Page 5 of Searching for Bristol
“Oh. Wow. Okay,” Bristol said. “Well, I’m grateful. More than grateful. Damn ecstatic!” She gave him a small relieved smile.
A zing of something went through Rocky at seeing that smile. She was filthy, smelled a little funky, had a possible broken leg…and despite all that, she still somehow had the ability to feel joy.
Rocky had rescued a lot of people over the years, both as a SEAL and as a member of the SAR team. He’d seen people at their best and worst. When they were found, people had cried, completely freaked out, been scared out of their minds, confused, belligerent, and even irritating. But Rocky got it; they were out of their comfort zone. He never took it personally when someone he rescued was an asshole. His job was to get them out of whatever situation they’d found themselves in, and that was it.
But something about Bristol Wingham, her fortitude, her strength, her…obviously positive personality, drew him.
Mentally, Rocky shook his head. This was no time to be thinking about his own possible connection with the woman. She was hurt. And they were still six miles from the trailhead.
That thought made him scowl.
“What?” she asked, noticing the change in his demeanor. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Rocky forced himself to say lightly. He wasn’t about to tell her that, while he might have found her, they still had a hell of a hard road ahead of them to get her to a hospital. Like an idiot, he hadn’t called Raiden to tell him what he was doing. No one knew he was out here on a possible rescue except for Sandra, and she wasn’t likely to call Raid.
He didn’t know when Ethan and the others would be back from the Eagle Point Tower, and while he had a phone, the cell service in the woods sucked. For the thousandth time, he wished the town had the resources to get the satellite phones Ethan kept saying they needed in order to communicate with each other and Doc Snow, Fallport’s local doctor.
Pushing those thoughts away—now was no time to think about things he didn’t have, or hadn’t done—Rocky shrugged off his pack. “I need to get a look at that leg, see what we’re working with. Then I’ll get it splinted properly. Good news is that I’ve got some painkillers for you to take the edge off while we’re getting out of here.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t know how to do it right.”
Her soft words brought Rocky’s eyes back to hers. “What?”
“My leg. I wasn’t sure exactly how to splint it, so I just tried to mimic what I’ve seen on TV shows and movies and stuff. I used the cords from my tent to tie the sticks to my leg, but I obviously didn’t know what I was doing.”
“You did good,” Rocky reassured her.
She snorted.
“Seriously. I’m impressed.” And he was. “You have no idea how many people I’ve come across who haven’t been able to doanythingto help themselves. You not only did what you could to take care of your injury, you’ve been out here for three nights by yourself. I’m guessing you stayed in your tent for a while before deciding your better bet was to try to get to the trail, instead of staying put. And despite your injury, you painstakingly dragged yourself to this point. I don’t know many people who could orwouldhave done what you did.”
Her eyes filled with tears once more, but she closed them before any could escape. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“No. Thankyoufor not giving up,” Rocky replied. “For being strong. For holding on until I could find you.”
“Howdidyou find me, anyway? It’s not like I’m on the beaten path or anything.”
Rocky pulled out a pair of shears from his pack and motioned to her leg. “I’m going to need to cut your pants to see what we’re working with. That okay?”
“Of course,” she said without hesitation.
It was a small request, but she’d probably be surprised to learn how many people bitched about their clothes being cut when they were found. Rocky understood; hiking gear wasn’t exactly cheap. But if he was trying to find and treat injuries, it got old when people were pissy over a pair of pants.
As he carefully removed the splint she’d tied to her leg and began to slice the material of her khakis so he could see her shin, he explained how he’d noticed where she’d gone off the main trail, then about finding the spot where she’d slipped over the edge of the cliff. Finally, he mentioned the spot where she’d set up her tent, and clarified how, once he’d climbed down the rocks, he’d seen the clear trail created by her drag marks.
“I’d thought for a minute that maybe someone had pushed you and was dragging your dead body,” he said without thinking. And then kicked himself for being so blunt. The last thing she needed to hear was him talking about her demise. But she surprised him once again by laughing.
“I hadn’t even thought of that, but I’ve watched enough of those true crime shows to know you were spot-on with that line of thought. I can’t believe you were able to follow my trail so easily. I had to pee,” she admitted sheepishly. “Then when I was done, I thought I heard something and went to check it out. It was stupid. I know better. I didn’t even notice the damn cliff until I was already sliding down. I remember throwing up and passing out, but not much else…other than the pain.”
“You don’t remember?” Rocky asked sharply.
“No.”
“Does your head hurt? Did you hit it?”
“It’s killing me,” she said as nonchalantly as if she was discussing the weather.
Rocky’s respect for her grew. “You could have a concussion,” he said.
