The Texan's Secret. Linda Warren
Читать онлайн книгу.
you reached the ranch?”
“Yes.” Just what she needed—her mother giving her more instructions. Shay let out a long breath, made a U-turn and drove back, the wind giving her an extra push.
“You know what you have to do.”
“You don’t have to remind me.” Shay tried to hide the bite in her voice, but failed. “How’s Darcy?”
“She’s in the living room with Nettie. The quicker you get back here the better. That kid is getting on my nerves with her loud, squeaky voice. Why you took her in is still beyond me.”
Shay’s knuckles turned white from gripping the wheel. She was the legal guardian of eight-year-old Darcy Stevens. Shay and Darcy’s mother, Beth, had been very good friends. When Beth, a single mom, had asked her to be her daughter’s guardian if anything ever happened to her, Shay had agreed. In their twenties, neither had dreamed that tragedy might strike them so young, but it had. Beth was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and had died within months.
Darcy was filled with so much anger at her mother’s death that Shay was at a loss sometimes about how to deal with her. She sucked at being a mother.
“I’ll be back as quick as I can. She does fine with Nettie,” Shay replied. Her mother’s cousin, who lived next door, was a lifesaver.
“Avoid that Hardin boy who’s the foreman. He could be trouble.”
“I don’t plan on talking to any of the cowboys.” A Hardin was the last person she wanted to meet.
“Don’t you let me down.”
Shay clicked off with the words ringing in her ears. They epitomized her whole life. Her mother had probably started saying them to her in the crib. Where most kids had cereal for breakfast, Shay had been spoon-fed guilt. She did not have a Cosby kid’s childhood. It was more like a Hallmark afternoon special.
But today she was going to make up for a lot of that.
By doing exactly what her mother wanted.
What was she doing? Shay’s mind reeled with unsettling thoughts, and she misjudged the distance to her purse. Her cell phone fell to the floor. Reaching for it, she turned the wheel too far, and the car slid off the road. Quickly overcorrecting, she glanced up and saw a silver truck heading straight for her. She jerked the wheel and the car left the road and barreled across a bar ditch, through a fence, and kept going.
She screamed when a tree came out of nowhere. Frantically, she jammed her foot on the brake, and the car spun, her head hitting the wheel. A searing pain shot through her, followed by a soft white light and then darkness.
CHANCE PULLED OVER to the side of the road and jumped out, poking 911 into his cell. He gave his name, location and a few details. The wind tugged at his hat, so he threw it into the backseat.
The operator told him there was a bad wreck on US 290 and that all available ambulances were en route there. She said she’d send one as soon as she could. As they spoke, Chance paused briefly on the shoulder of the road and took in the situation. The car had crashed through a fence, grazed a tree and was resting in the creek.
“Can you see anything?” the dispatcher asked.
“Yes. The car is in Crooked Creek.”
“I’ve notified the volunteer fire department in your area and the constable. Help is on the way. Check and see if anyone is injured.”
Clutching his phone, Chance ran down the slope and leaped over the ditch. Please, not another wreck on a dreary March day, was all he could think.
“A small Chevy is slowly taking in water,” he reported to the dispatcher. He stepped into the creek to take a closer look. “Only one person in the car—a woman. Her head is resting against the steering wheel.”
“Does she have on her seat belt?”
Chance peered inside. “Yes.”
“Air bag inflated?”
“No.”
“Do you see blood?”
“No. But there’s water on the floorboard and it’s rising.” His eyes shifted to the front of the car. “Steam is coming from under the hood, but I expect that’s from the hot motor hitting water.”
“Yes, probably. Can you open the door?”
“Just a sec.” Shoving his cell into his jeans pocket, he grabbed the handle and yanked on it. “No. It’s jammed and the water is holding it tight,” he said, anxious moments later. The wind whipped the water against his legs and tousled his hair. His efforts on the door made the car inch farther into the creek.
Damn!
Memories beat at him. His mother’s blonde hair covered in blood flashed through his mind. Chance hadn’t been able to save her. But he would save this woman.
“Do you hear a siren?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Try the other doors.”
He did as instructed, but none would open. “They won’t budge, and the water is rising. It’s up to her waist. Where in the hell is everyone?”
“An ambulance has been rerouted from US 290, but that’s twenty miles away. High Cotton is one of those remote communities we have problems with, but the fire department should be there.”
“They’re not.” Chance bent and gazed in at the unconscious woman again. Her blonde hair was long and the tips were now touching water. “This lady doesn’t have a lot of time.”
“Okay. I just heard from High Cotton’s fire chief. They’re having trouble with the truck.”
“Damn.” They were always having problems with that old fire engine. They’d been having fundraisers for a new one and had applied for a grant from the state of Texas to help with the cost. But this lady needed help now.
“Just stay on the line.”
“I’m not going anywhere, but this car is filling up fast.”
“Okay. Do you have anything to break a window?”
“I have a crowbar in my truck.”
“Get it, and wait for instructions.”
Gulping a breath, he ran back to his truck for the implement, then sloshed back into the creek to the stranded vehicle. “Now what?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.
“Break the driver’s side window, but be careful.”
Switching to speakerphone, he placed his cell on the roof of the car, then looked inside again. The driver was still out cold, leaning toward the right, that was good. She was farther away from the door.
With one swing, he shattered the window. Luckily, it broke into a sheet of tiny cubes and he was able to break it away from the frame. Pieces of glass fell into the water and others dropped into the car. As he worked, sweat rolled down his face despite the relentless wind.
“It’s done,” he said.
“Check and see if she has a pulse.”
He brushed her long hair aside and felt the smooth skin of her neck. A faint rhythm beat against his fingers and he let out a long breath. “Yes, she’s alive.”
“No help yet?”
“No, and the wind is not helping. The car is not stable.”
“Can you get her out?”
Chance took another deep breath. “I’ll try.”
“Just be sure to brace her neck.”
After making sure there were no jagged glass edges left in the window frame, he reached in, stuck his hand in the water and felt for her