seriously consider a change of venue,” he replied.
“A girl can’t be too careful,” she replied.
“Well, none of… ‘your junk’ will be on YouTube, I promise,” he said. “Now… please?”
She paused, looking at him. Despite the bad burns on his face, he was handsome in a very rugged sort of way. She pulled the blanket away from her thigh.
“It’s not like modesty matters much anyway,” she said. “You’ll be able to tell the media that I haven’t had a Brazilian wax in more than a year.”
He pulled away the dressing. She noticed he had cleaned and stitched the wound. It still looked red and swollen.
“Oh my god,” she gasped. “That looks awful.”
“It’s a bad cut and it’s swollen,” he said. “When you get to the hospital, the doctor will likely replace these field stitches. I did my best and it will hold you until we get you there. If there is any scarring, a good plastic surgeon will be able to…”
“I didn’t mean this was your fault,” she said. “I know you were trying to help.”
“It looks worse than it is. When the swelling goes down, it won’t look nearly as bad, but make no mistake about it, it was a deep cut.”
He continued to study the laceration then looked at the bloody dressing, “I’m going to put on a fresh bandage.”
“Thank you,” she said.
He pulled his medical bag off the floor and opened it. Vandy took a peek inside it. It looked well supplied.
“You seem to have a lot of medical shit in there,” she said.
“I live alone and I’m miles from anywhere,” he said. “There aren’t many people who live up here but those who do know I’m the only EMT for miles. I get called into several emergencies a year. That’s primarily why I have the satellite phone. Everyone who lives within 10 miles has my number. Often, I’m the first responder way out here in no-man’s land. You’d be surprised; hunting accidents; skiing accidents; wildlife attacks…”
“It looks like you’re good at what you do.”
“What’s a Brazilian wax?” he interrupted.
“You don’t know what a Brazilian wax is?” she asked.
“No, that’s why I asked.”
“You know, like a bikini wax only… everywhere,” she replied, waving her hand all around her crotch area. “That’s when remove all the hair around the…”
“Ah, okay,” he said. “So… why would I tell the media something like that?”
She shrugged, “I don’t know. That’s what people do. You know, 15-seconds of fame—that kind of shit.”
“I live in the middle of nowhere,” he said. “Fame is the last thing on my mind, and I don’t know anyone in the media. Even if I did, the grooming of your lady bits would not be something I’d think to share.”
She chuckled, “Lady bits? You really are a cowboy, aren’t you?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“No, I didn’t mean that. I was
just… You know what? I’m just gonna shut up.”
He chuckled softly.
Vandy studied the man now sitting close to her on the bedside. Physically, his body looked like it was sculpted out of marble into the perfect male specimen. She could not recall ever meeting a man with shoulders as broad. What she could see of his chest through the open part of his shirt revealed rock hard, well-defined pectorals. His biceps were so large they stretched the material on the arms of his shirt. His waist was slender. He had sat on the bed to her right. When he turned away she could see the right side of his profile, the unburned side. Prior to whatever caused his burns, he was unquestionably and strikingly handsome.
She wondered how he had gotten burned so badly and why his appearance could not have been restored better.
“I don’t know why it is that I’m not freaking out more right now,” she said.
“You strike me as a woman who can maintain control,” he said.
She didn’t want admit that the cowboy’s slow, patient and deliberate demeanor had a calming effect on her, but that was a factor as well, perhaps the primary factor even.
“Those men shot out my tires and made me crash,” she continued. “They were coming for me. I wonder who they were?”
“I was hoping you could tell me,” he said. “They were coming at you with very bad intentions. You must have done something to really piss them off. What can you tell me?”
“I—I don’t know them,” she replied.
“Nothing about them was familiar?” Sam asked.
“No.”
Sam sighed, “What I don’t get was why they approached on foot after you crashed. If they wanted to shoot you dead, their sharp-shooter could have picked you off in the Jeep. One bullet and the job would have been done. They could have saved themselves a lot of trouble.”
“They did shoot at me,” she offered.
“True,” Sam replied, “but that shooter is good at what he does, I can tell. He shot out your tire to stop you, not kill you. The fact that your Jeep tumbled probably surprised them as much as you.”
“Do you think they wanted to kidnap me?” she asked. “For a ransom?”
“Most likely that,” he said. “Could be something else. We just don’t know all the facts yet.”
Brotherhood Protectors: STEELE RANGER (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 6