Remembering August

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    RememberingAugust

    Rodney V. Earle

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    ISBN 13: 978-1-257-93432-4

    REMEMBERING AUGUST

    Copyright 2011 by Rodney V. Earle

    All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, thereproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part inany form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, nowknown or hereafter invented, including xerography,photocopying and recording, or in any information storage orretrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission ofthe publisher.

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places andincidents are either the product of the authors imagination orare used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,living or dead, business establishments, events or locales isentirely coincidental.

    Cover photo and design by Rodney V. Earle

    FIRST EDITION

    Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is availableupon request.

    ISBN 978-1-257-93432-4

    Printed in the United States of America.

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    I humbly dedicate this novel with pride and affection toMiss Patricia Crandall. Her contributions to our world are

    indeed immeasurable. Her wisdom was (and is) wellbeyond her years, yet it took me twenty years to realizeit. Whether she is aware of how much influence she hadon me, I cannot venture to guess. All I know is withouther wisdom and inspiration, truly this novel would neverhave seen the light of day.

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    For Amy

    and

    For Bo and Leah

    and

    For Rocky Fund

    and

    For Rockys beautiful daughter, Jesse

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    CHAPTER 1

    Here! Come on! Colleens headache began totake its toll on her. Never one to get a late-morningstart, she just knew the others were still sleeping one off.Lucky bitches, she said out loud to herself. I neverget to sleep in.

    August was unusually hot, even for SouthernCalifornia. The hundred-degree heat made Colleensheadache seem much worse than usual after a girlsnight out.

    The brim of the Stetson that rested low on herforehead dripped with sweat. She wondered whetherthe swill she finished drinking a few hours before wouldseep from her pores and burn her eyes all day long. Thedusty straw hat had seen its share of sweat over the lastyear, but this morning the alcohol content of the tequilastung her eyes even more than normal.

    Los! she called over her shoulder. Who the hell

    hosed down the ring this morning?Jesus, replied Carlos, who was perched on the top

    rail of the show ring gate with his arms folded.Its a damn dust bowl in here!

    The filly that circled her kicked up copious amountsof fine dust that resembled a slow-moving tornado.

    Colleen thought about her tone toward the ranchforeman a second before. She eased up a little. Just

    tell Jesus that when he starts paying the water bill, hecan decide how much water gets used on the show ring.Comprende?

    Okay, Boss.

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    She called the Triple C Ranch foreman Los,knowing full well she was the only one who could getaway with it. Carlos Guzman found it endearing, eventhough he was twenty-five years her senior. The

    gorgeous, thirty-two-year-old Colleen Caldwell felt it wasimportant that they work together as equals, but shewas well aware that his experience vastly outweighedhers.

    The horse at the other end of the rope was skittish.Colleen thought that maybe her own nerves were shot tohell and that the gigantic filly was just feeding off hertemperament. She learned at a young age that a horse

    is one of the few animals that can sense strong emotionin humans, and then mirror them. This creature was noexception.

    Shes come a long way over the summer, Colleensaid as the filly passed in front of Carlos.

    Indeed. A long way.We might just manage to make er into somethin.Maybe, said Carlos. Good legs. Always a profit in

    good legs.She started to say something, but the dust was too

    thick for a full breath. She fought the urge to cough, buthad to clear her windpipe.

    I think Ill keep this cull for a while, she said afterclearing her throat. She was cheap enough, but shestill has yet to earn her oats.

    When bidding for the horse began a few months

    earlier at the Bending River Annual Equine Auction, theauctioneer described this oversized young filly as acull, and her owner labeled her as a pain in the ass.Colleens heart got the best of her. From the momentshe laid eyes on her, she knew she had to save her froman uncertain fate. Far too often she had seen what

    happened to sound animals that needed nothing morethan an attitude adjustment.

    Among the bidders were men who looked to buyhorses cheap enough to make a quick profit in the glue

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    or dog food markets. They served a purpose, but all ofthe reputable ranchers avoided them like the plague.

    Were two of a kind, Colleen announced as sheraised her bidding paddle. The Triple C was well-known

    and respected in the Southwest, and all other biddersrespectfully lowered their paddles once they saw shewas interested. Even the Purina buying agent loweredhis paddle. Auctioneer Dick Long called three times forany other bids and then shouted, Sold! To the TripleC! He slammed his gavel on the lectern and said,Watch this one, Colleen. Shes trouble.

    After the auction was over and the beer started

    flowing, she found herself alone amongst the buyers andranch owners, predominantly men in their forties andfifties. With a cold beer in one hand and a bacon-wrapped hot dog with extra mustard in the other, sheheard Purina talking to Glen Powers, owner of Big SkyRanch. His real name was Alex Anderson, but shereferred to him as Purina, just as her husband Chasehad done for years. Chase had his suspicions about him,but she thought he was a bald, dumpy, forty-somethingpig and nothing more.

    Colleen took a bite of her hot dog. She closed hereyes, tilted her head back slightly, and marveled at itsdeliciousness.

    Howd you like those lips wrapped around yourhotdog, eh Glenny? Purina asked loudly.

    Dont mess with me, Purina, Colleen warnedwithout turning around to face him. She took a swig of

    her beer. She loved the taste, from the time she tookher first sip at the ripe age of eight. As an adult, shehated what it did to men when it flowed too fast on a hotday.

    She heard Purina mumble something more, butcouldnt catch it all. She knew the tone in his voice, andthat was enough. She didnt need to hear every word toknow that he was well-lubed with liquid courage.

    Easy, killer, Glen said with an even and sober keel.Since Chases death, Purina had made severalefforts to gain her interest, but to no avail. The last timewas a few months before the sale at a show jumpingcompetition in Indio. After the competition, Purina asked

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    what it would take to let him ride her, and with his spurson. She dismissed his comment, and focused on thetrophy headed for the Triple C.

    Shes a bitch! Purina bleated with a volume

    intended for anyone within fifty yards.Before he could see what was coming, Colleen

    dropped her beer, whipped around to face him, anddrove her fist into his stomach, producing a loud,Uhhh! When he gathered enough breath to stand upstraight, Colleen saw large mustard stains on his shirtfrom the demolished hot dog balled up in her hand.

    Holy shit, Colleen! Glen chuckled, nearly choking

    on his beer.I told him not to mess with me, Colleen said

    scornfully.Still catching his breath, Purina blurted, Ill sue you

    for that!Colleen stared at the dumpy-assed blowhard and

    clinched her fists harder. More mustard-infused hot dogoozed from her hand like a Play-Dough Fun Factory. Shelooked down at her hands and decided to say nothing.Her knuckles were white from squeezing so hard.

    Dick Long, who had been an auctioneer for longerthan Colleen had been alive, appeared out of nowhereand handed her a wet washcloth. She wiped her handsand said, I need a beer. I guess I dropped mine.

    Here you go. This ones on me, he offered.She nodded and said, Thanks, Dick.Maybe that cull you bought should watch out for

    you instead. Dont you think Purina? he added,motioning to the ailing buying agent.

    Youre right, said Colleen. Like I said before,were two of a kind.

    If it isnt one damn thing, its another, the

    beautiful, thirty-two-year-old proclaimed.Carlos scratched his head and said, What?

    The pounding in her head intensified as the fillypicked up her pace. I have a headache, she said, and

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    then tried to concentrate on something else. How wesittin for Goat Chow?

    The ranch foreman knew she was in a bad way. Hehadnt seen her so hung over and disheveled since after

    her husbands death a year ago.About twenty pounds.Colleen tried to concentrate on the filly, but found

    her mind wandering way off course. When thats gone,switch em to something else.

    Okay, Boss, he said lazily.I hate it when you call me that Carlos. She only

    called him by his full first name when he was in trouble,

    which wasnt often.Sorry, he said with a smirk.I would appreciate it if you would tell Miss Joan

    that I said to hold off ordering anything from Purina for awhile.

    No problemo, he replied, which always meant heunderstood the instruction, and the intent behind it.

    Colleens eyes stung from blue agave-infuseddroplets of sweat. She felt beads of hard work drippingdown her back between her shoulder blades, which wassomething she hated immensely. She believed thatSundays were for catching up on work that didnt getdone during the week, but she felt she would nevermake it through this day in the shape she was in. Thework will have to wait, she thought to herself.

    A few more good laps and well call it a day, shesaid.

    Okay B Ms. Caldwell, he said in anticipation of ashort workday. He slid from the top rail of the tightly-sprung gate and whipped it open with the vigor of ananxious schoolboy on the first day of summer. Hepassed through the gate and disappeared around thecorner of the wash stalls about ten yards away. Thewide-open gate moved slowly at first as it started toclose, and then picked up speed before it slammed shut

    with a big CLANG!Colleen flinched violently and the plug at the end ofthe rope bolted sharply toward her. Usually light on herfeet, she shuffled backward to avoid the massive animal,but tripped over her own boots. She hit the ground flat

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    on her back, knocking the air from her lungs. In a flurryof dirt and dust, the frightened beast reared backward.

    Colleen instinctively raised her right arm for fear shewas going to get a horseshoe to the face. Suddenly she

    felt the bristly rope scrape her cheek. She immediatelyrealized she was still holding it, so she let go. The fillyleapt over her and took off across the show ring. Shegalloped at full-speed, and then skidded to a halt justshort of the concrete planters that lined the far side ofthe show ring.

    Hatless, breathless, and with a mouthful of dirt,Colleen tried to regain her feet, but before she could find

    her center, the horse whipped about and took offstraight for her. She had no time to react. The fillyplowed into her as if she were invisible, and sent hersprawling a second time.

    The filly let out a piercing whinny that resonatedmore like a scream. She reared again, and then landeda hoof on the right side of Colleens chest. She tried toscream herself, but couldnt gather any air. She raisedher arm again as the raging animal reared over andover, narrowly missing her head each time.

    Her chest heaved feebly. She tried to move her legs,but the left one wouldnt work. The stabbing pain waslike nothing she had ever felt. She had blurry visions ofher husband being thrown from his mount a year before.Suddenly she heard crunching noises; like the sound ofchewing dirt. The image of something blue caught herstinging, dust-filled eyes. She couldnt turn her head

    enough to see what it was, but it was familiar to her.Something warm, she thought. Colleen lostconsciousness.

    Whoa! Easy! Clouds of dust filled the show ring asa man in his thirties struggled to distract the raging

    animal in front of him. Donned in worn cowboy boots,jeans, straw hat and a blue flannel shirt, the man wavedhis arms wildly and yelled Hey! over and over. Thefilly bucked crazily as if she had been zapped with a

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    cattle prod, but he finally managed to grab the end ofher rope. He immediately took a defensive positionbetween the filly and Colleen.

    Her battered body was lying awkwardly face-down,

    but the cowboy still had a fight on his hands. Thepanicked animal suddenly reared again, ripping shredsof skin from his gloveless palm. He winced as he felt thethick twine slip further and further, burning his fingers.Dust flew in all directions, and the cowboy started tochew and choke on his own helping of dirt.

    Joan Caldwell, Chases mother, suddenly appearedon the porch of the ranch house about a hundred feet

    away. Colleen! she screamed hoarsely.Call an ambulance! the cowboy yelled as he

    continued to struggle with the horse.Oh my God! Joan wailed, paralyzed from the shock

    of what she saw.Hurry! the cowboy commanded.

    The screen door slammed hard as Joan stormed backinto the house, nearly ripping the door from its hinges.

    Carlos reappeared at the show ring gate and hisheart leapt from his chest. Oy! he shouted.

    The cowboy whipped his head in Carloss direction.Get another rope! he roared.

    Carlos disappeared again. The horse continued herfrenzy, but the cowboy started to gain some ground withher. Blood poured from his hand, but with a renewedgrip on the rope, he controlled the horses direction foronce.

    Colleen was still lying on her stomach in the dirt.There was a large red spot of blood forming on the backof her left calf, midway between the back of her kneeand ankle. A broken bone was sticking out of the centerthrough a small rip in her jeans. Her hair was no longerin a pony tail and dirt filled her tangled locks. Herforehead was caked with dirt, and small wisps of dusteddied from under her head as she involuntarily

    struggled to breathe.The cowboy continued his struggle. Sections of therope were stained with a brilliant red from his bloodyhand. Over and over the cowboy yelled a raspy,

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    controlled Here! and Easy! at the scared mountainof a horse in front of him.

    Out of nowhere, a lasso suddenly hit its mark aroundthe saliva and dirt-caked head of the filly. Vamos!

    Carlos sputtered, taking the cowboy by surprise.Vamos! The strong hands and vast experience of theranch foreman was too much for the horse. He had acommanding voice that affected livestock almost like asedative, and the fatigued horse calmed slightly.Calmar, Gigante!Carlos continued, lowering his voicemore and more as the panting animal shuffled warily inthe dirt. Easy, Diabla. The filly twitched nervously,

    sputtering frothy dirt and dust from her nostrils.Tie er off, the cowboy called out loudly.Carlos moved carefully toward the show ring fence

    as the filly surrendered her tug of war. He looped theend of the rope around a post in block and tacklestyle, gaining his leverage a little more. Firmly butgently, he shortened the distance between horse andfence.

    The cowboy moved toward the fence and held hisgrip on the thick twine. When he reached the fence, helooped his rope around the post in the same fashion.Got it? the cowboy asked.

    Got it.Carlos wrapped the rope around the fencepost twice

    more. He tied a double loop knot, and repeated theactions with the blood-soaked rope the cowboy washolding. The filly stood in the settling dust, pulling

    against the shortened rope and pawing nervously at thedirt. Order was restored with the filly, but the batteredowner of Triple C Ranch desperately needed medicalattention.

    Joan Caldwells slender, calloused fingers couldnt

    move fast enough as she dialed 911. The antique dialrotated in slow motion. Out of breath, she screamedCome on! She hadnt bothered listening for a dial tone

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    before she wedged the receiver between her head andshoulder.

    Hello? Hello? said a females voice.Hello? Joan replied frantically.

    Joan? Whats wrong?Damn it! she shouted as she held the receiver.

    Hang up!Joan! Whats wrColleens hurt! Hang up!Oh, no! the female gasped. Okay Im hanging

    up n Joan swatted at the phones plunger and cut the

    woman off mid-sentence. She let go and waited for aclear line. After about a second, the dial tone clatteredin her ear. Once again, she stabbed at the nine. Shewhipped the dial clockwise and whimpered as itlumbered slowly back. Help is comin, baby, she saidas she dialed the 1s.

    Lets gooooooo. One ring. Lets go, damn it!Two rings. What the f

    Nine-one-one operator, whats your emergency?My daughter shes hurt!And thats at two three three two Tierra Rejada?Yes. Two three three two.Your daughter is injured? Is she breathing? the

    operator asked all at once.I I dont know! Shes been trampled, I think,

    and shes not moving.And how old is she?

    Thirty-two. Oh, Jesus! Not again!Tell me what happened, okay? Take a breath. The

    operator instructed. Joan took a short, labored breath. Okay. She was

    working in the show ring, and all I know is shes hurt. Ididnt see what happened.

    Is there anyone with her right now?Yes some man. I dont know who he is. Oh, God,

    please hurry.A unit is already on its way out, okay? Youre doing just fine. Can you see her from where you are? theoperator continued.

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    No. I cant see anything from here. I better go seeif I can

    Stay with me, maam. The ambulance should bethere shortly. Do you know if anyone else is in danger?

    I dont think so, she said.Is there a gate to the property? Can the ambulance

    get to where your daughter is?Yes. I mean no. The gates open. They can go to

    the end of the drive, and the show rings on the left.Cant miss it, Joan said, gaining her composure a bit.How long will it take em to get here?

    Not long at all. They are less than a mile away at

    the station on Tierra Rejada. Can you give me somebackground information while we wait? You said shesthirty-two?

    Yes. Shes thirty-two, blonde hair, and about fivefeet seven.

    Okay, good. Can you hear the ambulance yet?No. Not yet.They should be almost there. You can hang up and

    go to the driveway so you can show them where to go,okay?

    Okay, said Joan. Oh my God, thank you somuch!

    Youre w Joan fumbled the thick plastic earpiece across the

    table. It passed the heavy base and tumbled to thefloor. She nearly fell over her own feet as she rushedout the door and sprinted across the grass. Her speed

    would make anyone else her age jealous. Joan was aformidable woman at sixty-one.

    Lets get you fixed up, said the cowboy as he kneltover the curvaceous, 32-year-old widow. Blood gushed

    from her left calf. Oh shit, he muttered as he rippedopen his shirt. He surveyed the jagged bone thatprotruded from her leg.

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    Carlos continued his work on the filly. He ran hisgloved hand over her saliva-spotted neck. Easy,Camorrista,he said, mixing his English and Spanish. Heheld her halter and gently caressed her withers. He

    looked over his shoulder to the cowboy. He waskneeling over Colleen. His muscular, tattooed backflexed as he tore his shirt into strips. He tied the firststrip around his mangled hand, and then pulled the knottight with his teeth.

    Colleens calf was blood-soaked, glistening like aruby in the sun. The cowboy tied two pieces of theflannel together and formed a long bandage. He fed one

    end under her left knee and worked quickly with thesame kind of knot as the one he used on his hand.

    Colleen let out a labored moan. Without skipping abeat, he fed another bandage further down where hershin would be if it werent protruding through her calf.He wrapped it around her leg twice. Once above the

    jagged bone, and once below. He finished with anotherknot on the outside of her calf.

    There. That should take care of that, he said. Hebrushed her hair aside and felt the base of her sweatyskull. He worked his fingers down her spine and pausedevery inch or so to feel for broken bones. He took whatwas left of his shirt, folded it in half, and gently lifted herhead enough to make room for the makeshift pillow.Colleen let out an easy sigh for the first time since thefilly knocked her down.

    Joan Caldwell covered the fifty yards of real estate in

    a matter of seconds. She thought she could hear theambulance in the distance, but wasnt sure. As sheapproached the drive she skidded and almost lost herfooting.

    Jesus, thats all I need, she said aloud.She paced the width of the driveway and stood on

    her toes each time she turned. She could no longer seethe show ring past the new retaining wall that lined the

    northern edge.Carlos caressed the filly and continued the calmingtherapy. He patted her neck. Tiny clouds of dustbillowed from her mane. Darker patches of sweatcovered her flanks and rump. With the animal fully

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    under his control, he glanced over to where Colleen stilllay in the center of the ring. She was alone.

    Seor?he called, and then turned and looked theopposite direction. Amigo?

    The cowboy was gone. All that remained of him wasthe torn blue flannel shirt used as a bandage and pillowfor Colleen.

    Thirty-two-year-old female unconscious airwayunknown. The speaker crackled as the female relayed

    Joans information.At the wheel of ambulance Unit 23 was veteran

    paramedic Duane Dewey Doyle, who knew the Triple Cwell.

    Copy, dispatch. Headed west on Tierra RejadaETA forty-five seconds, copy? he replied into thehandset.

    Copy, twenty-three. ETA forty-five. Proceed from

    Tierra Rejada to the end of the drive victims motherwill advise specific location.

    Copy, dispatch, replied the forty-eight-year-oldDoyle.

    Joan Caldwell paced hard and worked herself closerto another near-panic. But for the faint siren in thedistance, the rest of the sprawling ranch was eerilyquiet. Time stood still as Joan chewed first one

    thumbnail, then the other. She checked her watch andwondered how long it had been since the operator senther to the driveway. Way too long, she said. Theambulance drew closer. Almost here.

    Carlos searched from where he stood for any signs ofthe cowboy, but found none. Suddenly the heavy gateclanged shut. The filly jerked her head sharply.

    Easy, Camorrista, Carlos whispered. The fillysears were pulled back and her eyes open wide, which

    meant another panic wasnt far off.Que paso?called Jesus from his left.Aqui! Carlos said sternly without looking in his

    direction.

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    Que paJesus stopped in his tracks when he sawColleen lying in the dirt.

    Vamos! Carlos sputtered as he tightened his gripon the fillys harness. He heard a siren growing closer

    from the north.Jesus approached quickly but cautiously, slowing for

    the last few steps. Carlos let go of the halter as theforty-year-old assistant ranch foreman took control. Thefilly snorted and pointed her ears forward. The sirengrew louder.

    Carlos made a beeline for Colleen, removed the wornleather glove from his right hand, dropped to one knee

    and touched her shoulder.Dispatch twenty-three, Dewey Doyle said as he

    approached the driveway.Twenty-three go ahead.Twenty-three is code two, copy? he said. Code

    two was commonly used when the driver knew theywere entering a location with live animals. It meant theywere proceeding with the emergency lights on, butwithout the siren.

    Copy twenty-three. Code two. Joan looked at her watch again. She moved a few

    paces toward the road when suddenly the siren stopped.Before she could take another step, the nose of theambulance appeared on the paved street beyond thegate, paused for a second, and then turned down thedrive. She could see the driver talking on the radio, anda young man sitting in the passenger seat.

    She waved her arms exaggeratedly as if she weredirecting an aircraft, and then took off toward the showring.

    Doyle approached the end of the driveway andscanned the area for signs of immediate danger. Thewoman that was running thirty yards in front of himlooked over her shoulder, waved her arms, and dartedquickly out of sight to the left behind some shrubbery.

    Where did she go? he asked as he leaned closer to thewindshield.There she is. Up on the left, replied his partner

    and rookie paramedic Josh Tyler.

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    Joan stopped at the end of the massive show ringand shouted, Help me! to anyone within earshot.

    Carlos leapt into action. As he approached Joan, hesaw that her hands were of no use to her in the state she

    was in. She fumbled with the latch, and only madematters worse as the ambulance arrived. He pried herfingers from the gate, flicked the latch and then grabbedthe gate by its lowest rung.

    Alzar!he shouted in Spanish. Lift!Carlos bent his knees and lifted with all his might.

    The gate lodged a hollow, gritty complaint as he coaxedthe end from its concrete mooring. He started to shuffle

    backward, but met with resistance.Joan! Let go!

    Joan did as Carlos instructed and the gate swungfreely inward. She looked up and stepped to the side asthe ambulance passed and sped toward the center ofthe ring. The doors swung open, and both paramedicsrushed to the back in a simultaneous dance. Joanpassed them and rushed back toward Colleen.

    Bring the back board and a cervical, Doyle said tothe rookie.

    Copy, said Josh as he jumped inside.Gurney first. Doyle already had his medical pack

    slung over his shoulder.Copy that.Carlos dropped the gate and called to Jesus to stay

    where he was. Jesus nodded.Doyle approached Colleen and dropped his bag.

    Whats her name?Colleen Caldwell, Joan replied as if she were in a

    trance.Right, he said. Colleen? Can you hear me?

    Colleen? No response.Doyle scanned the length of her body. The field

    dressing on her left leg intrigued him. Someone knewwhat they were doing, he thought aloud. He brushed

    her hair to the side and checked for a pulse.We got an airway? asked Josh as he approachedwith his hands full.

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    Respirations shallow and about thirty-eight. Doylemoved to the opposite side to make room for his trainee.Pulse one twenty and strong. Check for spinal.

    Copy. Checking for spinal, Josh repeated as if he

    was on the bridge of a ship and Doyle was Captain. Hefelt the base of her skull, just as the cowboy had done,and then continued until he reached the small of herback. Spinal negative.

    Doyle leaned in and pulled out a small pen light.Pupil three millimeters and reactive, he said matter-of-factly. Check that leg.

    What does reactive mean? asked Joan.

    It means thats normal. What happened here?I dont know what happened, butWe got a fib protrusion, Josh interrupted.Lets get her on her back, said Doyle. Joan, were

    gonna need some room here.Joan moved back. He just called me by name, she

    thought. She tried to get a look at his face, but he wasturned too far.

    Careful, he said. You stabilize the leg and Ill holdher neck.

    Copy.Carlos that your name?Yes.Come around this way and hold this close to her

    back.Joan frantically searched for any recollection of the

    paramedic, but came up empty. He called everyone by

    name, and that unsettled her.Carlos lifted the long edge of the backboard by its

    handle. Josh held Colleens ankle with one hand andsupported her knee with the other.

    Easy, Doyle said. Hold it tight.Colleen moaned as they turned her. Carlos stepped

    back again. Joan held her hands to her face. The fillywhinnied in a high pitch that sent shivers down their

    spines.

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    Despite their difference in age and experience, theparamedics worked well together. The elder had seenmore bloodshed in his career than he cared to recall,and the apprentice learned quickly from new

    adventures.Wheres that cervical?Right here, said Josh.Slide it under while I hold her head.

    Josh nodded but said nothing as he shuffled towardColleens head. He slid the end of the collar under herneck, and Colleen moaned again.

    Colleen? Doyle called again. Can you hear me?

    No response. Josh strapped Colleens waist to the rigidboard while Doyle did the same to her forehead. Allset?

    Ready, replied Josh.Carlos, help them! said Joan.Carlos took a step forward but stopped when Doyle

    raised his hand to indicate that they wouldnt need him.Joan took a deep breath as they lifted Colleen from thedirt and headed for the ambulance.

    What hospital are you taking her to?Las Palmas, replied Doyle. Its on Lynn off the

    twenty-three.Ive been there before, Joan said. Do you need

    anything else?Actually, it would be helpful to know if shes on any

    medication or if shes allergic to anything.She takes birth control pills. ThatI know, but I dont

    think she takes anything else.No allergies, then? Doyle repeated.I dont think sheWeve got it, maam, Josh interrupted.Youve got

    Joan suddenly looked at the young man as if he werespeaking a foreign language. She didnt realize that shehad grabbed one of the boards handles as they made

    their way to the gurney.You can let go now.Joan looked down at her hands and then jerked them

    away like she had just pulled a pan from a hot ovenwithout a mitt.

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    Here we go, Doyle said as he lifted his end higher.Joan took a step back and bumped lightly into Carlos,

    but didnt turn toward him. What am I gonna do? shewhimpered.

    Shell be okay, said Carlos. Shes strong.Doyle guided the gurney and Josh followed with a

    careful push. The legs folded underneath as it slid intoposition with a heavy click.

    Were gonna close the doors but well be here for aminute or two, said Doyle as Josh disappeared inside.Can you make sure we have a clear path to turnaround?

    I will, Carlos said.Okay, said Joan. Im headed to the hospital.Carlos turned toward her and put his hands on her

    shoulders. Dont worry. Ill take care of everythinghere.

    Joan paused for a moment and looked up into hisworried eyes. Okay, she said. Ill call as soon as Iknow anything.

    Carlos scanned the show ring for anything that mightbe in the way of the ambulance as Joan sprinted towardthe house. Jesus patted the fillys neck and spoke to herin Spanish. Colleens hat rested upside-down near thecenter of the ring. Carlos started toward the hat when

    his boot struck something in the dirt. There, shiningthrough the fine dust was a bone-handled Bowie knife.He squatted and studied it for a moment.

    He nudged his hat higher on his forehead. Hesurveyed all of the boot prints and his thoughts turned tothe cowboy. Who is he? Where had he come from?Where did he go? As he reached for the knife, he heardthe garage door open in the distance.

    Colleens El Camino sparkled as Joan passed

    hurriedly in front of it and got in. It started with a roar,causing a stir with the potbellied pigs on the far side ofthe yard.

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    Whats taking them so long? Joan said aloud as shegunned the engine. The stereo speakers hummed andincreased in pitch as the engine raced. She glanced atthe stereos digital display. The word ERROR scrolled

    across the screen. She gunned the engine again andfumbled with the volume knob. Shorter in stature thanColleen, she adjusted the bench seat and clasped the oldbelts together at her lap.

    Get her gloves off, Dewey Doyle instructed.Copy, said Josh. He leaned forward and grabbed

    Colleens right wrist and worked Colleens hand free ofthe soft leather glove. Her fingernails were newlymanicured in a bright red polish, which stood in contrastto her calloused fingers and palm. Josh thought herhands were that of a woman who knew hard work. Heplaced her hand back at her side and sat back in hisoriginal position as he removed her other glove.

    Get me some vitals.Copy, repeated Josh.Doyle reached into his bag and produced a pair of

    shiny scissors that had thick, rounded points. Hegripped Colleens shirtsleeve and began cutting theflannel lengthwise until he revealed her entire arm to theshoulder. Here, he said as he presented the scissorsto Josh.

    Josh took the scissors and gripped the sleeve just asDoyle did and made a single cut. He then placed thescissors on Colleens stomach and grabbed the sleeve onboth sides of the cut he just made.

    Stop, said Doyle. Dont cut and rip like theyteach you in class. If you move her arm too much beforeyou check for a fracture, you can do more damage.

    Oh, said Josh as he picked up the scissors andresumed cutting. Good tip.

    Doyle shifted position and opened a cabinet on thewall. He pulled out a bag of clear IV fluids and hung itfrom the ceiling as tubing dangled below it.

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    Respirations shallow and thirty-six, called Josh.Pulse one twelve and strong.

    Copy, said Doyle. Gimme a BP.Workin on it.

    When youve got a BP, cut her shirt along thebuttons, then the bra in the middle, but be careful whenyou do. She has a broken collarbone from the looks ofit.

    Got it, Josh said.Doyle was a master at starting IVs. In quick,

    calculated motions, he pulled an alcohol swab from apacket, wiped her arm, felt for a vein, and positioned the

    needle. Colleen moaned as Doyle pierced her skin. Heassembled the rest of the apparatus and secured it all toher arm with tape.

    BP one twenty-eight over eighty-two, announcedJosh.

    Good. Keep the vitals coming, and Ill get us on theroad. Get her pulse-ox, too.

    Copy. Joan took a deep breath as she waited for what

    seemed like an eternity. Shes all right, she said.Come onnnnn.

    Doyle made his way toward the drivers seat whileJosh continued his work. Dispatch, twenty-three.

    Twenty-three go ahead.The veteran paramedic relayed all of Colleens vitals

    as well as his estimated time of arrival at Las Palmas,and the dispatcher repeated the information. Carlos

    waved Colleens hat as if to give the all clear, andDoyle navigated his way out of the show ring. Joshcontinued his work on Colleen, cutting her shirt asinstructed.

    Holy crap!Dont react, Josh, just tell me what you see, said

    Doyle over his shoulder.Got a contusion above the patients left breast,

    approximately twelve by fifteen centimeters. She took apretty good hit. The collarbone is fractured and raisedabout three centimeters.

    Copy, said Doyle. Whats the pulse-ox?Ninety-three.

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    Good. Keep calling out vitals. Try getting a verbalresponse again.

    Joan stomped the gas pedal to the floor as theambulance disappeared down the concrete drive. The

    rear tires made a loud screech as they spun against thesmooth concrete garage floor. Whoa! Joan said as sheeased off of the accelerator.

    As he approached the end of the driveway, Doyleswitched on the siren and headed toward the freeway.

    Colleen, can you hear me? the rookie asked loudly.Colleen let out a muffled moan, but did not open hereyes. Josh brushed Colleens hair back from her

    forehead with his right hand, and called her name again.No response.

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