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So silently, my hand found a nearby shovel. It’d make a good weapon, with its heavy metal spade and long handle. I could definitely smash someone’s head in, if it came to that.
Betsy turned around to gaze at me, still calmly chewing her cud, and I lifted a finger to my mouth in a “shhhh!” motion, feeling a little like James Bond. Fortunately, my heifer blinked back slowly and didn’t make a sound in return.
With silent steps, I let myself out of her stall and towards the source of the noise. It was dark in the barn, still the early gray gleam of dawn, and I padded like a thief towards the back.
“Unnnnnh!” came the noise again, more of a grunt this time. “Unnh unnnh!”
What in the world? That definitely wasn’t a farm-like sound, and hesitantly, I poked my head into the last stall on the left.
And I saw him then. A huge man with broad shoulders and long legs, collapsed against the back wall. He was partially in shadow, so I couldn’t see what he looked like, but it didn’t matter. Because a shaft of sunlight penetrated through the wood slats, and it was clear that one leg was at a weird angle, painful and twisted. This was clearly no criminal, he was a wounded man. Slowly, I crept in.
“Hey,” I whispered. “Are you okay?”
The man didn’t move, his forbidding bulk slumped against the wall. So I tried again.
“Hey,” I whispered, more loudly this time. “Are you okay?”
And it was then that the dark form stirred, grunting with pain.
“Unnnh,” came a low moan, deep from the man’s chest. “Unnnh.”
And as his leg jerked reflexively, suddenly I saw. The denim he was wearing soaked in blood. Literally there was a reddish black stain on his right thigh, sopping wet and growing bigger by the moment, like an ink blob expanding in size.
Immediately, I flew into action, rushing to kneel by him, applying pressure to the wound.
“We have to get this bleeding to stop,” I panted, even though he probably couldn’t hear. “I’m gonna apply pressure, it’ll hurt but just bear with me,” I said, lowering all my weight onto two hands, hopefully stanching the blood flow.
And suddenly the man jerked beneath my hands, a buck so powerful that I was thrown onto my ass, bouncing messily into the straw.
“Fuck!” the man roared. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
But I’m quick on my feet, and besides, I’ve been around animals my whole life. First aid comes natural to me, whether helping a cow give birth or tending to a litter of new kittens. So immediately, I was by his side again, pressing both hands onto his wound.
“I know it hurts,” I said urgently, “but just bear with me. Please mister, just let me do my job.”
And this time, the man didn’t move much, although there was some more muffled cursing. I pressed mightily against the wound, feeling warm liquid oozing about. But fortunately, the pressure did the trick, and the bleeding seemed to stop somewhat. So after a couple minutes, I let up, sitting back, still on high-alert mode.
“Mister,” I said, making a split second decision. “I’ve gotta get these pants off you. I have to see your wound so that I can treat it right.”
“Fuuuuck,” was the stranger’s only growl, his face still half-hidden by shadow. But slowly, he leaned to the right, enough so that I could see the outline of his features, and the breath caught in my throat. Because the injured stranger was sexy as hell. Bright blue eyes looked at me hazily, with a square, strong jaw, his nose straight and proud. My heart leapt into my throat, pulse beating erratically, body going soft and hot at once.
What is wrong with you? The voice in my head screamed. Here’s a human being bleeding out in front of your very own eyes, and you’re thinking how handsome he is? Get with it, girl!
Chastened, I lowered my eyes and stared at his wound. God, my subconscious was right. There was blood seeping through his jeans, a huge, dark red spot about ten inches long and five inches wide. If we didn’t do something, I was gonna have a dead man in my barn.
So I looked up at the man, trying to assess the situation. Could he help me take off his pants? Could he make any decisions at this point? Evidently not because those crystal clear eyes were going hazy again, swimming in and out of consciousness.
“Unnnh,” came another masculine groan, and this time, a thunk sounded as his head hit the barn floor. Oh yeah, he was out, dead to the world. This guy wasn’t going to be able to assist at all.
Leaping to my feet, I ran to the tool shed outside before coming back in, a huge pair of shears in hand. I was gonna have to cut this guy out of the denim, it was the only way to get him free and tend to the wound.
