I’m not a child,she’d said to Bridget.Then stop acting like one.She hated it when Bridget was right. “He’s my friend,” she said to Roberts. “I won’t leave him.”
Roberts gave her a long look, then nodded. “I’ll try to find a crowbar.”
Frannie waded back, determination growing with every step. When her flashlight found Paul, she could see the relief in his face. Her spirits lifted for a split second, then she saw the water. It had been at Paul’s waist when they found him, but now was halfway up his chest. She knelt beside him. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’re going to get you out of here.”
Roberts showed up with a crowbar he found in a car trunk, but ten minutes later threw it down in frustration. “There’s nothing to get any leverage against, it’s all mud.”
“Paul.” Frannie had an idea. It wasn’t a great idea, but they were running out of time. “Do your legs—I mean, are your legs broken, you think?” Paul was a smart guy, and she figured he knew what she was asking.
He met her eyes. “I can’t feel them.”
“Roberts,” she called. “Mel. Come over here.”
When the two men waded over, Frannie looked Paul in the eyes as serious as she had ever been. “We have to pull you out.” The truth was, if they didn’t get him out, he’d drown in front of their eyes.
Paul nodded grimly.
“Are you sure, son?” Roberts said. “If something’s broken under there—”
“I’m sure,” Paul said.
Frannie took his hand in hers. Paul’s mouth firmed as Mel and Roberts each hooked their hands under Paul’s arms.
Paul nodded. “Do it.”
“Together, now,” Roberts said. He and Mel heaved.
Paul’s face contorted like he was trying not to scream.
“Keep pulling,” Frannie ordered. Paul’s grip on her hand was so hard she thought he might break a bone.
Roberts and Mel strained again. This time, Paul did scream.
“Stop!” Frannie finally cried out. Paul’s face was bone white and his lips quivered, but he hadn’t moved a bit. “I’m sorry,” she said to Paul. Sorry her idea didn’t work. Sorry she’d hurt him. Sorry he was going to drown here. Tears flooded her eyes, blurring her vision as panic crept over her.
Paul was stuck, and the water was rising fast.
chapter 50:RED
Red felt like Bridget was telling him what he should have known all along. Claire wasn’t fine. The letter proved that. How could he not understand his wife, after a year of marriage?
Marigold stopped, and Red strained his eyes in the dark to see what had brought her to a halt. He threw his leg over the saddle, slid down, and pulled his pack saw from the leather scabbard. It was the third time he’d had to stop to clear a fallen tree from the trail. Bridget silently waited on Flick. His sister-in-law wouldn’t win any prizes in a rodeo, but she was staying on and not complaining.
His ears strained for the sound of falling rock, and every muscle was tight with tension in anticipation of another tremor. They’d had two since they left Sunnyslope, but by the grace of God no trees or rockslides had come down on them.
The cold sweat chilling his back had little to do with the hard work of sawing through the Douglas fir and dragging the two halves of the tree out of the way. His gut told him they didn’t have much time.
They had to move faster.
“Red?” Bridget said as he pulled himself back on Marigold and nudged her to a fast walk. “Can I ask you something?”
He would have preferred to ride in silence, thinking over Claire’s letter to him and what Bridget had told him. He should have been honest. Should have brought everything out into the light instead of hiding in the dark.
Bridget didn’t take the meaning of his silence. “Did you leave because of what I said to you, on the drive to Mammoth?”
His hands tightened on the reins and Marigold hesitated. He urged her forward. “Partly,” he answered but the truth was, he couldn’t blame Bridget.
The fault was all his own.
