Margaret Daley - Lone Star Christmas Rescue

The baby, probably no more than six or seven months old, calmed down and looked at Drake with big brown eyes and long black lashes. Assessing him.

“You aren’t alone.” He wished he could ask the child what had happened and get an answer.

What was wrong with the young woman? Why was she out here with a baby and no backpack—or water?

Heatstroke? He touched her smooth, soft skin, pinkish from the sun but not badly sunburned. He ran his fingertips over her forehead, her flesh sweaty but not hot enough to indicate heatstroke. He breathed a little easier—although it wouldn’t take long for her to become dehydrated, and then her body would shut down.

Drake leaned down and said in a firm voice, “Wake up, ma’am.” He gently shook her shoulder.

No response.

After another glance down the front of her body, he returned his attention to her face, with long light brown hair framing it. Still no obvious sign of why she wasn’t responding. He hated to stop soothing the baby, but he needed to find out why the lady was unconscious.

The baby whimpered the second he removed his hand so he could roll the woman over to check her back for any injuries. He locked gazes with the little boy for a few seconds, saying, “It’s okay. I’m still here,” before he shifted his focus to the unresponsive lady.

He immediately saw what was wrong. Blood matted her hair and stained the ground below her head. Had she fallen or had someone hit her? He surveyed the area. Unless someone was hiding behind the rocks, they were the only people in the canyon. He carefully examined the wound—about four inches long but hard to tell how deep.

As the baby watched him, Drake grabbed his backpack and pulled out his first aid kit. He treated the injury and wrapped gauze around her head to stem the flow of blood. From the amount of it, uncoagulated, soaking into the ground, she’d been hurt recently. He laid the woman on her back again with her face turned to the side, revealing her bandage. Her eyelids fluttered open.

“I’m a Texas Ranger. I’m here to help. What happened?” he asked, but not before she’d closed her eyes again. “Ma’am, I’m here to help you and the baby.”

Nothing.

With no cell reception, he’d have to hike out of the canyon and head for the nearest park road, which was closer than circling the cliffs and making his way to his car. He couldn’t leave her or the baby alone while he did. He’d have to carry them both to the highway. She needed medical help as soon as possible.

He put his first aid kit away, then took a bottle and drank a long sip before he held the baby and offered him more water. He drank, the liquid running down his chin and neck. After that, Drake quickly fashioned a carrier for the little boy using his backpack with most of his gear removed. After giving him another sip of water, Drake strapped him in, covered the top of the child’s head and then shrugged into the makeshift baby hauler.

The boy’s giggles brought a smile to Drake’s face. Hopefully, he thought it was a game. He glanced over his shoulders into those big dark eyes. Was the woman his mother? There weren’t too many similarities between them. “This is the way to travel. Let someone else do the walking.”

The baby babbled in response.

Drake drew in a deep breath, squatted and gently scooped the injured lady—no more than five feet three inches—into his arms and then stood. As he trudged across the canyon floor, he kept visually sweeping the terrain for any sign of someone else. Occasionally he looked at the slender-built woman or peered over his shoulder at the little boy who had fallen asleep against his back after only ten minutes.

When Drake emerged from the canyon, he knew a paved road was only about a mile away. He thought about stopping and resting, but instead he paused and used a boulder to prop the woman—heavier than he’d expected—against it so he could get the bottle out and take a gulp of water. The child slept through the maneuvering. Resuming his hike, Drake shoved away the burning sensation in his arms and shoulders and kept going. The woman might be small, but she had a muscular build.

In the distance, he spied a truck on the highway, but it was too far for him to flag down. He increased his speed. Five hundred yards away, another vehicle drove by heading west. Sweat rolled down his face as he began to jog, not wanting to miss another ride. He struggled to drag in enough oxygen to fuel his body and to keep the woman cradled against his chest safely.

One hundred yards.

Catching sight of a white car approaching from the east, he accelerated his pace as much as he could without jostling the injured lady too much. He was within twenty yards when the SUV flew by, not slowing down. Drake continued toward the road that led to the Panther Junction Visitor Center, but at a walk. His mad dash to flag down the vehicle had awakened the baby and left Drake panting, his arms burning even more from the strain.

He slanted a look at the little boy, whose mouth turned down. “Someone will come soon.”

The baby jabbered back at him, any evidence of a frown gone.

Drake guessed he liked the sound of his voice, so as he strode along the highway in the direction of the visitor center, he spoke softly about the animals he’d seen in Big Bend National Park. When he started telling the child about the mountain lion he’d seen in the spring, he looked down at the lady in his arms. Her eyes, dark like the baby’s, stared at him.

“You’re okay. I’m Drake Jackson. I’m taking you to get medical assistance. I found you passed out.”

Her forehead furrowed, and she winced. “My head—hurts.”

“You’ve been unconscious since I discovered you almost an hour ago. What’s your name?”

Pain flittered across her face. Her eyelids began to slide shut. “I—”

Staring at her closed eyes, he murmured, “Ma’am?”

A sense of urgency slithered down his spine. She needed help now, and he wished he had a fast way to get it.

The baby whined.

“She’ll be all right. We’re only a few miles away from the visitor center,” he said in a singsong voice, hoping to calm the little boy while in the heat of the desert wondering if he had the stamina to make it before it was too late. At least it was the first of December and cooler than other times in the park along the border with Mexico.

A sound drew his attention, and he zeroed in on a red sedan coming toward him. Unable to wave the driver down, Drake moved into the center of the road, praying he would stop and take them back the way the vehicle had come.

The car pulled onto the shoulder. The window slid down, and an older woman in the passenger seat asked, “Do you need help?”

“Yes.” Drake glanced down at the hiker in his arms. “She needs medical attention as quickly as possible. Can you take us to the Panther Junction Visitor Center?”

“Of course we can. Get in.” The older woman exited the vehicle. “I can hold the child.” After she unstrapped the little boy from the carrier on Drake’s back, she opened the rear door for him and then returned to the front seat with the baby.

Carefully he slipped into the back seat, adjusting the injured lady in his lap.

The driver made a U-turn and said, “I’m Clarence Moore, and this is my wife, Susan.”

“I’m Texas Ranger Drake Jackson. I found this wounded woman and the baby alone in a canyon.”

“Do you want some water?” Susan asked while the child drank from a plastic bottle.

“Yes, ma’am. I’d appreciate it.”

Susan bent forward and grabbed another water bottle, then passed it to Drake. “We came prepared with our own.”

“Thanks. That’s always a good idea in Big Bend.” He took a deep swig of the cold liquid, relishing it as it slid down his parched throat.