see the pupils react to light. Next, with methodical, practiced motions, she went to work on the bloody injury on Nic’s left leg. Using the scissors from the first-aid kit, she sliced open the bloody pant leg, revealing a deep gash and a swollen knee and ankle. Sage winced. The cut would need stitches.
Nic groaned, then a moment later, exclaimed in a panicked tone. “The baby!”
“I saw you fall, honey. Watched you hit. The baby should be fine. How’s your head? Pain? Throbbing?”
“Yeah.” She lifted a fearful but clear gaze toward Sage. “You really think the baby’s okay?”
“I do.” With practiced movements, Sage cleaned the cut. “This needs stitches, Nic.”
Nic’s voice emerged thready and weak. “Great. Get LaNelle to do it. Her stitches are prettier than mine.”
“I think it can wait until you reach Gunnison.” Sage wrapped gauze around her friend’s leg and covered it with a pressure bandage.
“You’re very good at that, Sage,” Celeste observed. “Maybe you can fill in for Nic at the clinic.”
Not hardly. “No way. My Girl Scout nursing badge only takes me so far. Besides, I heard about that wounded ram Nic treated yesterday. She’s crazy.”
“I’m freezing.” Nic shuddered, and her teeth began to chatter. “My pants are soaked through. Can you help me stand up?”
LaNelle asked, “I could bring my car around, get her out of the cold. We need to transport her to the helipad, anyway.”
“Thanks, LaNelle,” Sage said, tugging off her own coat and wrapping it around her friend. “That’d be great.”
When it was just the two of them, Sage asked, “Still no cramps, honey?”
“No.” Nic’s teeth tugged at her lower lip. “She’s okay, don’t you think? She has to be okay.”
“She’s small yet. You didn’t hit your tummy. I don’t think you need to worry. Besides, any child of yours is bound to be strong.”
“That’s a nice thing for you to say.” Nic tried to smile, but it appeared more like a grimace. “I don’t feel good.”
“Your head? Are you nauseated?”
“My leg.”
It wasn’t the leg that worried her. With that thought in mind, she reached for Nic’s purse. “You still carry a pen and notepad in here?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m going to write a note for the ER doctor. I want to make sure he takes good care of you. Do you want us to let Gabe know what happened?”
“Yes. Thanks, Sage. You’re a good friend.”
No. Actually, she wasn’t. A good friend wouldn’t have stood back and left her bleeding in the street, untreated.
Not when once upon a time, said friend had been a surgeon.
Gabe Callahan hated hospitals. He hated the smell of them, the sounds in them, the physical and emotional pain that filled them from wall to wall, floor to ceiling. As he parked his car and rushed inside the medical facility in Gunnison, he said a silent prayer that this particular hospital visit would be as short as Sage had promised it would be when he arrived at Eagle’s Way and found her sitting on the front porch, a tote bag at her side.
From there, it had been a mad dash on the twisting, turning mountain road. Two hours in which to worry, remember, and brood.
“Nicole Sullivan?” he asked the middle-aged woman wearing a volunteer badge seated at the front desk.
She frowned. “I’m sorry. We don’t have a patient named Sullivan.”
“What? You … oh …” He silently cursed his stupidity. “Callahan. Nic Callahan. She arrived on CareFlight from Eternity Springs.”
“Ah.” She pointed down the hallway to the right. “She’s in room twelve.”
Gabe nodded his thanks, then strode down the hall toward Nic’s room. The door was partially open. He peeked inside and saw her reclining in bed, wearing a hospital gown and flipping through a magazine. He rapped on the door with his knuckles. “Hey there, pretty lady. Hear you had a hard landing.”
“Gabe!” Nic’s expression brightened, then she offered him a rueful grin. “I get this month’s clumsy award.”
He strode into the room and gave her a thorough once over. He could tell by her eyes that she was tired and in pain, and he hurt for her. Taking a seat in the chair beside the bed, he took her hand in his. His tone serious now, he asked, “How are you, Nic?”
She thumbed the control on her bed and raised herself to a seated position. “I’m okay. Nothing is broken. Knee and ankle are both sprained, ankle worse than the knee. I didn’t jar my