Blame It on the Dog Page 10

  “You could say that.”

  "I knew we could rely on you. What was he doing down there in the first place?"

  “He was investigating the unfortunate demise of Nellie Schmidt.”

  “What? There? That wasn’t where it happened.”

  “He thought it was. A little bird whispered in his ear. And now we have nothing to fear.”

  “How poetic you are.”

  “A hidden talent.”

  “So what shall we do to celebrate?”

  “Champagne?”

  “Champagne!”

  CHAPTER 16

  HE CAME TO, still in the water, still holding his breath. His leaden arms were stroking but with little effect; his brain was demanding more oxygen; and his right leg had started screaming at him. But his left leg still worked. He pulled it beneath him and pushed off of the creek bottom. Nothing happened. He pushed again. Still nothing. He was stuck, underwater, the liquid silver surface an eternity away only inches above his head. Twisting his body, he saw the reason for his lack of forward motion: a giant, but graciously thin, sheet of limestone supported by two large rocks straddling his damaged right leg.

  Don’t panic. Grab the bottom. Push with your left leg.

  He pushed against the slab of rock with his free foot, pulled with both hands, and wriggled his trapped right leg as much as he could. His fingers were abraded by the rough bedrock. His left foot slipped off the limestone and he felt himself begin to lose consciousness.

  It could be worse. Drowning’s not such a bad way to die. Anoxia - no oxygen; no oxygen, you pass out; pass out, you don’t know you’re drowning. What you don’t know can’t hurt you. Sticks and stones may break your bones but anoxia can never hurt you.

  Snap out of it, Chance! Feet down. Dig in. Grab something, anything. Push! Pull! Again. Push! Pull! Again! Push! Pull!

  With a squirt, his body shot from beneath the stone slab and he clawed for the surface, diaphragm spasming, his body starving for air. His hands cut through the shimmering surface first, arms windmilling, forcing his head and body to follow, rupturing the quicksilver. He sucked air, gulped it. His vision flashed with darkness and light tinged with red. He felt himself going and couldn’t stop.

  Somehow – he didn’t know how – somehow his body had come to rest on the bank, half in the water and half on the grass. He was gulping air in great gasps, coughing splatters of water from his lungs. Fighting not to vomit. He fought the red darkness that threatened to pull him beneath the covers of consciousness. He fought the pain in his leg, the pain in his back, the pain in his body. He fought to make sense of the voice he heard.

  “Whagal bed re smmm”

  Voices? Now you’re hearing voices?

  “Whagal bed re smmm”

  Is that a woman? How weird is that?

  His leg felt like hell. He twisted his torso to see both legs lying in the water. Brown feathers floated around them. He vomited.

  When he’d finished he dragged the rest of himself onto the grass and looked at the back of his thigh. His pants had been chewed and torn by the rock. Gabe could only imagine what the leg, itself, looked like. He wished he didn’t have such a good imagination.

  “Whagal bed re smmm”

  He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down and take his head to another place. In his mind, he floated and looked at his body from above. The fabric of his pants leg was rent revealing a bleeding mess of skin and muscle. It didn’t seem as bad as he first thought but he was bleeding badly.

  That’s gonna leave a mark.

  Relax, Chase. You’ve seen a lot worse than this.

  Yeah, but it’s never been me before.

  Well now it is, so suck it up and quit whining. We have to stop the bleeding.

  Got a pressure dressing in your pocket? I didn’t think so.

  Improvise.

  You improvise, I’m freezing.

  With quaking fingers he unbuttoned his shirt shrugged it off his shoulders.

  “Whagal bed re smmm?”

  I wish she would shut up…

  He bit a hole near the shoulder seam of one sleeve and began tearing. The fabric gave way but stopped at the seam. It would take more than teeth to get through that.

  “I said, what are you doing swimming on a day like today? It’s too cold!”

  The scratchy female voice sounded familiar.

  “And why are you bleeding on the grass. They won’t like that. They won’t like that at all.”

  I know that voice. How do I know that voice?

  “Andrew!” she shrieked. “Come here! Come here right now!”

  “It’s all right, Emma. I’m here.” Andrew Jefferson was standing behind his wife, holding her shoulders with both hands. “It’s Mr. Chance, Emma. Mr. Chance, can you hear me? It’s Andrew Jefferson.” Before Gabe could answer, Jefferson kneeled beside him. “You’re bleeding. What did you do?”

  “Andrew, so good of you to come. Always glad to see a friendly face. I need to get a pressure dressing on this and stop the bleeding.”

  “I don’t know what that is but tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

  Jefferson’s voice was an anchor in a swirling world. Gabe focused on his eyes. “I can’t get through this seam. Gotta get the sleeve off and wad it up. Tie it on the wound, stop the bleeding.”

  “Hmmm. Emma, bring the car over here. And give me your scarf.”

  “The car? I can’t drive the car over here! What will they say? They’ll say I’m crazy and I…”

  “Your scarf, Emma. Give it to me and get the car. Now. Scat.”

  Emma handed him her scarf and said, “Andrew, don’t talk to me like that. I’ve told you over and over and over I don’t like it. And I can’t get the car. There’s no road and…”

  “Emma, hush and do what I say.” To Gabe he said, “Tell me how to do a pressure dressing.”

  Gabe closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened them he was able to think more clearly. “Fold the shirt so it covers the wound with a little to spare.”

  “Like this?”

  “Perfect. Now, let me hold it in place while you wrap the scarf around my leg.”

  The old man did exactly as Gabe directed him. The blood and gore seemingly had no effect on him.

  “Good. Now pull it tight.”

  Andrew intertwined the two ends of the scarf and pulled hard.

  Gabe screamed and Andrew dropped the scarf. His face paled.

  He gasped, “’It’s ok. ’m fine.“ Gabe was breathing in small gasps. “You’re doing great. Just not so tight. We don’t need a tourniquet.”

  Andrew was as white as a pair of new underwear but he grabbed the two ends and tried again. “How’s that?”

  “Good. You did a good job, Andrew.”

  Emma stopped the Jefferson’s Cadillac in the grass beside them and got out.

  “Andrew I told you we can’t drive down here. I broke the walking path back there. I don’t know what they are going to say. You’re going to be in so much trouble. I told you…”

  “Emma, stop it. Help me get Mr. Chance into the back seat. Now, Emma. Let’s do it now.”

  Between the three of them Gabe ended up on his left side in the leather back seat facing the front of the car. His head was much clearer.

  “I don’t think you can drive home, Mr. Chance.”

  “Call me Gabe. I think you’re right. I need to get to the ER in Brandt. I need stitches, maybe more. Can you take me?”

  “Of course,” he said. He strapped his wife into the passenger seat and walked around the car.

  Gabe’s eyes went wide. “My dog. Where’s my dog?”

  “The little white one?”

  Before he could answer, Emma said, “He wasn’t on a leash. You’re supposed to keep your dog on a leash at all times. He could bite someone. He might have rabies. We had a dog who got rabies. Daddy had to put him down. It was a skunk. I hate skunks…”

  “Emma, there’s no rabid anything around her
e. Is that little white terrier yours?”

  “Yeah, Tigger. He doesn’t have rabies,” he said. Then he added, “He didn’t bite you, did he?”

  Andrew slid behind the wheel and shut the door. “No, nothing like that. Emma just gets excited sometimes. If it hadn’t been for your dog, we might not have found you. He ran out in front of our car. I had to brake hard to keep from hitting the little fella. Then he wouldn’t get out of the way, just kept jumping up in the air and running in circles. And barking to beat the band. Then he’d run off and come right back and do it all over again. It took a while before we figured out what he wanted. He led us right to you.”

  “He’s a good dog. Where is he? I need my dog.”

  “Well, I don’t know. Guess I forgot all about him. Oh. There he is. Just sitting and watching us.” Andrew opened his door and called, “Here Tigger. Come on, boy. Ungh! Heavy dog for such a small package.” The dog had taken a running leap landing in Andrew’s lap before making a hard right turn between the seats and into the rear floorboard where he ended up in front of Gabe, licking his face.

  “Blecch! Stop it. Stop! I said knock it off, you worthless mutt! Sheesh!”

  “Rambunctious, isn’t he? Put your seat belt on, Emma. Mr. Chance, you just try to relax. We’ll be there in less than an hour.”

  “Gabe… call me Gabe…” he fell asleep wiping dog spit from his face. The dog curled up on the floor and did the same. Except for the dog spit.

  CHAPTER 17

  “THANKS, ANDREW; YOU’RE a real life saver. I’d still be bleeding in the grass – or worse – if you and Emma hadn’t come along.” The nap in the car on the way to the hospital had refreshed him a little. He wasn’t ready to wrestle a grizzly bear, but he didn’t wrestle grizzly bears before the accident, either.

  Shaking his head Andrew said, “Don’t thank me, thank that dog of yours. If he hadn’t been acting the fool in front of our car we never would have stopped. Then he led us right to you.”

  Andrew brought the passenger windows down as a long, slender red-headed woman in her early thirties approached the car with a dark-haired man. They both wore expressions of professional concern and blue scrubs. Her name tag read “Jane Trujillo, RN Supervisor”. The woman’s eyes brightened when she saw Gabe lying in the backseat. Then she saw the bloody bandage on his leg. “What happened?”

  “He had an accident, doctor.” Andrew offered.

  “I tried to wear the side of a cliff. But it didn’t match my eyes.” He tried a smile but it came out a grimace. “You look good in blue, Jane.”

  She smiled, “Good to see you, again, too. Are you hurt anywhere besides your leg?”

  “My back. And my rear-end is killing me. And the rest of me. That’s all.”

  “Can you stand on it?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Let’s not take a chance, Sam,” she said to the male nurse, “let’s get Mr. Chance into a wheelchair and you can take him on back.”

  Jane turned to Andrew. “Mr. Chance will be a while. Are you family, Mr…?”

  “Jefferson. And, no, no… we’re just… friends, I guess you’d say.”

  “A good friend is my guess. Our waiting room isn’t the most comfortable place in the world, Mr. Jefferson, and he’s going to be here a while. You and your wife might be happier waiting at home. You can give us a call later for an update if that’s all right with Mr. Chance.”

  There was a moment of indecision before he said, “I probably should be getting Emma back. She does better when she is well-rested and this has been a stressful day for her.”

  Gabe’s “room” was a stall with three walls and a fabric curtain that could be drawn across the front for privacy. He was lying on a rolling stretcher in the center of the cubicle and Sam was pulling the sheet over him.

  “How’s that, Gabe? You doing okay?” Sam asked.

  The sheet shook as he said through chattering teeth, “Yeah…”

  Sam unfolded a blanket and draped it over him. “This will help. Are you cold?”

  “Freezing,” he chattered and closed his eyes. They snapped open when Jane tucked a second blanket around him. “Warm!” he said.

  “We keep them in a warmer for our special customers.” The smile was brief but welcome. “Sam, get another hot one, please. Gabe, do you need anything else? Good. I’ll go check on the doctor. Sam will be working on you for a while.

  He shivered and nodded. This time when she left she drew the curtain.

  Sam lifted the sheet and began assessing Gabe’s injured leg. “Lotta blood. I’ll clean you up a little for the doctor.”

  “Sure.” Gabe had finally stopped shivering and was lying with his eyes closed. He opened them when he felt cold steel on his ankle. At the sound of scissors cutting cloth he yelled, “Those are brand new pants!”

  Sam didn’t stop cutting and icy air followed the scissors up the moist skin on the inside of his leg. He stopped at the bandage.

  While he was distracted, Jane had rolled a stainless steel cart laden with four by fours, gauze, tape, and other bandaging material. There were also bottles of brown and clear liquids.

  “Go ahead and cut the bandage off, Sam. Soak it first.” Her expression changed from one of professional detachment to warm interest. “How’s your friend getting along, Gabe?”

  “Bob? He’s doing great, happy to be working again. And glad he had such an attractive nurse to take care of him. He said he might have another wreck just to see if there are any more like you.”

  She nodded and smiled. “We’ve got a million of them, Gabe. Tell him he doesn’t have to get hurt to meet them, though.” Her eyes sparkled. “Is he in town?”

  “No, he isn’t. He’s been down at the coast with a couple of charters. He thought it would never rain again and here he is busier than ever. Sometimes the boy can be downright pessimistic. Hardly the kind of man you’d be interested in.”

  “Isn’t he fortunate to have such an optimistic friend? He seems to have made a good recovery.”

  Bob Cox, Gabe’s childhood friend, had been run off the highway by a couple of unsavory men and left for dead. Fortunately a concerned citizen saw Bob’s old yellow GMC SUV lying on its roof on the side of the road and stopped to render aid. When EMS brought him to the ER, Jane Trujillo had been on duty. Bob had healed well, with no lasting effects from the accident. The same could not be said about his truck.

  “Bobby’s got the constitution of a horse.”

  “A horse?”

  “Or a camel.”

  Jane appeared skeptical.

  “An elephant? Gazelle? Ah! A mule! That’s Bob to a ‘T’: stubborn and ornery. But he’s doing great. You guys took good care of him.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. I better run now and check on the doctor. Be back when I know something.”

  Sam had hooked a stool with his foot. He pulled it over and sat down with one smooth motion. The seals on both bottles were intact. He opened the saline and poured it in a basin from the bottom of the cart. Then he soaked the bloody bandage.

  “You get points, Sam. Some places just rip ’em off, especially when they’re expecting surgery.”

  “It doesn’t cost a nickel more to go first class. Especially for a V–I–P.” He continued cutting all the way up through the waistband of Gabe’s trousers.

  “What VIP?”

  “Janie says to treat you nice. But we treat everyone like this. In Brandt, man, everybody’s a VIP. You want a piece of rawhide to bite on when I yank this off? It won’t hurt long.”

  “I need a nurse, they give me a comedian.”

  “Be still and don’t jerk. This might sting a little.”

  Then, as gently as he could, Sam eased the make-shift bandage off the wound. It stuck at several points which required more saline; which required Sam to pull and tug to break the material loose from the wound.

  Gabe said through gritted teeth, “Nice, gentle – aaahh! – touch you got there, Sam. Do you beat old ladies on your days off
?”

  “No. I prefer kittens and small children, and we are done.” He laid several four by four’s over the wound that was now oozing blood. “That’s the worst of it. I’ll wait to clean it up until after the doctor takes a look. I’ll get you another couple of blankets.”

  Gabe was surprised he was still cold. A little shocky? Hypothermia? Anxiety? All of the above? Who knows?

  Sam returned with the blankets. “Warm blankets for cold; warm blankets for cold,” he sang.

  He shivered, “He sings, too. Thanks, Sam that feels great.”

  “You’re welcome. The doctor should be here soon. I’ll check back every once in a while. Buzz if you need anything.”

  Gabe relaxed on the bed and tiredness rolled over him in an unwelcome wave.

  Gotta stay awake – doctor’s gonna be here in a minute. Sleep later.

  His body fought him for sleep. He closed his eyes and lost the battle. They popped open with a start when he heard his name. The surge of adrenaline sent his heart into overdrive.

  “Mr. Chance? Hi, I’m Jimmy Jimenez.”

  With an effort Gabe focused on the short, brown-skinned man with the heavy accent standing beside the bed. As the fog cleared he heard himself say, “Jimmy?”

  “Jaime, really. Spanish for James but I’ve been Jimmy since I was a kid.”

  “Same here, only it’s Gabe, not Gabriel.” He yawned a great, open-mouthed yawn. “You caught me napping.”

  “Jane tells me you were on the wrong end of a rock slide. Let me take a look and see what you did to yourself.” He lifted the sheet and inspected the wound. “Sam did a good job cleaning you up but I want to get a little more. Jane, get me some normal saline and four by fours, please.” He opened a pair of gloves and snapped them.

  She rolled the cart over and opened a sterile package of four by four inch gauze pads which he laid on the wound. “Pour some saline on there, please,” he said to Jane. “Why don’t you tell me what happened, Gabe?”

  “Not much to tell, really. I was stomping around at the bottom of a limestone cliff looking into the death of a friend and a piece of the cliff came off. I couldn’t move out of the way fast enough and got whacked. It looked like it tore my leg pretty badly. I think there may be some muscle involvement.”