Wild Montana Nights (24 page)

it.”

“How are we going to get her up the side of this blasted ditch?”

Marcus asked.

Randall studied the problem for a few seconds then appeared to

come to a conclusion. His brother was good at figuring out stuff.

“Okay, you go on up using the rope. Then get in the truck and

slowly pull us up when I tell you I’m ready. I’m going to wrap the

rope around us, and I’m going to carry her up. Listen for my

directions in case I need you to stop for some reason.” Randall began gathering up the rope.

Marcus hurried up the side of the ravine, losing his footing once.

Once he made it to the top, he climbed in the truck and waited for

Randall’s word. The seconds slowly slid by. He was about to get out

and go see what was taking so long when Randall called out to bring

them up slow and easy. Marcus put the truck in reverse and slowly

backed the truck up until he heard Randall call out to stop. He shoved it into park and raced over to the edge to help Randall get Darla up and over the edge.

For the first time, he held her cold body next to his. He felt for a

pulse and though it was thready, it was there. He had hope. Maybe

they got to her in time.

Randall fooled with the rope. Marcus called out from where he’d

climbed in the truck with Darla.

“We need to get her to the hospital fast.”

“I’m getting the rope off the bumper so we don’t end up with it in

the undercarriage. That would slow us down.”

Marcus knew he was right, but he didn’t have any patience. Not

with her cold body lying in his arms.

Randall got in the truck with a blanket from the back seat and

wrapped it around Darla. Then he climbed inside and turned the heat

on full blast. He shoved it in gear and raced down the road toward the
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hospital. He had to slow down several times so that they didn’t slide off the road themselves.

“Damn, now that she is warming up, her wounds are starting to

bleed again,” Marcus said.

“We should be to Main Street in five minutes,” Randall said.

“Well, when you get there, if the roads are okay, floor it.” Marcus

applied pressure to the cut on her forehead that had started to bleed.

By the time they reached the hospital, Darla was shivering.

Randall assured Marcus it was a good sign. They pulled into the

ambulance entrance of the hospital emergency room and a nurse ran

out the door along with someone with a gurney.

“What do you have?” the nurse asked.

Marcus didn’t want to relinquish his hold on Darla but knew the

nurses would take care of her.

“She ran off the road into a ravine. Don’t know how long she was

there, but she was covered in snow, so she’s probably suffering from

exposure.” Randall filled them in.

Marcus followed them into the emergency room when Randall

handed him the keys and told him to move the truck. It grated on his

nerves, but he knew the truck needed to be moved. Naturally, it fell to him as the youngest. Randall would know more information to give

them anyway.

After he found a parking slot large enough to house their truck, he

jogged back to the emergency room and asked to go back with Darla.

“There’s already someone with her. I can’t let you in till he comes

out,” the nurse told him.

Marcus paced in the waiting room until he felt ready to scream in

frustration. He even broke down and prayed for her to be okay. The

last few minutes of their conversation with her played over and over

in his head until he managed to shove it out. Several long minutes

later Randall appeared. He looked grim. The news wasn’t good by the

look on his face. Marcus prepared himself for the worst.

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Randall drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly without

looking at Marcus.

“What is it?” he asked.

“She’s in shock and suffering from exposure. She also has a

severe concussion. They’re waiting on the results of the CT. They

were on their way when I got kicked out. She could have internal

injuries. Right now, all they do know is that she probably has some

broken ribs. They don’t think she broke any of her arms or legs, but

like I said, they are worried about internal injuries.” His brother

rubbed his face. Dark circles emphasized the lines at his eyes.

“What are her chances?” Marcus almost didn’t ask.

“The doctor said right now with what they know, about fifty-fifty.

She looks bad, Marcus. She’s white as a sheet and all that blood

everywhere…” He trailed off and looked up toward the ceiling,

obviously trying to get hold of his emotions.

“What about the baby?” Marcus was almost afraid to ask.

“So far she hasn’t lost it. She still could, though.”

“When can I see her?”

“It may be awhile. They kicked me out once they had the

information about her they wanted.” Randall remained in one place

while Marcus paced.

“Calm down, Marcus. You’re not going to help her if you’re

wound tight as a clock.”

Marcus stopped pacing and jammed his hands in his pockets. He

ached to see her. To reassure himself that she was really alive—at

least for now. According to his brother, she was in bad shape. If they hadn’t lied to her, she wouldn’t have gone off half-cocked and gotten hurt. It had been his idea, and he truly regretted it. If she died, it would be on his hands.

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Chapter Fourteen

“Seems like we should be calling someone about her, her family

or some kin,” Randall said.

“She didn’t put anyone down on the paperwork, and she never

talked about family or friends. I tried to get her to talk a couple of times, but she always changed the subject. We should have brought

those damn papers with us.” Marcus shoved his hands back into his

pockets and kicked one of the chairs bolted to the floor.

“Breaking your foot isn’t going to help matters any,” Randall told

him.

“I feel like I should be doing something,” Marcus said.

“All we can do for now is wait for the doctor to come tell us what

her tests show.” Randall looked around as if lost before finally

settling in a chair close to the door. He watched Marcus collapse in the chair across from him.

Randall leaned forward and propped his arms on his knees and did

just that, waited. It seemed to him that time had stood still. People came and went over the next hour, and each time the inside door

opened, Randall and Marcus both looked up hoping to see a doctor

and each time they were disappointed.

Finally, almost two hours from when Randall had been kicked out

of her room, the door swung open and an African American man of

about forty stepped into the room. Weariness creased his eyes at the

corners, matching the lines at his mouth. Both brothers stood up and

waited for the doctor to speak.

“Are the two of you with Ms. Moore?” he asked.

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“That’s right,” Randall said. “I’m Randall Sanders, and this is my

brother, Marcus. She’s our fiancée.”

The doctor blinked twice then recovered.

“I’m Dr. Walker. I’m in charge of Ms. Moore’s case.”

“What can you tell us about Darla? Is she going to be all right?”

Marcus asked.

“Let me start from the beginning.” He walked over to the chairs

and took one.

Randall nodded at Marcus, and they both returned to their seats,

waiting to hear what the doctor would tell them.

“She’s got a serious concussion, which means there is some

swelling in her brain from being knocked around when her car hit

whatever it hit. So far, there is no bleeding, so that increases her chances of coming out of this relatively intact.”

Randall interrupted him. “What do you mean intact?”

“Without any lasting damage from the concussion. You see, there

is some danger that she will have permanent changes, such as loss of

sensation in her right side or her memory may never come back. We

just won’t know until she wakes up. And that is another danger. She

could slip into a coma, and that poses all sorts of new problems. Right now, she’s responsive to pain,” Dr. Walker told them.

“What about internal injuries?” Randall finally asked.

“We don’t see any at this time. Unless something changes, we

won’t be operating on her. If the swelling in her brain doesn’t go

down fast enough, we will drill a small hole in her skull and drain

some of the fluid out, but we don’t want to do that if we don’t have to.

It increases her chance of infection.”

He drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Which brings me to

another problem. She was exposed to the cold for a good bit of time,

I’m told. In some aspects, it was to her advantage in that she didn’t bleed to death from her cuts. The one on her forehead was deep

enough to require ten stitches and the two on her shoulder needed

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another twenty more. Still, the exposure has caused some other

problems.”

Marcus interrupted him again. “Like what kind of problems?”

“For one, she probably will have pneumonia. We are dosing her

up on antibiotics for the lacerations and to help decrease the odds of the pneumonia being a bad case. I don’t have to tell you how

dangerous pneumonia can be. You’re from here, and pneumonia is a

common problem in this area.”

“No sir, you don’t,” Randall agreed.

“What about the baby?” Marcus asked.

“She’s only about three weeks pregnant. It’s too early to tell. She

isn’t spotting vaginally at this time. The problem this poses is that some antibiotics and other drugs we may need to use could endanger

the baby.”

“When can we see her?” Randall asked.

“I will let you see her for ten minutes. They are getting a room

ready for her in ICU. There are posted times for visiting hours. You

will need to follow them. I will write an order that you can see her

despite not being related to her. She’s going to need someone she

knows talking to her to pull her out of this I’m afraid.” He stood up.

“We need her next of kin if possible. Do you have that

information?” He looked to Randall.

“No, we don’t. She has never talked about her family or friends

since she left Mississippi.”

“If you come up with any, please let us know. We need to notify

family if possible,” he said.

“We’ll look in her things to see if she has them written down

somewhere,” Marcus assured him.

Randall held out his hand, “Thanks, Dr. Walker, for telling us

what is going on. She means everything to us.”

The doctor nodded and motioned them through the door to the

back. They followed him to a walled off room with swinging doors

that said “Trauma Two” above them. Randall knew what to expect

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when they walked through them, but Marcus didn’t. He looked over at

his brother and grimaced. He looked almost as stricken as Randall

felt.

“She’s going to be okay, right?” he asked.

Randall could only nod his head. The knot in his throat prevented

him from answering.

Marcus pushed through the doors first and Randall followed

behind him.

“Ah, fuck, Randall. Look at her.” Marcus had stopped just shy of

the bed.

Since he had been gone, they’d sewn up the cuts on her head, and

a white bandage wound around her head, emphasizing the paleness of

her face. They still had her covered from the shoulders down with

several thick blankets. He knew they had been heated from when he

had been back there with her before. The edge of a bandage stuck out

where her left shoulder was covered with the blanket. The beginnings

of black circles around her eyes could be seen, as well as bruises

along her jaw.

“I know, Marcus. I know.” Randall swallowed hard and walked

over to clap a hand on his brother’s shoulder in comfort.

“Do you think she knows we are here?” Marcus asked, not taking

his eyes off of Darla.

“I don’t know, but I’m going believe she can. We need to talk to

her, and tell her we love her. The doc said we should.”

Marcus nodded his head but didn’t say anything. Randall looked

over and found tears in his brother’s eyes. He probably couldn’t speak right then. God knows he wasn’t sure he’d be able to say anything

without crying.

Finally, Marcus cleared his throat and started talking to her.

“Darla, baby. Randall and I are here for you. Baby, we love you.

Don’t leave us.” Marcus reached under the covers until he found her

hand.

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Randall walked over to the other side of the bed and did the same

thing. He made sure he didn’t touch the tubes running into her inner

elbow. He squeezed her hand lightly.

“Darla, can you hear us? We love you. Squeeze my hand if you

hear me, baby.” Randall waited, hoping to feel even a flutter of

movement, but there was none.

Marcus looked across her at Randall silently asking if he’d felt

anything. Randall shook his head. His brother closed his eyes and

then looked away.

“Sir?” a nurse walked in with a plastic folder in her hand. “We