Chapter 47
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
He’d been shot. Ben was shot. “No, no, no, no, no.”
Scrambling out from under him, she shoved him onto his back. He’d been hit in the chest. Blood was soaking his shirt. His color was already fading.
This couldn’t be happening. Was he breathing? Her hands shaking, she fumbled at his shirt, trying to push it aside to find his pulse. “Ben, listen to me. I’ve got you—”
Someone grabbed her by the back of the shirt and yanked her up.
Owen. Terror gripped her anew, and she started kicking and fighting—she needed to save Ben. “Let me go!”
He shoved her to the ground and stood over her, kicking her when she started to crawl back to Ben.
It was the cocking of the gun that made her freeze. She looked up.
Blood dripped onto his shirt from his head wound, the gun firm in his hand, aimed at her head. “I’ve waited years for this. Hannah, I’m going to gore you like a bull.”
When he sank to his knees, the gun lowered.
This was her one chance. She raked her hand on the ground and threw dust and pebbles into his face followed by a kick at his torso with all her strength.
Scampering away, she got to her feet and started to run.
Big arms wrapped around her, yanking her back, and that’s when she felt the press of hot steel in her side.
“Bitch, I’m not letting you get away.”
Then something rammed into them, plunging them to the ground. Owen grunted, his arms loosened, and she rolled away and flipped to her feet.
“Run, Hannah,” Ben shouted weakly.
He had his hand clamped around Owen’s wrist, the hand that still held the gun. Blood bloomed on Ben’s shirt as they struggled.
She had to do something.
Running to the horses, she heard another shot. She whipped around. Her eyes flew to the two men on the ground. Had Ben shot Owen? Please, Ben. You have to be okay.
Owen groaned, pulling himself to his feet, but Ben stayed down.
“No,” she whispered.
Move—she needed to move.
Swinging onto Flame, she turned the horse around and dug her heels into her sides. Flame took off—headed straight for Owen, as if she knew what needed to be done. He was weaving in place, squinting through the blood pouring down his face as they thundered toward him.
He lifted the gun right as Flame hit him, and his body went flying. She heard it thud to the ground.
I hit him. She stared at his still form. Was he dead? She had no idea. She only knew she needed to make sure he wasn’t a threat.
Get the gun, Hannah.
“Right.” Swinging down, she spied where he’d dropped the gun and threw it as far as she could into the woods. Running over to Ben, she knelt beside him.
There was so much blood. And now his thigh too.
Ripping open his shirt, she cried out when she saw the torn flesh and gaping wound on his left pectoral, four inches from the heart. She didn’t have anything to rip his jeans with to see that wound, but she knew it was serious from the way the blood pulsed.
“Ben! Listen to me.” She touched his face, scanning his color, listening to his thready breathing. “I’m going for help. I’ll be right back.”
Her phone was in her saddlebags, but then she remembered he kept his clipped to his belt. Was it still there? She felt around his waist. Her hand touched warm plastic. Yes.
She hit the screen and realized she didn’t have the code.
“Dammit!” Running to her saddlebags, she found her phone and called the one person she needed to reach them the fastest.
“Please pick up, Daddy,” she cried, running back to Ben.
“Hannah? Why are you calling me during office hours? You know—”
“Daddy, Owen shot Ben. Twice. It’s bad. I’m at the tree house. Please come. Call Will and get people up here. I knocked Owen out with Flame, but I don’t know his injuries.”
“Hang on, honey. Keep pressure on the wounds. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He clicked off, and she put the phone back. “Pressure on the wounds. I can do that.”
When she reached Ben, all she could see was blood soaking his clothes. He was bleeding so much.
“Hannah!”
She turned at the shout and jumped up when she saw Hudson staggering toward her, his face bruised and cut and bleeding profusely. “Hudson—”
“That bastard and his two friends jumped me.” He limped toward her, holding his ribs. “I got two before I was knocked out.”
“Ben’s been shot,” she told him frantically, seeing that he wasn’t critical. “I hit Owen with my horse. I don’t know his state, but I threw the gun away. Can you tie him up? Ben has rope in his saddlebags.”
“You call for help?”
“Yeah, they’re coming.”
She turned back to Ben. God, there was so much blood. When she checked his pulse, it was thready. Not good. She didn’t dare move him.
She had to do something. But what? All her supplies were back at the ranch. She pressed her hands to her head. “Think, Hannah, think.”
Yarrow. She needed yarrow. It stopped bleeding. She shoved to her feet. “Hang on, Ben.”
Running toward Flame, she shouted to Hudson, who was securing Owen. “Put pressure on his wounds. I’ll be right back.”
She mounted in a flash and took off in the direction where she’d seen yarrow. Thank God it wasn’t far. She grabbed the whole section by the roots, white flower heads and all, and swung back into the saddle, cradling them in her lap, praying with all her might as she raced back to Ben.
The moment she reached him, she jumped down from her horse. Hudson kneeled beside Ben, keeping pressure on the wound, and she ran over to them.
He looked up, his face a horror of bruising and swelling. “You nailed Owen good. Too bad he’s not dead.”
Her knees gave out a moment before she locked her muscles in place. Thank God. She’d hoped she hadn’t killed him.
Kneeling, she started mashing the leaves and flowers in bunches. She needed them wet, dammit. There was water in the picnic basket, but it was too far. This had to do. Ben needed them now.
“You hang in there, cowboy.” Hudson lifted his hand when she was ready to press the hasty poultice to his upper wound. “Dammit, I need a knife for his jeans.”
“They took mine.”
“Hudson, Ben’s hunting knife in his saddlebags.”
“On it,” he replied in a steely voice.
Blood was soaking into the plant matter. Is the bleeding slowing? How long was it supposed to take? She’d never seen this much blood before, and her hands were sticky and wet from it, and the metallic tang turned her stomach… “Ben. Stay strong. I need you. Don’t you dare think about leaving me.”
She pressed harder, pushing her will into it. Please, don’t leave me. I can’t do this without you, cowboy.
Hudson appeared in a rush and cut through Ben’s jeans. She grimaced at the red, torn flesh around the entry site. But it hadn’t hit the femoral artery, thank God. Right. Venous bleeding oozes. “Keep applying pressure to his chest,” she told Hudson.
Should she have him get Ben the blanket from the tree house?
No, pressure was more important.
She mashed up more yarrow before pressing the poultice to his thigh, her breath harsh in her ears. “Come on, dammit. Stop bleeding.”
“Hannah, if anything can help, it’s your herbs.” Hudson’s calm voice had her taking a shaky breath. “Put pressure on his leg. Help will be here soon.”
And he was right. She heard the ATVs before they zoomed into the glen.
“Oh, thank God.” She exhaled, feeling the pulse of Ben’s life force under her hand.
Will was driving the one on the right, and Neil was off and running toward her before he’d come to a complete stop, an emergency bag in his hand.
“Neil!” She swallowed thickly as he reached her, kneeling across from her next to Hudson. “Ben’s shot twice. I applied yarrow—”
“You did good, lass,” he told her with a steady look before he started checking vitals. “Your dad’s about five minutes away. We’re going to make a tourniquet for that thigh and make him comfortable. Your dad has an air ambulance.”
She felt Will lower to the ground beside her, putting his hand on Ben’s calf, his head lowered in prayer.
She watched as Ben’s father appeared, flinching before he knelt at Ben’s feet, and then Gramps was struggling to a knee as well, mouth tight, as they formed a circle around the man they all loved.
Tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t lose him now. “Neil, what else can I do?” she asked frantically.
Her friend lifted his head, putting a hand over Hudson’s. “A little more pressure, please. Hannah, we’re doing it. Ben’s strong. You did good.”
Hadn’t he said that already?
Then Logan arrived, and moments later her father appeared on another ATV.
She couldn’t let go of putting pressure onto Ben—she was frozen there—so Will had to pull her off.
No, please. I need to help him. She watched Neil help her father, gripping Will’s shirt as they both stood there helplessly.
She didn’t loosen her grip until the air ambulance came.