His Motherless Little Twins (11 page)

E
RIC
clicked on his radio. “Look, Neil, I think he was coming from the river and got turned around. It's easy to do up here, since this is close to where the river cuts in. What I'm not seeing though is any sign that three people came through here together recently. So I think Troy taking this trail was an accident. I don't think we're going to find anything on it, which means I'm going off trail and heading straight over to the river.”

Neil's expletive was brittle and explosive. “Look, I've got the team on the ridge now, but they're too far away, not going to get to the river before you do, and I don't think you're going to get to a point where you can meet up with them before I have to call them back in for the night.”

“Well, I'm betting that the Dawsons wouldn't have gone too far upriver. Maybe as far as the rapids. It's still a good hike up there, but I think can make it before dark, and I'm not inclined to turn around.”

“The rapids are another hour ahead of you, and I'm not happy having you and Dinah out there after dark, as Dinah isn't experienced.”

Dinah listened to the exchange, following along behind Eric who was still going forward at a fast pace. He had an
uncanny sense about this, like he anticipated what he was about to find before he found it. And he didn't talk. Not a word, except when he reported back to Neil every few minutes. Every ounce of his physical energy, as well as his mental concentration, was spent on the search, and he was so pulled into it, Dinah didn't dare speak lest she snapped his focus the way the twigs snapped under their boots. In fact, she was almost afraid to breathe in case that little distraction knocked him out of the moment.

It was an amazing thing to watch. This wasn't Eric the doctor. It was Eric the hunter. The rescuer. A man who took away her breath each and every time he paused to look at something—a disturbed leaf, an imprint in the dirt. A man who took away her breath for no other reason than he was Eric Ramsey.

“We're going to climb,” he continued to Neil. “That'll cut off more than half the time, and I think we'll still have enough light left to get us all the way down to the river. Why don't you go ahead and send the second team out, have them come in from the north? Then we'll be good for a while.”

“The second team?” Dinah asked, after he'd finished talking to Neil.

“My night crew. It still gets cold up here after dark, too cold if either of the Dawsons are seriously injured, so we're going to stay out for a while. Are you up to it?”

“I'm not quitting, Eric. If you go on, so do I. But what if they're not at the rapids?” One guess out of so many places scared her because right now, in the near-darkness, the woods around them seemed so much bigger than they did during the day, and trying to place Troy in one particular spot was such a daunting task. But Eric was experienced. His guesses…hunches…were based on such a solid foundation she had to trust him.

Trust
. There was that frightening word again. It seemed to come up so much when she was with Eric.

“Sometimes you just have to guess. Three people and a rubber raft…inexperienced. The raft is heavy. If you want to put it in the water you're not going to spend the whole day hiking, trying to find a good starting place, but you want to go far enough to feel that you're really out in the wilderness. If they got as far as the rapids they wouldn't have gone beyond that because even the most inexperienced outdoorsmen wouldn't shoot those rapids in a rubber raft. So that would put them someplace downriver from there. Until now, the river was too far off trail, but it starts to cut back in just east of here, so I think they would have tried rafting somewhere between here and the rapids, hopefully closer to this point than the rapids.”

“Well, I'm prepared to stay out here all night, if that's what we have to do. You know, I've packed food, water. A blanket and a pillow, too.”

“A pillow? You brought a pillow?”

“I thought I might need it. And it could come in handy, couldn't it? I mean, my pink shoelaces did.”

 

“Don't look down,” he said to Dinah. “You'll get dizzy, so look up at me, do what I tell you, and you'll be fine.”

Look down? It was hard looking anywhere with her eyes squeezed tightly shut. “Isn't there another way to get to the bottom from up here?” As rockfaces went, this one was small. She knew that. But she'd never climbed anything more than a flight of stairs, and this was just plain scary. That, plus the fact she wasn't especially fond of heights. She would have preferred letting Eric do the climbing while she took the long way down, walking. But he wouldn't hear of it. Wouldn't leave her alone. And time was running out. That was the winning argument. Shawn Dawson and his father needed
help, and if they didn't take this shortcut to the river, their rescue efforts would have to end for the day. Thinking about the young boy out there, hurt, scared…that's what propelled her to the edge of the cliff, and had her standing there, toes over the edge, trying not to look down.

“So how do you just step off the edge?” she asked, forcing herself another inch forward.

“You trust me. I've got you tied, you'll be fine. And this is a very easy beginner rock to climb.”

“If you want to climb,” she muttered, bracing herself for the inevitable.

“Turn around, watch me, and I'll lower you over.”

“And if you drop me?”

“I've never dropped anybody before.”

If only he knew how much of an issue trust was for her. Of course, this was not a question of emotional trust. The worst she'd get from this would be some cuts and bruises. They healed. Emotional bruises didn't, so this was a far easier trust to have. “OK, well…” She turned around, grabbed hold of her ropes and backed to the edge.

“You're going to be fine, so just lower yourself over the edge and walk, don't bounce, down the side. Trust me, Dinah, this is easy. You can do it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Dinah grumbled, then drew in a deep breath and took a big leap of faith over the edge. Literally.

The first step off was the worst. The immediate sensation was that she was falling…nothing between her and the ground but air, lots and lots of air.

“You're doing fine,” he called. “Just don't swing too much, and you'll be down before you know it.”

“Trust him,” she muttered out loud, as her feet connected with the rockface and she was grounded again. “Trust him…trust him…” In a way, it was like falling in love—that
first feeling of falling or floating, the eventual sure footing. Of course, in her case, she always plummeted hard after the first few steps. Never did find her sure footing. “Trust him…” Those two words were becoming her mantra.

“Keep going,” he said, looking down over the edge at her. “You're doing a fantastic job.”

“Like you'd say anything else to someone who was dangling in midair.” When she finally gathered enough courage to take a look at that
fantastic
job he claimed she was doing, she saw she'd gone only a few feet. Problem was, it was a short forty-foot drop, total. Something that should take her only a couple of minutes, according to Eric. But those forty feet were insurmountable, and she was stuck swinging in midair, couldn't get back up, couldn't force herself to continue on down.

Suddenly, panic turned her lungs into lead. Nothing was moving in and out. Her head was getting light, her fingers and toes tingly. It had to be a panic attack coming on. She'd never had one, but she recognized the symptoms. Dangling off the side of a cliff in mid-panic. She
had
to trust him, there was no other way to get out of this, to get on with the rescue. The rescue…that's where she had to focus her thoughts. Shawn needed her. His father needed her.

Eric trusted her to do this…trusted her.

About a minute into the ordeal, when her lungs finally gave out and forced her to breathe again, she realized she'd been biting down on her lips so hard they were bleeding. But something else was happening. Suspended there, as she was, a feeling of exhilaration was coming over her. Her slow progress was mounting into an unexpected victory, not only of will but of trust, and by the time she'd reached firm ground at the bottom, she was ready to have another go at it. But looking up, watching Eric scale down with the skill and grace
of an aerial artist, she wondered if she'd ever have the chance to do that again. With Eric. Because it was his trust in her as much as her trust in him that had got her to the bottom.

“You OK?” he asked, as he hit the ground. Immediately, he grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her into him.

She went willingly, fell against his chest and caught her breath there. Lingered a moment longer as the adrenaline rush passed. “That wasn't so bad,” she said, still a little winded.

“Then we'll do it again sometime, when I've had more time to teach you.”

“I'd like that, and next time I won't be such a baby.” She hoped.

“Trial by fire isn't the easiest way to learn. But you did a good job, Dinah.”

Trial by fire…that's all her life had been since she'd been in White Elk. And she'd plunged into some very dangerous fires lately. “Trial by fire might not be the easiest way to learn, but it sure does make you move forward, like it or not.”

After their quick embrace he went right back to work, gathering in his ropes. Once he'd wound them over his shoulder, he pointed in the direction of the river. She could hear rushing waters from where she was. In a way, it reminded her of the unexpected power she found in Eric. On the surface he was tranquil, but when she got close she sensed the currents rippling in him, the ones she didn't expect, like the currents that surprised her now, in the sounds of the river.

She hoped they would find Troy's brother and father once they reached the river's edge, but the chances of that happening weren't too good. And the real test was going to be figuring out which way to go—upriver, or down. The real test of this rescue, the real test of her life. Which way to go?

They hiked for several minutes, Eric in the lead, Dinah following, flanking him off to the left by about twenty yards. Not
close, but not so far from him that she couldn't see him. She kept her eyes darting back and forth, looking for signs of life, signs that someone had been there recently. Imitating Eric in her actions. But since this was not a blazed trail, she didn't expect to find much. And once again she didn't speak, barely dared breathe for fear that, even at this distance away from him, if she broke Eric's concentration, he might miss something.

Then suddenly, something caught her attention. It was still another few feet off to her left, but she darted off course and dropped to her knees when she came upon it. A shoe. A single shoe, size eight, boys'. Fairly new. “Eric!” she called. “Over here!”

Eric barely looked at the shoe. Rather, he rushed on by her. “Shawn!” he called, then listened for a moment. “William! Can you hear me?”

To her ears there was no response, but something propelled Eric to a spot another hundred feet away. “Shawn, can you hear me?” he called. “Shawn!”

Again, she heard nothing…but she listened, dear God she listened hard. “Shawn!” she yelled, standing back up and turning in circles. “Shawn, William! We're here to help you! Can you hear us?”

She knew children, knew how they responded. When they were frightened, they hid. Shawn would be scared to death. But the question was, if his father couldn't respond, would Shawn be able to respond to them if he could hear them? If that was his shoe…

“Dinah, over here!” Eric yelled, motioning her over to an outcropping of rocks. They were practically at the river's edge now. And that's where they found the second shoe. It was on the foot of a young boy. Eric was already making the initial assessment—taking a pulse. Dinah flew into action, pulling her flashlight from her backpack and looking for pu
pillary reaction. Normal. His respirations were weak, though. And his skin was chilled to the touch. Even though Troy had obviously wrapped his own jacket over his brother before he'd gone for help, Shawn was suffering mild hypothermia.

“Shawn,” Eric said, patting his cheeks, trying to awaken him.

“Shock?” she asked.

“And mild exposure.” He picked up the totally full bottle of water Troy had obviously left with his brother. It was still full. “Dehydration's setting in.”

“Broken leg.” Dinah ran her hands lightly over the boy's extremities, frowned then grimaced. “Both legs, I think.”

“No distension in his abdomen,” Eric responded. “But he could still have internal injuries.” He looked up at the rocks, expelling a frustrated sigh. “Wish we knew what happened to him.”

“Shawn, can you hear us? Can you wake up and tell us what happened to you?”

In response his eyelids fluttered, but his eyes didn't fully open.

“I think Troy must have carried him this far, then left him where he thought it was safe. Probably because he couldn't carry him any further.” Eric grabbed the walkie-talkie and clicked it on. “We have one victim, twelve-year-old male, unconscious, possible broken legs, possible internal injuries. I'm going to splint his legs and leave Dinah here while I go and look for his father, unless the other crew gets in here before then. What's their estimated time?”

“Not going to make it before dark,” Neil said.

“Well, have them keep to the river. And get a helicopter in here, because I'd rather evacuate the boy as soon as possible, while we still have a little light, and deal with the father when we find him.” Eric and Neil discussed arrangements while Dinah snipped the fabric back from Shawn's legs to get a
better look. What she saw made her cringe. Both were definitely broken, so badly that the angles of the breaks were obvious even though the skin itself wasn't broken. This poor child would require numerous surgeries and months and months of physical therapy.