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She opened her eyes, but fear or fatigue kept her from moving. If she let go, the flood would sweep her away.
He cupped one hand around his mouth like a megaphone and yelled louder. “Hang on! I’ll be right back.”
She didn’t even lift a hand as he turned and sprinted to his truck. Mentally, he took stock of the supplies he had in the back tool chest. His fire pack, ready at a moment’s notice in case he was called out on a wildfire. It included fresh water and food. A first-aid kit, which he might need soon. A toolbox, coils of rope and rappelling clips. He’d definitely need those now.
A sense of urgency pushed him to hurry. He had no idea how long she’d be able to hold on.
Inside his truck, he tossed the camera onto the seat and started the engine. Putting the vehicle into four-wheel drive, he steered it off the dirt road and through the brush, getting as close to the flood as possible without burying the tires in the bog so that he wouldn’t be able to break free.
She was still there, her right cheek resting against the hard boulder. Water rushed over her, slapping her in the face. Now and then she coughed and he breathed with relief. Obviously she had a good hold on the rock, but how long would her strength hold out against the cold, swift current?
After jerking on a pair of leather gloves, Nate secured two lengths of rope to the front fender of the truck. Then he tied one rope around his middle. As an Eagle Scout, he’d learned to tie knots that wouldn’t come loose, thanks to his mother’s persistence to keep him involved in good activities.
Binding the other rope to his belt, he trudged through the mud toward the flood. He gasped as he entered the frigid water. The powerful stream knocked him down, soaking his green forest ranger uniform to the skin. The rope gave him security and he pulled it taut to regain his feet. Without the lifeline, he would have been swept away by the stream and possibly drowned.
With powerful strokes, he fought to swim his way across to the woman. Adrenaline pumped through his body, giving him strength. An entire tree trunk brushed past, its sharp branches scraping his side. In the freezing water, he grunted but barely felt the pain.
Thankfully the majority of rocks and debris had already passed, pushed forward by the flood. Every muscle in Nate’s body tensed as he fought to keep from being whisked away. He barely dodged a boulder aimed at his head. Cold water washed over him again and again and he coughed.
Almost there.
His cold fingers clasped the rock the woman was clinging to, his wet gloves stiff and unyielding. Panting for breath, he looped the rope around the boulder to hold him steady until he was ready to return to shore. He leaned next to the woman, speaking loud over the roar of water. “You okay?”
Her eyes slit open, then closed, followed by a subtle nod. She was alive, but a trail of blood rolled down her forehead where a lump had formed beneath a nasty gash. Without examining her, he had no idea of the seriousness of her injuries.
“Help us. Please,” she whispered in a hoarse voice.
“Us? Is someone with you?” He looked around, his gaze searching for another person he must have missed, but he saw no one else.
She didn’t respond, her eyes rolling backward in her head. She let go of the rock and he grabbed her before she could whisk away. Holding her tightly by the arm, he pulled the second rope free of his belt and tied it around her chest, just beneath her arms.
“Can you hear me?” He patted her chilled cheeks, hoping to rouse her. He’d need her help to get them both safely back to shore.
She didn’t open her eyes, but her mouth moved. He leaned near, feeling her warm breath against his cheek.
“My baby…please don’t let my baby die…sorry for everything…so sorry.”
She was pregnant!
If Nate hadn’t felt the critical situation before, he did now. He had to get her out of here and rush her to a doctor.
“I’m gonna pull us back to shore, okay?”
She gave a brief nod, her eyes opening. In their velvet brown depths, he saw deep, wrenching fear.
“Can you hold on to me?” he asked.
Another nod that didn’t inspire much confidence in him. She seemed too weak. Too fragile and exhausted. But he doubted he could save her if she couldn’t help hold on.
“Wrap your arms and legs around me like a python and don’t let go no matter what. I’ll pull us to safety.”
She did as told, lying against his back as she knotted her small hands in a fist across his chest. With her behind him, he took hold of the rope and pulled, hand-over-hand. The current swept them away and the woman cried out but she didn’t let go.
“I’ve got us. Just hang on.” His words were meant to encourage her and to give himself the nerve to keep going.
The rope burned through his hands, but he found a harder grip. Thank goodness for his gloves. His palms would have been shredded to the bone without the protective layer.
He and the woman jerked hard, tossed in the water like a tiny twig. He pulled and pulled until his arms trembled with fatigue. The frigid water sapped his strength. If he let go, they’d lose headway and he’d have to start over. They still could drown. His stamina wouldn’t last forever. He must make every movement count.
He didn’t look up, focusing on the length of rope directly in front of him. It was a gargantuan effort not to let his gloved hands slip again. His fingers felt like clumps of ice and wouldn’t obey his commands. Hand-over-hand. Again and again. How long was this rope?
Finally! Finally he felt solid ground beneath his feet. He kept walking, carrying the woman on his back as he trudged up the muddy bank, his booted feet sinking deep. He staggered to shore.
Rivulets of water drained from his drab olive-green shirt and pants. As he walked, his work boots felt like heavy bricks of cement strapped to his feet. Looking down, he noticed he’d lost his ranger shield, a small hole in his shirt showing the only proof that he’d worn the badge that day. Blood soaked his side where the tree branch had lacerated his shirt and skin. He scanned the injury with his eyes. Just a flesh wound. He’d survived worse injuries riding wild broncs on the national rodeo circuit, but he’d never been this scared even when he’d faced an angry bull.
He dropped his hands to the shore and the woman slid away. She lay on the ground beside him, her blue jeans splotched with dirt. One foot was bare, her tennis shoe and sock obviously sucked away by the flood. Her wet shirt clung to her rounded tummy. Definitely pregnant but not real big yet.
He knelt beside her, touching her face with his shaking hands, searching for life. “You okay, ma’am?”
A single, brief nod.
“How about your baby?”
In response, she slid a pale hand over her abdomen. He had no idea if her baby was alive. He’d heard of traumatic events like this throwing a woman into early labor. She didn’t look far enough along for the baby to survive if it were born now.
A sense of urgency swept him. “Can you stand?”
This time, she didn’t move or open her eyes.
Standing, he tried to pick her up and almost dropped her in spite of her slim weight. The effort to get her to shore had sapped the strength in his arms.
Changing his tactics, he untied the ropes from around them, then took hold of her shoulders and half carried, half dragged her to his truck. Once he got her inside and buckled in, he wrapped a woolen blanket over her, tucking it around her shoulders and feet. The chattering of her teeth told him she was still alive and suffering from the beginnings of hypothermia. The shivering would help warm her body, but he had no idea what the impact might be on her baby.
With slow, awkward movements, he removed the roped clips from the fender and tossed them aside in the brush. He climbed inside and started the engine before turning on the heater full-bore. He had to get her warm. He breathed deeply, wanting to rest but not daring to do so yet.
With jerky movements, he shifted the truck into gear and turned it around in the sagebrush. As he headed back to town, he sped all the way. The truck bounced over the rutted road like a flat basketball hitting pavement.
Glancing at the woman, he noticed her chest moved with each shallow breath she took. She murmured several words, not making any sense. Her spiked eyelashes lay closed against smooth, ashen skin. Her long hair lay in sodden, dark strands around her shoulders. Even in this condition, he could tell she was beautiful. With her thin arms and legs, he couldn’t help wondering how she’d clung to that rock. How long had she been out there? He hoped she hadn’t suffered any trauma to her abdomen. How had she survived the ordeal?
Within fifteen minutes, he pulled into the parking lot of the small clinic in town. He pressed on the horn long and hard to draw attention, then stumbled around the truck to open the door and get the woman out. His strength had recovered a bit and he picked her up, staggering to the sidewalk where Clara Richens met him with a wheelchair.
“What happened?” the nurse asked.
He set the unconscious woman in the chair. Her head rolled back, her hands resting lifelessly in her lap. She looked dead and a blaze of panic overwhelmed Nate. She just couldn’t die. Not on his watch.
“She was caught in a flash flood in Emerald Valley.” Together, he helped Clara wheel the woman inside.
“Do you know who she is?” Clara eyed his soggy clothes and bloodstained shirt.
“No. I just found her and pulled her from the flood.” He stood back on wobbly legs.
Clara looked at the woman’s face, her eyes filled with sympathy. And then her expression changed to stunned recognition. “Oh, my goodness. It’s Lily!”
“What? You know her?” Nate asked.
Without another word, Clara motioned to an orderly to come and help.
As they whisked the woman away, Nate called after them. “She’s pregnant and worried about her baby.”
Clara nodded. “I can see that. I’ll warn the doctor.”
They disappeared behind the swinging double doors and Nate just stood there, adrenaline and fear pumping through his body. Clara must know the woman.
Lily. A pretty flower, just like the woman he’d rescued.
“Nate, you look awful. What happened?”
Nathan turned to find Shelby Larson standing beside him. In this small town, almost everyone knew everyone else by name. Shelby was married to Matt, Nate’s ranger assistant. A pleasantly plump woman, she wore a white nurse’s smock on top of her street clothes.
“Hi, Shelby. It’s been quite a day.” He chuckled and raked a hand through his damp hair before explaining the events that had led him to the clinic.
She touched his arm. “Come with me so I can take a look at that wound on your side. Maybe we’ve got some dry clothes around here somewhere.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got an extra change of clothes in my fire pack. I’ll get them and be right back.”
“But your wound…”
“It’s just a scratch. I’ll let you look at it in just a moment.”
He left, going to retrieve the spruce-green Nomex pants and yellow fire-resistant shirt from his fire pack before returning and changing in the privacy of an examination room. He had two extra pairs of dry socks and pulled one pair on before shoving his feet back into his damp cowboy boots. If he didn’t wear the boots until they dried, they’d be ruined.
Shelby cleaned the deep scratches on his side and bandaged them. No big deal. They’d heal up fine.
Back outside in the reception room, Nate slumped on the sofa and borrowed Shelby’s cell phone to call his office at the ranger’s station. His cell phone had been ruined by water and his people should know what had happened and where he was.
“You don’t know who the woman is?” Margaret, his office manager, asked.
“Nope, but Clara Richens recognized her. Her car’s still out there, buried in the riverbed. She probably got caught in the flood when she tried to cross the stream. Can you make some phone calls to each of the ranchers in Emerald Valley? Warn them to use the Bailey bridges or stay put. I don’t want anyone else trying to cross a flooding stream until it stops raining up in the mountains.”
“Will do.”
“And Margaret? Ask Matt if he’d mind driving out and checking the status of the flood. Tell him not to cross it or do anything that might get him hurt, but see if the flood has passed yet.”
“You got it. You take care and check in with us later, okay?”
Nate hung up the cell phone, his body feeling wilted, his mind full of activity. What if the woman lost her baby? What if she died after all? Somehow he felt responsible for her. His heart went out to her and her child. He should call her husband, but had no idea who that might be. Her ID was probably still in her car.
He stood and approached the front counter. “Any news yet?”
Shelby shook her head. “I’m sorry. The doctor’s still with her.”
An hour later, Nate had laid his head back against the sofa in the waiting room to rest. Dr. Kenner came down the hall, a stethoscope dangling around his thick neck. Nate breathed a sigh of relief and stood. Finally some news.
“Hi, Nate.” The doctor smiled, his bald head and ruddy cheeks flushed with color.
“How is she?”
“She’ll be fine. She’s resting now. A very lucky young woman. What you did was heroic.”
Nate ignored that remark. He didn’t feel heroic. He just felt worried. “And her baby?”
“The baby seems fine. Strong heartbeat, vigorous movement. Lily’s almost six months along, but she didn’t receive any trauma to her abdomen, just her head. She took eight stitches in her scalp, but that’ll heal soon enough.”
“Lily is her name?” The delicate flower of the resurrection.
“Yeah, Lily Hansen. Hank Hansen’s girl. I was there when her momma died after being bucked off one of those wild mustangs she loved to ride. She trained horses for the rodeo. Quite rare for a woman.”
She sounded like Nate’s kind of gal.
“I didn’t know Hank had any kids.”
“Just Lily.”
A twinge of sympathy pinched Nate’s heart. Hank owned Emerald Ranch and was one of the grazing permittees on the national forest. Hank kept to himself for the most part, but he and Nate had become friends. Both men had ridden the national rodeo circuit at one time. Even so, Hank was one of the most irascible men Nate had ever met. If he’d lost his wife in a horse-related accident, Nate could understand why. The man also seemed to be having some financial troubles of late. “Last I heard, Hank was ailing. Heart attack or something.”
The doctor didn’t respond and Nate figured the man knew the details but was maintaining patient confidentiality.
“It’s probably good that his daughter has come home to take care of him,” Nate said.
“Yeah, she grew up here in Jasper, but she left right after high school. After her mom died, she and her dad didn’t get along too well. I’ve just called Hank to let him know she’s here. He’s driving into town as soon as he can.”
Nate frowned, hoping the rancher didn’t try to pass the stream while it was still flooding. Hank should use the high Bailey bridge the Army Corp of Engineers had constructed across the river a couple of weeks ago.
They chatted for several more minutes, mostly with Nate asking questions the doctor did his best not to answer.
“She’s waking up. You can go in and see her for a few minutes if you like.”
“Me?” Nate hesitated.
Dr. Kenner clapped a hand on Nate’s back and smiled broadly. “You’re the man who saved her. Shelby will take you back.”
Shelby stepped around the front counter to guide Nate down the hallway. A happy smile beamed on her face. “What a great day. Lily took up with a n’er-do-well from Reno and broke her daddy’s heart. He’ll be so happy to see her again. This story is sure to make the evening news. You’re a hero, Nate. You saved her life.”
As Nate’s heels thudded against the tiled floor, he didn’t feel like a hero. He felt like a worried husband and father, which wasn’t right. This wasn’t his wife and child. He knew nothing about Lily Hansen or her life, yet he couldn’t stop worrying about her. Her pitiful cries for help still tore at his heart. They each could have died today and he realized how precious life was.
For some odd reason, Nate hesitated at the door to Lily’s room, looking in at her still form lying on the narrow hospital bed. Wrapped in sterile blankets, she looked so helpless. So cold and vulnerable.
He’d saved this woman and her unborn child. He couldn’t help remembering what his mom had taught him about being his brother’s keeper. Some cultures believed if you saved someone’s life, you were then responsible for them until the day you died. A heavy thought indeed. Being responsible for Lily Hansen and her baby the rest of his life made his insides jittery.
