Wind River Lawman

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Right you are,” she said. “Sarah got lucky. Really lucky. It will take her six to eight weeks to heal from that kind of fracture. I know her pretty well because we see her in here from time to time, when an accident victim is brought in to us, and I know she hates being bed bound. She’s a restless tumbleweed,” and Karen smiled fondly. “She won’t like being trussed up and then being tied up in a wheelchair, bed or crutches that long.”

  A sliver of relief threaded through him as the nurse set up the blood transfusion. “That’s good to hear. How about the deputy with the head wound? How is he doing?”

  Karen grimaced. “Craig Jacobs is in surgery as well. We called in our neurologist, Dr. Susan Costa, and she’s operating on him.” She straightened. “Both Craig and Sarah are critical.”

  An icy knife plunged into his heart and he tried to shield himself from the emotions erupting within him. “How much of my blood are you going to take?”

  “Two pints.”

  “No, take three.”

  “I can’t do it because of hospital regulations—”

  “Good news,” Reese Lockhart called, walking swiftly into the room. “I just got word from the second-in-command deputy for Lincoln County that the Teton sheriff has already picked up four pints of AB Positive blood from the Jackson Hole Hospital and they’re taking off right now, flying them here. They should be here in thirty minutes.”

  Relief melted some of that icy knife within him. “That’s good news. What about Sarah’s family? Are they here?”

  Reese nodded. “Yes. They’re all up on the second floor, surgery. Her parents, as well as the two grannies. They were already up there when Shay and I arrived. Everyone is deeply shaken.”

  “Who isn’t?” Dawson agreed quietly. He looked at the red blood flowing below the chair into a bag. “How’s Shay doing?”

  “Better,” Reese said. “You may not know this, but Shay and Sarah went from first grade through twelfth together. They’re close friends.”

  “No, I didn’t know that.” It explained Shay’s extreme response to that life-changing phone call. Looking over at Karen, he asked, “Do you know how much blood Sarah lost?”

  “No, but the operation team will. I’m to get your blood up to them as soon as possible. It’s going to help save her life. The other AB Positive blood coming in from Jackson Hole will be used by the surgical team instead of O positive blood. Your blood is going to stabilize her.”

  Urgency thrummed through Dawson. He knew if Sarah didn’t have enough blood in her body, her heart would stop working and she’d die on the table. Sure the surgical team was on top of that possibility, he wanted to hurry the transfusion process along, get up on the surgery floor and ask the nurse there for an update on her progress. He couldn’t lose her! He was just getting her trust, slowly but surely, and now this. Dawson didn’t know if she would live, and that shattered him in a way that left him feeling helpless.

  * * *

  Dawson entered the surgery lobby, looking for the Carter family. Nurse Siebold had taken the two pints of his blood directly to surgery. He spotted Sarah’s family standing huddled together, along with Reese and Shay. They all looked in his direction when he entered.

  Emily, Sarah’s mother, gave him a wobbly smile and threw her arms around him. “Thank you,” she said against his chest. “Karen told us earlier that you were coming in and volunteering your blood for her. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  He squeezed her gently and released her. Emily’s tears touched him deeply. Wrestling to keep his own personal feelings for Sarah aside, he rasped, “It’s the least I could do.”

  David, Sarah’s father, clapped him on the shoulder. “I just got word the Teton sheriff’s helo is landing on the pad just outside here. Thank you. I know you’ve given our daughter a fighting chance by giving your blood first.”

  “You’re our hero,” Emily whispered, pushing the tears away.

  Dawson saw Gertie aimed, fired and coming for him. He managed a slight grin. “Sorry I couldn’t be the one to drive you over here.”

  “Pshaw!” Gertie growled, throwing her arms around his middle, squeezing the daylights out of him.

  Warmth flooded his chest as he squeezed his short, thin boss. Releasing her, he saw Nell coming at a slower pace in his direction, gratefulness in her expression. “Who brought you here, Gertie?”

  “One of the men from the chicken side of the ranch. Don’t worry about it,” she told him gruffly, releasing him, standing aside so Nell could hug him, too.

  Dawson was overwhelmed with the family’s thanks. Nell said nothing more than “thank you,” but it was more than enough. When he released the grandmother, he looked to Emily and David. “Have you heard anything?”

  “Just before you arrived,” Emily said, “a surgery nurse came out to tell us they had given Sarah your blood and that it stabilized her numbers.”

  Relief swept through him. “Good,” he managed, his voice sounding strangled. So many emotions were going through him in that moment. He saw so much of Sarah’s face in Emily’s. Dawson felt as if his heart were being torn in two. The expressions on the faces of her family as they surrounded him nearly drove him to tears. Gulping several times, he rasped, “Why don’t we sit down? We just have to wait to hear from the surgeon.”

  They had no more than sat down when a nurse came out of the operating room. She was dressed in green scrubs and gown, her mask pulled aside. Going directly to David and Emily, she said, “We’ve given Sarah two more AB Positive pints. She required four pints. She’s stable, no longer critical. The operation is going well. Dr. Martin says he’s about finished. He should be coming out to speak to all you in about half an hour.”

  “Thank you,” David said, a catch in his voice. “For everything . . .”

  Sitting across the room on a red plastic couch, Dawson felt as if someone had suddenly breathed life back into him. Sarah was stable. Stable! He wanted to get up and yell it to the heavens. Because he was a paramedic, he knew Martin had sewn the torn femoral artery back together again. All that remained was for him to see if any other muscles were involved in the trajectory of the bullet, so he could repair them as well. There was nothing they could do about a Greenstick fracture except keep Sarah off her feet, give her a brace; she would be stuck in a wheelchair for a while as her leg healed.

  Looking around, he saw the utter relief on the faces of her gathered family. Emily was clutching her husband’s hand, her other hand across her mouth for a moment, as if to stop a sob or cry of elation at the good news. Dawson could feel the raw emotion of the Carters. He was no less affected, but none of them knew of his growing affection . . . maybe love . . . for Sarah. It was far too early to say anything to them about it. First, he and Sarah needed those deep discussions between themselves, and time.

  But now? Dawson wondered how being shot would affect Sarah’s head and her career. He knew from too much experience what a bullet wound did to Marines. It changed their lives. How was it going to change Sarah’s? And how would it affect their growing, tenuous relationship? He knew Sarah liked him. Hell, they hadn’t even kissed yet. His whole life felt upended, as if he were in free fall. How desperately he wanted to be at Sarah’s side, holding her hand, supporting her, giving her purchase after this terrible, life-changing event. But he wasn’t going to try to wedge himself into her family to do it. They loved her as much as he did.

  That sudden thought made him sit up. Shock rolled through him again, only this time it was over something intensely personal and known to no one. He knew what love was. Maybe. He’d fallen for Lucia Steward and married her. That went to hell in a handbag real quick, thanks to his PTSD. Whatever he felt for Sarah was so much more than what he’d felt for Lucia. The first time he met Sarah, it was like meeting an old, dear friend, but it was more than just a friendly response from deep within him. His heart had tugged violently in his chest and he couldn’t explain the powerful reaction he’d had to her. That feeling had never gone away, o
nly grown intensity and joy within him. Being with Sarah was like breathing fresh air for the first time in his adult life. Was that love? A part of love? Confused, Dawson wasn’t clear or sure about it. Yes, he was drawn to Sarah; yes, he wanted to kiss her and take her into heated oblivion with him. Yes, he wanted her in his bed, at his side, sharing, giving and taking from each other. That had to be love? Or was it just lust?

  With his PTSD staining his whole reality from a mental and emotional perspective, Dawson couldn’t easily separate love from lust. Both started with an L, but the two were not friends. Lust was about sex without much emotion involved, just satiating one’s sexual desire. Love was so much more; he’d seen it in his parents’ relationship as he grew up.

  Sitting back on the plastic couch, lost in his internal reverie, Dawson tentatively decided what he felt for Sarah, what he dreamed about with her, followed a pattern of love more than simple lust. He liked being with her, liked her laughter, was curious about how she saw the world and how she regarded him. Dawson knew there was something good and healthy growing between them. Would he have a chance to act on it? Would being shot and wounded change Sarah’s life not only in small ways, but large ones as well? He was from her past. This bullet wound was her present. And as much as he wished he could foresee a future with her, he couldn’t, no matter how much he wanted to.

  * * *

  Dr. Martin, dressed in scrubs, his hands free of gloves but his cap still on, with his mask hanging down his chest, entered the surgery lounge.

  Everyone’s head snapped up and the low sounds of talking stopped instantly.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Carter? I’m John Martin, Sarah’s surgeon. The good news is that your daughter is going to live.”

  A collective sigh filled the room.

  “Right now, we have her in recovery. As soon as she’s conscious, we’ll take her to her room. And once the nurses have gotten her comfortable, one of them will come down to get you so you can see her.”

  David stood up, gripping the surgeon’s hand. “Thank you, Doctor. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome,” Martin said, smiling a little. “I’m glad I was down here to give the hospital doctors a talk on ortho. Sarah has a guardian angel or two.”

  Emily stood. “We’re so grateful to you and your team, Doctor. Can you tell us more about Sarah’s condition? Is she still critical?”

  “No, she’s in guarded condition, but that’s a good upgrade,” Martin told everyone. “She has adequate blood in her now, and all her stats are in the normal range. We’re giving her an antibiotic IV drip, which, after a bullet wound, is standard procedure. The bone in her left thigh, the femur, has a six-inch lateral crack in it. We call that a Greenstick fracture.”

  “What does that mean?” Gertie demanded, coming up to him. “Speak English, Doc.”

  Martin grinned. “Yes, ma’am. If you have to break in a bone in your body? This is the best break to have. It’s a vertical fracture, which means it has fewer complications and can usually heal up one to two weeks faster than a horizontal fracture. Sarah will have to be in a wheelchair for at least a week, maybe two, depending. I’ll be seeing her seven days from now, and I can tell you more at that time.”

  “Oh,” Nell said, “Sarah hates being bedridden, Dr. Martin.”

  “That’s what one of my surgery nurses told me. The wheelchair is just a way to keep the weight off the leg so it can knit back together properly. As soon as we can, we’ll get her on crutches, plus a leg brace that will help the bone continue to knit and heal.”

  “Well,” Gertie muttered, “what kind of time are we talkin’, Doc?”

  “Bones in a woman of her age will heal in four to six weeks. I’m sure that by week four, she’ll be walking on her own, still in the leg brace. By week six, if all goes well, the leg brace will be gone, too and she can begin physical therapy to get her muscles back.”

  “What about the injury to her muscle tissue?” Dawson asked, joining the family, standing in the back of the semicircle.

  “She’ll need some physical therapy after her bone knits fully, as I said. but I anticipate in the next six months she’ll be as good as new and won’t have to rely on anything but her own two feet.”

  Murmurs moved around the group, and another layer of worry dissolved from Dawson’s shoulders. “That’s good news. What about her femoral artery tear?”

  Martin nodded. “That was major and why she needs to be in a wheelchair for at least one week so it can fully heal. I’ll be dropping in to see how Sarah is doing before I leave tonight. My advice is to see her two at a time. She’s going to be very groggy coming out from under the anesthesia, plus the shock of the surgery, not to mention getting shot. She might not have much mental clarity, so don’t expect it. Anesthesia normally wears off in twenty-four to forty-eight hours, so she should be back to her normal mental state at that time.”

  “David and Emily should go first,” Gertie said.

  “Absolutely,” Nell said.

  “Then you two,” Dawson told the grandmothers. “And if Sarah is too tired and wiped out after your visits, I’ll come back to see her tomorrow during visiting hours.”

  “Good enough,” Gertie said, and then slyly added, “but I think my granddaughter is gonna get in a snit if you don’t show up after Nell and I visit her.”

  Feeling a flush move up his neck and into his cheeks, Dawson avoided the sharpened stares coming from David and Emily. Wishing Gertie hadn’t said anything, he moved uncomfortably. “Well,” he told her, “let’s see where she’s at after you two visit. Okay?”

  Gertie gave him a merry look. “Okay, Dawson. But I know she’s gonna want to see you.”

  Wanting to deflect, Dawson asked the doctor, “What about Deputy James? Do you know anything about his surgery?”

  “Yes. They’re closing him up right now. The bullet struck the bone of his skull, cracking it. They’re going to watch him for swelling of the brain. They won’t know much about his mental state until he gets out of recovery and becomes fully conscious.”

  “Does he have any family here?” Dawson hadn’t seen anyone else in the surgery lounge.

  “His folks are in Virginia. The hospital has been on the phone with them, updating them. They’re catching a red-eye flight to be out here with him, but they won’t arrive until tomorrow, late morning.”

  “What’s his condition?”

  “Critical. We’ll know more after he awakens. He’ll be placed in ICU.”

  “And Deputy Robson?” David asked. “How is he?”

  “Already in recovery and conscious. Shoulder injury. He’s in good condition. His parents are flying in from Caspar right now. Should arrive shortly. The hospital called them on their cell phone to update them so they wouldn’t worry about their son.”

  “Great,” Dawson said. “Good news all around.” Brian Elson was dead, so there was no sense in asking about him. He felt sorry for his wife, but in the back of his mind, he realized she was free from being his punching bag for the rest of her life. Her hell on earth had ended.

  “Sure is, folks,” Martin said. “If you’ll excuse me . . .” The surgeon gave them a nod, turned and walked out of the room.

  David Carter heaved a sigh, giving his wife a long look. “This could have been so much worse.”

  “Got that right,” Gertie agreed. “Anyone up for some coffee down at the restaurant on the first floor? I need to drink something. A good teaspoon of whiskey is what I had in mind, but they don’t sell liquor here.”

  Nell tittered and shook her head. “Oh, Gertie, there you go again.”

  “Hey,” she said, waggling a finger in Nell’s direction, “I’m the comic relief for all of you. Now, come on, follow me and Dawson to the restaurant.” She hooked her arm around his, dragging him forward.

  Brief chuckles and smiles broke out as the group followed Gertie’s hard-charging lead toward the elevator down the hall.

  Dawson cut his stride, giving Gertie an amused look. �
�Everyone dodged a bullet.”

  Gertie punched the button on the elevator, the doors whooshed open. “We said a lot of prayers, young man.” She strutted into the elevator, still holding on to his arm. “And the two pints of blood you gave Sarah gave her a lifeline. If you hadn’t done that, she might not be with us right now.” She punched his arm with her index finger. “And none of us are going to ever forget what you did for our Sarah. You’re her angel in disguise.”

  “Well,” Dawson said drily as they moved to the rear to let the others get on, “you two grannies have a lot more pull than the rest of us.”

  More chuckles as the doors closed.

  Gertie poked him in the upper arm again. “You’re too modest, Dawson. We all owe you so much and none of us are gonna forget it. I’ve got the devil on one shoulder and an angel on another. Luckily, I deferred to my angel today, and she brought it home. And that angel was you.”

  Dawson heard the others agree, nodding their heads in unison, giving him a grateful look for his part in saving Sarah’s life. Each of them reached out and touched his arm, his shoulder or squeezed his hand in thanks.

  Dawson grinned, and he was fine with Gertie holding on to his arm. He knew sometimes she got dizzy and refused to use a cane; it hurt her pride too much to use it. And he recognized one of those times as now. “Let’s pick out a table in the restaurant,” he told her, “then I’ll go get everyone coffee.”

  “Sounds good to me!” Gertie crowed.

  Nell said, “They might have small bottles of wine available, Gert. Maybe get one?”

  Giving a loud snort, Gertie muttered, “That piss? Whiskey is a real liquor, not that grape stuff mixed with water. No, thank you!”

  The group broke into laughter as the doors opened.

  Dawson knew the family needed some relief from knowing they’d nearly lost Sarah. Gertie was the perfect foil. As the family trailed out of the elevator, they waited for the others to step off. Leaning down, he whispered into Gertie’s ear: “You know exactly what you’re doing. Don’t you?”