Читать книгу A Cold Creek Christmas Surprise - RaeAnne Thayne - Страница 8

Chapter Two

At the first hoarse cry and muffled thud from the distant reaches of the house, Ridge shoved back his chair so hard it slid on the wood floor a few inches. He recognized a sound of pain when he heard it.

What the hell?

He jumped up and raced out of his office. The instant he entered the great room, he found a slight form crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, a bag of garbage spilling out next to her and Tripod anxiously whining and licking her face.

“Go on, Tri. Back up, buddy.”

The little dog reluctantly hopped away, allowing Ridge to crouch down beside the woman. Her eyes were closed, and her arm was twisted beneath her in a way he knew couldn’t be right.

What was her name again? Sarah something. Whitmore. That was it. “Sarah? Ms. Whitmore? Hey. Come on, now. Wake up.”

She moaned but didn’t open her eyes. As he took a closer look at that arm, he swore under his breath. Maybe it was better if she didn’t wake up. When she did, that broken arm would hurt like hell.

He had known a couple of broken arms in his day and had enjoyed none of them.

The woman had appeared fragile and delicate when she showed up at his house, too delicate to properly handle the job of cleaning up the wedding mess by herself. Now she looked positively waiflike, with all color washed from her features and long brown lashes fanning over those high cheekbones. Already, he could see a bruise forming on her cheek and a bump sprouting above her temple.

He looked up the stairs, noticing a few pieces of garbage strewn almost at the very top. Must have been one hell of a fall.

All his protective instincts urged him to let her hang out in never-never land, where she was safe from the pain. He didn’t want to be the cause of more, but he knew he had to wake her. She really needed to be conscious so he could assess her symptoms.

A guy couldn’t grow up on a busy Idaho ranch without understanding a little about first aid. Broken arms, abrasions, contusions, lacerations. He’d had them all—and what he hadn’t suffered, the twins or Caidy had experienced. Judging by her lingering unconsciousness, he was guessing she had a concussion, which meant the longer she remained out of it, the more chance of complications.

“Ma’am? Sarah? Can you hear me?”

Her eyes blinked a little but remained closed, as if her subconscious didn’t want to face the pain, either. He carefully ran his hands over her, avoiding the obvious arm fracture as he checked for other injuries. At least nothing else seemed obvious. With that basic information, he reached for his cell phone and quickly dialed 911.

He could drive her to the Pine Gulch medical clinic faster than the mostly volunteer fire department could gather at the station and come out to the ranch, but he was leery to move her without knowing if she might be suffering internal injuries.

As he gave the basic information to the dispatcher, her eyes started to flutter. An instant later, those eyes opened slightly, reminding him again of lazy summer afternoons when he was a kid and had time to gaze up at the sky. He saw confusion there and long, deep shadows of pain that filled him with guilt.

She had been cleaning his house. He couldn’t help but feel responsible.

“Take it easy. You’ll be okay.”

She gazed at him for an instant with fright and uncertainty before he saw a tiny spark of recognition there.

“Mr....Bowman.”

“Good. At least you know my name. How about your own?”

She blinked as if the effort to remember was too much. “S-Sarah. Sarah M—er, Whitmore.”

He frowned at the way she stumbled a little over her last name but forgot it instantly when she shifted a little and tried to move. At the effort, she gave a heartbreaking cry of pain.

“Easy. Easy.” He murmured the words as softly as he would to a skittish horse—if he were the sort of rancher to tolerate any skittish horses on the River Bow. “Just stay still.”

“It hurts,” she moaned.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m afraid you broke your arm when you fell. I’ve called an ambulance. They should be here soon. We’ll run you into the clinic in Pine Gulch. Dr. Dalton should be able to fix you up.”

Her pale features grew even more distressed. “I don’t need an ambulance,” she said.

“I hate to argue with a lady, but I would have to disagree with you there. You took a nasty fall. Do you remember what happened?”

She looked up the stairs and her eyes widened. For a minute, he thought she would pass out again. “I was going to talk to you and I...I tripped, I guess. I’m not sure. Everything is fuzzy.”

“You were coming to talk to me about what?”

A couple of high spots of color appeared on her cheeks. “I...can’t remember,” she said, and he was almost positive she was lying. On the other hand, he didn’t know the woman; she had just suffered a terrible fall and was likely in shock.

She shifted again, moving her head experimentally, but then let it back down.

“My head hurts.”

“I’m sure it does. I’m no expert, but I’m guessing you banged it up, too. You’ve probably got a concussion. Have you had one before?”

“Not...that I remember.”

Did that mean she hadn’t had one or that she just couldn’t remember it? He would have to let Doc Dalton sort that one out from her medical records.

She started to moan but caught it, clamping her lips together before it could escape.

“Just hang on. Don’t try to move. I wish I could give you a pillow or some padding or something. I know it’s not comfortable there on the floor but you’re better off staying put until the EMTs come and can assess the situation to make sure nothing else is broken. Can you tell me what hurts?”

“Everything,” she bit out. “It’s probably easier to tell you what doesn’t hurt. I think my left eyelashes might be okay. No, wait. They hurt, too.”

He smiled a little, admiring her courage and grit in the face of what must be considerable pain. He was also aware of more than a little relief. Though she grimaced between each word, he had to think that since she was capable of making a joke, she would probably be okay, all things considered.

“Is there somebody you’d like me to call to meet us at the hospital? Husband? Boyfriend? Family?”

She blinked at him, a distant expression on her face, and didn’t answer him for a long moment.

“Stay with me,” he ordered. Fearing she would lapse into shock, he grabbed a blanket off the sofa and spread it over her. For some reason, the shock first aid acronym of WARRR rang through his head: Warmth, Air, Rest, Reassurance, Raise the legs. But she seemed to collect herself enough to respond.

“No. I don’t have...any of those things. There’s no one in the area for you to call.”

She was all alone? Somehow, he found that even more sad than the idea that she was currently sprawled out in grave pain on the floor at the bottom of his stairs.

His family might drive him crazy sometimes, but at least he knew they always had his back.

“Are you sure? No friends? No family? I should at least call the company you work for and let them know what happened.”

If nothing else, they would have to send someone else to finish the job. With that broken arm, Sarah would have to hang up her broom for a while.

“I don’t—” she started to say, but before she could finish, the front door opened and a second later an EMT raced through it, followed by a couple more.

Somehow he wasn’t surprised that the EMT in the front was his brother Taft, who was not only a paramedic but also the town’s fire chief.

He spotted the woman on the floor, and his forehead furrowed with confusion before he turned to Ridge.

“Geez. I just about had a freaking heart attack! We got a call for a female fall victim at the River Bow. I thought it was Destry!”

“No. This is Sarah Whitmore. She was cleaning the house after the wedding and took a tumble. Sarah, this is my brother Taft, who is not only a certified paramedic, I promise, but also the town’s fire chief.”

“Hi,” she mumbled, sounding more disoriented

“Hi, Sarah.” Taft knelt down to her and immediately went to work assessing vitals. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I’m...not sure. I fell.”

“Judging by the garbage at the top of the stairs, I think she fell just about the whole way,” Ridge offered. “She was unconscious for maybe two or three minutes and has kind of been in and out since. My unofficial diagnosis is the obvious broken arm and possible concussion.”

“Thank you, Dr. Bowman,” Taft said, his voice dry.

His brother quickly took control of the situation and began giving instructions to the other emergency personnel.

Ridge was always a little taken by surprise whenever he had the chance to watch either of his younger brothers in action. He still tended to think of them as teenage punks getting speeding tickets and toilet papering the mayor’s trees. But after years as a wildlands firefighter, Taft had been the well-regarded fire chief in Pine Gulch for several years, and his twin, Trace, was the police chief. By all reports, both were shockingly good at their jobs.

Ridge gained a little more respect for his brother as he watched his patient competence with Sarah: the way he teased and questioned her, the efficient air of command he portrayed to the other EMTs as they worked together to load her onto the stretcher with a minimum of pain.

As they started to roll the stretcher toward the front door, Ridge followed, grabbing his coat and truck keys on the way.

Taft shifted his attention away from his patient long enough to look at Ridge with surprise. “Where are you going?”

He was annoyed his brother would even have to ask. “I can’t just send her off in an ambulance by herself. I’ll drive in and meet you at the clinic.”

“Why?” Taft asked, clearly confused.

“She doesn’t have any friends or family in the area. Plus she was injured on the River Bow, which makes her my responsibility.”

Taft shook his head but didn’t argue. The stretcher was nearly to the door when Sarah held out a hand. “Wait. Stop.”

She craned her neck and seemed to be looking for him, so Ridge moved closer.

“You’ll be okay.” He did his best to soothe her. “Hang in there. My brother and the other EMTs will take good care of you, I promise, and Doc Dalton at the clinic is excellent. He’ll know just what to do for you.”

She barely seemed to register his words, her brow furrowed. Taft had given her something for pain before they transferred her, and it looked as if she was trying to work through the effects of it to tell him something.

“Can you... There’s a case on the...backseat of my car. Can you bring it inside? I shouldn’t have left it out in the cold...for this long. The keys to the car are...in my coat.”

“Sure. No problem.”

“You have to put it...somewhere safe.” She closed her eyes as soon as the words were out.

Ridge raised an eyebrow at Taft, who shrugged. “It seems important to her,” his brother said. “Better do it.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you at the clinic in a few minutes. I’ll bring her coat along. Maybe I can find a purse or something in the car with her medical insurance information.”

She hadn’t been carrying anything like that when she came to the door, he remembered. Perhaps she found it easier to leave personal items in her vehicle.

He found her coat and located a single key in the pocket, hooked to one of the flexible plastic key rings with a rental car company’s logo on it. He frowned. A rental car? That didn’t make any sense. He headed outside to her vehicle, which was a nondescript silver sedan that did indeed look very much like a rental car.

He found a purse on the passenger seat, a flowered cloth bag. Though he was fiercely curious, he didn’t feel right about digging through it. He would let her find her insurance info on her own.

In the backseat, he quickly found the case she was talking about. It was larger than he expected, a flat portfolio size, perhaps twenty-four inches by thirty or so.

Again, he was curious and wanted to snoop but forced himself not to. As she had requested, he set it in a locked cupboard in his office, then locked the office for good measure before heading to the clinic in town to be with a strange woman with columbine-blue eyes and the prettiest hair he’d ever seen.

As far as weird days went, this one probably just hit the top of the list.

* * *

Sarah hurt everywhere, but this was a muted sort of pain. She felt as if she were floating through a bowl of pudding. Nice, creamy, delicious chocolate pudding—except every once in a while something sharp and mean poked at her.

“All things considered, you got off easy. The concussion appears to be a mild one, and the break is clean.” A man with a stethoscope smiled at her. No white coat, but white teeth. Handsome. He was really handsome. If she didn’t hurt so much, she would tell him so.

“Easy?” she muttered, her mind catching on the word that didn’t make sense.

The doctor smiled. “It could have been much worse, trust me. I’ve seen that staircase inside the River Bow. It has to be twenty feet, at least. It’s amazing you didn’t break more than your arm.”

“Amazing,” she agreed, though she didn’t really know what he was talking about. What was the River Bow?

“And it’s a good thing Ridge didn’t move you right after you fell. I was able to set the arm without surgery, which I probably wouldn’t have been able to do if you had been jostled around everywhere.”

“Thank you,” she said through dry lips, because it seemed to be the thing to say. She just wanted to sleep for three or four years. Why wouldn’t he let her sleep?

“Can I go home?” she asked. Her condo, with its four-poster bed, the light blue duvet, the matching curtains. She wanted to be there.

“Where, exactly, is home?”

She gave the address to her condo unit.

“Is that in Idaho Falls?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “San Diego, of course.”

He blinked a little. “Wow. You traveled a long way to take a cleaning job.”

She frowned. Cleaning job? What cleaning job?

She wanted to rub away the fierce pain in her head even as she had a sudden image of a garbage bag with cups and napkins spilling out of it.

She had been cleaning something. Why? Is that when she fell? Her memories seemed hazy and abstract. She remembered an airplane. An important suitcase. Hand-screen it, please. An inn.

“I’m staying at the Cold Creek Inn,” she said suddenly. Oh, she should have told them pain medication made her woozy. She always took only half. How much had they given her?

And how had she hurt her arm?

“The Cold Creek Inn.” The nice doctor with the white teeth frowned at her.

“Yes. My room has blue curtains. They have flowers on them. They’re pretty.”

He blinked at her. “Good to know. Okay.”

Oh, she was tired. Why wouldn’t he let her sleep?

She closed her eyes but suddenly remembered something important. “Where’s my car? Have you got my car? I have to take it back to the airport by Monday at noon or they’ll charge me a lot.”

“It must still be at the River Bow. I’m sure your car is fine.”

“I have to take it back.”

The car was important, but something else mattered more. Something in the car. But what?

Her head ached again, and one of those hard, ugly pains pierced that lovely haze.

“My head hurts,” she informed him.

“That’s your concussion. Just close your eyes and try to relax. We’ll make sure the rental car goes back, I promise.”

“Monday. Noon.”

She needed something from inside it. She closed her eyes, seeing that special black suitcase again.

Oh.

Ridge Bowman. She had told Ridge Bowman to take it out of the backseat. Too cold. Not safe.

He would take care of it.

She wasn’t sure how she knew, but a feeling of peace trickled over her, washing away the panic, and she let it go.