Page 47 of His Wounded Heart

“Trenda,” I whisper. “You deal with them. I’m going to clear the tree.”

“How?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. You just handle those two.” I could see the blood that was on Violet’s chin and on the top of the blanket. It didn’t look like a lot, but still, any amount of blood was just another shit sign on a really big shit sandwich.

Trenda stripped out of the windbreaker. “Take this.”

“Thanks.”

I pull it on before opening my door. Wind and rain whooshes in, splashing the backseat with water before I have a chance to jump out and close the door. The last thing I hear is Luther’s shout. I check out the front of the truck first to see if we’re stuck in the mud at the side of the trail, but it isn’t too bad. The four-wheel drive had done its job and then some. We should be fine. I turn to the tree.

Jesus.

It is a big mother, but it has been dying for a while, based on the few boughs left on it. The circumference of the trunk has to be a foot and a half. I have no idea how much that will weigh, but I hope the truck’s winch will pull it out of the way. I hustle back to the truck and get back in. The only sounds are Luther’s soft sobs.

Trenda is in the backseat; she must have climbed over the front seat. She’s mashed up against the back door on my side, Luther’s leaning against her, Violet leaning against him. Trenda doesn’t ask any questions when I start up the truck. I know she didn’t want to do anything to agitate Luther.

I look at the trio again in the rearview mirror, trying to see if Violet is breathing. When she coughs, I breathe a sigh of relief. I start the truck and keep it in low gear as I back it up, then inch forward and position the nose of the truck to the farthest possible left end of the tree. I smile for just a moment as I remember that just this morning, I’d been shaking my head at having to pay so much for this truck because Fred had paid for every extra upgrade possible, and here I am thanking every star in the sky that he has the winch. I remember the remote control for the winch was in the center console, so I take it out, then look at my gloves. They aren’t my good leather working gloves, but they will have to do.

I look in the backseat one more time. Trenda is stroking Luther’s hair and humming a vaguely familiar song. His eyes are closed. I give her a thumbs up, she gives me a tired smile in response.

I leap out of the truck again and as soon as I do I’m pelted by the icy rain. I don’t mind the cold so much, it’s how the sleet hits my face even when I’m looking down. Why hadn’t I thought of a baseball cap to somewhat shield me from the rain so I might be able to see a couple of inches in front of me without having to constantly wipe my face? I get in front of the truck and disengage the winch, then pull it to the tree. When I get to it, I pull the cable to get plenty of slack then shove as much cable as I can underneath the trunk. Thank God the limbs of the tree were still holding it up, but I’m not sure how much longer that is going to last, because the limbs don’t look all that sturdy.

I look for the easiest part to climb over the trunk, then go back to where the winch cable is. When I get there I see that the trunk is even lower because some of the limbs have already broken under the weight of the trunk.

“Make this fast, Clark,” I mutter to myself, as I pray no more limbs break.

I shimmy under the foliage and reach under the trunk, then grab the ring on the end of the winch and yanked the winch cord as far as I can.

“Aren’t you a good tree,” I croon.

Holding the end of the cable, I do my best to leap over the tree. For just a moment the SEAL team obstacle course flashes in front of me. Damn good thing I was still running that thing with the baby SEALs.

As soon as I get over the tree, more limbs crack and the trunk is mere inches from the ground. “Come on, Baby, hold on just a little longer.”

I loop the winch hook around the cable and pull it as tight as I can to the trunk, knowing the truck will do the rest. I haul ass back to the truck and pull the remote control out of my pocket then press the button that slowly pulls the cable taut. I’m good to go.

I get back into the truck.

“No more cold,” Luther cries out.

“It’s okay, Luther. It’ll get warm again,” Trenda says soothingly.

I start up the truck again and put it into reverse, then slowly back up, pulling the tree with me. I grin as the top of the tree gets pulled towards the truck, giving us enough room to get past it.

“Now who’s the miracle worker?” Trenda whispers.

I look over to the back seat. Luther is agitated again; he’s rocking back and forth a lot faster, which can’t be good for Violet.

“Luther?” I ask.

“Luther?” I say his name louder.

“Luther, Simon needs to talk to you,” Trenda says gently as she turns his head towards me.

“Luther, I need to make it cold just two more times.” I hold up two fingers.

“No,” he says petulantly.