Heartbeat of the Bitterroot

by Janice Mineer

  “Hush, now. Don’t talk.” He tucked the blanket around my neck.

  I closed my eyes and tried to shift in the seat to find a more comfortable position to ease the pain. There was an odd stillness in which I could hear Michael breathing close beside me as we waited for what seemed an eternity. I felt the warmth of his hand on mine.

  “It won’t be long now, Jenna,” he said. “Hang on.”

  Quiet voices drifted in from outside the car. “Yeah, that’s Williams’s horse—the buckskin,” someone said. “Oh, that’s a shame. That’s too bad. How’s the gal?”

  “Pretty bad, looks like.”

  I opened my eyes to see red lights flashing in the crooked remaining fragments of the rearview mirror. I didn’t remember hearing the sirens.

  “The fire truck is here, Jenna, and the ambulance,” Michael said with relief. A stocky fireman in a yellow slicker peered in through the driver’s side window. He paused, taking in the scene, then said, “Just take it easy, we’ll help you. Was anyone else in the vehicle?”

  “No.” Michael answered.

  “Are you hurt, sir?” the fireman asked. Michael shook his head.

  The man turned and shouted up the bank. “Just one backboard.”

  A second man joined him and they heaved on the driver’s side door, but to no avail. Michael reached carefully over me and shoved it as hard as he could with his hand. It wouldn’t budge.

  “What’s your name?” the second fireman asked me.

  “Jenna.”

  “Jenna, I’m Tony. Don’t worry, we’re going to get you out of here.” Turning aside he hollered, “Kevin, get the jaws.”

  More firemen arrived with the heavy equipment. Soon, the sound of metal tearing away filled the air. Michael faced me, putting his hands over my ears. He looked into my eyes and mouthed, “It’s OK. I’m right here.”

  The door fell open and swung crookedly from one hinge.

  “Where are you hurt?” an EMT asked.

  “My leg and my shoulder, I don’t know what else …”

  “There’s a cut here,” said Michael, lifting the edge of the shirt wrapped around my head. “That’s all I can see.”

  Removing me from the car was tortuously slow and painful. The firemen carefully strapped a cervical collar around my neck and worked to free my leg from under the bent dashboard. They secured an inflatable splint around my injured leg and wrapped me with more blankets as a cold mist of rain clung to my face.

  The firemen and EMTs transferred me to the backboard, supporting me on all sides. They worked quickly in trained, orchestrated movements and strapped me securely to the board.

  “Let’s get her to Marcus Daly Hospital quick,” one of them said. He yelled up ahead, “Jim, tell them we are on our way.”

  I lost sight of Michael as I was carried up the embankment and transferred to a gurney. As I was lifted into the ambulance, I heard Michael say, “I want to ride along.”

  “Are you family?” the EMT asked.

  Michael spread his hands, “No, but …”

  “I’m sorry, sir. Policy. Family only. You can meet us at the hospital.”

  “Michael.” I said weakly as they shut the ambulance door.

  The ride to the hospital was interminable. The EMTs put a compress on my forehead, then worked rapidly, checking me for other wounds.

  “Where is all this blood coming from?” said the woman, working quickly as she cut away my clothing.

  “Well, she hit a horse …” The sandy-haired man held his palms up, his eyebrows raised.

  IV bags swung on pegs as the ambulance rocked gently and the siren wailed. The EMTs’ faces began to spin in front of me and before long, their voices came from a great distance. Then there was blackness.

  Chapter 40

  dc

  Jenna, we’re going to move you now.”

  I awoke and saw the door of the ambulance open. A red neon sign spelled “emergency” over the glass doors outside and a half dozen medical personnel stood waiting at the entrance. I remembered coming in here once as a kid with a broken arm. We waited what seemed like forever to see someone. Now they encircled me as soon as the gurney hit the pavement.

  Bright lights flicked past overhead as they wheeled me into the hallway. A petite, blonde nurse leaned over me, her ID necklace swinging.

  “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” She scanned my body and raised her eyebrows. “Take her right into room one. Lisa, get Dr. Hanson.”

  “I think he’s in with …”

  “Stat!” she said emphatically.

  They wheeled me into the trauma bay and transferred me from the gurney to a bed. Every movement was agony.

  “Where’s Michael? Is he all right?” I asked, catching my breath.

  “Who’s Michael?” said a nurse.

  “The one at the scene? Tall guy? Dark hair?” asked the tall sandy-haired EMT.

  “Yes, is he all right? Where is he?” I asked with concern and then flinched as a nurse inserted an IV.

  “Haven’t seen him here,” said the EMT. “The nurses will let you know if he arrives.”

  The EMTs disappeared with the gurney.

  I stared at the silver slats on the white ceiling tiles as nurses clad in navy-and-green uniforms hurried in and out of the room carrying clipboards, opening packages, pulling on blue gloves. My brakes. My brakes. What happened? I just had them checked when my car was in for the oil change. They were fine. Everything was fine. What happened to my car?

  “Jenna, my name is Sherry.” A nurse with long black hair and deep-set gray eyes pulled up my sleeve. She pulled a stethoscope from around her neck and strapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm. “How are you doing?”

  “I … I don’t know. It hurts so bad.”

  “Where are you having pain?”

  “My leg hurts a lot. The left one. And my shoulder.”

  “On a scale of one to ten with ten being unbearable, where would you rate the pain in your leg?”

  “Ten.”

  “Shoulder?”

  “Eight.”

  A thin male nurse with a dark mustache brought in a cart full of supplies and equipment. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt under his scrub top. Stepping over to the bed he asked, “BP?”

  “BP is 155 over 100.”

  A nurse put her head into the room. “Brian, do you want that tray?”

  The man in the Hawaiian shirt responded. “Yes.”

  “Can you tell me what day it is?” he asked me.

  It took a moment. “Friday.”

  “What’s you full name?” He pulled a pen from behind his ear.

  “Jenna Christine Clark.” My voice was weak, my throat dry.

  “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  Behind him, I saw Michael enter the room, his clothes still covered with blood. He hung back by the door, narrowly avoiding a collision with the blonde nurse. He rubbed the back of his neck and shifted nervously as he watched the nurses working over me.

  “Michael,” I whispered.

  “Possible dislocated shoulder. Leg is swollen above the knee.”

  He pushed on my leg and I screamed.

  “Likely fractured femur.”

  “Lacerations?”

  “Forehead and … and … that’s all I got. Actually, that’s hard to believe considering …”

  “Where’s Dr. Hanson?”

  The blonde nurse had come back in. “On his way,” she said. She stopped abruptly, noticing Michael at last. She scrutinized his clothing and his face. I heard her question him and saw her look him over. He shook his head, backing up slightly.

  “Let’s get started on cleaning that cut,” Brian said turning to the cart.

  The blonde nurse firmly pushed Michael out through the door. He looked anxiously in my direction.

  “Michael,” I said reaching out to him, pulling at the IV. “Wait!”

  “You can see him later, honey,” Sherry said. “You be still, now. You’ll pull out your li
ne. We’ll check him out too. Let’s get you taken care of.”

  Dr. Hanson arrived. “Jenna, you got yourself in quite an accident here,” he said. He pulled out a flashlight and directed it across my eyes. “Let’s get a CT of her head and assess for any damage,” he told the nurse.

  I started drifting again, feeling disconnected from my broken body. I was roused by the technicians who tested me—x-rays, scans, something being wrapped around my leg. I kept looking for Michael, searching for his face, then fading back into oblivion.

  I was aware enough to understand my leg was broken in two places, I had cracked ribs, and a dislocated shoulder. On the way back from the lab, my aunt and uncle appeared by the side of my gurney in the hall, looking windblown and stressed.

  “Jenna, you poor girl! I’m so sorry this has happened to you!” Ann said tearfully. She carefully maneuvered around my IV to put her arm around me and kiss my forehead. “That stupid, stupid horse.”

  They followed as the nurse wheeled me to my room and jockeyed my bed into the corner.

  I was groggy from the morphine. I tried to remember exactly what happened, pieces of it missing like torn pages from a book. “I’m sorry. It was so dark. It was raining. I couldn’t see.”

  My uncle kneaded his cowboy hat and looked grim.

  “Is Michael OK?” I asked.

  “He’s all right,” Ann said. “We talked to him in the waiting room. Jack took him to our house to clean up. He’s shaken up, of course. So worried about you. Said to tell you he’d be back. Thank goodness he came along when he did.” She stroked my arm gently.

  “I’m really sorry,” I said again. “Zee will be so upset. The horse.”

  “It’s not your fault.” my uncle said, his voice tense. “If people can’t keep their animals within safe bounds and protect them, these things will inevitably happen.”

  His words jumbled in my ears. I closed my eyes and felt myself floating, slipping away into darkness.

  Safe. Safe. The porch is safe. Come on in Michael. Come in. Olly, olly oxen free.

  A

  I awoke in the night. A strong smell of soap and plastic filled my nostrils. I opened my eyes and blinked to clear my vision. It took me a minute to remember where I was. My head ached and I felt like I was climbing up through a dense fog. A dim light came from the slightly open door. It was strangely quiet, only the soft, steady clicking of a machine behind me.

  I saw Michael, his head of dark, wavy hair resting on his arms as he leaned on the railing of my bed. Slowly, I reached over and ran my fingers through his thick curls.

  He raised his head and rubbed an eye. He took my hand and pressed it against his cheek, warm and rough with stubble.

  “Jenna.” His voice was thick. “How are you doing?”

  I shifted in the bed, then winced. “My leg really hurts.”

  He started to stand. “I’ll get the nurse.”

  “Wait. Don’t leave me.” I grabbed his sleeve.

  He folded my hand in both of his, holding it to his heart. “Jenna …” he paused and his voice caught. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought …” He cradled my cheek in his hand, his eyes pleading. “Jenna, please don’t leave. Please don’t take that job in Hawaii. Don’t leave Montana,” he whispered. “I can’t let you go. You have entwined yourself into every fiber of my being. I can’t imagine life without you now. When I wake up in the morning all I can think of is where you are and when I will get to see you. The smell of your hair, your laugh, your beautiful, green eyes … you are a part of the rhythm of my breathing now.” He paused and swallowed hard. “I have held back and I’m sorry. I know now that the fear of losing you is nothing next to the thought of never having you at all. You have captured me completely.” He buried his face into the pillow next to my ear. “Stay with me,” he pleaded, “Stay.”

  I put my arm around him, carefully trailing the IV. I held onto him. I felt like all the pieces of my life had suddenly fallen into place. It was a tranquility so deep that it seemed to fill the universe.

  I turned and pressed my face into his neck, the warmth of it traveling through me as the sands of reality sifted away beneath me and I drifted toward sleep.

  “How could I not stay?” I murmured. “You have my heart.”

  Chapter 41

  dc

  I swam up from a deep sleep and met sunlight filtering through my eyelids from the window.

  Dry. So dry. I opened my eyes to look for water just as a nurse wearing a smock with red hearts bustled into the room.

  “How are we doing this morning?” she asked as she checked the fluids in my IV.

  I suspected she was doing a lot better than I was at that moment.

  “Could I have some water, please?”

  “Sure, honey.” She brought a straw to my lips. “Your family is waiting just outside there in the waiting room. You ready to see them? They’ve been worried about you.”

  “Yes, please. Is Michael out there?”

  “Tall handsome guy? Dark hair?” She smiled. “Been here all night.”

  She swept from the room.

  The accident came back to me in fragments, a chaotic time line. The rain, shattered glass, pain, Michael’s face in the window, the shimmering lights on the road, slamming my foot on the useless brake over and over, the skeletal arms of a leafless tree leaning menacingly over the broken windshield, Michael holding me, the searing pain, the sound of sirens, the unrelenting searing pain. Trapped.

  I closed my eyes and saw a beige form flash across the road, a dark flowing tail.

  I pressed a hand into my eyes trying to clear my head.

  Michael appeared at the door. Relief spread across his face when he saw me.

  “Hey, you’re awake.” He came to the bedside. He stroked the hair away from my eyes and kissed my forehead.

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost noon, you laze,” Jack said, coming to the foot of the bed, Elizabeth behind him.

  “How are you feeling, sweetie?” Elizabeth’s eyebrows knit with concern.

  “I’m OK.”

  “Well, you lie pretty good!” Jack laughed.

  Martin and Ann came in with Zee. She stood at the door biting the sleeve of her sweatshirt, tears welling in her eyes. I raised my hand and motioned her to me. She came to the bedside and squeezed my hand.

  “It’s OK, Zee girl. I’ll be fine,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Don’t worry.”

  I looked from Michael to Martin. “I wrecked my car.”

  “Yes, you did,” Martin said blandly.

  “It was raining so heavily. It was hard to see. There was a horse on the road. A horse. What happened to the horse? Did I hit it? My brakes. My brakes failed. I couldn’t stop. I swerved …”

  Michael took hold of my hand, calming me. “Don’t talk. Just rest for now.”

  “Alvin Williams’s horse.” Martin scowled. “Idiot doesn’t mind his fences and the horse was always loose. Finally lost it for good.”

  “It’s dead?” Zee asked, horrified. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth as Ann put her arm around her thin shoulders.

  “I’m sorry, Zee,” I said.

  “Not your fault,” Martin said sternly. “Man should look after his animals like family.”

  “But why couldn’t I stop? My brakes …” Suddenly, I remembered the puddle with the rainbow hue by my car in the parking lot outside the stadium. “My car. Leaking—something was leaking.”

  “I’ve been talking to the police,” Michael said. He bit his lip in hesitation. “They think someone tampered with your brakes.”

  “But why?” My mind raced back over the last few months. Jeremy Hunsaker’s breaking into my house, the strange texts, the killing of the bison, the man by the river. I saw again the black Mercedes veering toward my fender. I ran my hand over my eyes. It was all so impossible. Was it all related?

  “I got a call from Grant,” Jack said. “He’s working on something. He thinks there’s a connection between y
our accident and the threatening texts you’ve been receiving, but he couldn’t say much yet.”

  “Angela and James are on their way over from Bozeman,” Ann said. “They are so worried about you, dear.”

  There was an abrupt knock on the door and the tall, broad-shouldered doctor I’d met the night before stepped briskly into the room. A hospital ID badge swung on his bright green polo shirt. Acknowledging the visitors in the room, he bellowed, “Good morning, I’m Dr. Hanson. I worked with Jenna last night.”

  Martin nodded and stepped aside to give him some space by the bed.

  “Well, this girl has had quite an adventure,” he said brightly. “How are you feeling now, Jenna?”

  “Kind of like I’ve been in a car wreck,” I said wryly.

  The doctor laughed, then flipped through the sheets on his clipboard.

  “Your shoulder was dislocated and you have numerous contusions. We put some stitches in your forehead. We put your leg in a soft cast last night.” He tapped a finger on the enormous bulge under the sheets. “We will check it again in a week. We can assess the situation at that time—see if any pins are needed. But with luck, we will not have to do any surgery. You’ve been through a lot, but all in all you’re remarkably lucky. That was a bad one, but you came through it better than I would have expected.”

  “We feel lucky to still have her with us,” Ann said soberly.

  “I need to take a quick look at you, Jenna. Could you excuse us please?” he said to the others. “We’ll need just a moment.”

  When they all stepped out, the doctor prodded and poked in all the places that hurt most.

  “I’m going to keep you in the hospital for now just to keep an eye on you, but if all goes well, you could be out of here in a day or two. You’ll need some physical therapy, and you’ll have to take it easy for a while, but you should expect a full recovery.”

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling relieved, but I grimaced internally at the thought of crutches and painful exercises.

  Martin stopped Dr. Hanson in the hall and I could hear him grilling the doctor about my condition. The rest of the family filtered back into the room. Jack and Elizabeth crowded in at the rear.

  Michael came to the side of the bed, took my hand, and rubbed it gently.