Page 4 of Protected By the Mountain Man

“Talk to me, Ben,” she urged her brother, her hands fluttering over him, desperate for a response. “Please.”

“Kat…” I started, unsure how to break it to her that hope wasn't on our side.

But before I could find the words, she turned on me, eyes blazing. “Why aren't you taking him to the hospital?”

“Did you call an ambulance?” I asked, keeping my voice calm. An ambulance meant better medical care right away, a mobile emergency room. My truck wouldn’t be nearly as helpful.

“Yes, damn it!” Her fists clenched, her entire body coiled with tension.

“Then we wait.” I kept my voice level. “They've got the equipment, the meds. If we move him wrong, it could…”

“Could what?” Her voice broke, a crack in her armor I hadn't expected.

“Make things worse.”

I didn't have to spell it out. Ben needed professional help, and all I could do was try to keep him stable until it arrived. She stared at me, understanding dawning.

I had to stop that line of thought before it dragged her under.

“Help me stop the bleeding,” I said instead, because action—any action—was better than standing still. I pulled off my flannel and folded it, then pressed down on the wound, feeling the warm sticky press of his life ebbing away beneath my fingers. “Hold this. Just like that.”

“Okay,” she whispered, doing as instructed. “Stay with us Ben.”

I dashed to my truck, yanked open the back door, and grabbed the first aid kit I kept stowed under the seat. Basic training might be years behind me, but it was etched into my bones. I knelt beside Ben, ripping open a package sterile pressure dressing.

“Come on,” I muttered as I worked, trying to staunch the flow of blood. I knew in my gut it was a stopgap at best. The wounds were too serious, and Ben's labored breaths were a countdown I didn't want to hear.

“Livy…” His voice was a hoarse whisper, gasping and choked with blood. “Livy…”

“Who's Livy?” I couldn't help but ask, looking up at Kat for just a second. Her face was stone, but her eyes betrayed her panic.

“His daughter.” She swallowed hard, and I cursed silently.

A kid shouldn't have to grow up without their father.

“Shit.” There wasn't much else to say.

Kat hovered over us, her silhouette outlined against the bright sky, looking more like an avenging angel than anyone I'd ever seen. I tried to draw her attention away from the blood, the panic. “What happened, Kat?”

“We were riding the fence,” she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. “Checking for breaks. Then…there were gunshots.”

“Gunshots? You think it was a hunter?”

“I don't know.” Her gaze darted around the expansive fields surrounding us, mistrust written all over her. “Could've been anything. This is Montana, Gabe. People shoot their guns for fun.”

“Right.”

“Damn it, Ben, hold on.” Her voice broke again, and she reached out, her hand hovering over his chest like she could will him back to strength.

“Hey,” I said, meeting her eyes. “We've got this.”

“Yeah, about that…” Kat's voice was sharp as her gaze locked onto mine. “What the hell are you even doing out here, Gabe?”

“Delivering groceries to my dad.” I kept my tone steady. “I drive the backroads to avoid traffic. That's all.”

Suspicion clouded her eyes, but before she could drill me with more questions, the distant wail of sirens cut through the air.

“Thank God,” Kat muttered.

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