Page 61 of A Moment In Time

She picked up one of the crates they used to transport the papers. “Let’s get these ready to deliver.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled. “You know. You make me feel old when you call me ma’am.”

“Sorry.” He blushed. “My mom says it’s a sign of respect.”

“Well, thank you. It’s a compliment then, I guess.” She thought about the Calaway brothers who all seemed to use ma’am on a regular basis. They were certainly respectful. Even when Gage was at his grumpiest, he was still respectful.

She tried not to think about why he wasn’t there. It would be an overreaction to assume something had happened to him. Like Cooper said, what could happen in the mile to his house?

Chapter eighteen

"How does this go again?"

Cooper walked the mile to Gage’s house. The snow continued to fall during the night, and there were about six inches on the road filling in Gage’s footprints. When Cooper arrived at the house, he went onto the porch and knocked.

“Gage?”

When he got no answer, he opened the door and went inside. There was a fire in the wood stove and a full pot of coffee on the burner of the coffee machine. A clean cup sat on the counter next to the coffee.

The bedroom door was open and Cooper looked into the room. The bed was made, and the bathroom light was off.

“Gage. Where the hell are you?” Cooper returned to the kitchen and filled the cup with coffee, then took a sip. There was no way he passed him on the road. Besides, Gage would’ve damped down the fire before he left and drank the coffee. There were no breakfast dishes on the counter or in the sink. Which in itself wasn’t that telling. Gage never left dirty dishes in his sink.

There was a camera bag on the kitchen table and Cooper walked over to it and looked inside. The camera was gone. He took another sip of coffee, then set the cup down. His crazy brother must’ve gone outside to take pictures. A half-foot of snow wouldn’t have stopped him if he saw the perfect shot.

Cooper went outside and circled the house. “Gage. Where are you?” He saw footprints in the snow leading away from the back porch. “Okay. Let’s see what’s so damn important.” Cooper stepped followed Gage’s prints through the snow.

The footprints stopped next to a freshly fallen tree. Cooper’s heart stopped when he saw Gage lying under it, partially covered with snow.

“Gage.” His brother was unresponsive. Cooper knelt, tugged off his gloves, and put his fingers on Gage’s neck. Cooper released the breath he’d been holding when he felt the faint flicker of a pulse. Gage’s face was pale and his skin was cold. It seemed he’d been there a while. Cooper took off his coat and laid it over Gage’s chest, then pulled out his phone. He had no service. “Dammit.”

He stashed his phone and put his hands under Gage’s armpits, then tried to pull him out. He was afraid to pull too hard. But it was obvious, Gage wasn’t budging.

Cooper looked at the tree. The diameter of the trunk was close to two feet. And when it was standing, it was probably twenty feet tall. There was no way he could lift it. But he had to try. Again, no luck. The tree didn’t move.

He backed. “I’ll be right back, brother.”

He started running. He went around the house, then headed down the road. Every few feet, without stopping, he checked his phone for service. When he got two bars, he stopped and dialed the closest person who could help.

Cabe answered. “What’s up, brother?”

Cooper tried to catch his breath. “Gage. Gage is hurt. I need you.”

“Where are you?”

“Halfway between his house and mine on the road. I ran until I got service. Meet me at his house. He’s in the back. Hurry. And call 911 before you leave.”

“What do I tell them?”

“That a tree fell on our brother.”

“I’m on my way.”

Cooper stashed his phone and ran back to Gage. He started digging out the snow around Gage’s body. He didn’t see any blood, and he wasn’t sure if Gage was hurt or had just been trapped for so long he was hypothermic. He assumed it was probably both.

Cabe seemed to arrive in record time, and when Cooper heard him calling, he stood and called out. “Over here.”

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