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THIRTEEN
Laura’s eyes flitted back and forth between Rafe and the road a hundred times on the trip to town. His head was lolling on the back of the seat, and he hadn’t spoken since she and Sadie had buckled him in the seat back at the ranch.
She’d seen her fair share of head injuries. Her mother and stepfather, along with everyone in the church they belonged to, were big believers in corporal punishment in whatever way “the lord” guided them. She flinched internally but kept her hands steady on the wheel despite her twisting stomach.
It had been over ten years since someone last laid hands on her like that, but the memories were never far from the surface. Some nights she still woke in a cold sweat, begging them not to hurt her. Pastor Wendell, her stepfather, never listened, though. They called it the prevention of sin. Laura called it child abuse, but she had done nothing about it. Maybe that made her as bad as them because there were still women and girls there who suffered. She dropped one hand to her still flat stomach. Just one more reason she wasn’t qualified to be a parent.
She remembered the last day of the year she’d turned eighteen in vivid detail. The church gathered on New Year’s Eve, not to celebrate the new year itself, but to complete the adult initiation ceremony welcoming all those who had come of age into the church for life. If you chose not to take your place, they turned you out with the clothes on your back and five hundred dollars cash.
No food. No car. No coat. Over thirty miles from the nearest town. If it had only been her, she probably wouldn’t have done it, but watching Harper fall deeper into despair from what she endured, so much worse than just a beating, was too much.
In the weeks leading up to the day, Laura had quietly lined a dress for herself and Harper with extra layers, including sewing handfuls of nuts and some stashed meal bars into pockets and hems. She’d even managed to put together some leggings to cover them under their dresses.
It had still been a brutal three-day walk from the church compound to town, but they’d made it. Once there, Harper tried to say they should go to the cops, but Laura talked her out of it. Instead, they went to the only restaurant in town, a small diner, and bargained for a place to lie down in the storeroom and one meal a day for working all day every day, their tips their only pay.
It was a good deal considering that neither of them had a birth certificate, driver’s license, or social security card. Well, Laura probably had two of the three since her family had moved to the church when she was five, but Harper had been born at the Church of Christ’s Light Mission.
After six months of non-stop work, they’d pooled their resources for a tiny apartment and kept working just as they had. It took another year to organize paperwork and a car. At almost twenty, they’d left the state of Nevada for Arizona State University. They both worked and Laura went to school part time, taking six years to complete her animal science program.
Now, she did her best to take care of Harper, who had trusted her and worked herself to the bone to put Laura through school. She wanted to return the favor, but Harper didn’t seem interested. Laura was pretty sure she needed intensive therapy for her years of abuse, but she refused and until now they couldn’t have managed it anyway.
When she finally pulled into the parking lot, she drove right to the emergency room entrance. Inside, she flagged down an employee. “I need help getting a patient inside.”
“What happened, ma’am?” a tall male orderly asked her.
“He fell from a horse a few hours ago. He was pretty coherent, but about forty minutes ago, he began to have trouble staying awake and slurring his words.”
“Did he hit his head?”
“Yes, but he was sitting up on his own just a few minutes after the fall. The longer time’s gone by, though, the weaker he seems to get.”
They were both jogging by the time they got back to the truck. Laura and the orderly got Rafe onto a stretcher, and two more people in scrubs joined them.
One of the women looked at Laura. “Who are you?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, Rafe spoke up. “She’s my fiancée and she can give consent for treatment.”
Three faces looked up at her, so she did her best to school her own into something that wasn’t shock. She ignored the tiny flutter in her stomach at the wordfiancée.It wasn’t real, just a way to streamline Rafe getting the care he needed tonight. She’d never wanted to be anyone’s fiancé or wife. That meant giving up too much control to one person. Nerves. That must be it. The idea of that word applying to her made her nervous. Nothing else.
After a pause three breaths long, Laura nodded.
“Alright, trauma four, page Dr. Durst. Start vitals and an IV.”
The orderly snorted.
The nurse shot him a dark look. “You got a problem with that, Abe?”
“Of course, not. I’m sure Dr. Barbie will do just fine.”
The second nurse smacked the back of his head. “You didn’t go to medical school, did you?”
“No,” he sulked.
“Then I suggest you don’t criticize someone who did just because of how she looks.”
Laura wanted to laugh. Almost. But she was too worried about Rafe. They hurried into a small room. It didn’t take long for them to hook him up to several machines and insert a needle in his arm. Not much longer after that a doctor, who did look like a model but her demeanor was all business, entered the room. “Male, thrown from horseback approximately three hours ago. Deteriorating condition.”
Dr. Durst leaned over Rafe with a pen light looking in his eyes and froze. “Sunny?”
