The Delivery of Decor (Shiloh Ridge Ranch in Three Rivers #7) - Liz Isaacson Page 0,39

Dot ended the call and immediately dialed again.

Another step.

“Ward!” she screamed into the storm.

In that moment, she saw something glowing up ahead. She had no idea how far, as she couldn’t judge distance among so much chaos. “Ward,” she called again, hurrying now and not bothering to count her steps.

She found him grasping the pole of an ancient swing set, his eyes closed. “Ward.” She reached him and shook his arm. “Ward, wake up. Ward!”

His eyes opened oh-so-slowly, and Dot saw anguish and confusion there. She grabbed onto his arm and said, “Come on.”

She marched back the way she’d come, keeping her eyes on the ground so she could see her footprints. After three steps, they disappeared, but she kept going. She’d have to hit the house soon enough.

Ward felt like dead weight behind her, and he stumbled forward. Dot couldn’t catch him, and they both fell to their knees.

“Ward,” she said desperately. “I need your help to get back inside.” She got to her feet and took both of his hands in hers. “Come on, sweetheart. You can do it.”

He lumbered to his feet, a bit more comprehension in his gaze. “Dot?”

“Yes,” she said. “Come on. I can’t carry you.” She turned and took three more steps before she reached the wood pile. “Right here. Put your hand on this rope. It goes right to the back door.”

“I left the gas by the swing set,” he said.

Dot faced the storm, wondering how necessary the gasoline was. She made a quick decision. “That’s just fine, Woods,” she said. “We don’t need it.”

“We do if the power goes out.”

“Nope,” she said. “We have a huge fireplace and each other. Hand over hand, cowboy. Hurry up. I’m freezing.” She followed him, and he moved so slowly. She couldn’t even imagine how he’d survived so long, and when he finally got inside, he just stood there as if he didn’t know what to do.

Dot did, though.

“Come on,” she said, ripping off her gloves and hat. She dropped them without a second thought and started removing his wet, frozen clothes. “Hat off. Gloves. Coat.” She actually took it all off of him while he stood there, his teeth chattering.

“I’m c-c-cold,” he said.

“Yes, I know.” Dot tugged on his sweatshirt. “It’s all coming off, Ward. We’re past modesty.” She got him out of his shirts and boots, and he managed to use his white fingers to undo his jeans.

He stepped out of those, and Dot really tried hard not to admire his body. Boy, ranching did a body good, and Dot supported him as she moved him in front of the fire. She’d taken her blanket back into the bedroom, and she said, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

She ran to get the blanket, returning ten seconds later to see Ward had closed his eyes again. “Stay awake,” she commanded, and his eyes opened slowly again. “Tell me about the shed out back. What color is it? Did you build it?”

“My dad,” he said. “He b-b-built everything we used for a long time.”

Dot nodded and got to work on the fire, stoking up the coals and adding a couple of handfuls of wadded up newspaper. “Did you help him paint it?”

“He made us all help,” Ward said. “His name was Bull, and that should tell you a little bit about what kind of man he was.”

Dot shrugged out of her coat and added some smaller pieces of wood to the fire. She worked so quickly that she didn’t build the fire as carefully as she would have otherwise. It didn’t matter. She needed it to flame up quickly and start putting out some major heat.

“You sound like you didn’t like the work.”

“I loved it,” Ward said. “My dad worked so hard, and I wanted to please him.”

“I think he’d be pleased, Ward,” she said, turning to look at him. He wasn’t quite as blue anymore, but she was worried about his extremities. “I’m going to move the couch closer.” She got up and rounded the furniture, leaning her whole body into it to move the sofa with the muscled cowboy on it.

The flames danced and crackled, and Dot was happy with them. She put another huge log on and asked, “Where’s the dryer?”

“Basement,” he said.

She’d seen all the towels in the linen closet, and she bent down and got in his face. “You are not to move. You are not to fall asleep. I will be gone for five minutes, maybe less. Promise me you