A Matter of Trust(88)
Probably thinking about how she’d manipulated him, again.
Or . . . maybe thinking about how he could reopen the case, maybe get the judgment against him vacated.
Which would mean betraying her to the authorities. Which, probably, she deserved. Still . . .
To whom much is given . . .
She, too, had been given much, and look what she’d accomplished. A useless term in office, the destruction of Gage’s livelihood . . . all because she’d been trying to prove something. Take control of her life, make sure it mattered.
That she was worth the effort God made to save her.
Ollie lay on his back, his mouth open, still sunk into slumber. She shucked off her jacket, wiped her hand across her cheek as she reached for the stove. She needed water, so she ducked her head outside and scooped up some nearby snow.
Gage didn’t look at her.
She could fix this—she just needed a minute to figure it out, to take it all apart . . .
“Sis?”
She looked up to see Ollie staring at her.
“You look upset.”
“I’m fine, Ollie. Go back to sleep. I’m getting breakfast made.”
“My head really hurts.” He winced.
“I don’t see why. It’s as hard as granite.”
She smiled at him, but he didn’t move, his eyes fixed.
“How bad is it?” she asked, leaning over him.
His body jerked, hard, and he started to flail.
“Ollie!”
She grabbed his arm, but it shook out of her grasp. His eyes rolled back. Then his entire body went rigid, arching up.
“Gage! Help! He’s having a seizure.”
But Gage was already there, appearing by her side. “Help me roll him to his side, in case he vomits,” he said, his voice calm. He put his hands on Ollie’s shoulders. “Get his head.”
She fought to control her breath as she steadied Ollie’s head. “What’s the matter with him?” She smoothed Ollie’s hair back.
“I don’t know,” Gage said. “Could be from the head injury. Maybe a stroke—”
“A stroke! He was fine! He talked to me just a few seconds ago!”
“I don’t know, Ella.” Gage pressed his fingers to Oliver’s neck, against the carotid artery. Timed it against his watch. “His pulse is a little high.”
Ollie’s body suddenly went limp.
“Let’s roll him onto his back.”
She held his head and they rolled him to his back. Gage opened his eyes. “Pupils are reactive, but slow. One is more dilated than the other.”
“What does that mean?”
He sat back on his haunches. “It could be a brain bleed.”
A brain bleed? Her voice cut low. “He was fine. He was laughing last night and—he just asked me if I was okay.”
Gage looked up at her then, as if registering her words. She looked away.
Silence passed between them.
Then Gage said, “We need to get him to help ASAP.”
“How are we going to do that?”
He ran a hand across his forehead. “We can’t wait for the PEAK team. I don’t know when they’ll get here.” He looked at her. “We’ll have to get creative.”
She just stared at him.
“We can make a stretcher out of the sleeping bags, reinforce it with the tent poles. But I’ll need help carrying him out.”
She nodded.
“We’ll take the trail I took last night, get out to the ridge, call PEAK, and get an extraction.” He was already moving toward the door. “Let’s get him inside the bag. Get his helmet on him. I’ll work on creating a litter.”
He disappeared out of the tent.
“Oh Ollie, stay with me. Please be okay.” Her hands shook as she tucked Ollie into Gage’s sleeping bag and zippered it up. His head wound hadn’t looked that bad. Still, she had a memory of that destroyed helmet.
She clipped on his helmet, then cinched the sleeping bag drawstring around his face. He looked like a mummy, frail, his skin pale.
Gage came back inside. “Okay, I found a couple long branches that should work.”
She hadn’t a clue what he was talking about and could only watch as he took her sleeping bag and pulled it back outside.
“Grab my pack, Ella. I need the ropes and carabiners.”
She pushed the pack out of the tent, then climbed out and brought it over to him. The sunrise turned the snow to gray shadows tipped in gold. The fire had died down. Gage crouched next to a couple thick branches about the width of her wrist. He had unzipped the bottom of her bag, leaving the rest attached, and now took both poles and shoved them into the bag. “He can lie in the middle, and it’ll make a sort of sling for him,” Gage said without looking at her.