Bridget trotted after him and grabbed his arm, swinging him around and pinning him with a glare. “What if Claire needs me—if she or Jenny are hurt?”
Red gritted his teeth, but she had a point. Claire and Jenny—or others—might need medical help. “Pack some supplies and send them with me, but you are staying here.”
Bucky walked a crooked line toward them.
“We need clean water, and whatever you can find for first aid,” Bridget told him. She looked down at her nurse’s uniform, smeared with dirt and Endicott’s blood. “And I need some clothes.”
“Wait a minute,” Red sputtered. Hadn’t Bridget heard what he just said?
Bucky was already following Bridget’s orders and even Wormsbecker was going to find supplies. Red had lost the fight. He was stuck with an inexperienced rider tagging along on a trip even he wasn’t sure was doable. If they made it—and that was a bigif—he didn’t know what they’d be facing. Maybe it would be a good idea to have someone with medical knowledge, but did it have to be Bridget?
He walked to the back pasture where the horses milled nervously. He’d need a good trail horse—one he could trust not to bolt at the first tremor. And a dependable mount for Bridget. As he approached the fence, his heart lifted. His first good luck of the night—and maybe a small nod from the Lord that he was doing the right thing. A horse was standing beside the fence as if waiting just for him, her golden coat shining in the moonlight.
Marigold whinnied. She sounded as glad to see him as he was to see her.
chapter 46:FRANNIE
“Help us!” The faint cry came from somewhere out in the dark.
Frannie and the man in the pajamas, who had introduced himself as Mel, stood at the edge of the brown water and listened.
“Us?” Frannie asked Mel. “How many people are out there?”
Mel shook his head and made a megaphone with his hands. “Where are you?” he called out.
Frannie listened hard, but heard only the lapping of the rising water.
The moonlight was still dim, but light enough for Frannie to make out what used to be Rock Creek Campground. It looked less like a campground, and more like a junkyard being slowly covered by water.
There were at least thirty people on the ridge now, most of them injured in some way. Some people had left—those whose cars hadn’t been crushed into oblivion. But what about everyone else? How many were still down in the wreckage? Or out in the water?
Jan—or was it Jean?—ran down to her. “Someone’s coming,” she got out breathlessly, “on the road up there.” She pointed to the highway where just hours earlier Frannie and her friends had taken the turnoff to the campground.
Frannie ran up the ridge, then climbed a steeper slope to reach the highway. Mel followed, and by the time a wood-paneled Jeep Wagon came to a stop, at least ten people had gathered around the newcomer. The man who stepped out of the car and introduced himself as Roberts was at least six feet tall with shoulders as wide as a door. He had a full beard and wore a flannel shirt and jeans. “They told me there was some kind of landslide down here.”
Mel made a quick explanation of what they knew—the earthquake, then the mountain falling, the wind, and the rising water. “We could use some help,” he finished.
Frannie jumped in. “Are they sending ambulances? Doctors?”Somebody?
The man frowned. “It’s just me, miss.”
Frannie’s spirits fell to the muddy ground. They needed more than one man in a station wagon. But at least they could do something for Mrs. Wilson. “Do you think you can get to a hospital?” she asked.
Roberts rubbed his beard. “You say the road is blocked that way?” He nodded toward the slide. “We could go back east and try to get to the hospital in Bozeman.” He jerked his thumb in the direction from which he’d come. “It’s a long way, and the road is in rough shape, but I’ll take as many as my car will hold.”
Frannie looked at Mel and knew he was thinking the same thing she was. If Roberts was the only help coming, they needed to find all the people who needed medical help. “There’s more people down there, probably hurt,” she motioned to the wrecked campground. “Maybe a lot more.”
Roberts took off his jacket and pushed up his sleeves. “Then let’s go get ’em.”
chapter 47:CLAIRE
“Help us!” Claire’s throat was raw as she called into the black night.
She stopped to listen. The lapping of the waves, the howl of coyotes in the canyon. Was that a voice, calling back? From what direction? She strained to see through the inky blackness but could only make out Beth’s pale face and the dark tree, rising above them.
The water was at her chin again.
She pulled herself and Beth to a higher branch. Beth was weakening, and Claire wrapped her legs around Beth’s waist to keep her close. They clung together, the water rushing past them smelling of mud and gasoline, the air gritty with rock dust.
