The Chase (5 page)

Jake frowned. “I doubt it. How far away is the veterinary hospital?”

“About twenty minutes.”

“He’ll never make it, unless we get this puncture sealed off first.”

“Okay, let’s do it. Just tell me what you need.”

Jake stared at him. “I can’t do it, Steve. We need a vet.”

Steve shook his head. “We don’t have a vet. And we’ll never get one here in time. You’re his only hope. You’ve got to try to help him.”

Jake rocked back on his heels and tried to recall exactly what Doc Brooks had done when he’d treated his colt.

“What types of supplies do you have in the horse ambulance?”

“I don’t have any. I just do transport. No medical treatment.”

Jake exhaled slowly. “Okay. We’ll have to improvise. I need a plastic tube. There’s one by the gas can in the bed of my truck. See if someone out there will climb up and get it. But, in the meantime, look around down here. Maybe there’s something in the Range Rover. I also need something to pack around the wound. A rag will do. I noticed another door at the front of the trailer. There must be a dressing room. You might be able to find something in there. I’ll also need some kind of tape. If you can’t find that, baling twine will work.”

“You got it. I’ll be right back,” Steve said, backing away from the trailer door.

“Steve, wait.”

Steve’s face reappeared in the doorway.

“I also need a condom.”

Steve made a coughing sound. “A what?”

“A condom.”

“Are you joking?”

Jake shook his head. “I couldn’t be more serious. If you don’t have one, ask if anyone else out there does.”

Steve hesitated for a second, then reached under his raincoat and pulled out his wallet. He removed a foil-wrapped condom and tossed it down to Jake. “I trust you know what you’re doing, but I have a feeling I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

Jake couldn’t help smiling at Steve. “Go on, now. Get the tube. And hurry.”

He set the flashlight down, opened the foil wrap, and unrolled the condom. He used the folding knife that was clipped to his belt to slice the end off the condom, then placed the condom on the center divider of the trailer and turned his attention back to the horse.

The trailer tie must have released during the accident, because one end was snapped to the halter, but the opposite end wasn’t hooked to the ring in the trailer. The halter had twisted to the side and was pulling against the horse’s left eye, and as Jake lifted the horse’s head to adjust the halter, he saw a brass nameplate. He aimed the flashlight at it and read the name engraved in script.
Chancellor
.

“Hey there, Chancellor,” Jake said quietly. “You hang in there. We’re going to get you fixed up in no time. Just hold on, boy.”

Chancellor had some minor scrapes on his nose, and a deep gash above his left eye that needed stitches and would probably leave a scar. Jake let Chancellor’s head rest on his lap and stroked him gently, murmuring reassuringly to him, all the while wondering whether the device he was about to rig up would actually work.

A
nne’s hand was already on the door handle of Kendall’s Jeep as they pulled up to the curb in front of the emergency room. As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, Anne flung open the door, grabbed her purse, and climbed out of the car.

“I’ll see you inside,” she called over her shoulder as she slammed the door and headed towards the covered walkway that sheltered the entrance to the emergency room. She rounded the corner and hurried towards a set of double glass doors.

The doors glided open quietly as Anne drew near, and when she entered the reception area, she saw a young woman sitting at a desk immediately to her left. The woman stood up as Anne approached.

“Are you Mrs. Cummings?” she asked.

Anne nodded. “Yes.”

“I’ve been watching for you,” the woman said, walking around from behind the desk. “I figured I’d be able to spot you right away, since they told me you’re expecting. Your husband was brought in by ambulance a little while ago. If you’ll come with me, I’ll find someone to fill you in on his condition.”

Anne followed her across the crowded waiting room and around the corner. “My name’s Jenny,” the woman told her as they walked. “I’m a patient advocate.”

Jenny stopped before a closed door. “This is the consultation room. You’ll have more privacy in here.” She opened the door with a key and gestured for Anne to step inside. “Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

The room was small, just barely large enough to fit a love seat and two chairs, and it was decorated in soothing blue tones, with nondescript pastel artwork on the walls and soft lighting. It was the kind of room you’d take a family member to if the news you were about to deliver was not good, Anne imagined.
A room designed for private grieving
.

Anne hesitated in the doorway and looked at Jenny. “Why did you bring me here?” she asked. “Why can’t I see my husband?”

Jenny didn’t make eye contact. She patted Anne’s arm and tried to ease her gently into the room. “I’m sure they’ll take you back there to see him. But I think you’ll be more comfortable talking in here first. Please have a seat. I won’t be but a minute.”

Anne walked through the doorway, but she refused to sit down, as if sitting would somehow validate the need for her to be in the grieving room. She leaned against the wall next to the door and after a moment heard the sound of rapid footsteps in the corridor. She straightened up and turned towards the door. Jenny was approaching, along with an older woman who wore a mint green smock.

“This is the RN who has been caring for your husband,” Jenny said.

The nurse extended her hand to Anne. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Cummings. I’m Beverly Sweeney. Please, have a seat, and I’ll give you an update on your husband’s condition.”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Jenny said, her hand on the doorknob. “Is there anything I can bring you? A cup of coffee, perhaps?”

Anne shook her head. “No, thank you. But the friend who drove me here is probably in the waiting room by now. Her name is Kendall Waters. Would you mind letting her know where I am?”

“I’d be happy to,” Jenny said, slipping through the door and closing it gently behind her.

Beverly sat on the love seat and patted the cushion next to her. “Please, Mrs. Cummings, sit down.”

Anne lowered herself onto the love seat. The baby was kicking hard, and she felt some cramping in her lower abdomen, so she settled back against the cushions and gently rubbed her hands across her belly.

“I’ll take you to see your husband in a few minutes,” Beverly said, “but first I want to prepare you, so you aren’t shocked when you see him. Okay?”

Anne nodded.

“He’s been intubated. That means that he has a tube running into his airway, which is connected to a ventilator.”

“
Doug can’t breathe on his own?”

“Right now, the ventilator is doing the work for him.”

Anne couldn’t come to grips with the thought of Doug hooked up to a machine, unable to breathe on his own.

“You can speak to him,” Beverly went on. “In fact, I would encourage it. But he won’t be able to respond to you. He’s unconscious.”

“
Unconscious?”
Anne fought the impulse to flee the grieving room before Beverly could deliver more bad news. “How bad is it?” she heard herself ask.

Beverly handed her a tissue from a box on the end table. “Your husband’s been stabilized; that’s the important thing right now. Dr. Adams has been treating him and he’ll go over the test results with you. Would you like to go and see him now?”

Anne pressed the tissue against the corners of her eyes and took a deep breath. “Yes, please.”

She followed Beverly to a set of wooden double doors and waited while the nurse swiped a card against a sensor on the wall. The doors opened towards them with a clanking sound, and as soon as they passed through the doorway a medicinal hospital odor filled Anne’s nose. She shuddered as she was flooded with memories of the last time she’d been at the hospital with Doug. After Zeb McGraw had shot him. But everything had turned out all right then. She had to have faith that it would again.

Beverly led her down a hallway, past several curtained cubicles, and stopped in front of a closed glass door across from the nurses’ station. Anne couldn’t see into the room through the glass, because a curtain was drawn closed on the other side.

“Your husband’s in here,” Beverly said, sliding open the door.

J
ake felt the trailer rock and heard footsteps on the metal siding above him. A moment later, Steve leaned through the open door.

“I got everything you asked for,” he said breathlessly.

“Good work.” Jake gently eased Chancellor’s head off his lap. “Come on inside. I’m going to need your help with this.”

Jake stood up and moved to the side as Steve lowered himself into the trailer, landing deftly beside Jake.

“How’s he doing?” Steve asked.

“He’s been quiet, but I don’t think that’s a good thing.” Jake took off his cowboy hat and wiped at the sweat on his forehead. The sun was shining again, and the inside of the trailer was beginning to feel like a sauna. “Show me what you found.”

Steve jammed his hands into the pockets of his rain slicker and pulled out a roll of duct tape and a flannel polo wrap, which he handed to Jake. “I’ve got the gas siphon tube right here.” He unsnapped his rain slicker, and Jake saw a section of garden hose dangling from around Steve’s neck.

“Perfect.” Jake squatted down beside Chancellor and used his knife to slice off about a foot of the dark blue polo wrap.

“That’s some knife you’ve got there. Is it a Buck?”

Jake nodded as he picked up the roll of duct tape and began cutting off strips, which he stuck lightly to the center divider post.

“What’s the handle made of? Is that elk horn?”

Jake gave him a quick glance. “Stag.”

Steve whistled. “I’ll bet that cost you a bundle.”

“Okay, Steve, I’m going to need your help here.” Jake retrieved the condom from the center divider and slipped the opening of the condom over the end of the hose, then fastened it in place with one of the strips of duct tape. “I’m going to insert the hose into the puncture wound, and then I want you to hold it steady while I pack the polo wrap around it and secure it with the tape.”

“Do you want to take the center divider out first, so you can get at him better?”

Jake shook his head. “I’d rather keep him confined. He’ll be less likely to put up a struggle that way. If you just grab his right front and hold it up, I think I can get at it just fine.”

Steve removed his rain slicker and dropped it on the floor, then grasped Chancellor’s leg with both hands and pulled it forward and up out of Jake’s way. Chancellor tensed and rolled his eyes, and Steve spoke softly to him. “It’s okay, boy, we’re just trying to help you.”

“Pray that this works,” Jake said as he probed the puncture wound with his fingers and inched the hose in. Chancellor grunted once as the hose slid in, but he seemed to lack the energy to put up a struggle.

“Okay, it’s in. Now hold it right here.” Jake shifted out of the way, and Steve tucked Chancellor’s leg between his elbow and his side and grabbed the hose with his other hand.

Jake wrapped the strip of flannel around the opening and eased it into the wound to close up the gap around the hose. “There we go. That’s as good as it’s going to get.”

He placed the strips of duct tape around the hose and taped it to Chancellor’s side. “Let’s hope it does the trick. Keep your fingers crossed.”

Chancellor took a labored breath and the condom was sucked tight against the hose, sealing off the end. An instant later he exhaled, and the condom extended, allowing the air to escape in a rush through the hole Jake had cut in the end. Chancellor took another breath. Inhale; the opening closed off. Exhale; the air escaped. Just like clockwork.

“I’ll be damned,” Jake said, smiling. “It’s working.”

Steve gave him a high five. “Way to go, man.”

Chancellor no longer made a sucking noise when he inhaled, and with each effort his breathing sounded stronger and steadier. They watched the horse breathe for several minutes, and then Jake slipped his thumb under Chancellor’s upper lip and lifted it up.