Montoya's Heart

by Bonnie Gardner

  Stretching his arm as far as he could, Rance reached for the ignition. If he could just turn off the engine, it might not catch fire—as long as the spilled gasoline didn’t make contact with the hot engine. His straining fingers found the key. He turned it.

  Switching off the machine was just enough motion to cause the tractor to shift. Rance was still trapped, but now more of the weight of the tractor pressed down on him. After each attempt to free himself, Rance only felt wedged tighter. Finally, he gave up and lay still.

  Rance flexed his fingers, then systematically tested the rest of his extremities. He hurt like hell, but he could still move everything, so he guessed nothing was broken. And he didn’t think he was in any danger of losing consciousness, though a nap would sure help pass the time.

  Rance closed his eyes and forced himself to relax. He cursed his stupidity and set his mind for a long wait.

  He hoped Maggie would be on time.

  Or early.

  Chapter 6

  The old-fashioned ice-cream maker made a comfortable sound as it chugged and turned. Cranking the machine was one of the few chores the kids didn’t complain about. In fact, they even patiently took turns. There was definitely something to be said about the positive reinforcement of homemade cherry-chocolate-chip ice cream, when it came to doing chores.

  Maggie finished freshening her makeup and fluffed her hair. When she surveyed her appearance in the mirror, she was well pleased with the result. “Definitely okay for an old widow woman with kids,” she told her reflection.

  In just a few more minutes, they would be off to Rance’s for dinner. She knew it wasn’t really a date, but maybe they would get a chance to finish what they’d started yesterday. A thrill of anticipation ran down her spine as she remembered the way his hooded eyes had seemed to simmer as he lowered his head toward her. She was definitely looking forward to the date.

  Then she glanced toward her children, still working with the ice-cream machine. You couldn’t call a dinner with two young chaperons a date, but it was close enough. And this was the first time since Chet died that she’d even had half an interest in someone of the opposite sex. Maggie smiled and headed for the kitchen. Maybe Tess had been right, after all. Maybe she did need a man.

  “Mom, can we have some ice cream now?” Jennifer asked. She never could wait until after a meal for dessert.

  Laughing, Maggie said the same thing she told her daughter time after time after time. “Dessert is for after you eat, not a warm-up.”

  Jen looked up as Maggie crossed into the living room. She grinned. “Just once, I wish you’d say yes.”

  Maggie grinned back. “Maybe just once I will. But not today. I promised Mr. Montoya we’d bring dessert. How would it look if half of it was gone before we got there?”

  “It would look like it was real good ice cream,” Buddy said as he looked up from his cranking duties.

  Maggie laughed. “I bet it would.” She bent over to check what Buddy had done. “A couple more cranks and it’ll be perfect,” she said when she’d straightened up again.

  Buddy made two fast turns with the crank and stood. “Done,” he announced with finality. “Let’s go.”

  “I’m ready. How about you two?”

  As the kids scurried off to wash up and comb their hair, Maggie finished getting the ice cream ready, scraping the frozen confection from the big wooden paddles and covering the drum. In a moment, the kids reappeared with clean faces. Buddy dripped with water from freshly combed hair, and Jennifer had fluffed her carrot red bangs.

  “Last one in the car’s a rotten egg,” Maggie said challengingly, knowing she would be last. She smiled and looked at the clock as she left the house. They would be a couple of minutes early. She hoped Rance wouldn’t mind.

  The sun had sunk low enough in the trees that it was no longer shining in his eyes. Rance couldn’t see his watch, because of the way his right arm was pinned beneath him, so he didn’t know how long he’d been lying there, but it had definitely been a long time. He squinted, trying to gauge the time by the position of the sun in the afternoon sky. He guessed it was getting close to time for Maggie and her children to arrive. The two hours he estimated he’d waited had stretched out like two eternities. Please don’t let her be late, he prayed.

  A sound came from the road beyond the trees, and hope soared. It was a car, but it kept going. Rance grunted a curse when he realized that his wait was not yet over, then grimaced in pain. Damn. He must be hurt a lot worse than he’d thought.

  Rance twisted his head at another sound. Rusty had wandered over from somewhere. Where had she been all this time? Even if the dog couldn’t do anything to help, it was reassuring to feel her wet nose nuzzling his cheek. He reached out to pet her.

  “I can’t feed you right now, Rusty girl. But it sure is good to have you here to keep me company.”

  Rusty whimpered soft and low and curled up protectively beside him.

  Rance closed his eyes, grateful for Rusty’s comforting presence. It couldn’t be much longer now.

  Another sound brought his eyes wide open, and Rusty leaped to her feet. Another car. And, judging from the sound of it, this one had turned into the myrtle-shaded lane. Rance breathed another sigh, remembering to keep it shallow, because his ribs hurt like hell.

  Maggie heard Rusty’s agitated barking before she saw the tractor lying on its side. Then it took her a long moment to recognize the significance of what she saw. She looked cautiously around but didn’t see anybody, and she hoped that was a good sign.

  She slammed the car to a stop and simultaneously cut off the engine. Then she flung open the door. Praying Rance was inside the house, she called to him.

  A voice answered her from the vicinity of the tractor, and Maggie knew her prayer had not been answered. Concern rushed through her, replaced quickly by relief. Rance was alive. But how badly was he hurt? She raced to the source of the voice.

  “I thought you’d never get here,” Rance said calmly when Maggie came to a halt and looked down at him. Her hand flew to her mouth too slowly to stifle her gasp of dismay.

  “I don’t think I’m hurt too bad. Just pinned.” Rance shifted his body and winced as the tractor settled on him.

  “You are hurt.” Maggie knelt beside him and, for lack of anything else to do, felt his forehead. It was as cool as could be expected, considering it was the middle of July and he had been lying outside for who knew how long in the afternoon heat.

  Rance grasped her fingers with his one free hand. “I’ll be all right,” he said calmly, taking shallow breaths. “You and Buddy have to find a fence post or something to use to pry this thing off me.”

  Of course. Archimedes. Long-forgotten principles of physics came back to her as Maggie scanned the grounds for something to lever the heavy tractor off Rance.

  Buddy and Jennifer appeared at Maggie’s side, and their appearance spurred Maggie into action. “Jen, run home and call Grandpa and tell him what’s happened.”

  The girl raced back toward the road.

  “Buddy, do you know where you can find some rails or pipe or something to use to lift this off?”

  “I think so.” Buddy dashed off toward the shed.

  “I need something to use as a fulcrum,” Maggie muttered as she searched the yard for a rock or something that would work.

  “There’s a heavy metal tool chest in the shed,” Rance said, his breath raspy. It was obvious to Maggie that he was trying mightily to hide his discomfort.

  “I’ll get it” Maggie raced for the outbuilding.

  It took only a moment to locate the toolbox. Longer to get it to the tractor. It was too heavy for Maggie to lift, and she kicked it in frustration. The contents rattled inside, suggesting to her that she empty out all the heavy tools.

  It took two more minutes to toss out the contents and close it up. Straining with its empty weight, Maggie reached the tractor just as Buddy appeared, dragging a length of cut pine tree.

  �
��I knew I’d find a use for that trash wood eventually,” Rance murmured with a weak grin.

  Was he getting weaker? The shallow, breathy quality of Rance’s voice worried Maggie, urging her on.

  Frantically trying to remember her long-forgotten physics lessons, she told Buddy what to do. Soon they had the toolbox and the log in position.

  But would it work? There was only one way to find out.

  “Rance, I don’t know whether I’ll be able to right this thing. Do you think you could push yourself out if Buddy and I just lift it a little bit?”

  “Yeah,” Rance grunted. “All I need is for you to raise it a couple of inches. Then I think I can slide free.”

  Maggie tried to calm herself. Her racing heart was tiring fast. She took a deep breath. “Okay, Buddy. On three.”

  She counted. They pushed. Nothing happened.

  Calm down, Maggie ordered herself desperately. “We can do this. Archimedes said he could move the world. All we need to do is move one crummy tractor.” She pushed the toolbox closer to the giant wheel and repositioned the log.

  Maggie took several deep breaths. “Again on three,” she said, her voice raspy. Again she counted.

  This time adrenaline surged through her veins and into her straining muscles. She could feel the tractor give. “Push, Buddy, push!” she shouted as she put all her weight on the straining tree trunk.

  “Just a little more,” came Rance’s calming voice.

  Tears filled Maggie’s eyes. Where would she find the strength?

  “Push, Mom.” Buddy’s face was red from exertion.

  “Hold it there. I think I can slide out now.”

  Maggie held her breath as she watched Rance ease himself carefully from beneath the heavy machine and roll over onto his stomach. He grunted with pain, but Maggie couldn’t go to his aid.

  They had to lower the tractor slowly, so that it wouldn’t bounce back onto Rance’s prone body. Muscles screamed in agony as Maggie and Buddy lowered the tractor to the ground.

  Weak with exhaustion and relief, Maggie sank to the dirt beside Rance. She couldn’t have held on to that log another second, and she knew her legs wouldn’t hold her up now.

  “Thank God we got you out.” Maggie closed her eyes and leaned her head against the huge black tractor tire that had so recently been Rance’s prison.

  “No. Thank you,” Rance whispered softly.

  Of course, it had been unrealistic to expect he would be able to get up and walk away, but Rance was unprepared for the weakness he felt. He flexed his muscles, systematically testing his body parts again, now that he was freed of the weight of the tractor. Good. Everything still worked.

  Nothing major appeared to be broken, but he was afraid that his ribs needed attention. Breathing still hurt, in spite of his release from the crushing pressure of the heavy machine, and that was not good. Rance took a deep, slow breath, gradually testing his limits. It was easier to breathe now that the weight was gone, but still painful.

  “Damn!”

  Maggie opened her eyes and turned slowly toward him. “Did you say something?”

  Rance looked at Maggie long and hard. Even with sweat beading her brow and her face grim with fatigue, she was beautiful. He hadn’t realized he had spoken the curse out loud.

  “I think I’m going to have to get my ribs checked out.” Rance grimaced as the effort to talk increased the pain. “I think I may have broken one or two.” A sound distracted him, making him turn painfully around. He pushed himself to his side and winced from the sudden movement as he recognized Joe Popwell’s battered fishing truck. “And I guess this means we’ll have to postpone our dinner.”

  Maggie scrambled to her feet without acknowledging his remark, and Rance felt vaguely disappointed that she hadn’t acted a little upset that the date had fallen through. “It’s Daddy.” She waved and looked back down at Rance.

  “He had medical training in the army. Maybe he should check you out.”

  “Couldn’t hurt,” Rance muttered. Talking was definitely not helping.

  Buddy rolled over from where he lay on the ground and clambered to his feet. He hurried away. In a moment, Rance heard him filling in the old man on what they’d done.

  Rance tried to push himself upright, but fell back quickly. Even that slight effort had left him panting and bathed in sweat. Damn, he hated feeling helpless like this.

  Popwell sauntered over and squatted down beside him. “Hell, boy. Didn’t nobody ever tell you not to drive one of these things down a hill slantwise?” His wrinkled face settled into a frown as he peered down at Rance. “Can you move, son?”

  “Yeah,” Rance grunted. “I hurt like hell, though.”

  “I’d be more worried if you couldn’t feel nothin’,” Joe commented as he began a systematic examination of Rance’s extremities.

  It was okay until the old man started poking around his ribs. Rance thought he would pass out. Though cold sweat oozed from every pore, he managed to remain conscious. “Careful.” He ground out the word. “I think they’re broken.”

  “You prob’ly right.” Joe shoved himself to his feet. “It’ll take as long to get an ambulance out here as it would to take you to town. You up to it?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not much of one,” Maggie said, from a position somewhere near her father’s elbow. “Let’s get you into my van. With the seat reclined, you shouldn’t be too uncomfortable.”

  “Okay. Let’s do it.” Rance tried to push himself to his feet.

  Then everything went black.

  How she managed to make the drive to Pittsville without major traffic violations, Maggie didn’t know. She probably had broken more than one speed law, but nobody had caught her, and nobody had stopped her. As far as she was concerned, that was all that mattered. She forced herself to slow the van as she approached the Pittsville city limits.

  Just a few more minutes, and she would be there. Maggie glanced at Rance, and saw that his face was pale beneath his tan. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel as she waited for a light to change. He had regained consciousness shortly after they got him into the van, but he hadn’t spoken for miles. Maggie looked again. His chest moved slightly. At least he was still breathing.

  Maggie steered carefully around a corner, and the twelve-bed Pittsville Community Hospital came into sight. Hospital zone be damned, Maggie thought. She pulled into the driveway in front of the emergency entrance and leaned on the horn. She would gladly pay the fine.

  Two white-clad orderlies and a man in surgical scrubs burst through the door in response to Maggie’s desperate honking. Maggie punched the button and sent Rance’s window down as one of the orderlies approached.

  “He’s been in a tractor accident! Possible broken ribs!” she shouted.

  One of the men tugged open the van door, while the other ran back inside. The man in scrubs looked Rance over. He looked at Maggie. “We were told to expect you.”

  The second orderly reappeared, pushing a gurney. The two orderlies quickly and efficiently removed Rance from the van and lowered him to the gurney. The next moment, they hurried him inside, followed by the scrub-clad doctor.

  Maggie sat all alone in the van in the driveway.

  “Maggie. Maggie?” Rance mumbled, fading in and out of consciousness.

  “Your wife is fine, Mr. Montoya. She’s in the waiting room.”

  She was waiting for him. Rance liked the sound of that. It had a sort of warm, fuzzy feeling. But there was something wrong with what the doctor had said, he knew. He tried to shake the fog from his mind, but couldn’t get the haze to clear. And the last thought he had before he succumbed to darkness was that he didn’t want the warm, fuzzy feeling to end.

  A man in a lab coat pushed through a set of swinging doors at the end of the waiting room. He peeled out of his gloves and scanned until his eyes fell on Maggie, curled in a hard plastic chair. He quickly crossed the room.

  “Mrs. Montoya? I’m
Dr. McDaniel.”

  “I’m not Mrs. Montoya, but I’m the one you’re looking for.” Maggie scrambled to her feet. “Is Rance all right?”

  “Excuse me. I just assumed...”

  “It’s okay.” Being married to Rance wasn’t the worst thing she could imagine. And it was a pleasant enough notion, one she hadn’t considered before. “How is Rance?”

  “He was very lucky. He’s got a couple of cracked ribs and lots of contusions. His excellent physical condition made a big difference.”

  Maggie closed her eyes and sighed. “Can he go home?”

  “I’d like to keep him overnight, but he won’t have anything to do with the idea. I was hoping you could convince him to stay.”

  “I’ll try.”

  McDaniel led the way back through the swinging doors.

  Judging from Rance’s position, nothing Maggie could say would convince him to stay the night in the hospital. He was on his feet, face white with pain, hugging his taped ribs with one hand and trying to tug on the remains of his shirt with the other.

  Rance looked up as Maggie and the doctor entered the examining cubicle. “The doc says I can go home if I have somebody to stay with me,” he announced through clenched teeth.

  “That’s not what he told me,” Maggie countered, alarmed. “You should stay here, where people know what they’re doing.” Already, one side of Rance’s body, visible above the tape around his chest, was purpling with bruised tissue.

  “It’s just a precaution. They can’t make me stay.” Rance grimaced as he tried to tuck in his shirt. “I want to go home.”

  Maggie shot a panicked look at the doctor. “Would it be dangerous if he went home?”

  “It could be. But I can’t force him to stay.”

  “If you’re worried about malpractice, I’ll sign a release,” Rance argued. “Anything. Just let me go. Maggie can stay with me.”

  “But I’m not a nurse.” I’m not even his wife. What business do I have taking care of him? Maggie looked over at Rance. He shouldn’t be able to stand, yet he did.