Worth the Wait (Last Hope Ranch Book 2)

by Amanda McIntyre

  Emergency rescue teams dropped several lines over the cliff. Pete and his men, who had spread out and started at the river, were now walking back toward the ridge. Below, Hank could see the lights of their helmets bobbing through the trees. There’d been no word on anything since they found the backpack.

  Hank paced the ridge, periodically shining a periscopic flashlight down into the forest, hoping to catch a response from below.

  “Hank,” Jack called. “Over here. I think I have something.”

  Hank huddled near the walkie-talkie, straining to hear through the static.

  “Is anyone out there?” said the disembodied, weary voice. “My dad is Hank Richardson.”

  Hank’s heart leapt in his chest at the sound of Kyle’s voice. He reached for the walkie-talkie. “Kyle, buddy, it’s Hank. Listen, we’ve got guys on the ground looking for you. Can you tell me where you are?”

  His answer was choppy at best, but Hank was able to make out broken leg and in a cave.

  “Kyle, do you guys have a flare gun?” Hank asked.

  “Will check.” More static. Then only silence.

  Jack had splayed a map on the ground, pinpointing the possibilities of where the cave might be.

  “We need to get down there,” Hank blurted out in frustration.

  “Sir, my men are trained in these situations. Let us handle it,” one of the EMTs said.

  The shoe was now on the other foot. Hank knew the man was right. He hadn’t had a refresher course in his training. There was little he could do but say a prayer and wait. Still, it didn’t do a damn thing to lessen his frustration of wanting to be down there himself.

  “Flare about eighty yards to the right, sir,” one of the rescue crew shouted.

  Hank offered up a silent prayer of thanks.

  “Winds are shifting. We’ve got to move,” called out another crew member.

  Pete’s voice crackled over the walkie-talkie. “I’ll send my guys over the river, see if we can clear out and buy some time.”

  Hank wanted to shout that it was too dangerous, but in his next breath he knew that’s exactly where he’d be if he could.

  One by one, the members of the rescue team rappelled down the ridge with remarkable agility into the increasing heat and smoke.

  Hank, Jack, and the other pilots stood watching the trail of lights weaving through the trees. They’d taken air masks, first aid equipment, and two stretchers, having no idea what they might find.

  After what seemed an eternity but in reality was a relatively short amount of time, the first of the rescue crews began to appear over the ridge. The Scouts that could manage were hoisted up in chair slings. Hank assisted the dehydrated Scouts to the helicopters, where they were given blankets and water.

  He’d started counting—first two, three, then four boys were pulled up the ledge. He looked up and noticed gray ash beginning to snow down on them. The winds had shifted, blowing embers over the river. They were running out of time.

  He caught the arm of one of the men on the rescue team who’d brought up another boy. “How many are left?” he asked over the roar of one of the helicopters about to take off. The boys would be transported to Denver airfield where ambulances were on stand-by to take them on to the hospital.

  “Four at the base. Two in the cave. We only have two stretchers— both being used for the injured. They’re coming up now. We have a fracture in the cave. Have to give ‘em credit—the splint those boys made probably saved his leg.”

  Hank sighed. All he could do now was watch and wait. The team was meticulous, slow and steady bringing the stretcher up the cliff face. First one and then the other stretcher was unhooked from the ropes. Other members of the team carried the baskets to the waiting helicopter. He’d checked on each boy, hoping to see a familiar face.

  Neither was Kyle.

  The smoke had begun to thicken as the team rappelled once more down the cliff.

  Jack, whom Hank hadn’t seen in a while, handed him a bandana. “Put it over your mouth and nose,” he said. “It’ll help some. You don’t want to breathe in this shit.”

  He nodded. He knew in his gut that Kyle was likely one of the two left down there—maybe the one with the broken leg.

  He stood on the cliff’s edge, willing the fire to back away from the rescue team. With one swift breeze, those below would have little chance of survival. The ones above would have to take off over a raging inferno.

  He heard his name and shined his light down to the base where he was glad to see Pete, his crew close behind.

  The other team came through the trees. Between them, they sent up another stretcher. The person lay motionless, his face obscured by a breathing mask and black soot, making identification difficult.

  “Hank!” came a high-pitched yell.

  He turned and ran toward Kyle, who was scrambling out of the harness. Hank pulled him int his arms and held him close despite the boy’s heavy coughing.

  “You need to go, Hank.” Pete untangled himself from the web of rope and carabiners.

  “Let’s get these people on board,” called one of the rescue team leaders.

  “Leave everything, let’s go,” Pete yelled to his crew.

  Hank steered Kyle toward the waiting helicopter. “You need to go with these folks and let them check you over.”

  “I want to go with you,” Kyle said, but his voice kept getting lost in the fray of urgent orders being called out around them.

  “I’ll see you at the hospital. Get up there.” He lifted him onto the helicopter.

  Kyle started to protest. “I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

  “Your mom is waiting there, worried sick. Now get in that seat. Let the medics check you out and I’ll see you later.”

  “Promise?” he asked.

  That stopped Hank. The boy broke free from the medic’s care and threw himself into Hank’s arms.

  “Okay, buddy. It’s going to be okay. I’ll see you soon,” Hank said, helping him back into the helicopter.

  Jack tugged on Hank’s arm as Kyle settled in and buckled up.

  “It’s going to swallow the valley. We need to go,” Jack said.

  The medivac helicopter took off. A third had landed to take Pete and his team to another location to meet up with another division of firefighters. Jack looked at Hank as he buckled in. “Piece of cake,” he said with a grin.

  Hank noticed the first narrow bands of light beginning to peek over the mountains, shrouded by dense smoke. He started the engines and began rolling down the narrow runway. The light grew brighter, dancing along the edge of the ridge. There was no way until they were off the ridge to know how intense the fire was below, how high the flames rose.

  As Hank brought the engines to full throttle, he saw Jack cross himself.

  Hank’s body was drenched in sweat, his skin covered with soot. Fear, but a greater determination to survive—to see Julie and the boys again—drove him.

  The nose dipped slightly, offering a clear, panoramic view of the lake of fire below. He pulled up, fighting the heat and the crosswind caused by the fire. The plane jerked from right to left. His arms ached from gripping the controls. His jaw muscles twitched as he fought to get more altitude.

  “How are we doing, Jack?” he asked, his back teeth grinding from the force of his determination.

  “Good, just a minor complication,” Jack answered, as he glanced out his window. “We’ve got a fiery branch sucked into one of the engines.” Just then the propeller slowed to a complete stop.

  The sputtering started, and it rattled the plane. “We need to set her down. Any ideas?” Hank asked, his heart dwindling as he looked over the glowing sea of red.

  Jack took out the map. “There’s a lake not far from here. It might be our only chance.”

  “Sounds like a deal,” Hank said. “Anything is better than blowing up in the sky, right?”

  “Agreed.” Jack pointed to the lake. “There it is.” Surrounded by mountains, it
was formed like a giant crater had dropped onto the earth.

  “At least the fire is behind us,” Hank said with a wry grin.

  “You can do this, sir,” Jack said, flipping switches and checking the view in front of them.

  “This isn’t going to be pretty.” Hank slowed his engines in order to coast in and hopefully soften the landing. “You know how to swim?”

  “On my college swim team,” Jack said, turning to Hank with a wide grin.

  Hovering over the lake, the distance between plane and black water closed in at a rapid pace. The plane hit the surface, spraying water into the air with the force akin to hitting a freight train head-on. Hank’s body, pushed forward by the force, slammed into the controls. He felt a quick snap in his side before the front window imploded and knocked him back in the seat. Frigid water rushed over him. He only had time to glance over at Jack, who was doubled over, his chin dropped against his chest. I’m sorry, Kyle, was his last thought before his world went black.

  ***

  Julie stood near the emergency room entrance, pressed against the wall as gurney after gurney was rolled in from the ambulance. Most of the Scouts had oxygen masks over their faces; some had IV’s already attached to their arms.

  She searched the faces of each boy, sharing in the elation and relief as waiting parents spotted their child and followed them into the bay of observation rooms.

  Another ambulance arrived, bringing a rush of ER personel to help with a man suffering from a heart attack. Another man wheeled his wife, in pronounced labor, through the entrance, searching frantically for a doctor.

  Julie watched the flurry of activity going on in the massive emergency room. She and Rosita found a couple of chairs and waited. It was more than twenty minutes later before two more ambulances arrived, bringing in additional Scouts. She scanned the faces as best she could as they were rushed past, their bodies covered by blankets, their exposed skin covered in ash and soot.

  A gurney rolled past her, and it was Kyle who noticed her first. He reached up his hand. “Mom,” he called out with a raspy voice that sounded nothing like her son.

  Julie grabbed his hand and followed him in as they swung the gurney around and placed him on a bed.

  “Ma’am, we need you to move back until we’ve had a chance to get him stable,” a nurse said, taking her arm and gently leading her to the door.

  Kyle was coughing hard. He clawed at the oxygen mask.

  “Can he breathe?” she asked out loud, then realized she needed to force herself to let these people do their jobs. She stepped back into the hall where a large window separated the curtained observation rooms.

  Rosita followed her in from the waiting room, joining her in the hallway. “Is that Kyle?” she asked.

  Julie nodded, mentally assessing how he’d looked on the gurney, how he’d sounded. “Yes. He was able to speak to me, but he didn’t sound like himself.”

  “They brought in another guy after you left—he had a broken leg. I overheard the EMTs praising the Scouts for quick thinking in splinting his leg.”

  Julie’s heart swelled with pride. She looked at Rosita. “Has there been any word from Pete?”

  Her new friend nodded. “He said that he and the team took a chopper to meet up with another division. Sounds like they’re making headway with containing this fire.”

  “And Hank?” Julie asked.

  “He and Jack—one of our guys—took off just after the others. Jack will drive them straight here in one of our trucks when they land at the airport.”

  Julie watched the flurry of medical providers, teams of them working room-to-room, checking on the Scouts. She spied a man dressed in a long white coat, his face solemn, walk into her son’s room.

  A moment later he walked past her and she reached out, touching his arm. “Excuse me?” she asked. “That’s my son you just saw. Can you tell me what’s happening?”

  The man adjusted his glasses and checked the clipboard he carried. “I was called down to advise on x-rays. I’m sorry, the nurse will brief you when she has time.”

  She nodded. “Thank you,” she said, watching as he entered another room.

  “Julie?”

  She turned and found a fresh-faced young woman also holding another clipboard.

  “Yes, I’m Julie Williams. Kyle is my son. Is he going to be okay?”

  The nurse took her by the elbow and guided her to one side. “Your son is in remarkable shape considering what he’s been through. But the doctor felt it was a good idea to get some x-rays to see how much damage has been done to his airways and lungs.”

  “Can you…treat this?” she asked, accepting the clipboard the woman handed her.

  She nodded. “With proper treatment, the body is quite resilient. His age gives him an advantage. But we do need you to sign the consent form to take him upstairs.”

  Julie signed where the woman instructed and then was directed to go down to admissions to provide insurance information so Kyle could be admitted.

  “He’s going to be with us for a few days, at least,” the nurse said.

  Julie and Rosita took care of getting her son’s paperwork processed, had a bite of breakfast in the cafeteria while awaiting Kyle’s x-rays, and were now back in the emergency waiting room.

  A hacking cough brought Julie’s head up, and she saw Pete striding across the room. He looked tired, his face still smudged with ash and soot. He pulled off the bandana from around his neck and wiped his face. “How’s Kyle?” he asked.

  “Still up in radiology,” Julie said. “They’re checking his lungs. The nurse says he’s going to be here a few days. He was severely dehydrated—as they all were, I imagine. Have you been in touch with Hank?”

  Pete’s gaze, a startling blue in his soot-covered face, studied her. “He and Jack aren’t here?” He pulled out his cell phone, quickly skimming his messages before punching in one number, and then another. He frowned. “Both numbers go straight to voicemail.”

  “What does that mean, exactly?” Julie asked. Her boys were better at understanding the nuances of technology than her.

  Pete shrugged. “Any number of things, really,” he said in the vaguest way possible.

  “Pete, just say what’s on your mind,” she said.

  “It’s odd. I saw them take off just after we did.” He glanced at his watch. “Maybe I’ll call the tower and see if they’ve heard from him.”

  He stepped away, and in the next room, Julie could hear the crackle of the radio walkie-talkie. A moment later, Pete returned, his face grim. “He hasn’t landed or radioed in.”

  Julie closed her eyes against the panic clawing to make its way out. He had to be okay. They had a lot of things to talk out, to resolve. She had to tell him how much she cared and adored him…how she realized that she truly loved him. Her insides ached. She felt as though she’d been kicked by a horse.

  “Mrs. Williams?” A different nurse, dressed in bright yellow scrubs, smiled at her. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you up to your son now.”

  Julie shot a look at Pete.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and held her gaze. “Take care of Kyle. I’ll find Hank.” He looked at Rosita.

  “I’ll keep trying Jack’s cell phone,” she said.

  Pete nodded and looked back at Julie. Leaning forward, he gave her a quick peck on the forehead. “I’ll find him.”

  Soon after Pete left, Julie borrowed Rosita’s phone and called Clay as they followed the nurse through a maze of hallways.

  “Thank goodness they found those kids,” he said after she’d briefed him on what little she knew. “Have you seen Kyle?”

  He and Chris were en route to Denver, along with Dalton to help with the driving. There were many who wanted to come, but it simply wasn’t feasible. With Aimee due anytime now, Wyatt, Rein, and Liberty were on standby. Though Chris wanted Emilee to ride along, she’d stayed at home to help her mom with her young brother.

  “I’m about to go
in and seem him. They did x-rays, checking for possible damage caused by smoke inhalation,” she told her brother.

  “You tell him his Uncle Clay has Chris and Uncle Dalton and we’re on our way there,” Clay said. “How’s Hank?”

  A lump rose quickly in Julie’s throat. “He hasn’t checked in. Pete was just here and he can’t reach him by phone.”

  “That’s odd,” Clay said. “He called, probably four hours ago at least…it was his number, anyway, but it disconnected before I could answer.”

  “I’m worried. Pete said he and the co-pilot took off just after the helicopters. That’s been several hours now,” she said. “Pete’s gone back out to try to see what he can find out.”

  “Try not to worry, Jules. How much sleep have you had?” Clay asked.

  Julie’s brain felt numb—she’d been running on adrenaline. She’d dozed a time or two while in the waiting room, but she’d had no adequate rest. She took a deep breath and stuffed her hand in her pocket as they followed the nurse to Kyle’s room.

  She felt the small pocketknife. Pulling it out, her memory was catapulted back to the moment Emilee had found it while in the backyard, and the reaction she’d had to it. “Clay, could you put me on speaker so I can say hello to Chris?”

  “Hey, Mom. How are you doing? How’s Kyle?” her young son asked.

  “I’m getting ready to go in and see him. I’ll tell him you’re on the way,” she said. Tears threatened her composure as she realized how fragile life was. It’d been a hard lesson to learn, that you shouldn’t waste a moment in telling your loved ones what they meant to you. “I love you, baby.”

  “Love you more, Mom. Uncle Dalton’s going to get us there in a flash,” Chris said.

  She heard the glee in her son’s voice. “Yes, well, Uncle Dalton better make sure that you all get here in once piece,” she warned with a smile.

  “Only going five miles an hour over the speed limit, Julie,” she heard Dalton say.

  Julie glanced at the knife in her palm. “Dalton, may I ask something about Emilee?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  “Her visions. Are they….” Julie didn’t want to insult the child’s special abilities, but she was curious as to how often she was right with them.