Casey's Courage (23 page)

Casey drove cautiously a short distance behind the Warrens, catching her breath every time she saw their car slip on the spots of ice, but the few miles into town passed without incident. Once at the hospital Casey debated whether or not she should stay with the Warrens. She watched as Mr. Warren trotted along beside the gurney his wife was on, holding her hand and talking to her as the hospital attendants rushed her through the emergency entrance doors. A quake in Casey’s chest then a tightness that took her breath away made tears come to her eyes. Longing for the gentle care Tres gave her after they got out of Dark Canyon flooded her senses—his soft, quiet words, his touch that soothed when pain woke her, his good-natured grin when she was zonked out on drugs and petulant. She had to get back to her hideaway—be alone to grieve. Promising herself she’s check on the Warrens later, Casey headed back to her mountain retreat.

As The Jeep chugged up the mountain a few miles out of town, Casey felt the wheels slip on a bad patch of ice beneath the snow-covered road. Keeping a firm grip on the steering wheel and continuing at a slow, steady speed, she rounded a curve just as a van coming from the opposite direction spun out of control, then crashed through the guardrail. Heart pounding as adrenaline surged through her body; Casey heard the brush and young trees breaking as the van skidded down the steep slope, churning up the snow as the vehicle bounced and skidded.

After making a careful U-turn, she parked near the damaged railing and forced her way through the snow to the edge of the road, then peered over the edge.

Horror sent adrenaline pumping through Casey. The van teetered precariously, ready to plunge to the bottom of the deep canyon if the bent-over saplings gave way.

Hands trembling, Casey dragged the longest chain out of the

Jeep. The weight made her stagger. Her arms and legs quavered as she strained to drag the chain.
Someone may fall to their death if you don’t do this, so heave, Casey Mason, heave.
Adrenaline surged with the thoughts of someone dying. Her knees threatened to buckle but she crouched and skidded toward a mammoth pine she could use for an anchor. Losing her footing, she landed on her backside and slid the rest of the way. Hoisting herself up, she located the hook on one end of the chain. Remembering her dad’s instructions, she made sure the links were not crimped then encircled the tree down low and clamped the hook over a link, not inside a link. Holding the chain taut, she turned her back to the van and fed the links through her hands tugging with every fiber in her body as she descended in a semi-rappel toward the van as fast as she could.

A booming male voice coming from the guardrail echoed in the canyon. Casey glanced back. A highway patrolman descended the slope in a sliding run as he shouted, “Whoever’s in the van, don’t move! I repeat, do not move!”

Flying snow sprayed Casey as the officer skidded to a stop beside her. “Let me do that,” he said as he took hold of the chain. With amazing speed, he reached the rear of the van. He lay flat on his stomach, scratched debris away, then wrapped the chain around the axle and secured it.

Casey followed him and stood ready to help as he went to the right side of the van and opened the sliding door in a slow, even motion. The crackling sound of the vegetation came sporadically and each time the van edged downward, straining on the chain.

“Only one at the time move,” the patrolman ordered. “We’ll get you out. The EMTs are on their way.”

One after another, two teens, both girls, came slowly from the middle seat. The first had a gash above both eyes, while the second was openly crying and holding her right arm. A third girl stumbled as she came from the seat a row back. The van rocked and slipped putting more strain on the chain. The last two girls in the back screamed hysterically as they both tumbled out in panic.

Sobs from the five girls, who were no more than fourteen or fifteen years old tore at Casey’s heart, but her voice was calm and had a tone of command. “Come away from the van. We need you to start heading up the hill.” Casey gestured behind her to where her Jeep waited.

“You can all go get in the Jeep up by the guardrail to stay warm if you want to, while I help the patrolman.”

“But Ms. Heath, our sponsor, is bleeding and unconscious and so is Marcy who was riding in front with her,” one of girls said.

“You’ll help Ms. Heath and your friend out more by doing as this lady says.” The officer addressed the oldest-looking of the girls.

After a moment, the girl nodded and told the others to follow her.

When they were out of earshot, the patrolman eased the door on the right front passenger’s side open where the young girl lay flopped over against the dashboard, then glanced up toward the highway. “I don’t think one chain can hold all this weight much longer. We better get these two out. Now!”

“Tell me what to do,” Casey said, stepping in close to him.

Sirens screamed as two ambulances sped up the highway and stopped. The patrolman’s voice boomed out again as he shouted to the four EMTs. “Bring two stretchers and supplies to secure broken bones.”

The sound of metal grating against metal sent chills all over Casey. The van shifted again, putting more strain on the chain.

The four EMTs toiled down the steep slope with their equipment, but the patrolman, who had hesitated a second as he gauged the progress of the emergency team, said, “Hold her right leg steady as I lift her out. It seems to have a clean break. We don’t want to make it worse if we can help it.”

Moving in close, Casey saw the engine of the van had broken through and jammed itself against the legs of the girl and the driver. Casey could see the driver’s legs were tangled with the brake and accelerator pedals and other pieces of metal that had poked through to imprison her legs. Casey shut her mind to the horror and slipped her hands around the blood-streaked legs of the young Marcy.

The patrolman held the girl’s head and neck in a tight grip with one hand as he slid his arm under her and eased her out while Casey held the leg firmly, moving in unison with him. They laid her on a lap robe he had picked up off the floor of the van. He stripped off his jacket and placed it over her before going to the driver’s side.

Two EMTs dropped their equipment beside Marcy and made quick work of securing her to the stretcher then went to help the two others with the driver who was trapped by the pedals and metal rods that had forced their way through the van’s inner wall. They secured her left arm and leg in an inflated splint and fastened a brace around her neck then began to work in earnest to get her foot that was jammed under the bent brake pedal.

The van shifted sideways a fraction. The patrolman growled, “Get her out of there now. This thing is going to the bottom of the canyon.”

From the passenger side one EMT poured mineral oil over the foot and worked to make it slip while another one leaned over him prying on a pedal with a long metal pole.

A loud metallic pop and the shudder of the van sent the EMTs into overdrive.

Stomach knotted with fear, Casey rushed to help the patrolmen, who used a vicious-looking tool, something like giant bolt cutters with teeth, to bend or cut away a piece of metal. She added her weight and all her strength to help press the long handles together. While she and the patrolman strained with all their might, two EMTs angled the unconscious woman’s body in an odd position and tugged.

Casey heard the sickening crunch of a bone snap but the woman was free. Seconds later the chain broke with a sharp
thwack
. The van plunged down the mountain to the canyon below.

From above, Casey heard horrified feminine screams. “We got them out,” Casey called. After an exhaustive climb up the hill, she found them teary-eyed, huddled, watching the events unfold below. “Listen to me,” Casey said firmly, hoping to distract them from the struggle the EMTs were having getting the stretchers up the treacherous slope. “You are all safe, in good hands.”

An eerie silence hung in the air for a moment, then one of the girls said, “All our stuff is in the van. We need to go get it.”

“Your stuff is probably scattered all down the mountain.” Casey blew out a frustrated breath. The girls were worried, terrified, and probably in shock.

“What are we going to do?” the girl wailed.

“We’re going to the hospital with the EMTs and get all of you checked then wait for information on your friends.”

Just as the words came out of her mouth, the EMTs and officer crested the top with the stretchers.

The girls stared, eyes wide and glassy.

“Come, let them do their job. I’ll take some of you to the hospital in the Jeep and some of you can ride in the patrol car,” Casey said.

“We’ll all fit in the Jeep,” the tallest of the girls said with a group agreement in unison. Casey looked at the officer who gave a slight nod. “Go see if you really can fit. I’ll be right there.”

The patrolman gestured toward the deputy sheriff who was directing traffic around the emergency vehicles. “I’ll get him to call-in and take care of the mess at the bottom of the canyon. And I’ll follow up with you at the hospital so I can get the necessary information for the report.”

Casey climbed into the Jeep, started the motor, and turned on the heater. “I’m Casey. I’m staying at a cabin farther up the mountain, but my home is in Texas. Where are you from?”

The question brought the desired results. The girls talked, giving her more information than she had bargained for, but it kept their minds off the near-fatal accident they’d experienced. At the hospital emergency entrance, they tumbled out of the Jeep and rushed inside anxious to know how bad Ms. Heath and Marcy were hurt.

Of course, they were shepherded into the ER waiting room. Almost immediately a doctor came to see them. Casey had to give him an ‘A’ for not even raising an eyebrow when all five girls wanted to go together to be examined for injuries. One of the girls had a sprained wrist, Aside from that and bruises that would be around for a while where seat belts had held them in place, only the odd bump and scrape along with headaches from stress beset them. After all their minor injuries had been tended, a nurse’s aide took them to a family room near the operating rooms where they could call their parents.

Casey saw the young teens put on their best manners when a minister and his wife came.

“I’m Ray Grant and this is my wife, Edna. I’m pastor of the Baptist church.”

The subdued teens introduced themselves and answered his questions with reserved politeness.

When the patrolman arrived to get information from the girls, Dr. Grant and Edna approached Casey, asking how she thought the girls’ needs could best be met until their folks arrived to take them home. Church members had offered to take them into their homes and take care of them.

Casey explained her involvement. “Up to now they have clung to each other as if their lives depended on it. They probably need to stay together if possible. I know they want to stay here until they can see that their sponsor and Marcy are going to be okay.”

“The church has a cabin we use for retreats. It’s big enough for them to all stay together.” The pastor seemed to be thinking aloud. “Could you stay with them? From what the nurse said, you’re their security blanket right now.”

Casey thought of the cat she’d left at home, but decided it was warm and had food. The girls needed her more than the marmalade feline did. “I can stay until tomorrow if they want me with them.”

“I understand all their belongings were in the van, so you’ll need some money to get food and the necessities for them through the day.” He handed her some folded money. Like a person accustomed to making decisions then acting on them, he talked easily with Casey. “We’ll get the cabin ready and have enough food there for tonight and for breakfast, then we’ll see what needs to be done after that.”

Before day’s end, Casey wished for her psychology books on how to handle fragile emotions of troubled teenagers. Death had been so close. She sensed the girls realized that fact as they tried to talk of other things but couldn’t stay interested for long. The doctor finally came to let them know their companions were in recovery and would be okay. He allowed them to go see for themselves. Some eyes got misty but no one really cried. Casey wondered how long it would be before the shock wore off and emotional upheavals started. She knew they were running on nerves and was glad when they said they were ready to go to the cabin.

With the girls once more crammed in the Jeep, Casey followed the pastor to a river-rock house built on a high bank of the Ruidoso River. Cabin was hardly the word for the stately old house she thought as they went inside to a fireplace burning brightly and the smell of home-cooked food.

“The church kids sent pajamas and lots of girl stuff.” Dr. Grant grinned, as he indicated a pile of bags on the cabinet. “I think they got a little carried away. Their moms sent the food.”

The curiosity of youth sent the girls exploring and examining everything. As they prowled, Dr. Grant turned to Casey. “If you need anything just give a call. My number is by the phone. Edna and I will be over before too late in the morning.”

She gave him a tentative smile. “I think we’ll be fine. A special prayer would be appreciated. Knowing what to say to help them cope takes some quick thinking at times.”

He returned her smile with an admission. “I have to confess. I saw you’re A&M ring and ran your name on the computer. From what I learned, my thinking is God had you in the right place at the right time with the right training to handle this very well.”

Before Casey could reply, the girls came back in, eager to thank him for all the “cool” things.

As soon as the pastor left, the atmosphere in the house made a subtle change. Casey arranged food on the table. The girls began to pick up bits of this and that to eat. They ate as they moved about, shedding clothes, and wrapping themselves in big bath towels. They started the washing machine with lots of discussion about which of their clothes to wash with which. She could hear them in both bathrooms bathing, shampooing, and generally putting themselves back together after a hellish day.