Page 107 of Doing Life

“I can point you in the direction I came from. I didn’t get the damn coordinates because I needed service to do that.”

“I know we said buddy system,” Sloan told Stan. “But you need to get Brick back before he goes into shock. I’ll keep on with the dogs. I have my radio and the walkie.”

“Okay, but take both emergency packs.”

Sloan nodded, but dug into one and pulled out a Capri Sun. “The sugar will help, Brick. Drink it all down.” He stabbed the pack with the straw because Brick only had one hand now.

Speaking of. “Here’s your hand. I needed it for the dogs to scent.”

“Thanks. They’re back that way… Maybe two and a half klicks. If you get to the stream, turn south and go along the creek. They’re in a small copse of trees right on the bank.”

“Got it.” That he could do. “Okay, you two go. I’ll call it in to Luke.”

“We’re going.” Stan gave him a look. “Be safe, dammit.”

“I will.” He called in on the walkie.

“Sloan. What have you got?”

“Brick. He’s headed in with Stan. I am going west and south. Brick says they’re at the creek.” He gave Luke his coordinates to give to Matt. “But I’ll be on the move.”

“Okay. Okay, I’m on my way.”

“Come on, dogs. Up.” He needed to motor, and he’d put the dogs out once they got to the creek.

They hopped up, and he rubbed two sets of ears, praising them both.

Maynard was wagging like a fool, but Abby was still grumpy as hell.

“I know. Me too. We’re going to find him.”

He could see the lights from Matt’s ATV across the way. It was bigger and could hold any injured.

Matt rolled up and they both turned toward the back ofthe property, and Sloan felt like gunning it, but he’d just get bogged down if he didn’t keep an eye on the small patch of terrain illuminated by the lights. Dammit, where was Lance?

Chris had stopped yellinga little while ago.

Together, he and Lance had started a pitiful fire, but Chris had moved to snuggle with Boone when Boone started trembling too.

Lance was doing okay, really. The fire was still mostly going, and he was mostly not freaking the fuck out.

Lance knew, by now, the whole ranch was hunting for them, so he didn’t have to worry. He had to keep his patients alive and be patient.

He hated being patient.

Also, he missed his dog.

He needed Abby there, because he could tell her to go home, and she’d be warm and brave and solid with him and do what needed to be done.

A new sound hit his ears, and he tilted his head, hunting its source. Maybe another wave of storm? Shit, what if he was fixin’ to get his ass run over by a tornado, or maybe a flash flood was sweeping along the creek.

Then he heard the hellacious bay of a big old hound.

“MAYNARD! ABBY! I’M HERE!” He wasn’t a little man, and there was nothing wrong with his voice. “I HAVE WOUNDED! MAYDAY!”

Abby’s furious barking joined Maynard’s baying, and they were getting closer. The sound was so welcome, and so damn close.

“Come on, pups! Come on!”

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