Roots in Texas

by K. N. Casper

  “We’ll check with the National Guard, see if there’s one available.”

  “Hurry. His pulse is weak, his breathing shallow. He needs help sooner rather than later.”

  “Any other injuries?”

  Ethan put down the cell phone while he performed a cursory examination. “No broken bones or other wounds I can see. He’s an amputee, though, missing one foot. He’s removed the prosthesis. The stump’s a mess, but he’s not bleeding anywhere else as far as I can tell.”

  He heard voices in the background, then the person at the other end came back on the line. “Chopper’s on the way. How will the pilot know where to find you?”

  “We’ve always called this place Turkey Draw, but I don’t think it’s marked on any topographical map.” Ethan gave directions as clearly as he could, using his ranch house as one reference point and Clint Gallagher’s hilltop hacienda as another.

  “I’m at a windmill. We’re on the north side of the tank, in the shade. I have a horse with me.” Then he came up with an idea. “There’s some dry brush in the tank. I’ll see if I can set it ablaze. Your pilot won’t have any trouble seeing the smoke.”

  “Good. That’ll make it easier.”

  Which reminded Ethan he’d better tie Cinco more securely, in case the smoke and the chopper spooked him.

  “Is there adequate space to land?”

  Ethan stood and surveyed the area. “On the east side. Terrain is fairly flat. A few small mesquite and a few cedars, but I think there’s enough room.”

  “Okay, they’re airborne now. Estimated time of arrival...ten minutes. Leave this line open.”

  Ethan wished he had a hands-free model. He hooked the cell phone on his belt and poured more water on the nine-year-old, hoping to bring down his body temperature. Again, he tried to coax some down his throat. It produced a cough, which he took as a positive sign, but didn’t want to take the chance of drowning the kid.

  He got up and made his way to Cinco, reassured the gelding with words and gentle pats, then fastened his reins securely to a stronger limb of the mesquite. From a saddlebag he removed matches from the survival kit Carter had packed, and walked over to the rickety wooden ladder on the side of the tank.

  Dead grass and tumbleweeds dotted the uneven bottom. He wondered what else might be lurking there. Scorpions, snakes, the possibilities were too numerous to catalogue. He piled the brush together and lit a match. It didn’t catch, but the second one did. He tore out some bindweed and tossed it into the hot blaze, as well.

  He was just climbing over the top of the wall when he heard the unmistakable drone of a helicopter. Looking up, he saw it headed directly for the plume of grayish-white smoke rising lethargically into the clear blue sky.

  He hurried back to the boy. Brad’s breathing was still shallow and a finger to his carotid artery indicated his heartbeat was also still slow. Had the boy merely passed out from exhaustion or had he suffered a heatstroke?

  The chopper landed right where Ethan had suggested. The noise and dust made Cinco dance, but he turned his back to the commotion and didn’t try very hard to escape. Ethan really didn’t want to have to go chase him later.

  Paramedics appeared around the side of the circular tank while Ethan was still huddled over the boy, shielding him from the dust and debris whirling around them. One medic carried an aluminum suitcase, which he set down next to the boy. The other quickly expanded a stretcher. Ethan backed off to give them access.

  The first man took vital signs.

  “Temperature one-oh-one. Pulse thirty-four. Thready. Respiration shallow and eighteen.” He read the self-inflating cuff he’d put on Brad’s small upper arm. “BP ninety-eight over thirty-eight.” He ran his hands over the patient’s body. “No signs of physical trauma. Start IV. Run it open, then let’s move.”

  The second man had already positioned the stretcher closer. He inserted the intravenous needle in the boy’s left arm and taped it in place. Temporarily placing the bag of Ringer’s lactate on the patient’s chest, they lifted the unconscious child onto the pallet.

  “You coming with us?” he asked Ethan.

  “Yes.” He realized he was still connected to 911. “Can I use a cell phone in the chopper? My horse—”

  “Make your call now. I’ll give you thirty seconds.”

  Ethan requested the dispatcher contact his ranch—he gave the number—and ask Carter Dunlap to come by and get the horse. He hated leaving Cinco alone but knew the gelding would be safe for the hour it might take the ranch hand to reach him.

  He hoped the sheriff would be in touch with Kayla and let her know what was happening.

  * * *

  AS SOON AS SHE GOT THE CALL from Ethan, Kayla turned the Mule around and headed back to the ranch house. She gave the utility vehicle full throttle, her mind filled with unanswered questions. How seriously injured was the boy? Had he fallen, broken a bone or simply passed out from heat exhaustion?

  Was he so badly dehydrated he’d suffered a heatstroke? Would they be able to save his life?

  She calculated he’d been missing at least twelve hours. The sun had been up perhaps nine. Not an exceptionally long time to go without food or water. Under ordinary circumstances he’d just be hungry and very thirsty, but today hadn’t been ordinary. The temperature had hit a hundred degrees, the hottest Kayla had ever endured. A stifling, dry, baking heat that dried her mouth and sinuses to the point of pain. She was thankful Megan was home in the air-conditioned house with her grandfather.

  She wondered how Ethan was faring. He cared very deeply for Brad, just as he did for Heather and Megan. He had so much love to give...

  The mule hit a bump, bucked and went airborne, making Kayla’s heart leap at the same time. She instinctively took her foot off the gas pedal and clutched the wheel with a premonition of impending doom. The vehicle nose-dived onto the gravelly surface and bounced into place, still rolling forward.

  Kayla’s pulse was pounding, her nerves near the shattering point. She was shaking and wanted to stop but didn’t dare. Vowing to pay better attention, she made the turn toward the ranch house.

  Luella came out on the porch as Kayla approached. Kayla shut off the engine and jumped out at a run. “Any more word?”

  “The dispatcher called, said the helicopter was there—”

  “What helicopter? Gallagher’s?”

  “Rescue.”

  “Where’s Ethan?”

  “Gone with the boy to San Antonio. Carter’s bringing in Ethan’s horse.”

  “Is Brad all right?”

  Luella shrugged. “No one knows.”

  That wasn’t what Kayla wanted to hear. Still, it could have been worse. “What hospital?”

  “The medical center, I think.”

  “I’ll find out. I’m going home to get my car, but I also need to speak to the sheriff. Do you know where he is?”

  “I haven’t heard.”

  “I’ll call him from home. I need to make sure Megan is all right, first.”

  The five-minute drive to the vineyard took four. Kayla skidded the Toyota to a halt in a cloud of white dust and ran into the house.

  “Is Brad going to be all right?” Megan asked the minute Kayla stepped inside.

  “I hope so, honey. Ethan found him quickly, so that’s good, and they’re taking him to San Antonio, to the hospital where you were.”

  “Will Dr. Hernandez be there? She’s nice.”

  “I don’t know. It’s a big hospital.” She turned to her dad. “I found a stash of herbicide that I think was used to poison the vineyard.”

  His eyes went wide. “Where?”

  “Hidden in a culvert about two miles from here.”

  “Why on Ethan’s old ranch?”

  “Dad, you’re not suggesting he might have had something to do with what happened, are you?”

  He looked pained. “Of course not. What I’m asking is who would think to use his old ranch to hide this stuff?”

  “Trying to
frame him? I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted. “I figured it was just a convenient out-of-the-way spot.”

  “And maybe it was, but until we find out who did it, we won’t know.”

  “Dad, Ethan flew on the rescue chopper with Brad to the medical center in San Antonio. I’m going to join him there.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  IN THE TIME IT TOOK ETHAN to make his telephone call, the paramedics had a line in Brad’s arm and were giving him much-needed fluids. The boy had moaned and squirmed halfheartedly, which relieved Ethan. The only thing better would have been if he’d awakened.

  He scrambled aboard the helicopter, closed the door and they were airborne. The medics had headphones in their helmets and were talking to each other, but the cabin was too noisy for Ethan to hear what they were saying. He watched with both admiration and apprehension as they monitored their young patient.

  Faster than he’d expected, they landed on a helipad. A medical team met them and quickly moved Brad inside. One of them asked Ethan, “What can you tell us about him?”

  “Nine years old, ran away from his foster home sometime during the night. When I found him he was unconscious.”

  “What about that foot? How did he lose it?”

  “Amputated a few years ago as a result of parental abuse.” The guy didn’t blink at the information. “He’d already taken the prosthesis off when I found him. Judging from the looks of the stump it must hurt like mad.”

  “So it was trauma, not disease. Are you aware of any allergies, other medical conditions we should know about?”

  “He’s not diabetic, I know that, but the person who can probably give you the history you need is Leona Rayborn, his foster mother in Homestead.”

  “We’ll contact her.”

  That would take time. “If it’ll help, I can call her.”

  “Good. We need the information ASAP.”

  Ethan started to use his cell phone.

  “Not in here. Use the phone at the desk or go outside.”

  “Gotcha. I just need to get the number from a friend.”

  “No one remembers telephone numbers anymore,” the guy muttered as he walked away.

  The nurse at the emergency room desk gave him an outside line and he punched in Kayla’s cell number. She answered on the second ring. Incredibly the sound of her voice calmed him.

  “We’re at the hospital,” he said. “Brad’s still unconscious, but they’re pumping him full of fluids. I need to find out his medical history from Leona. Do you have her number, or should I contact the sheriff and have him track her down?”

  “I’ve got it,” she said. “Let me check my contacts list.”

  Remembering the medic’s comment, Ethan almost smiled. A few seconds later she rattled off a number. He jotted it down on a pad by the phone.

  “Is he going to be all right?” she asked.

  “I hope so. Where are you?”

  “In my car on my way. I should be there in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Drive safely. I’ll be waiting.” He wanted to add I love you. But he didn’t. Maybe it was because of where he was and the people around him. Maybe because he’d never said those words to a woman other than his mother and sister. Maybe because he wanted to say them to Kayla in person rather than over the phone....

  He disconnected and dialed Leona. She answered on the fourth ring. A baby was crying in the background. He identified himself and told her where he was and why.

  “You found him, then.” She exhaled audibly. “How is he? Going to be okay?”

  “He’s unconscious. The doctors are working on him now. They need to know his medical history.”

  “Other than the foot, he isn’t—”

  “I’m going to put the nurse on and let her ask you the questions, rather than relay them.”

  “Okay. And, Mr. Ritter, thank you.” The sincerity in her voice made him rethink his earlier harsh judgment of her.

  He turned the phone over to the woman standing beside him and gave her Leona’s name. Then he went looking for the team working on Brad. To his relief Dr. Hernandez appeared.

  “You’re getting to be a regular here.” They shook hands.

  “How is he?”

  “It’ll be a while before we know for sure. Any idea how long he was unconscious?”

  “No, but I can tell you he was missing not much more than fifteen hours, and based on where I found him, I’d say he spent most of that walking.”

  “The less time he was unconscious the better. From what we can tell so far, he seems to be suffering mostly from dehydration. What can you tell me about his foot?”

  He recounted the story of his father nailing it to the floor to discipline him, resulting in gangrene and amputation.

  “How long ago was that?”

  “About three years, I think.”

  “He’s going to need a new prosthesis once the stump heals. The one he has is too small. Didn’t anyone notice he was limping?”

  Ethan looked away, feeling guilty. “I asked him once if it hurt him. He said it was fine. He didn’t limp all the time. I figured it would be normal for him to limp if he’d had it on a long time or was very active.”

  “At his age, he outgrows them as fast as a pair of shoes, but with a well-fitted prosthesis, he shouldn’t even notice that he has one. In fact, he should be able to play most sports without discomfort.”

  “He hasn’t had a very happy childhood,” Ethan said. “He probably accepted it hurting as natural.”

  She shook her head, but said nothing.

  The next person through the door was the sheriff striding toward them. Ethan introduced Wade to the doctor, who then received a page, excused herself and left. Ethan gave Wade a rundown of events.

  “You seem to have a knack for saving children,” Wade commented.

  “I’d like it a lot better if they didn’t need saving.”

  “I just got through talking to Leona Rayborn. You beat me to her.”

  “Is she coming?”

  “I offered her a lift, but she has five other kids to take care of.”

  “About his dad—” Ethan began.

  “Already talked to the district attorney. He’s going to get a restraining order to keep him away from the boy. If Carn Estes calls Brad or comes within spitting distance, he goes back to prison.”

  Ethan exhaled. “Thanks.”

  Kayla barged through the door. She looked worried and angry. As far as Ethan was concerned, even hot and disheveled, she was absolutely beautiful. He wanted to lock her in his arms and crush her with a kiss, but contented himself with taking her hand and giving her an affectionate peck on the cheek.

  The same questions and answers followed.

  “I found something you’ll be interested in,” Kayla told the sheriff. “While I was out searching for Brad, I discovered a cache of herbicide, Roundup to be exact, in a culvert on the old Broken Spoke spread. An applicator, too. Half of the bottles are empty, the other half, full.” She smiled at Ethan. “Seems like you and Dad staying up all night to guard the new shipment was a good idea.”

  Ethan nodded. “Sure does.”

  Wade asked for specific directions to the site.

  Ethan immediately recognized the location she described. “I should have thought of that spot,” he said. “Secluded, but easy access to your vineyard. Not far from the Four Aces, either. Did you see any breaks in the fence?”

  She shook her head. “I also didn’t touch anything,” she told the sheriff. “Thought you might be able to check the stuff for fingerprints.”

  “I’ll get right on it.” With that he tipped his hat, reached for the cell phone on his belt and disappeared out the door.

  Ethan turned to Kayla. They were alone in the same small waiting area they’d shared the night before, with no guarantee the privacy would last.

  “I’m glad you came,” he said softly, cupping his hands around the back of her neck and touching his forehead to hers.

&nb
sp; “I couldn’t stay away,” she muttered.

  He spread his arms and she slipped into them. Holding her close felt so right. The touch, the warmth she brought to him was a fulfillment he never wanted to give up.

  “I can’t believe all this is happening,” she murmured.

  “Neither can I, but I know it’s right.”

  She shifted and gazed up in shock.

  “I was talking about us,” he explained. “About you and me. Have I gotten it all wrong?”

  “Mommy, Mommy—”

  Kayla spun around to the open doorway in time to catch her daughter in her arms.

  “Sweetheart—” Kayla scooped her up “—what are you doing here?”

  “We came to see if Brad is okay. Did he get sunburned?”

  Kayla laughed. “We haven’t gotten to visit with him yet, so I don’t know, but he probably did.”

  “I bet he didn’t put on sunscreen like I always do. Boys can be so dumb—”

  “He’s not dumb,” Heather declared from the doorway, where she was standing beside Kayla’s father. “It’s not his fault.”

  Megan scowled with the knowing look in her eyes of a woman twenty years older.

  “Megan insisted we come to see Brad, to make sure he’s okay,” Boyd said, as if he hadn’t had any choice, “and I figured Heather would be worried about him, too, so I called Leona.”

  “Heather’s going to spend the night with us,” Megan added.

  Kayla was touched by her father’s thoughtfulness.

  “Can we see him now?” Megan asked.

  “Let me find out,” Kayla said.

  With perfect timing, Lou Hernandez appeared in the doorway behind Boyd. “I thought you’d like to know Brad is awake.”

  “How is he?” Kayla asked for all of them. “Is he going to be all right?”

  “We still need to monitor him for a bit, but he appears to be fine. The kid’s tough,” she said with a smile of approval.

  Ethan reached for Kayla’s hand. “Are we allowed in to see him?”

  “No reason why not. A few familiar faces is just what he needs about now.”