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She quickly undid the wire. The last strand snapped away from her grasp, tearing at her fingertips and palm. She swore and shook the blood away as she ran back to the truck.
Maybe it sensed her urgency, because the engine roared to life the second she turned the key. She reversed out of the clearing and drove down the road until she saw the gap in the fence. Changing gears, she headed into the field, the truck bumping and lurching over the rough ground.
She stopped near the well. Leaving the headlights on and the engine idling, she scrambled out and ran to it.
“Jon?” she called, leaning over the edge again. Stone shifted underneath her, and several rocks fell down into the darkness. Water splashed.
“Here!” he called, his voice stronger than before. “Stop throwing things at me.”
She smiled, and yet his comment made her uneasy. What sort of man made jokes in a situation like this? A man who was used to being in dangerous situations. And just how wise was it to get involved with this man? While she had no doubt she’d need his help, she knew nothing about him. Not even whether she could trust him.
“Still with me, Madeline?”
There was a hint of tension in his voice, as if he’d sensed her sudden doubts. She nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Yes. If I throw a rope down, will you be able to tie it around you?”
“Yes.”
Her palm w
as still bleeding, she noticed, as she ran back to the truck and hauled the rope out of the box in the back. She wiped it hastily on her jeans, then wasted several minutes trying to secure one end of the rope to the front of the truck before running back to the well.
“I’m lowering the rope.” She fed the hemp into the well, but her gaze was drawn to the dark outline of the old homestead. Had something moved—or was it just a trick of the light?
“Got it,” Jon said.
The sudden sound of his voice made her start. “Tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll reverse the truck to haul you up.” She watched the rope dance around and wished he’d hurry. The feeling that someone was watching them was growing—or was it simply a bad case of nerves?
“Ready.”
She climbed into the truck and shifted into reverse, grinding the gears in her haste. The bleeding from her palm had slowed, but it still made managing the stick shift tricky. Wincing, she slowly backed the truck up. The need to hurry, to get out of this area as fast as she could, was growing. She bit her lip, trying to ignore it. It didn’t matter what was out there watching them; she had to get Jon out of this well. And if she backed up too quickly, she just might kill him.
When the top part of his body was visible, she pulled on the hand brake and climbed out.
“Not a trip I’d recommend,” he gasped, looking up at her as she approached.
He was a mess. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his face was white with pain. His whole body was trembling, even though he was doing little more than simply hanging on to the edge of the well. She grabbed his right leg, helping him over. He fell, more than rolled, to the ground.
He was, incredibly, wearing the same short-sleeved black shirt and dark jeans she had first seen him in, but which now looked considerably the worse for wear. How had he survived in this weather?
“We have to get out of here.” She knelt beside him and undid the rope. He was so cold, his fingers were almost blue. She undid her jacket and placed it around his shoulders.
He gave her a wan smile of thanks. “You have to … to do something first.” He closed his eyes and leaned back against the well.
“What?” she asked, rubbing her arms as the wind whipped around her.
“Remove the shaft from my arm.”
She’d seen the wound as she’d helped him over the rim of the well, sticking out from under the edge of his sleeve, and that was about as close as she wanted to get. His whole arm had swollen, and the handkerchief he’d wrapped around the wound was a bloody mess. She’d risk causing more damage if she tried to do anything other than getting him to a doctor. “No. I can’t.”
He grabbed her wrist when she tried to rise. “Madeline, you have to take it out. I can’t last much longer.”
There was something more than urgency in his voice. She fought the instinct to pull away from his touch and wrapped her fingers around his instead, offering him the warmth of her hand. Warily, she met his gaze. In the blue depths of his eyes she saw a hint of desperation—and a pain that went far deeper than anything she’d ever faced.
She tore her gaze away and shone the light toward the farmhouse again. Though she hadn’t seen any movement nor heard any unusual sounds, something was out there watching them. They had to get out of this area quickly. She glanced back at Jon and felt something tremble inside.
“I don’t think we’re safe.” She hesitated, her gaze drawn back to the shadows. “I’ll remove the damn thing if you want, but I won’t do it here.” And she was relieved when she saw him nod.
JON BIT BACK THE URGE TO SWEAR AND RELUCTANTLY RELEASED her hand. What she said was true enough. While he couldn’t hear anyone in the immediate area, he knew someone was bound to see the headlights sooner or later and investigate. Better they left before anyone got too curious.
