A Time to Heal(68)

Chris walked over to Hannah's side of the buggy. "Let it be," he said, looking at her intently. "You don't know who you're dealing with."

"I thought Amish chicks knew how to keep their mouths shut," Malcolm muttered.

Malcolm pulled his cap lower as a car approached. "Don't try anything stupid."

The car stopped and a man leaned out the window. "You folks need some help?"

"We're good," Malcolm told them. "Thanks."

The man nodded and drove on.

"Let her go, and I'll go anywhere you want."

"Chris—"

Malcolm nodded. "Get in the car."

"Chris!"

"Turn the buggy around, Hannah. Now."

When she hesitated, Chris leaned in, his voice low and intense. "Trust me. I was a soldier. I know how to get out of a tight spot. Now don't do anything stupid."

"But—"

"Don't you understand?" He grasped her arm with a grip so tight it hurt. "I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you. Promise me you'll go straight home and be safe."

Without waiting to see that she did what he told her to do, he got in the passenger side of the car.

He just didn't know her. She'd always been a little rebellious.Matthew could tell him story after story about that. Torn, she stared at him sitting in the car for a long moment.

Then, inspiration struck. She pulled the buggy into a U-turn.

And stopped directly in front of Malcolm's car.

She turned and saw the two men struggling. She prayed and prayed as Chris fought to grasp the gun. But Malcolm slammed it against his head and got out of the car.

Chris was right behind him, clutching his head. "Hannah, get out of here!" Chris yelled.

But Malcolm already stood beside the buggy. "What, are you nuts?" He raised his gun. "I've had enough of you!" He pulled her from the buggy and shook her.

Chris came up behind him and grabbed at the gun, and the two men tussled for it again. Malcolm slammed the weapon against Chris's head again, and he sagged from the pain.

Malcolm turned and aimed the gun at Chris.

Hannah didn't think. "No!" she cried, flinging herself between the men.

She heard the shot, felt the burning pain in her arm and her side.

She stared down at the blood pouring out, then at Chris grappling with Malcolm, slamming his fist into the other man's face. Malcolm collapsed onto the road and lay still.Chris pulled off his belt, dragged Malcolm's arms behind his back and secured them.

The scene reminded her of the movie she'd seen once during her rumschpringe—not real. She watched Chris finish tying Malcolm's arms and held out her own injured one, staring at it as if it didn't belong to her. It dripped blood, dark red blood.Her head felt light and things were going gray.

She watched Chris jump to his feet and rush toward her, then everything went dark, as if it turned from day to night.





The second Chris made sure he'd subdued Malcolm, he jumped up and rushed to Hannah's side.

She lay on the road, so still. Her eyes were closed, and the color had drained from her face. Blood pooled around her side and her arm. Everyone who'd served in the field had been taught basic first aid. The pumping of blood from her arm meant the brachial artery had been nicked or severed. If he didn't stop it right away, death would come in a matter of minutes.There was no time to wait for paramedics.

Forcing himself to stay calm, he checked her arm and guessed that the bullet had only nicked the artery. He yanked at the sleeve of her dress and it tore away at the shoulder seam.Wrapping the sleeve around her arm just above the wound, he tied it tightly, and the bleeding slowed to a trickle.

The wound in her side wasn't as bad as he feared. The bullet had torn through her arm, exited, and traveled through her side. If she was lucky—and so far she was because she was still alive—it might have missed vital organs. He prayed that it had.

Shrugging off his jacket, he folded it and pressed it against her side to stem the bleeding. When his shaking fingers touched her throat, he found her pulse was thready but still beating against his fingers.

When he looked up to scan the road, he saw that Matthew's horse and buggy Hannah had borrowed were barreling down the road, the horse terrorized by the sound of the gun firing.

Malcolm's car was parked behind him, but even if he managed to pick Hannah up and move her into it without her losing too much blood, he didn't have any idea where the nearest hospital was.

He pulled out his cell phone, but it was dead. He hadn't charged the battery in days. Getting up, he pulled Malcolm's cell from the holder on his pants, dialed 911, and tersely requested help.

That done, he knelt at Hannah's side and checked on her wounds again. The tourniquet still held firm, and the bleeding had slowed tremendously. The wound in her side seeped a little, but continuing to press on it helped slow the bleeding.