Cowboy Crazy(15)
“I’m planning to make some pickles today. We’ve got a bumper crop of cukes from the garden.” Mrs. Dalton dug a big jug of vinegar out of a cupboard and set it on the counter. “I’d appreciate a little help if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I’ve never made pickles.”
“You’re in for a treat then. I’ll set you to work cutting the onions. Meanwhile, I’ll fetch the jars.” She crossed the room quickly, and Charlotte marveled at how she appeared to glide.
She went outside. Charlotte chopped two whole onions. Then three. Still, Mrs. Dalton hadn’t returned.
After wiping her hands on a towel, Charlotte went outside to see if she needed help. She swept her gaze over the property and saw no sign of the woman. “Mrs. Dalton?”
“Help!”
Adrenaline surged into Charlotte’s system. She lunged toward the voice, swinging her head left and right and scattering chickens. Where was she?
“Here! Help!” Mrs. Dalton’s voice broke, and Charlotte hurried faster. When she discovered the storm cellar, worry was a sick weight in her stomach. At the bottom of the wooden stairs lay Mrs. Dalton.
“Oh no!” She descended the steps with no memory of doing so. The woman’s leg was bent, but her ankle…it was cocked in the wrong direction. Shaking inside, Charlotte tried to think of first aid. She examined Mrs. Dalton’s white face. “It will be all right. We’ll get you out of here and to the hospital. Your ankle’s broken.”
“Yes,” she said through clenched teeth. “Get Ted. I’ll never make it up the stairs without my man.”
Something about the way she said that—relying so much on her husband—warmed Charlotte. She nodded. “Where do I find him?”
Panting shallowly against the pain, she said, “Top field. Go to the barn and head straight. You should see him checking over the herd.”
“Okay.” Charlotte paused to grip Mrs. Dalton’s fingers. “Hold on. Stay calm.” She dashed back up the stairs. Blinking into the blinding sunlight, she ran toward the barn. Her stomach hurt at the thought of the pain the woman must be experiencing. Her bone was broken clean off and they were far from a hospital. How did people live this way, so isolated?
“Population of seven,” she muttered, taking off in a dead run. A few months ago she wouldn’t have been able to do this—the skin on her thigh was too raw and new. Thank goodness, she’d had enough time to heal.
She ran up the slope to the top field, spotting Ted. She waved her arms, but he didn’t see. Calling out, she barreled forward. “Mr. Dalton! Come quick, it’s your wife!” She yelled twice before he spun and saw her.
From this distance he might be Hank—solid, strong body and dark hair. Hank would age well, and he’d be a good husband for some lucky lady someday too.
He came at her jogging. “What’s happened?”
“Your wife’s broken her ankle. She was in the storm cellar fetching jars. Hurry, it’s bad!”
He paled under his tan, running now. Over his shoulder, he hollered, “Go inside and call Hank’s cell. He’ll be in town by now, so you’ll reach him. His number’s on a notepad by the phone.”
Wheeling around, she took off at a dead run to the house. Surely they wouldn’t wait for Hank to return before taking Mrs. Dalton to the hospital.
When his deep voice filled her ear, warmth coated her insides and her nerves steadied. “Hank, it’s Charlotte. Your mother’s broken her ankle and your pa told me to call you.”
“Dammit.” She could almost see his full lips pulled tight against his teeth. There was a little background noise, followed by a heavy sigh. “Of course all this shit happens when my brothers are away. Okay, tell them I’ll meet them at the hospital.”
Guilt flooded her. She was only adding to the trouble—if not for her, Hank would be home sorting this out right now. Instead he was taking time away from the ranch to help her.
“Look, why don’t we forget about you fixing my car? I can pay for the tow into a garage and stay in town—”
“No.” His tone was hard and gritty—and it raised goose bumps on her forearms. Warmth slid into her belly, then lower.
He went on, “The car isn’t the trouble. It’s my parents’ hair-brained scheme and my brothers running off to make it happen.” He sighed again. “Are you okay, Charlotte?”
“I’m fine. Just worried about your family.”
“Sit tight if you don’t mind. I’ll meet my parents here at the hospital and be back in time to do evening chores.” Was that a smile she heard in his voice?