RaeAnne Thayne - A Cold Creek Christmas Surprise

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.”