Page 66 of Coveted By the Bear

Caleb passed out before help arrived. He looked pale, and his flesh was cold to the touch. I watched the precarious rise and fall of his chest like it was my salvation as I put all my weight onto the seeping wound on his leg with the cleanest saddle blanket I had found. The only things keeping him alive now were his bear and me.

When they loaded him into the ambulance, Sheriff Clancy tried to strong-arm me out of the way.

“No!” I screamed, sobs wracking my body. “I’m going with him.” I let my anguish show as I pleaded with the paramedics. “Please. He’s mine.”

“We don’t have time for this,” a stout lady who worked furiously over Caleb’s body said. “She needs to go to the clinic, anyway. Let her in.”

I hopped up behind the paramedics and gave Sheriff Clancy the finger. It hurt like hell on injured hands but the scowl on his face made it worth it.

“I’m coming by for your official statement tonight, Fletcher. No leaving town,” he yelled as we sped away.

A second ambulance passed us on the way out, probably to pick up Angus. They didn’t have a shot in hell at saving him. I’d seen what Caleb’s bear had done to his throat.

A helicopter landed in a vacant lot behind the clinic, and Caleb was care lifted to a big hospital in the city. The nurse said the clinic wasn’t equipped for that kind of head trauma. I, however, was a perfect candidate for clinic medicine. Ruined hands and feet, twisted ankles, and lacerations over my face and arms. A swollen and bruised neck where perfect fingerprints could be seen. The deputy, Young, took pictures of my injuries before they cleaned me up. His brown eyes were sad and sympathetic, and he told me the pictures would help to build a case against the monster who did this to me.

Numbness fell over me like a blanket. Without Caleb here to save, my reserves were spent. I didn’t talk, but my silence wasn’t the confused or traumatized kind like the first time when Angus had killed my mother. I was simply too tired to make conversation. The nurses tossed around worried glances and talked quietly outside the door before administering a sedative to help me sleep.

Sadey showed up early the next morning just before the clinic discharged me. She somberly held out a bag of clothes and helped me dress.

I was afraid of the answer so I stalled and pulled my hair back before I asked, “Is he okay?”

Sadey shrugged and leaned against the thin clinic mattress, misery written over every tired feature. “He hasn’t woken up yet. They don’t know if he will. Said it’s just a waiting game now.”

Bending, she slid flip-flops over my bandaged feet and pushed my wheelchair out to her waiting car. After I was tucked in and had waved the nurse away, Sadey sat in the driver’s seat, then grimly gripped the steering wheel. “Angus French is dead.” Sadey tilted her head and waited for a reaction from me that wouldn’t come.

I didn’t know how to feel. Sorrow at the deepest betrayal from someone who was supposed to protect me? Anger with him, with the system that released him, with my fate? Relief over the death of someone I knew but hated?

I stared blankly ahead and watched a mother tote two small children into the clinic. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Mira? Are you okay?” Sadey’s eyelashes were wet with unshed tears.

I tried to smile reassuringly but was pretty sure I failed. “If Caleb is okay, then I will be, too.” It was the best I could offer her.

Sadey wiped her eyes with her fingertips and pulled out of the parking lot. “I talked to Opal this morning. She’s coming to visit you today at the big hospital while we wait for Caleb to wake up. Said she’s bringing you a slice of devil’s food cake in honor of your stepdaddy.”

I snorted and covered my mouth with my gauzed hand. I wanted to laugh and cry and scream all at once.

The waiting room of the hospital was filled with a thick, quiet somberness. Some people I recognized. Caleb’s family, one of the men who worked on the rig with him, Becca. The others I didn’t know. The man I cared for was beloved by a town that respected his family. A momentary panic hit me when I entered the room and all of those eyes slid to me. Did they blame me for their fallen hero? What did they think as I stood in front of them, bandaged and bruised, unable to hold any of their gazes?

“Over here,” Caleb’s father said, waving his hand slightly to be seen over another row of seats.

I smiled at Sadey. “It’s okay. You go sit with your family. I’ll go to the cafeteria or something.”

Sadey’s eyebrows, just a shade darker than her blond hair, drew down. “He’s talking to you.”

I glanced at Mr. McCreedy in question, and he gestured again. Sadey and I picked our way around people sitting on the floor, and he offered me his seat.

“It’s all right. I’ll just sit on the floor if that’s okay.” I gestured with my bandaged hand to the comfortable expanse of purple and yellow printed carpet.

Evan pulled his head out of his hands. “Mira, you look like shit. Sit down before you make everyone in here uncomfortable.” He stood and pressed my shoulder until I sat in his chair, then he took a seat on the carpet near me.

The chairs were wide enough for two slim girls to fit in. “Sit by me?” I asked Sadey.

When we were settled, Mr. McCreedy cleared his throat quietly. “I was mistaken about how much you meant to my son, Mira. He brought you to me for my approval, and I kept it from him. From you.”

I stopped him, unable to stomach more. “Sir, you don’t have to apologize to me. You were trying to protect him in your own way. You’re a good father.”

Mr. McCreedy’s breath hitched, and he rubbed a shaking hand through his graying hair. Sadey rushed to him and sat in his lap. “He’ll be okay, Dad. He’s tough.”