by Janet Dailey
A small sigh quivered from her throat as Colter rejoined her and Ricky and Missy. She studied him surreptitiously from the corner of her eye. This man standing beside her, her husband, a bronzed sun-god, she wondered if she would ever understand him. She knew him intimately and didn’t know him at all.
Natalie wondered if she would ever solve the enigma of her own ambivalent emotions towards him. On the one hand, she despised him for the way he used her. On the other she kept being drawn to a fiery inner core that she seemed to catch glimpses of without ever being certain it was there.
The scarlet and white plane taxied to the near end of the dirt runway. The rudders and ailerons were checked. Brakes were set and the motor revved. Then the flaps were partially lowered. Cord saluted them in a final goodbye as he gently rolled the plane on to the strip, quickly gaining momentum.
As Natalie watched the wheels lifting from the surface as the plane became airborne, she wondered if Cord Harris understood her husband — if he could explain the coldness that permanently encased Colter. In Natalie’s rare visits to Flo Donaldsen’s cottage, not even Colter’s aunt had been able to say why he had been deprived of the capacity to care.
Lost in the labyrinth of her thoughts, Natalie had been watching the plane without seeing it, deaf to the sputtering sound coming from its engine. Ricky’s fingers tugged her arm.
“What’s wrong with the plane, Nonnie?” he asked.
By then the engine had died completely and the red plane was sliding quickly towards the ground, past the end of the runway and with insufficient altitude to glide safely back to the clearing. A few scattered trees stood in its path.
The white El Dorado in which they had all ridden to the grass field was suddenly in her vision. She glanced in startled surprise to her side only to discover that Colter was no longer standing next to her. While she had been paralysed by what was happening, he had been reacting.
“Missy!” Natalie grabbed the young girl by the shoulder, the thin face as white and frightened as her own. “Run to the barns and get help! As fast as you can!”
Without a word Missy turned and ran with Ricky following. Now Natalie ran, not in the direction of the barns where the children were going, but towards the beckoning white rear of the car and the disappearing airplane. The crunching crash of metal on to ground and trees came next, seeming to go on forever yet lasting only fleeting seconds.
As she raced by the end of the runway through the trees, the sound of a pickup truck came from behind her. Catching her breath against a tree-trunk, Natalie glanced over her shoulder, wanting to wait for the help that was arriving and knowing every precious second might count. Resolutely she pushed herself away from the tree and stumbled on.
As she arrived at the crash site, her stomach turned sickeningly at the sight of the twisted wreckage of the red and white plane. Terror filled her heart, and she felt sure no one could survive that mess of tangled steel. Then a movement claimed her attention. It was Colter straining to open the caved-in door. Sobs tore at her throat at his supreme effort that was doomed to futility.
The pickup truck squealed to a halt behind her. With rounded, pain-filled eyes, Natalie looked over her shoulder at the men vaulting from the truck, focusing her gaze on the broad form of Travis McCrea. The shattering of glass sounded from the wreckage and she turned to see Colter tearing the broken fragments from the windshield of the plane.
Then her vision was blurred. At first, she thought, from tears. Her lungs expanded slowly in building fear as she recognised the cause of the shimmering haze. In confirmation, there came the crackling of flames. The air was expelled from her lungs in a heart-ripping scream.
“Colter!” This time Natalie screamed a name, her heart filled with terror that he would die along with Cord. “Colter! No!”
Now the fire was visible, hungry flames eating their way from the snarled tail section towards the wings and the ruptured fuel tanks. In that freezing second of utter danger, Natalie knew she didn’t want Colter to die as she had so often thought. She loved him! She wanted him to live!
With a smothered cry, she started running towards the plane. Fear impeded the co-ordination of her movements. Grey-white smoke was beginning to change into grey-black smoke, hiding him from her sight. Then her shoulders were caught in a fierce grip. She struggled uselessly against it, sobbing Colter’s name with every breath she drew.
“You’ll get yourself killed!” Travis’s voice implored angrily.
“I don’t care!” Natalie cried. “I’ve got to reach him. Colter —” Tears gushed from her eyes as Travis failed to listen to her pleas.
Then she heard his whispered, “My God!”
Twisting her head around, Natalie saw a figure emerging from the smoke. With a sharp stab of relief, she recognised Colter’s lanky form and the bulk of Cord Harris’s tall, heavy body in his arms. Then the flames reached the fuel tanks. The force of the explosion knocked Natalie off her feet, catapulting her to the ground with Travis’s protective weight shielding her from the bits of debris.
Flames and black smoke billowed into the air. Suffocating, searing heat tore at her lungs before she was pulled to her feet by Travis and pushed away from the inferno. The green leaves of the surrounding trees were transformed into curled ashes floating aimlessly through the air, suspended by the torrid currents from the fire.
The impetus of Travis’s hand pushed her several feet away. But Natalie had no thought to save herself. Turning back, she wanted only to reach Colter. The other ranch hands were of the same mind as she saw them racing to his prone figure, spread-eagled over Cord Harris in an instinctive effort to protect him from the exploding flames.
Two of the men pulled Colter to his feet. Semiconscious and dazed, he was led and half-carried a safe distance from the burning wreck. The other men, Travis amongst them, were making a human stretcher of their arms and carried the inert body of Cord Harris to safety.
The screaming wail of sirens was in the distance as Natalie’s quivering legs carried her to Colter’s side. There was the crimson of blood staining his chest, arms, and hands. His hair had been singed by the flames.
“Colter, are you all right? Are you hurt?” Tiny sobs shook her voice.
“Don’t worry about me.” Despite the growling force of his words, there was a glazed look to his eyes as he pushed her away. She had obstructed his view of the two men bending over Cord Harris. “We’ve got to get him to the hospital.”
“The ambulance and rural fire trucks are here now.” Travis was beside them, a restraining arm across Colter’s chest. “But I’m afraid it’s too late.”
The words wiped the glazed look from Colter’s face. With a lightning movement, he pushed Travis’s arm away, swinging his hand up in a vicious backhand slap that staggered Travis.
“No!” Colter shouted. Cold fury twisted his handsome features. “Damn it! He’s not dead! He was alive when I pulled him from that plane!”
“Oh, Colter, don’t,” Natalie sobbed, trying to stop him as he made his way towards the limp form on the ground.
The only hands he respected were those of the white-coated ambulance attendants arriving on the scene. The look in those green-blue eyes terrified Natalie as he stared at the blood-marked face on the ground. It was as if he was willing Cord back from the dead.
“He must be bleeding badly inside,” Natalie heard one of the attendants mutter.
“I feel a pulse,” the other one whispered as though he was afraid he would frighten it away. “Weak, but it’s there.”
With practised skill, the body was slipped on to the stretcher and carried to the ambulance. Colter followed, linked by some invisible wire to the unconscious but living Cord Harris. As the doors swung shut, Natalie turned to Travis.
“Get Flo to watch the children,” she ordered.
Without giving him time to acknowledge, she raced for the white El Dorado, sliding behind the wheel and reversing the car almost before the motor had turned over a second time.
The ambulance siren screamed for her to follow and she did, its wavering shriek so like the ebb and flow of life.
At the hospital, the admitting nurse directed Natalie to the surgical wing. There she found Colter sitting on a couch in a small alcove off the corridor. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him, staring at the closed doors marked “Surgery.” His gaze flicked to her in impersonal identification as she sat down beside him. Except for the hand she placed on his thigh, she made no gesture, uttered no words of reassurance. At the moment, all of them seemed without meaning.
The minutes dragged with immeasurable slowness and they waited in mindless silence. Colter was like a statue carved from stone, tensely rigid and unmoving except for his eyes that followed every person who left or entered the surgery doors.
With no conception of how much time had passed, Natalie saw his gaze narrow as a short, ageing man stepped through the surgery doors. He was not gowned in the familiar green of surgery. A white coat flapped about his legs as he walked purposefully towards them, his face permanently drawn in lines of gruffness.
“I thought I told you to get those hands taken care of,” he snapped at Colter.
“They’re only scratched,” Colter growled.
“Scratched?” the man scoffed. “Filled with dirt and glass, too. There’s nothing you can do here except pray. He’ll either be in there for hours while they try to put all the pieces back together or it’ll be over in minutes.”
“Cord is going to live,” Colter stated, his eyes vividly blue in challenge.
“Are you asking me or telling me?” the man mocked. “Because if you’re asking me, the only one who can answer that question is God Almighty. All that can be humanly done is being done. The authorities have notified his family.”
“His wife —” Natalie began.
“She’s flying in, although I don’t know how she has the guts after what happened to her husband.” The man reached down, taking a firm grip of Colter’s arm. “Come on. We’ll get those hands and arms cleaned up.”
There was an instant of stiff resistance. Then Colter rolled to his feet, an impatient cougar-like spring to his steps as he followed the man down the corridor. Natalie went along. Her tawny hazel eyes closed tightly at the sight of the slashes on his hands and arms from the broken windshield of the plane. The depth of her love for Colter made her feel the pain he seemed impervious to.
Then his blood-stained and torn shirt was put back on, covering the majority of the bandages except those on his hands. Their silent watch was resumed outside the surgery doors. A nurse brought them coffee which Natalie sipped sporadically and Colter ignored.
More time inched by. Light, hurried footsteps sounded in the hall, accompanied by long, masculine strides. Colter was on his feet as Travis appeared with an attractive brunette at his side. She walked straight to Colter, her hands reaching out for his while she mutely smiled a tremulous greeting.
“Are you all right?” Travis asked Natalie quietly.
“Yes,” she whispered tautly.
“Dr. Matthews called and suggested I meet Cord’s wife at the airport,” he explained.
Her gaze turned to the slim brunette, and she was barely aware of the comforting hand Travis placed on the back of her waist. She marvelled at the control in Stacy Harris’s voice when she spoke.
“Travis told me the way you risked your life to save Cord.” The brunette’s words of thanks were softly spoken but without the tremor that blocked Natalie’s speech. “There aren’t any words to thank you, Colter.”
“Cord’s thanks will be enough.” A muscle twitched in Colter’s jaw.
Stacy Harris glanced over her shoulder as if following Colter’s gaze to the surgery doors. “He’s still in there, isn’t he?” A shudder trembled through her and she hugged her arms about her as if to ward off the cold.
“They said it would be some time yet before he’s out,” Natalie offered in a weak voice.
It was more than two hours before a tall, heavy-set man emerged from the surgery doors, weary and grim, a mask hanging about the neck of his green gown. In a tired voice, the surgeon told them that Cord had survived the surgery, implying that he considered it a miracle. His injuries were extensive and serious, ranging from a severe concussion and broken bones to internal injuries.
“When may I see him?” Stacy Harris asked quietly.
“They’ll be taking him from the recovery room later to intensive care. It’ll be some time yet,” the doctor replied. “He’s fighting every inch of the way, Mrs. Harris, and that’s about all I can tell you.”
“Thank you.” A solitary tear slipped from Stacy’s curling lashes, the first one Natalie had seen.
A quaking sigh of relief came from Natalie. Travis’s gaze flew down to her face in concern and understanding. When the doctor left, he took the edgy silence with him. Colter walked to the window looking out to the west and stared at the sky shot with crimson arrows. Natalie couldn’t stop herself from following.
Without glancing at her, he asked, “Is Flo watching the children?”
“Yes.”
“He’s going to make it,” Colter stated.
“Yes,” Natalie agreed.
“I’m sending Travis back to the ranch.” His gaze flicked from the window to her face. “I know you want to go with him, but you’re staying here with Stacy.”
Natalie’s head jerked away as if he had physically struck her. “I planned to stay anyway,” she said through the tight lump of pain in her throat. It felt like her heart. “You are in no condition to drive home with those hands.”
He glanced at the bandages as though he had forgotten them entirely. Offering no acknowledgement, Colter turned away and walked back to the small alcove where Stacy waited. He had always had the power to hurt her. Now, with the new-found love Natalie felt, he had even more.
At midnight, Stacy was allowed to see Cord. She returned to the waiting area pale and shaken, but still in remarkable control of her poise. His condition hadn’t worsened nor had it improved.
The doctor who had cleaned and bandaged Colter’s arms came bustling down the hospital corridor at two in the morning. At the sight of him, Colter stiffened, his head thrown back and a taut line to his mouth.
“What happened, Matthews?” Colter demanded.
“Are you still here, Langston?” the doctor snapped.
“What happened?” he repeated.
“Your friend isn’t the only patient in this hospital. You’re going to be next if you don’t go home and get some rest.” The man’s scowling face was turned to Natalie. “Take your husband home. The next few days are going to be rough going. He might as well get some sleep while he has a chance. I’ve already made arrangements for Mrs. Harris to sleep here at the hospital. The nurses will see that she’s as well cared for as her husband.”
“I don’t need any sleep,” Colter denied in an expressionless tone.
“Get out of this hospital or I’ll have you thrown out.” But the doctor’s threat made little impression on Colter. A heavy sigh broke from the older man’s lips and his expression grew serious. “I’ll notify you personally if there’s the slightest change either way, Colter, but go home.”
“Please, Colter,” Stacy added softly. “You and Natalie have done so much already. If the doctor doesn’t phone you, I will.”
Natalie would have added her own pleas to theirs except she knew Colter wouldn’t listen to hers. For once, Colter obeyed someone else’s orders. Within a few minutes, she and he were in the car and bound for the ranch. Not one word was spoken between them until Natalie halted the car in the driveway.
“Would you like me to help you wash?” she asked.
“I can manage,” he rejected her offer curtly.
When they entered the house, Flo appeared in the living room wearing a long jersey robe to cover her nightgown. Colter didn’t even glance at his aunt, but strode purposefully down the hall to their bedroom. It was lef
t to Natalie to bring Flo Donaldsen up to date.
“Travis told me it was a miracle Cord was still alive at all,” the woman murmured with a weary shake of her head when Natalie had told her all she knew.
A wave of nausea swept over Natalie as she remembered the terror that had gripped her. “I still don’t know how Colter got him out of that plane before it exploded.”
The grey-haired woman was staring sightlessly beyond Natalie. “I once accused Colter of not possessing any emotion. I was so wrong. So very wrong.”
The amber flecks in Natalie’s eyes glowed with sudden brilliance. Colter’s reactions had been totally emotional, not just by rescuing Cord, but afterwards when he refused to consider him dead and later again at the hospital. He was capable of very deep-seated emotions. That cold hard shell was only an outer covering that had not been pierced until today. There was a tumultuous leap of her heart.
“You must be tired,” Flo Donaldsen announced. “The children are sleeping soundly in their beds and it’s time that you did the same.”
“Yes, I am tired,” Natalie said, but she actually felt marvellously awake.
“I’ll take care of breakfast in the morning for the children,” the woman offered.
“Please wake us if there are any telephone calls from the hospital,” Natalie asked as she started down the hall after Colter.
“I will,” Flo smiled. “No matter what the news is.”
The bedroom light was on. She found his bloody, torn shirt in the bathroom and the evidence that Colter had washed. But he wasn’t there. Natalie tiptoed into Missy’s room and then Ricky’s room, thinking he might have been prompted to check on them. He was in neither. Surely he wouldn’t have gone back to the hospital, she thought wildly.
Hurrying through the other rooms in the house, she saw from the living room window that the car was still parked in the driveway. A light was on in his study. When Natalie re-entered the living room, she felt a breeze of night air blow on her face. The French door to the back patio stood open.