Hummingbird Lake Page 0,95
to her how difficult his job must have been.
He listened for a full minute without speaking, his hand holding the receiver against his ear with a white-knuckled grip. “When did this happen?” he finally asked. “How many were hurt? … Okay. I will. Of course I will. I’ll leave right away.”
Then he closed his eyes and his voice cracked as he added, “Hang on, brother. She’ll make it. She’s a strong little girl.”
Brother?
When he hung up the phone, he stood frozen in place for a long minute. He looked dazed and shocked, as if he’d aged five years. Sage placed a hand on his arm. “What happened?”
“My niece.” His voice sounded strangled. “She and a bunch of kids were on the way to church camp in a bus. A semi lost control and hit them. Two dead, fourteen injured, six of those critical. Rachel is one of those. The critical.”
“Oh, Colt.” Sage’s heart twisted. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”
He dragged a hand down his face. “I need to get to Texas as fast as I can. They’re in a little podunk hospital in East Texas, but they’ll be moving her as soon as possible. Most likely to Dallas. I gotta get to the airport.”
He did an about-face and began walking back toward Creekside Cabins, where he’d left his car.
Almost running to keep up with his long-legged stride, she said, “What can I do to help?”
“Maybe call—” He stopped abruptly and jerked his head around. He focused on her, the look in his eyes fierce and intent. “You’re a doctor. A pediatric surgeon.”
Oh no. “Not anymore.”
“Come with me, Sage.”
No. No. No. “I’m not licensed to practice in Texas.”
He waved that off, his expression desperate. “It’s an emergency, but beyond that, I’m not asking you to practice medicine.”
He took hold of her hand and started walking again. He thought aloud, obviously relieved to think that he had her—a pediatric surgeon—on his side. “It’s perfect. You’ll know what questions to ask, help us make decisions. The other families, too.”
He expects me to come. He’s not even considering otherwise. “Colt …”
“Too bad Jack Davenport isn’t in town,” he said. “He could give us a ride in his helicopter. We couldn’t drive to Crested Butte in time to catch a flight out tonight. We’ll drive to Colorado Springs. I wonder if we can get a flight to Dallas tonight.” He sighed heavily. “It’s at times like this I really miss my assistant. Amy would know … shoot.”
He pulled his phone back out of his pocket and dialed a number. A moment later, he said, “Yes, it’s Colt. Amy, I’m in a bind and need a big favor. Could you do your magic and tell me the fastest way I can get from Eternity Springs, Colorado, to Palestine, Texas? I need two seats.”
“Colt!” Sage attempted to interrupt him, but he either didn’t hear her or chose to ignore her.
“Thanks a million. I … wait, I’m getting another call.” He checked the number, then said, “Call me back when you know something, please, Amy?”
He thumbed the number, then said, “Hey, Dad. Yes, he called me. Amy is working on getting me there the fastest way possible right now.”
He listened for a few minutes, then said, “Ah, no. I can’t imagine what their families must be going through. I think—wait, I think Amy is beeping in.… Sure will, Dad. You too. See you tomorrow.”
Then, “Amy, what do you have for me? … Okay … Okay … Really? All right, then, that’s what we’ll do. Thanks so much. I owe you one.”
He disconnected the call as they arrived at the Creekside Cabins. “Amy said we’d probably get there faster if we drive. Or if we drive as far as Amarillo tonight, we can catch a plane from there to Dallas tomorrow morning. If they haven’t transferred Rachel by then, we’ll rent a car and drive the rest of the way.”
He finally fell silent as he fished his keys from his pocket and ran up the steps to his cabin’s front door. Sage decided to wait until they were inside with some privacy to make him listen to her.
In the cabin, Colt headed straight for the bedroom and the closet with his duffel bag. “I’d rather not waste too much time packing. We can buy what we need once we get to Texas. Ah, jeez, Sage, all those kids. Imagine how afraid they must have been. How afraid they are now.”
No, I won’t. I know how children look when they