Chapter 48
Angel – Sarah McLachlan
Wilder
As Petey stampeded toward her, something must have jarred inside Tally’s head because at the very last second she jumped out of his path.
Yet, even though she had, the sound of her scream was like nothing I’d ever heard before.
A high-pitched shriek of pain and terror like the devil had shown himself to her.
My heart and lungs were crashing into each other, fighting furiously to surrender to the blackness that was enveloping me.
Stumbling down the hill, I careened to Tally, lying torn and bleeding on the ground.
The world tilted sideways, gravity pulling me toward her broken form with sickening inevitability.
Her shirt was torn, a huge angry gash in her side seeping dark red blood and her arm was at a strange angle.
Everything looked wrong. Broken. Destroyed.
The metallic scent of blood hit me, thick and choking.
“Brownie, baby. Look at me.” I wanted to drag her into my arms, to pull her against my chest, but I knew I couldn't move her.
Every instinct screamed at me to gather her up, to somehow absorb her pain into my own body.
She was deathly pale. Her skin had taken on a waxy, translucent quality that terrified me more than the blood.
Her lips parted on the last notes of her scream as she took shallow breaths.
Each one rattled, wet and labored. “Please Brownie, hang in there.”
My hands shook so violently I fumbled with my phone, trying three times to dial 911, screaming internally at myself to get it together. The screen was smeared with dirt and sweat, my fingers slipping uselessly across the glass.
“911 what's your emergency.”
I took a breath, steadying myself at least to give clear instruction on what we needed. My voice came out steadier than I felt, muscle memory from years of ranch emergencies taking over.
“Ambulance needed at The Last Creek Ranch. A bull injury. Deep gash left hand side. Left arm looks broken. Location is west of the main house, follow the track past the stables.”
“Sir, is the person still breathing?”
“The fucking person is my girlfriend. Yes she's breathing just get here.” Rage flared hot and sudden, burning through the icy fear.
“Sir I need to—”
“No, you damn well don't. Get someone here as soon as you can.”
“Do you see the bull? Is it—”
“We live on a ranch. We know how to deal with the bull. Just get the ambulance here.” As soon as I ended the call I dialed our emergency group number. My thumb hit the button so hard I nearly dropped the phone. My brothers answered almost immediately.
“Wild. What's wrong?” Nash demanded.
“Tally's…” I inhaled a sharp, terrified breath, “been gored by Petey. He's loose. Have called the medics but could do with some support here. I'm by the paddock.”
“I'm on the bull.” Gunner ended the call.
“I'll be with you in two minutes.” Nash left then and I was back to being alone.
I leaned closer to Tally, checking and hoping to every god that fucking existed that she was still breathing.
Her breath ghosted across my cheek, so faint I had to hold my own to feel it.
Too invested in her, I didn't look up when I heard feet thundering thinking it would be Nash.
When they carried on past me, I caught sight of whoever was running in the opposite direction.
They were dressed all in black, hood up, and desperate to get away.
The figure moved with purpose, not panic, someone who knew exactly what they'd done.
“Help me, you bastard,” I screamed. “Come back.”
It was pointless they just kept running and somewhere in the deep vestiges of my brain that wasn't on Tally, I knew they were responsible for something that had led to this. A flash of understanding cut through the fog, this wasn't an accident. There was nothing I could do, though, she needed me.
The bleeding had suddenly got worse, the deep claret of her shirt spreading wider and faster.
The fabric was sodden, heavy with blood that pooled beneath her in the dirt.
Pressing my hands to her wound, my heartbeat too fast. Her blood was warm, sickeningly warm, pulsing against my palms with each weak beat of her heart.
As the color continued to drain from her the harder I pushed against the gaping hole.
I could feel the torn edges of flesh beneath my fingers, the horrifying depth of the wound.
In the direction of the house, I heard a truck approach, and the relief hit me hard. “Someone's coming, baby. You're going to be okay, I promise.” I pressed my forehead to hers, willing my words to reach her wherever she'd gone.
My hope turned to horror when I heard the shrill scream of a child—Bertie.
Dread, cold and evil covered me, chilling me to my bones.
My stomach dropped, a second nightmare layering over the first. Please don't let Petey have hurt her too.
Then the engine of the truck started to rev and with a screech of tires I heard it scream away.
Getting further into the distance. The sound faded like hope dying.
Had whoever was driving it taken Bertie to the hospital?
Not bothering to wait for an ambulance. Blood started to seep between my fingers, and I lost all sense of what to do.
I couldn't stop it, couldn't save her, couldn't do anything but watch her slip away.
Panic started to rise as I tried to pace my thoughts.
Tried to calm myself enough to be able to help her.
My vision narrowed, tunneling down to just her face, her shallow breaths, the blood. And where the hell was Nash.
“Someone please!” I yelled as loud as I could. My throat was raw, my voice breaking on the last word.
Looking around, my eye caught sight of Bertie. She didn't appear hurt, but she was running toward me, her chest heaving with great wracking sobs. Her little face was streaked with tears, twisted in fear no child should ever know. Fuck please don't let it be Billy.
“Uncle Wilder,” she screamed. “Where's Daddy. I need Daddy. Momma is hurt.” As soon as she saw Tally lying on the floor, bleeding and broken, she pulled up short, her eyes wide with the terror of the scene in front of her. She made a small, wounded sound, like a puppy kicked too hard.
“What happened Bertie girl,” I managed to get out. “How is she hurt?” Please God don't let Lily be the victim of the bull, too. “Tell me sweetness.”
“He hurt her,” she sobbed. “He pulled her out of the truck and she's on the ground. Her face is bleeding and she's just lying there. What happened to Tally ho?” Her voice climbed higher with each word, hysteria threatening.
“She's going to be fine. Daddy is on his way here.” My hands were covered in her blood and my shirt soaked through.
The fabric clung to my chest, sticky and cold despite the heat of the day.
I was shaking so hard I could barely keep pressure on her wounds.
My arms burned with the effort, muscles screaming.
At that very second my brother came around running down the hill, his legs pumping like he was racing for a gold medal. As soon as he saw Bertie, he called out to her.
“Tally is going to be okay, Munchkin. I promise.”
“Daddy it's Momma. She's hurt.”
My brother’s face paled, like he was the one who'd been gored by a bull. His expression went slack with shock, then hardened into something dangerous.
“Go to her Nash.” I got this. “Some guy ran past me, and I think he stole Lily's truck.”
“It was Glenn, Daddy,” Bertie cried running toward Nash, her arms open wide. “Glenn was the man.”
My heart stopped and as the nausea rose it all clicked into place. The pieces fell together with sickening clarity, each little oddity suddenly making terrible sense. The messages, the cabin break-in, all of it. We'd been right about him. He'd been here all the time.
Nash's jaw clenched as he picked up his daughter. His arms tightened around her protectively, his whole body radiating fury. “We'll get him Wild. I'll get someone to come to you. Hold tight.”
As I waited alone, pleading and praying that my beautiful girl survived I wondered who wanted to kill that piece of shit more.
Me or my brother. The only comfort I got was that I could hear Petey's bellowing getting farther away, sounding like he was heading toward the creek.
The sound echoed across the valley, mournful and distant.
Tally's breathing suddenly changed. It sounded shallower and her lips seemed blue.
A thin rim of purple traced her mouth, spreading like frost. “No, no, no.
Stay with me, Brownie. Don't you dare leave me now.” I moved my head closer to hers, desperate to hear her breathing.
Her breath barely stirred the air between us, fading like a whisper.
“I won't accept anything but you fighting this.
Okay. You fight, okay, because I won't lose you.
I can't.” I inhaled, ragged and broken. My chest hitched, tears finally breaking free, hot against my cheeks.
“I love you, baby, so damn much.” The words tore out of me, confession and prayer all at once.
“We've got a female, age twenty-five, trampled by a bull,” the lead paramedic called to his partner as they worked.
His voice was clinical, professional, reducing Tally to a set of injuries and I wanted to scream at him to call her by her name.
She was Tally. My Tally. “Possible internal bleeding from side lacerations, definite compound fracture to the left arm, multiple lacerations to left leg.”
It felt like I was watching a movie, or maybe I was on another plane, looking down on everything.
The colors seemed too bright, the sounds too sharp and too muffled all at once.
Whatever it was, it didn't feel real. My body was here but my mind had disconnected, floating somewhere above the carnage. This wasn't happening to me. To her.
“BP's dropping,” the second medic replied, checking her vitals. “Ninety over sixty and falling.” The numbers meant nothing and everything. I didn't understand them but I heard the urgency beneath his calm.
“Sir, I need you to step back,” the first paramedic said firmly to me. His hand came up, a gentle barrier between me and Tally. “What's her name?”
Cassidy took my arm and led me back a pace, her touch bringing me back to reality.
Her fingers were steady where mine trembled, anchoring me when I wanted to float away.
Waking me to the nightmare. She'd arrived minutes after Nash left, armed with towels to try and stem Tally's bleeding but the horror in her expression told me she thought it might be hopeless.
I'd seen that look before, the one people got when they were watching something die.
I wanted to yell at her that it was a lie; to demand she take back the unspoken words, but I couldn't. My throat had closed the words trapped behind the weight of terror. I didn't know how to.
“Tally. Tally Brown.” My voice cracked on her name. It came out broken, barely recognizable as my own. “Tallulah but she prefers Tally.” Even now, even like this, I needed them to know her, to see her as a person and not just a body.
“Tally, can you hear me? I'm Jake, and we're going to take good care of you.” He looked up at me. His eyes were kind but guarded, already preparing me for the worst without saying it. “Any allergies? Medical conditions we should know about?”
“N-no, nothing. S-she's... she's going to be o-k-kay, right?” My teeth chattered despite the heat, shock setting in with icy claws. Shivering I was barely able to get the words out through lips that felt numb and foreign.
“We're going to do everything we can. Which hospital do you want us to take her to?” He didn't promise. He didn't lie. Somehow that made it worse.
“Nearest trauma center,” I managed. The words tasted like ash.
“That's Regional Medical. Are you riding with us?”
I nodded, unable to speak as they loaded her stretcher into the ambulance. The wheels rattled against the metal floor, each bump making me flinch, imagining her pain.
“Go.” Cassidy ushered me forward. Her hand pressed between my shoulder blades, propelling me when my legs wouldn't move. “Nash took Lily in my car so you might see him there. I'll let everyone else know.” Her voice was thick with unshed tears.
“The bull,” I muttered. The words came automatically; ranch safety drilled into me since childhood. “You need to be careful, Cass.”
“Gunner has it covered, he's got the tranquilizer gun. Petey ran past the stables toward the creek. Go.” She practically pushed me into the ambulance.
“Tom, start an IV, wide bore. And get me another pressure bandage. She's also got a minor leg wound.” Jake called out as we climbed in. I watched him work, his hands swift and sure, doing things I couldn't name to the woman I loved.
“Got it. ETA to Regional is twelve minutes.” Twelve minutes. A lifetime. An eternity. Not nearly enough time.
The doors slammed shut, and we were moving, sirens wailing as my world hung in the balance.
Inside the ambulance, the sound was deafening, a scream that matched the one trapped in my chest. The vehicle swayed and bounced, and I gripped the bench seat so hard my knuckles went white.
Through it all, Tally lay still, too still, her chest barely rising beneath the oxygen mask they'd strapped to her face.
The rhythmic beep of the monitor was the only thing that told me she was still here, still fighting, still mine to lose.