Chapter Nine
“I’ll be right there.” Connor headed for the lift. On the chair, he radioed Anders and asked him to meet him at the top of the run.
Calico Hill was a black run that featured a series of roller-coaster hills and expansive views of the distant valley.
Connor collected a sled from the ski patrol shack near the top of the lift and traversed a catwalk to the beginning of the run.
He spotted the crowd gathered as he came over the first rise.
Someone had placed a pair of crossed skis above the injured skier to warn others to steer clear.
He had just moved in to assess the injured man when Anders joined him. Anders made the crowd move farther away while Connor knelt beside the man, who was on his back in the snow, writhing in pain. “I’m Connor with ski patrol. What’s your name?”
“It’s Brady.” Connor looked up at a tall, thin man who spoke. He was dressed in a silver-and-red skin suit, and with his red stocking cap he reminded Connor of a pipe-cleaner figure.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Connor asked.
“I think he must have caught an edge. One minute he was skiing fine, then he just went over.” He made a somersaulting gesture with his hands.
“My leg,” Brady groaned. He was clutching his right leg above the knee.
“Let me see,” Connor said. He laid one hand on Brady’s chest. “Just take a deep breath and try to relax.”
“Don’t touch it!” Brady said. “It really hurts.”
“I’ve got to get a look at it before we move you,” Connor said. He looked up at pipe-cleaner man. “Help your friend stay calm.”
The friend knelt at Brady’s head. “I wish I had caught you on video,” he said. “You were flying down that hill. It was really spectacular.”
Brady closed his eyes and groaned, but he didn’t try to fight Connor and Anders as they cut away his ski pants to reveal the swollen knee beneath. “Classic,” Anders said.
Connor nodded. The orthopedics docs would have to confirm, but he had seen enough ACL tears in his time to recognize one. “Let’s get a splint on it and get this guy transported.” He radioed for Lily to bring a splint while Anders called for an ambulance to meet them at the bottom of the run.
Twenty minutes later, he was skiing down the run, Brady bundled securely in the sled. Negotiating the steep run with the heavy sled required brute strength. By the time they reached the bottom of the run, Connor was sweating and breathing hard.
“I’ll run this back up to the patrol shack,” Anders said, taking the empty sled.
“Thanks.” Connor unzipped his jacket and took a long drink of water. His radio buzzed and he answered. “Donaldson.”
“I’m over here on Maid Marion with a situation.” Nina’s voice was low, as if she was trying not to be overheard.
“What kind of situation?” Connor asked.
“I’ve got a nine-year-old girl with an injured arm. She was injured in a collision with a snowboarder who looks to be about thirteen. The snowboarder is crying. Both fathers are here, and they’re shouting at each other. We’re drawing quite a crowd.”
“I’ll be right over.” He zipped up his jacket and headed for the beginner’s area. On the way, he radioed for all available patrollers to report to the scene.
Maid Marion was a green run in an area dubbed Sherwood Forest which catered to families, with a treed area that featured cartoon cutouts and a ski-through play area.
Connor heard shouting before he found the accident site.
At least a dozen skiers encircled two men, who faced off, each with bloody noses.
Nina stood between them, glaring at each man in turn.
As Connor maneuvered his way through the spectators, she said, “You two ought to be ashamed of yourselves. What kind of example are you setting for your children?”
One of them muttered an obscenity, and the other man responded in kind. They lunged toward each other. Connor grabbed the nearest man by the collar, while Brian stepped up to take hold of the second man. Connor got in his captive’s face. “Sit. Now!”
“He attacked my kid.”
“I said sit! My job is to look after these children, not two grown men who should know better.”
Both men sat, though they were still shouting at each other. Connor ignored them and turned to the children. The boy was sitting beside the girl, tears streaking his face. “I didn’t mean to hit her,” he said, as soon as Connor approached. “I wasn’t going that fast, I promise. I didn’t see her.”
“It’s okay.” The girl, four feet tall with brown pigtails, was pale but calm, cradling her left arm. “I shouldn’t have been standing where I was.” She looked up at Connor. “It was just an accident.”
“Her dad said I could go to jail,” the boy said, and his lip trembled.
Connor knelt in front of the girl. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Stella Chandler.”
“Stella, can I take a look at your arm?”
“I think it’s broken,” the girl said. “I heard a pop and it hurts a lot. I think I even fainted for a minute.”
The boy groaned and buried his head in his hands.
“What happened?” Connor gently took the girl’s arm. Removing her jacket would hurt too much, and he hated to upset her more by cutting off her pretty pink jacket. He would leave that to the medical staff.
“I stopped to look for my dad,” she said. “He was skiing ahead of me.”
“Where did you stop?” Connor asked.
“Right here where we’re sitting.”
He looked up the slope. Anyone coming from above wouldn’t have been able to see the girl until they were over the hill. A less experienced skier or boarder probably wouldn’t have been able to stop in time to avoid hitting her. “What are you going to do?” the girl asked.
“I’m going to strap your arm to your body to hold it really still,” Connor said. “That way, it will hurt less. Then we’re going to put you in a toboggan and wrap you up warmly, and you’ll get a free ride down to the clinic where a doctor can examine you and decide what to do next. Is that okay?”
She nodded. “But what are you going to do about my dad?”
Connor followed her gaze to the man with the dark mustache who glared at him. “Mr. Chandler, we need to stabilize Stella’s arm, then transport her via toboggan to the clinic at the base area,” he said. “Can you ski down behind us?”
“What are you going to do about him?” Chandler jutted a finger toward the boy.
Connor looked to the snowboarder. “What’s your name?”
“Aiden Welch.”
“Aiden, you did the right thing,” Connor said. “You took responsibility, and you stayed with Stella.”
“He could have killed her,” Chandler roared.
“Aiden, you know the skier’s safety code says you’re always responsible for being aware of skiers or boarders in front of or downhill from you,” Connor said.
The boy nodded. “I know. But I didn’t see her until it was too late.”
“That’s why it’s important to be extra cautious when coming over blind hills.” It was a lesson a lot of people learned the hard way.
“It really wasn’t his fault,” Stella said. “It’s not like he plowed into me on purpose.”
“Aiden, will you promise me to be more careful in the future?” Connor asked.
“Yes, sir. I promise.”
“Then I’m letting you off with a warning today. But don’t let it happen again.”
“A warning!” Chandler shouted. “I’ll sue.”
“You’re the one who should have been watching out for your child,” Mr. Welch said. “Instead of skiing ahead of her.”
Both men were on their feet again. Brian and Nina moved in.
“Need some more help?” Patroller Renee Castro knelt across from Connor. Petite and wiry, Castro was the smallest—and fastest—patroller.
“Let’s get this arm wrapped,” Connor said.
“I’ll take care of her,” Renee said. “You get the sled ready.”
“Daddy!” Stella wailed.
Chandler turned toward her. “What is it, sweetie?”
“I need you!”
Chandler glanced back at Welch, who stood with one hand on the boy’s shoulder, then he moved to kneel beside Stella. “It’s okay, honey,” he said. “It’s going to be all right.”
Renee wrapped the arm with a minimum of tears, and they arranged Stella comfortably in the sled. “I’ll take her down,” Renee volunteered. She stepped between the handles of the sled.
“Let me get my skis back on,” Chandler said and hurried to follow his daughter.
Connor moved over to Aiden and his dad. “It might be a good idea to call it a day,” he said.
“Are you taking my pass?” the boy asked.
“No. I’m just saying take it easy the rest of the day.” Connor nodded to the dad. “Get some ice on that nose.”
Welch looked sheepish. “Yeah.”
By the time Connor made his way slowly to the base area, the lifts were shutting down for the day. He released Farley from his kennel, and the dog ran circles around him. The patrollers gathered for their final sweep of the runs.
“Stella’s arm is in a splint, and she’ll probably get a cast from the orthopedist in the morning,” Renee reported. “It’s a greenstick fracture, should heal fine.” She grinned. “And Dad has a broken nose and two black eyes.”
“I guess when your kid is hurt it’s natural to see red,” Connor said. “Hopefully he’ll think twice before taking a swing if it happens again.”
Darkness was descending by the time Connor and Farley headed home. He had just enough time to grab a bite to eat, shower and change before he picked up Stacy. Whatever happened at the bar, it would be nothing compared to the day he’d had.
When the condo’s doorbell sounded, Stacy raced into the living room. “I’ll get it!” she shouted, then forced herself to slow to a walk. Where had that flashback to a teenager come from? She blamed it on living with her father again.
She checked the security peephole and found Connor looking back at her. She unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Hey.”
“Hey.” This was a different Connor on her doorstep—black slacks and an Irish fisherman’s sweater, freshly shaved and hair combed and styled. He even smelled good—something spicy. “You look great,” he said.
She resisted the urge to smooth the black knit dress over her black tights and short boots. “Thanks. Um, come in. I’ll just get my purse.”