Cowboy Take Me Away(197)

            Colt screamed and bent over.

            For the fifteen seconds it took Carson to reach Colt’s side, he feared Cam had hooked Colt in the eye. He said, “Where’d it get you?”

            “My leg!”

            “Which leg? Son, stand up so I can see it.”

            When Colt straightened, Carson saw the hook imbedded in the back of Colt’s calf, deep enough to have threaded through the skin in two places. It’d gouged out a chunk of flesh before it’d caught. This was beyond him being able to yank the damn thing out with a pair of pliers.

            Fuck. Looked like he’d be making another goddamned visit to the emergency room.

            Carson took out his pocket knife and said, “Hold still.”

            “Dad! It ain’t that bad! Don’t cut off his leg!” Cam yelled.

            “For the love of God, Cameron. I ain’t gonna cut off his leg. I’m cuttin’ the fishin’ line.”

            “Oh.”

            “Can you get the hook out?” Colt asked, craning his neck around to gauge the damage.

            “’Fraid not. Gonna hafta take you to town.”

            Cam had dropped the pole and crouched to check it out. “Well, it don’t look that bad. Ain’t hardly bleeding at all. With how loud you screamed like a girl I thought I’d see the hook stuck in the bone and blood gushing everywhere.”

            Colt spun around and punched Cam in the eye, knocking him on his ass. “Ain’t that bad? How’d you like it if—” he growled and lunged.

            Carson was quick enough to stop Colt from pouncing on Cam, who was now holding his face and wailing. “Knock it the hell off, both of you. This is getting fuckin’ ridiculous.”

            “What’s goin’ on? We heard screamin’.”

            Cord and Colby—holding Keely—stopped five feet from where Cam was curled into a ball. And Colt was bleeding.

            “Colt has a fishin’ hook stuck in his calf, so I’m taking him to the hospital. You all stay here. And stay in the damn house.” He rested on his haunches in front of Cam. “Lemme see.”

            “I think he popped my eyeball.”

            Mr. Dramatic. The kid should be an actor. “Then you’d better let me look at it so I know whether I’ll need to take you to town with us.”

            Cam moved his hand.

            Carson sucked in a sharp breath. Already swollen. The kid would have one helluva shiner. “Can you see?”

            “Sorta.”

            “Put something cold on it.” He addressed his oldest sons. “Watch TV or something until we get back. If your mother calls, not a word about us bein’ at the hospital, got it?”

            “Yes sir.”

            He gestured to the poles and buckets. “Get this stuff put away.” Then to Colt he said, “Stay put. I’ll get the truck.” He checked to make sure he had his wallet. In fifteen years with six kids they’d been to the ER once. Once. The first time he’s left alone with the kids? He was on his second trip in less than twenty-four hours.

            Yeah, his wife was gonna lose her mind.

            Cord rapped on the driver’s side window.

            “What?”

            “Probably better stop at the store while you’re in town since there’s nothin’ to eat around here.”