Lessons in Love: A Western Romance Novel (Long Valley Book 8)

by Erin Wright

  “On my way myself. The sheriff, EMTs, and some of the city fire crew are already out there, working on the extraction. See you there.” His brother hung up and Elijah stumbled around his bedroom, trying to get his brain and his body to match up.

  Where was he going? What was he doing?

  He’d always had a cool head in a crisis, but that were before Brooksy was involved in said crisis. Now, he found he could hardly decide which shoe to put on first.

  He wanted to snatch his phone up and call Hannah and have her meet him out there; she’d wanna be out there if Brooksy were hurt, he just knew it. But he also knew that she didn’t want nothin’ to do with him no more. Three weeks of deafening silence had made that perfectly clear.

  He hurried out into the brisk June night air – it was just gettin’ so it wasn’t freezing overnight, although as cold as it felt right now, he was sure it was probably close.

  As he slammed the gas pedal to the floor of his old truck, pushing it to go as fast as its big diesel engine would allow it, he tried to remember back through everything Aaron had told him. He hadn’t exactly been wide awake while Aaron had been talkin’, and it was hard to remember now what he’d said.

  The Narrows. Shit. He said the Narrows.

  “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon you big piece of shit!” he yelled at his truck, his boot trying to push its way through the gas pedal and the floorboards. The Narrows was a real narrow bridge on the road between Boise and Sawyer; probably built back in the 1800s or somethin’, it were way too narrow for modern-day traffic. If a semi was drivin’ from Boise to Sawyer, no oncoming traffic could be on the bridge at the same time ‘cause there weren’t no room. The county commissioners was always makin’ noise ‘bout replacing it to make it easier to drive from Boise to Sawyer but shit like that cost money, and that were one thing that Long Valley residents was always short on.

  Thank God it weren’t too far of a drive from his house. The Narrows was right towards the end of the drive from Boise to Sawyer – it came up just before you exited the mountains and the road opened into the Long Valley floor, givin’ you plenty of room on either side of the road. The ironic thing was, in less than a mile down the road, Sarah woulda had to try to hit somethin’. Brooksy woulda been safe.

  And then the rest of what Aaron had said really hit him. Drunk. Sarah had been drunk with Brooksy in the car with her.

  “If you live through this, I swear to God, Sarah, I’m gonna kill you with my bare hands. If you hurt one hair on Brooksy’s head—” His hands were shakin’ as he tried to focus enough through the rage and fear inside of him to keep his own truck on the road. Running off the road and into a pine tree wouldn’t help no one.

  In the darkness, he saw the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles long before he heard the wail of the sirens. His thoughts had become an endless repeat – please God, please God, please God – because there weren’t nothin’ else he needed to add. God knew what to do from there.

  He pulled off the road and into a ditch, slamming his truck into park and cuttin’ the engine before taking off at a dead run towards the cluster of vehicles near the mouth of the bridge. Below the bridge were a real narrow and rocky gorge with plenty of rocks and pine trees to get impaled on, not to mention the river was runnin’ high with plenty of spring runoff to drown in.

  Please God, please God, please God—

  He saw Sheriff Connelly, his hat pushed back on his head as he talked to a group of men, and veered towards them. If he couldn’t find Aaron right off the bat, Sheriff Connelly was his second choice. He’d been sheriff in the county for years, and he knew just what to do in a crisis.

  “Where’s my Brooksy?” Elijah roared, his fists pumping as he practically flew towards the group. “Is she all right?”

  The sheriff reached out and grabbed Elijah before he could sprint past. “They got her out and are pulling her up now,” he said calmly. “She’s got a broken leg for sure; we don’t know what else at this point – maybe some internal injuries. She’s alive and she’s breathin’ but she ain’t conscious.”

  Elijah held himself together using every bit of self control that he knew he possessed, and some extra he didn’t even knowed he had. “Sarah,” he gasped around his lungs begging for air. He didn’t do many sprints around the school with his mop bucket, and sadly enough, his little dash had meant he was strugglin’ for breath. “How’s she doin’?”

  “Alive and well,” the sheriff said grimly. “People who’re drunk usually fair better in a crash than the sober ones because they’re so loose from being liquored up, they hardly get a scratch. She’s being checked out by the EMTs and then I’ll be taking her to the county jail. She blew a 1.4. Honestly, I think the injuries from the crash are gonna be the least of her worries. She might end up with alcohol poisoning.”

  “Good!” Elijah said bitterly. How had she even made it from Boise to here being that damn drunk? The legal limit were 0.8 for hell’s sakes. “I can’t believe…” He shook his head. There were a whole lot of things he couldn’t believe, startin’ with the fact that the judge had thought she was the better parent just ‘cause she had a pair of tits on her. “Where’s Brooksy bein’ pulled up?”

  The sheriff held up a cautionary hand. “I’ll walk you over there but you gotta stay outta the way of the men working. You ain’t gonna help your daughter by getting in their way. We clear?”

  Elijah nodded his head begrudgingly. As hard as it was to admit it, the sheriff was right. This was one time when someone else was the best person to take care of her.

  Unconscious…broken leg…internal injuries…The godawful list went ‘round and ‘round in his head as he followed the sheriff through the darkness over to where floodlights had been set up, shining down into the steep rocky side below. Please God, please God, please God…

  He heard the shouts of the men dimly, like someone had stuffed cotton into his ears and now he was wrapped up in the stuff. They were talkin’ about how her blood pressure weren’t good, and they was tryin’ to keep her neck still just in case she’d broken it, and all he could think was that he were real glad she weren’t awake for any of this. She would be terrified, strapped on her back to a board, being lifted up the side of a cliff in the dark, in pain and not knowing a soul around her…

  Please God, please God, please God…

  “Elijah!” He heard his name slurred through the darkness and knew without turnin’ that it were Sarah yellin’ for his attention. He ignored her and kept focused on the scene below him, the careful lifting of a flat board through the darkness and shadows. If he went to Sarah’s side right now, why, he might be tempted to wring her neck and then both of them would end up in jail. The last thing Brooksy needed right now were for the two of them to be idiots at the same damn time.

  “Keep that woman away from me,” he growled to the sheriff, “or I won’t be responsible for my actions, so help me God.”

  “Can’t say as I blame ya,” the sheriff said quietly, and then turned to Officer Rios. “Shut her up,” the sheriff barked. “I think she caused enough problems for one night.” The officer grabbed her arm and even through the darkness, Elijah could catch the panic and fear on Sarah’s face in the flash of the cop car lights as she were stuffed into the backseat, her hands cuffed behind her back.

  “Elij—” The slammed door in her face cut her off.

  Even as Elijah waited and prayed on the outside of the ring of men working to save his baby, he had to shake his head in wonder. Did Sarah honest to God think that he was gonna help her after she pert near killed their daughter? He knew she were self-centered but that just plain took the cake.

  Brooksy were gettin’ closer to the top and Elijah were prayin’ as hard as his soul would let him when he suddenly realized that he ain’t seen Aaron yet. “Where’s Officer Morland?” he asked the sheriff. “He called me and said he was on his way out here.”

  “He picked up a drunk driver on the way over,” the sheriff said with a grim s
mile. “Damn idiots can’t help themselves, I guess. He just radioed in that he’s almost here.”

  “Okay, careful, careful, carry her this way,” Chief Anderson said, carrying a floodlight and directing the men with the stretcher between them towards the ambulance.

  “Why’s the fire chief in charge of the EMTs?” Elijah asked, forcing himself not to rush to Brooksy’s side. He’d promised the sheriff he wouldn’t, and he weren’t about to do nothin’ to hurt his little girl, even if it meant not bein’ by her side.

  “He and the head of EMT swapped weekends to be on call. They thought it’d be a quiet weekend since the tourists haven’t started pouring in yet and it ain’t a holiday.” He gave Eli a grim smile. “They were wrong, of course.”

  They began sliding Brooksy’s small form into the ambulance, the flashing lights from every emergency vehicle lighting up the world in a bizarre pulsing disco light. “Elijah,” the fire chief called out, turning on his heel and finding him through the darkness, “you wanna ride with her to the hospital?”

  “Yes!” Elijah shouted, takin’ off at a dead run for the ambulance. He’d been forcing himself to hold back, and to finally be given permission to be there by her side – it were like someone had just told him he could breathe again. He scrambled into the back of the ambulance to find Jacob and Stu hunkered down beside her. They were both good guys that Elijah knew from high school, and he could only thank God that they was the ones takin’ care of her.

  “How is she?” he demanded. “Can I touch her?”

  “Sure, sure, just don’t knock any of the tubes out,” Jacob said with a gentle smile. Elijah worked his way past the tubes and fluids to hold onto her tiny, soft hand. Her dirty blonde hair was real dirty tonight – caked so thick with dirt and mud and blood, it were hard to even tell where her hair was. If Hannah were here, she’d be cluckin’ about cleaning her up.

  He pushed the thought away. Not now.

  “Her right leg is broken for sure,” Stu said as the ambulance started forward over the uneven ground slowly, the siren wailing in the pre-dawn darkness. “Until we get her to the hospital, we won’t know about anything internal. She could have a broken spine or internal bleeding and we wouldn’t have a—”

  “Stu,” Jacob said, interrupting him. “No use telling Elijah every damn thing that could be wrong with her, when we just don’t know.”

  “Right, right,” Stu said, sending Elijah a tight smile. “She’ll be fine, I’m sure.” He didn’t sound sure. “Kids heal fast,” he added as an afterthought.

  Not from broken spines, they don’t.

  Elijah squeezed Brooksy’s hand. “You hear that?” he whispered, his voice tryin’ to break from the tears pushin’ their way up his throat. “Stu said you’re gonna be fine, and he’s an EMT, so he knows what he’s talkin’ about.”

  “Well—” Stu said, when Jacob shot him a dirty look.

  “Stu, shut up,” he said baldly.

  Stu shut up.

  Elijah ignored them both. He knew they was lyin’ to him to try to make him feel better. He knew he was lyin’ to Brooksy, on the off chance she could hear him, so he could make her feel better.

  He knew all that, and didn’t give a rat’s ass that pert near nothin’ that anyone was sayin’ was true. His daughter was goin’ through hell right now and if lyin’ to her would make her one bit happier, he’d lie ‘til he was blue in the face.

  The ambulance sped up once it hit the blacktop, now that it were safe to go faster, but Elijah was still cursin’ under his breath at how slow it were goin’. Why even be given a gas pedal and a siren with lights if you wasn’t willin’ to go a hundred miles an hour when you needed to? Damned pansy-ass driver.

  After an eternity or seven, they pulled up to the ER and Stu told him gruffly to stay the hell outta the way while they unloaded Brooklyn. Elijah nodded and, reluctantly lettin’ go of her hand, shrunk himself as small as he could go into the corner. Whatever it took, that’s what he’d do.

  They unloaded the gurney and wheeled it through the ER doors, with Nurse Knutsen and Doctor Torgeson already there, ready to take over. “Is she allergic to anything?” Dr. Torgeson hollered at him.

  Elijah shook his head. “Nothin’,” he said.

  “Good.” They was pushin’ the cart back through some swingin’ double doors and Eli went to follow ‘em when the nurse shouted back at him, “You stay in the waiting room. Get your paperwork filled out.”

  Elijah stopped and stared after them, watchin’ until they turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

  Please God, please God, please God…

  There weren’t nothin’ else left for him to do.

  Again.

  Chapter 36

  Hannah

  She ran the curry brush over the mahogany flanks of Wildflower, shining in the early morning light. Many teachers spent their summers far away from where they worked, taking full advantage of being footloose and fancy free for a three whole months, but Hannah stayed right there in Sawyer. Summers for her meant lots of time on horseback, lots of time weeding the garden, and this summer, was turning out to mean lots of time crying.

  Not this morning, though. Why, it was almost seven in the morning and she hadn’t cried even once. That was pretty good, right?

  She stroked down the flanks of her gorgeous mare – and momma to Wild Rose – talking softly as she went. “I know you miss Dad,” she said as Wildflower snuffled in her hair, giving her a horsey kiss. “I’d take you to the center but somehow, I don’t think they want a horse there, pooping everywhere, even one as pretty as you.” Wildflower nickered softly at that, and Hannah chuckled. “You know you’re pretty, and that’s the problem. You don’t have to behave because you—”

  Her cell phone began vibrating in her pocket.

  She frowned, shoving the handle of the curry brush into her back pocket with one hand while pulling her cell phone out of her other back pocket with her other hand. A number was flashing on the screen that she didn’t recognize, but it was local, so she swiped to answer. “Hello, Hannah Lambert speaking,” she said formally, just as her parents had taught her to do since she was a small child.

  “Miss Lambert, it’s Officer Morland from Long Valley County.”

  “Of course, Aaron, how are you?” she asked politely, even as panic started to creep up her spine. Hannah and Aaron graduated from high school together. She darn well knew who the man was. He didn’t need to introduce himself like they hadn’t spent twelve years of their lives sitting in the same classroom as each other.

  So the fact that he was…

  A whole-body shiver ran over her and she clung to the phone, hoping against hope that this was going to be a phone call with good news and Aaron was introducing himself as a county cop because…

  Even her fevered imagination couldn’t come up with a good reason for it, and that definitely wasn’t a good sign.

  All formality disappeared as soon as Aaron started talking. “Sarah Morland was in a car wreck last night, a little after three in the mornin’. Drunk as a skunk, with Brooksy in the backseat of the Escalade.”

  Which was when the world disappeared down a long tunnel as Hannah struggled to keep it in focus.

  “Wha…” she stuttered, leaning against the flanks of Wildflower. Just like the day the principal had talked to her, the world started to go dark around the edges and Hannah was just sure her knees were going to give out.

  Still in cop mode, Aaron kept going. “Sarah is in jail, sleeping it off. Elijah is here at the hospital with Brooksy. She’s got a broken leg and they think she has a ruptured spleen. They’ve done a CT scan and she has internal bleeding. They’re doing emergency surgery now. They’re hoping to only take part of the spleen, depending on the damage, so we’ll see what happens when they’re done. Elijah—” Aaron let out a heavy sigh. “My idiotic brother thinks that I shouldn’t be calling you because of what happened at the school, but I told him to stop being a dumbass and call you. He would
n’t, so I did. You better get your ass down here, Hannah. My brother needs you, and so does Brooksy.”

  “Of course,” Hannah said mechanically, already pushing her body to move towards the house, closing the horse stall and barn door behind her as she went. She could hear Wildflower and Wild Rose nickering behind her, wanting to know why she hadn’t given them their oats yet, but she ignored them. No matter what they thought, they wouldn’t actually die if they didn’t get their oats today.

  But Brooklyn might die today.

  Hannah shoved the tears down. She could have a mental breakdown later.

  “I’m on my way now,” she promised, and hung up. She was wearing her old cowboy boots, covered in horse manure and straw, and her holey jeans she wore when she was cleaning out the stalls, oh, and she hadn’t bothered to put in her contacts that morning, but none of that mattered.

  Not right now.

  It wasn’t until she slid into her car that she realized that she still had the curry brush sticking out of her back pocket. Even as she threw her car into reverse, she wiggled the brush out and tossed it into the passenger seat. She tore through town as fast as she dared, wishing that she had a light she could throw on top of her car that’d allow her to bust through the only stoplight in town without slowing down.

  “Please God, please God, please God,” she chanted as she took a corner stupidly fast, hearing her tires squeal as she went. The cautious Hannah inside of her was terrified by the speeds she was driving inside the city limits of Sawyer, but she told Cautious Hannah to go fly a kite. “Brooksy needs you,” she said aloud. “And Elijah too.”

  After the world’s longest drive going approximately a thousand miles an hour or so, Hannah screeched to a stop outside of the Long Valley County Hospital and took off at a run towards the sliding ER doors, horse manure flying as her legs went pumping.