Chapter Three #2
"Your car is upside down," I blurted out, then immediately felt stupid. Knox always teased me about my "special talent" for saying exactly what everybody could already see. But words got tangled up in my head when I was nervous, and stating the obvious was sometimes all I could manage.
Deputy Dan blinked slowly, looking around like he was just noticing his situation. "Hydroplaned," he mumbled, trying to move and wincing.
Hydroplaned. The word bounced around in my head. I pictured airplanes made of water skimming across the sky. That couldn't be right. Maybe it meant his car had tried to fly and failed.
"Don't move," I said, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounded. "I'm gonna help you."
I moved around to the side where the door was partially open, fighting against the mud that tried to suck my boots in with every step.
The door groaned when I pulled it wider, metal scraping against metal in a way that made my teeth hurt.
Rain immediately poured into the car, plastering Deputy Dan's hair to his forehead.
"Can you undo your seatbelt?" I asked, crouching down so we were face to face—though his face was still upside down.
He fumbled at the clasp with fingers that didn't seem to be working right. I watched him struggle for a moment before gently moving his hand away.
"Let me," I said softly.
I reached across him, trying to be careful not to bump his head or hurt him more.
Being this close to Deputy Dan made my insides fizz like soda, but I pushed those feelings down deep.
This wasn't the time for that. The belt release clicked, and I quickly put my arm under his shoulders to keep him from falling onto the roof of the car.
"I got you," I promised, easing him down as gently as I could.
He groaned when his body twisted, and I froze, afraid I'd hurt him. "Did I hurt you? I'm sorry if I hurt you."
"No," he said through gritted teeth. "Just sore. Think I might have... cracked a rib."
I nodded, understanding. Pa had cracked ribs last year when he fell off the barn roof, and he'd made those same tight-faced expressions for weeks.
Getting Deputy Dan out of the car was like one of those puzzle games Ransom sometimes played—where you had to figure out how to move something through a space that seemed too small.
I talked the whole time, explaining each move before I made it, asking if he was okay, apologizing when he winced.
I wasn't usually so chatty, but it seemed important to keep him awake and to warn him before I touched him.
"Almost there," I said as I carefully maneuvered his legs through the door frame. "Just need to... there we go."
Finally, he was free of the car and sitting on the wet ground beside it, leaning heavily against my side. I kept one arm around his shoulders, afraid he might topple over if I let go.
Despite the rain and mud and blood on his forehead, I could still smell that pine soap he used—the kind from the general store that reminded me of the woods after rainfall. Being this close to him made my heart trip over itself like a newborn foal learning to walk.
I noticed things I'd never been near enough to see before—the tiny scar near his right eyebrow, the way his eyelashes clumped together when wet, how his jaw had that light stubble that appeared late in the day.
"Thank you," he said, looking up at me with eyes that seemed to have trouble focusing. "How'd you find me?"
I shrugged, not knowing how to explain about the chickens and the twisty feeling and the invisible string that had pulled me here. "Just had a feeling," I said instead. "Something wasn't right."
He tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace. "Lucky for me."
Rain continued to pour down around us, soaking through my yellow jacket and making Deputy Dan shiver against me. I needed to get him somewhere dry, somewhere warm.
"We should call for help," I said, remembering the walkie-talkie in my pocket. I pulled it out, but when I pressed the button, all I got was static. The storm was interfering with the signal.
Deputy Dan patted his pockets weakly. "Radio... in the car. Phone too."
I glanced back at the overturned patrol car. The rain was coming down harder now, filling the car like a fish tank. Even if the radio was still working, it would be underwater soon.
"We need to get you out of this rain," I decided, looking around for shelter. The nearest structure was our old hunting cabin, but that was at least a mile away through dense woods. The homestead was closer, maybe half that distance, but it would mean carrying Deputy Dan through the storm.
As if reading my mind, he tried to push himself to his feet. "I can walk," he insisted, but his legs wobbled beneath him, and he would have fallen if I hadn't caught him.
I held him steady, his body feeling small and fragile against mine despite him being a grown man. Something protective woke up inside me—the same feeling I got when I found an injured animal or when the spring lambs were born during a cold snap. I needed to keep him safe.
"I got you," I said again, my voice firm and certain now. "Just lean on me."
I looked more closely at Deputy Dan's face and my stomach did a flip-flop.
Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, mixing with rainwater and running down the side of his face in thin pink streams. It wasn't gushing, but head wounds always looked worse than they were—at least that's what Ma always said when one of us boys came in bleeding.
"You're hurt," I said, reaching out without thinking and then pulling my hand back, afraid to touch him where it might cause pain.
Deputy Dan raised his fingers to his forehead and winced when they came away red. "Hit my head when the car flipped," he said, his words a little slurred around the edges. "Doesn't feel too bad."
But his eyes weren't focusing right, and I remembered what Ma had told Knox when he'd fallen from the hay loft and knocked himself silly.
"Head wounds are tricky," she'd said, shining a flashlight in Knox's eyes.
"The brain can swell up inside with nowhere to go.
You've got to watch for confusion, sleepiness, pupils different sizes. "
I didn't know how to check Deputy Dan's pupils, but the way he was blinking slow and heavy worried me. He needed to be inside, dry and warm, with someone who knew about head injuries looking after him.
"We need to get you out of this rain," I said, trying to sound calm and sure like Knox would. "The farmhouse isn't too far. Ma will know what to do."
I slipped my arm around his waist and tried to help him stand. He leaned against me, but when he put weight on his legs, they wobbled like a newborn calf's, and he nearly toppled over.
"Whoa there," I said, steadying him. "You okay?"
He shook his head slightly, then grimaced like even that small movement hurt. "I'm... I'm not going to be much help," he admitted, voice tight with pain or maybe embarrassment. "Everything's spinning."
I didn't hesitate. "I can do it," I said, and before he could argue, I scooped him up into my arms like he weighed no more than one of the barn kittens.
Deputy Dan made a surprised sound, something between a gasp and a laugh.
His body went stiff for a moment, then relaxed against my chest when he realized I wasn't going to drop him.
I adjusted my hold, one arm under his knees and the other supporting his back, cradling him against me like something precious.
And he was precious.
At least to me.
My heart was racing so fast I worried he might hear it or feel it hammering against his side where he pressed against me. I tried to steady my breathing, to focus on the practical task of carrying him through the woods, but all I could think about was how perfectly he fit against me.
How right it felt to hold him.
Rain continued to pour down, plastering his dark hair to his forehead.
Up this close, I could see his eyelashes clumped together in little spikes, like tiny wet stars against his skin.
A drop of water hung on the tip of his nose before falling away.
His eyes, when they managed to focus on my face, were wide with something that might have been surprise or maybe gratitude.
"You're strong," he murmured, the words barely audible over the storm.
I felt my face flush hot despite the cold rain. "Comes in handy sometimes," I said, starting to walk carefully back toward the path I'd made through the woods.
Each step had to be deliberate. The ground was slippery with mud and fallen leaves, and I couldn't risk stumbling with Deputy Dan in my arms. The rain made it hard to see too far ahead, but I knew these woods better than the rooms of our house.
My feet remembered the way even when my eyes couldn't guide them.
Deputy Dan's head rested against my shoulder, his breath warm through my soggy shirt.
That warmth seemed to spread through my whole body, making me forget about the cold rain soaking us both.
I could smell that pine soap again, and underneath it something that was just him—something I couldn't name but would recognize anywhere.
"How far?" he asked after we'd been walking for a few minutes.
"Not too far now," I reassured him. "Just through these trees and across the back field. You doing okay?"
He nodded slightly, his eyes drifting closed then snapping open again like he was fighting to stay awake. That worried me. Ma always said not to let someone with a head injury fall asleep too soon.
"Hey," I said gently. "Keep those eyes open, okay? Tell me about... tell me about hydroplaning. What does that mean?"
He seemed to focus a bit more at the question. "When your tires... lose contact with the road because of water," he explained, each word careful and measured. "Car starts to... slide. No control."
"Like ice skating," I suggested, jumping over a fallen branch and adjusting my grip to keep him steady.
A small smile tugged at his lips. "Yeah, like that. But not as fun."
I smiled back, relieved to see him a little more alert. "Definitely not as fun."
We lapsed into silence again as I concentrated on the tricky part of the path where it dipped down toward the creek.
Normally I'd hop across the stones, but with Deputy Dan in my arms, I had to wade through the shallow water.
It was higher than usual from all the rain, reaching halfway up my boots and tugging at my legs like it wanted to pull us both down.
Deputy Dan's hand suddenly gripped my shoulder, his fingers digging in as the water splashed around us. "Careful," he murmured, but I just nodded, my eyes fixed on the opposite bank.
"I got you," I said again, the words becoming a kind of promise between us.
As we emerged from the woods and started across the back field toward the farmhouse, I suddenly remembered that Ma had asked me to collect eggs before the storm got worse.
Now I was bringing home a deputy instead of the eggs she'd asked for.
The thought made a bubble of nervous laughter rise in my throat.
Deputy Dan looked up at me questioningly.
"Ma's gonna be surprised," I explained. "Sent me out for eggs and I'm coming back with you instead."
His lips quirked up at one corner. "Sorry about that."
"Don't be," I said quickly. "This is more important."
The farmhouse came into view, yellow light spilling from the windows and cutting through the gray curtain of rain.
Smoke curled from the chimney, promising warmth and dry clothes and Ma's herbal tea that fixed just about everything.
I could make out a figure at the kitchen window—probably Ma watching for me to return.
Pride swelled in my chest, unexpected but powerful. I might not be smart with words and numbers like Knox or artistic like Ransom or charming like Bo. But I was strong. Strong enough to carry a grown man through a storm without stumbling once. Strong enough to help when help was needed.
Deputy Dan's weight in my arms felt like trust. His breath against my neck felt like possibility.
The rain continued to pour down, soaking us both to the skin, but I barely noticed it anymore. All I could feel was the man in my arms and the certainty that bringing him home safe was the most important thing in the whole wide world.
My feet squelched through mud as I headed for the back porch, already rehearsing in my head how I'd explain finding Deputy Dan's overturned car.
But underneath that practical thinking was something warm and bright and scary-wonderful.
Something I couldn't put into words but felt all the way down to my bones.
Maybe Mama wouldn't approve of these feelings.
Maybe the whole town would think someone like me couldn't possibly understand what love was supposed to be.
But carrying Deputy Dan through the storm, feeling his heartbeat against mine, I knew that some things didn't need understanding. They just were.
And this—whatever was happening between us—just was. As natural as the rain falling from the sky or the worms coming up from the ground or the chickens knowing when storms were coming.
Some things you just know, deep down where all the important truths live. And I knew, without a doubt, that I'd carry Deputy Dan Latham through a hundred storms if he needed me to.