Chapter Three
Dalton didn’t know if this was the most foolish thing he had ever done, but it had to rank up there.
Carter probably would have laughed him out of the room, and his sister, Bethany, would have given him that pitying look he had seen other women give men who did useless things.
His oldest brother, Aaron, would have probably cited some law he was breaking—harassment, or stalking maybe.
But Eldon had told him if he liked a woman he should go ahead and ask her out, so that’s what he was doing.
He drove slowly along the winding, narrow road.
Through the trees lining the road, he caught glimpses of the drop-off on the right.
There were probably some spectacular views, maybe even some good climbing, in that canyon.
But he couldn’t take his eyes off the road long enough to scout things out.
He had no idea how far out the tiny houses were and didn’t want to miss them.
How tiny were they, exactly? Big enough for a grown person to live in, but what if they were hidden from the road behind all these trees?
He should probably turn around, he thought, even as he kept driving. What was Roxanne going to say when he showed up at her house? That was stalker behavior, right? She would probably call the sheriff. Who could blame her? He really needed to turn around now.
Lights up ahead distracted him. He leaned forward, straining for a better look. There were two cars. One of them was tilted at an odd angle, way over to the right. The other wasn’t a car, but a truck. The kind with a lifted body, oversize tires and big welded bumpers.
Dalton slowed, then stopped in the road next to the scene.
The car was on its side, balanced on the edge of the road, caught by a sturdy pine rooted in the side of the canyon.
The truck was still running, the driver’s door open.
He spotted a man up on the side of the car, trying to wrench open the driver’s door.
Dalton moved his Jeep over and parked, then got out and jogged toward the wreck.
“Wait!” he called out to the driver of the truck.
“I’m calling for help.” As he ran, he pulled out his phone and punched in 911.
He thought he heard someone answer, but the call immediately dropped.
A check of the phone showed a very weak signal.
He thumbed open his search and rescue app and typed in a message, asking for help and reporting a motor vehicle accident and his location.
Meanwhile, the man from the truck had ceased pulling at the door of the car. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“I’m with Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue,” Dalton said. “Let me help.”
He started toward the man and the car, but the man jumped down and barreled into him, knocking him to the ground.
“Hey!” Dalton struggled to rise. The man raced past him, jumped in the truck and sped away.
“Help! Is someone there? Please help.”
The woman’s voice was weak, but clear. Dalton stood and made his way to stand beside the car. “Help is on the way,” he said. “Where are you hurt?”
“My head,” she said. “And my shoulder. I’m caught in the seat belt. Please help me.”
“Try not to move too much,” he said. “We need to secure your vehicle before we can get you out of there.” Though the RAV4 rested against the trunk of the pine tree, movement the wrong way could send it plummeting into the canyon.
Dalton needed to wait for more help to arrive.
They would assess the situation and work together to secure the vehicle, free the woman and get her to treatment for her injuries.
But meanwhile, he needed to keep her calm.
“Are you by yourself?” she called.
“There was another man here, but he left,” Dalton said. “But more help will be here soon.”
“The other man . . .do you know who he was?”
“No, I didn’t recognize him.”
She fell silent and he wondered if she had lost consciousness. “Are you still with me?” he called.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Roxanne. Roxanne Byrne.”
The name jolted him. “Roxanne! It’s Dalton Ames! May introduced us this afternoon. What happened?”
“I don’t know. I was driving home, then this car came up behind me. It was going really fast, not stopping at all. And it just hit me. Just slammed into me . . .” Her voice faded and he wondered if she had lost consciousness.
“Stay with me, Roxanne,” he said.
“Did you see what happened?” she asked.
“No, I came up right after it happened, I think,” he said. “There was a truck here when I arrived. And a man. He was trying to open your door. But when I approached, he ran away.”
She moaned, a sound of such pain he had to fight not to climb onto the car and go to her. “Roxanne, what is it?” he called. “What’s wrong?”
She said nothing, but he could hear her sobbing. The sound tore at him. “Roxanne, talk to me. Are you in pain? Is that why you’re crying?”
“I . . . I’m not in pain,” she managed between sobs. “Not much. Just . . .afraid.”
“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “You’re safe now. I promise I’ll stay with you.”
“Thank you.” She fell silent, no longer crying, but not saying anything, either.
Dalton tried to think how to soothe her, or at least distract her.
Carter would have known what to say. He would have told a funny story or asked her to tell one to him.
But Dalton couldn’t carry off that kind of charm.
“I’m still here,” he said. “I promise I won’t leave you alone.”
“Okay.”
She didn’t seem to want to say more, so he didn’t force a conversation.
Long minutes passed with only the ticking of their cooling vehicle engines breaking the silence.
Then he heard a siren, the wail growing louder and louder as it approached.
“Help is here!” he called to Roxanne. “We’ll have you out soon. ”
Then he jogged to the road to meet them.
Search and rescue captain Danny Irwin was first out of the specially outfitted search and rescue Jeep.
Eldon, Ryan and Deni climbed out after him.
A second car disgorged Carter, Caleb, Sheri Stevens and Harper Vernon.
Sheri was a veteran volunteer, known for her climbing prowess, while Harper was a newer volunteer, like Dalton and his siblings.
“Who’s manning the SAR booth at the fair? ” Dalton asked.
“May and Hannah are taking care of it,” Danny said. Hannah had taken temporary leave from SAR until after her baby was born.
Danny surveyed the RAV4 balanced against the tree. “What happened?” he asked.
“She says someone ran her off the road. When I got here there was a truck parked—lifted, with oversize tires and big welded bumpers. A man was trying to open the driver’s door, but when he saw me, he jumped down, shoved me to the ground and ran away.”
“Maybe he was trying to help, but when you showed up, he was afraid of being arrested,” Caleb said.
“Have you talked to the driver of the Toyota?” Danny asked.
“Her name is Roxanne Byrne,” Dalton said. “She just moved to town. I think she lives in one of the tiny houses out here somewhere. She said her head and her shoulder hurt. I hated not being able to help her, but I thought I should wait for you guys.”
“Good thing you did,” Eldon said. “That car needs to be secured before anyone goes near it.” He hefted a heavy chain he had already pulled from the rescue Jeep. “Ryan and I will take care of that.”
“You can help me with the litter,” Caleb said to Dalton.
In the midst of a rescue, Dalton seldom thought about the roles everyone played but later, when he was reviewing all that had happened, he was struck by how they all worked together to do the many small jobs that needed to be done to make a rescue go as smoothly as possible.
As soon as Ryan and Eldon had set anchors and fastened chains to hold the RAV4 in place, someone else took a chain saw and cut away branches of the pine tree that blocked access to the side doors.
Other people gathered medical equipment and Danny, a registered nurse, climbed up to make the initial assessment of the driver.
“She hit her head,” he reported a few moments later.
“There’s some bleeding, maybe a concussion.
Sounds like she wrenched her shoulder in the crash, possibly due to the seat belt or the airbag.
Some minor scratches and bruising. She says there’s no spinal or lower body injury, but we’ll want to be sure.
Let’s see if we can get the door open and get her into a neck brace. ”
Eldon, with the aid of a pry bar, was able to wrench the door open.
Rescuers swarmed in and around, applying protective gear and helping to ease Roxanne out of the driver’s seat and onto a waiting litter, which was carefully lowered to the ground.
Dalton handled one end of the litter, watching her pale face against her dark hair.
She looked frightened but alert. Not in extreme pain.
Then Danny moved in to complete his examination and Dalton stepped back to make room.
“I’m not finding any other injuries,” Danny said after a moment. “Would you like to sit up?”
“Yes, please.”
He took her hand and helped her sit. She looked around at all of them, until her gaze came to rest on Dalton. She relaxed a little bit then. “I’m so glad you came along when you did,” she said.
“Can you tell us what happened?” Danny asked.
She turned her attention to him. “I was driving home when a vehicle came up behind me, very fast. It plowed into me and ran me off the road.”
“Should we get a sheriff’s deputy out here?” Dalton asked. He had moved closer, wanting Roxanne to know he was keeping his promise to stay near her.
“Ryker radioed he’s on his way,” Sheri said. “If he doesn’t get here before the ambulance, he can interview her at the hospital.”
Ryker Vernon was a Rayford County sheriff’s deputy—and Harper’s husband.
He arrived just ahead of the ambulance, and Roxanne repeated her story for him. Her voice was steadier this time.