“I’m going to stay with Paul,” Frannie said. “I want to go in the helicopter.”
Red nodded. It would be better to go alone, just in case. He shook Mel’s hand. “Thanks for watching out for Frannie.” He did the same to Paul. Frannie threw her arms around him and hugged him. “Meet us in Ennis,” he told her gruffly, his eyes stinging.
Red walked toward the slide, dread weighing him down. He’d promised Claire he’d find Jenny. Now, he prayed with everything he had that he wouldn’t.
Not here.Please Lord, not here.
Not amid the rubble covering Rock Creek Campground... the last place his daughter was seen alive.
chapter 61:BRIDGET
Bridget rushed down the hill toward Dr. Sampson and Beckett. Help had come. For the Wilsons and Phillip and his mother. For everyone waiting for deliverance from this nightmare.Thank you, Lord.
She didn’t even care that Dr. Sampson looked clean and pressed and perfect, while she... she stopped suddenly and looked down at herself. She was a mess—covered in mud and blood and smelling like a mule. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She would maintain her dignity at the very least.
Beckett reached her first. “Oh, Bridget.”
Emotion welled up in her chest and—oh, why was this happening?—a sob broke through. Tears prickled at her eyes and it looked very much like Beckett was going to hug her. That would surely be her undoing. Bridget pressed her trembling lips together and lifted her chin. She refused to crumble and cry like some silly heroine from a novel. She had patients that needed care. “Beckett,” she said crisply, sidestepping the embrace. She directed her attention to Dr. Sampson. “Doctor, I do hope you’ve brought supplies.” She managed it without even a tremble in her voice. “We have severely woundedpatients that need your attention.” She turned toward the camp. “If you’ll follow me.”
An hour later, Bridget had shown Dr. Sampson the most seriously injured. He administered morphine and blood plasma to Mildred and Roy Wilson. Phillip’s foot was stabilized and he was given pain medication and penicillin. “He’ll need surgery,” Dr. Sampson said, “but with luck, he won’t lose it.” Dr. Sampson confirmed her suspicion that Phillip’s mother was in serious danger. “Internal injuries,” he said. “She’ll need surgery as soon as possible.” Beckett had brought clean water and coffee. One of the airplanes had parachuted a crate onto the ridge. It was filled with sweet rolls—of all things—and the junior nurse was distributing them to the refugees.
Dr. Sampson looked at the sky. “I was told air transport would be here soon.”
“They’re certainly taking their sweet time,” Bridget complained.
As if in response, a thrumming beat filled the air and a massive yellow helicopter appeared. Shouts and cheers went up. The helicopter hovered, then slowly descended to a clear spot on the meadow. The roar of the engine abruptly ceased and the double propellers slowed.
The Air Force pilot met them at the edge of the camp. He wore a flight suit and carried a helmet under his arm. “We can take four injured at a time,” he told them. “They’ve got emergency triage set up at the West Yellowstone airport, and airplanes standing by to transport the seriously wounded to Bozeman.”
“Only four?” Sampson’s brows came down as he looked at the helicopter.
Bridget had bit back the same complaint. The helicopter looked big enough to hold twenty people.
“This whirlybird is made for high altitudes,” the pilot answered, “but the wind is bad up here. I can’t chance too much weight.”
Bridget didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t sound good. “Let’s get the Wilsons loaded, and Phillip and Dolores,” she said to Beckett. “We haven’t a moment to lose.” Beckett headed toward the makeshift hospital.
The pilot stopped Bridget. “We’ll need a nurse to go with them in the ’copter and stay with them to Bozeman,” he said. “We don’t have any medical personnel with us.”
Dr. Sampson looked at her. “Reilly?”
Bridget’s eyes widened and she stepped back. “Absolutely not.” Not on her life. “I’m not stepping foot on that—that —flying banana.”
Dr. Sampson raised his brows. “I thought you’d want to stay with your patients.”
She did. Of course she did, but... she gazed at the yellow helicopter. Not on that. And anyway, she couldn’t leave. “My sisters are out here somewhere,” she argued.
“We have rescue operations going all through the canyon,” the pilot answered. “You’ll be more likely to find survivors at the hangar in West Yellowstone or in Ennis where the Red Cross is setting up. They might be there already.”
Beckett came back from the line of cars and trailers. “The Wilsons are ready to go, but Connie is asking for you, Reilly.”
Roy and Mildred were on stretchers, Connie and the twins standing tearfully beside them. “You’ll stay with Mom and Dad, won’t you?” Connie asked Bridget. “Please, don’t leave them.”
Bridget glanced at Dr. Sampson. His somber gaze met hers and she realized with a sinking dread that she didn’t have a choice. “Of course,” she said. She’d been in an earthquake and ridden a mule through falling rock and crashing trees. She’d risked injury to both her body and her heart in the last twelve hours. She might as well keep it up. “I’ll be with them every second.” Bridget looked at the helicopter again and her stomach gave a lurch.
The pilot looked at the sky. “We have to get moving before the winds shift.” He nodded to Beckett. “Get them on board.”
“We’ll get the girls to Bozeman as fast as we can,” Dr. Sampson assured Mildred and Roy.
