Page 19 of His Eighth Ride

In the kitchen, she shoved her feet into her boots and yanked open the pantry. She had a first aid kit there, and she headed for the door now that she was equipped.

“I knew I should’ve gone looking right away,” Tag said. “I ignored that prompting, and I’m so angry at myself.”

“Tag, get the first aid kit off the wall in the barn,” she said. She could deal with his regrets later. Right now, Boots needed help. “And turn the heater up.”

“Okay,” he said. “All right.”

“I’m on the way,” she said, the nearly-midnight air searing her lungs with icy fingers. “Get some blankets and get him comfortable. I’m two minutes away.”

“Hurry, Opal,” he said. “I don’t know if he’ll make it two more minutes.”

Opal broke into a run, something she hadn’t done since she’d worked in the ER, almost a year ago. “Dear God,” she said aloud, not caring that Tag could hear her. “Bless Boots to just hang on for a few more minutes. Tag can’t lose his dog, Lord. Please, don’t let him lose his dog tonight.”

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Tag started to calm as he heard Opal pray for his corgi. She never panicked over anything, and to hear such goodness twinged with that hint of desperation in her voice somehow slowed him down.

He put a blanket on the floor next to Boots, and he opened the first aid kit he’d pulled from the wall. “I’m gonna turn up the heat,” he said, and he darted over to the panel next to the door to do that. Max, Gerty’s German shepherd, whined from his position next to the door. Then he barked, startling Tag and accelerating his heartbeat again.

Without Max, Tag was certain he’d have not found Boots in time, and he reached down to pat the dog before he turned to go back to his pup.

He hadn’t taken two steps back to Boots when the door crashed open behind him. “Okay,” Opal said, striding past him. “He is not going to die tonight. Not on my watch.” She went straight to Boots and set down the kit in her hand.

“Yes, I see what happened.” She dug into the kit while Tag went to join her on the cement.

The cold, hard surface bit at his knees, and he reached to stabilize Boots as Max joined them and practically lay on top of him. “Max,” he chastised.

“It’s okay,” Opal said. “His body heat will help.” She lifted a syringe, and Tag dang near passed out.

His vision blurred around the edges, and he forced himself to look away as Opal gave his dog some, “Pain-killers is all.” She nodded to the first aid kit. “Get out the biggest gauze pad you can find. And I’m going to need something to clean away some of this blood.” She spoke in a clear, even voice, absolutely no panic whatsoever.

Tag fumbled the gauze pads, but he got them out. “I’ll get a cloth wet in the sink.” He jumped to his feet and ran to do that, going purely on adrenaline at this point. The water came out of the sink ice-cold, but Tag plunged his hands into it anyway.

He wrung the water out of the paper towel and prepped a second one before dashing back to Opal.

“He’s breathing better,” she said. “Look.”

Indeed, Boots wasn’t panting in short, horrible gasps anymore, and if his front paw wasn’t propped up on part of the blanket where Opal had bunched it, Tag would think he’d just fallen asleep.

“Wet cloth,” he said, handing it to Opal.

She took it and started cleaning up the paw. “Hold his head, so he doesn’t snap at me.”

Tag put his arm across Boots’s neck, but the corgi didn’t move at all. He’d been outside for at least three hours, and Tag had no clue how long he’d been tangled in the discarded barbed wire just on the other side of the property line.

He started to breathe easier now that there wasn’t so much blood, and he had to look away as Opal pulled out what looked like a rudimentary sewing kit for children.

“He just needs a couple of sutures,” she said, almost to herself.

“Tell me when you’re done,” he said, reaching out to comfort himself by putting a hand on Max’s side.

“Almost…there….” She held out her hand. “Gauze.”

He picked up a pad and slapped it into her palm.

“And tape.”

He gave that to her too, and only a few seconds later, she leaned back onto her heels. “Done.” She looked over to Tag, who dared to raise his head then. “We should take him to the vet in the morning to get, you know, real canine stitches put in.”

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