Page 118 of Always a Bridesmaid
Both she and Lexi brought their hands up in prayer position and, as if they’d practiced it a hundred times, added, “Please.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Rain poured in a steady stream—enough that Ford had pulled the hood of his jacket over his baseball cap. The bill kept his face fairly dry, and he was grateful for the waterproof duds. Rivulets formed on the hillside, and mud caked the soles of his boots, adding an inch or two to his height.
Slowed him down some, too.
It also left Nitro struggling and unsure. While the rain wouldn’t erase Mr. Wagner’s scent, it could muddle it by carrying it into formed puddles that confused the dogs. Particularly inexperienced ones.
Pyro will find him. He’s the best of the best.
It’d been a while since Ford had seen his trusty black German shepherd, but he wasn’t worried. Even with the flooding down south, Pyro understood his limits. He’d find the hiker, and if Ford didn’t respond to his barked alert, Pyro would find him and lead him back to Mr. Wagner.
Nitro sniffed the ground and yipped.
“You pick it up again, girl?”
She took a sharp right, one that led them up the side of a hill. Ford scraped off what mud he could on a rock so he could get better traction for the climb.
A howl cut through the air.
Pyro had found Mr. Wagner.
Better yet, Nitro was headed in the right direction.
Ford shined his flashlight around until he spotted Pyro up on an enormous boulder. Nitro scrambled up the rock as well and began howling along.
After slipping and slopping a couple of times, Ford reached the top.
Unfortunately, Pyro and Nitro both had their noses pointed down.
Lashing rain muffled a shout, and Ford glanced over the edge of the boulder, into the crevice. There at the bottom was Mr. Wagner.
Ford introduced himself and asked for a quick recap.
Mr. Wagner had been hiking and wanted to see the view from the top. He’d lost his footing and fell. The narrow, stony outcropping he’d landed on was lucky in a lot of ways. If it hadn’t “caught” him, he would’ve plummeted six or seven stories, and Ford would’ve been retrieving a body instead.
“I’m going to secure a rope,” Ford called to the man. “Do you think you can climb?”
“Not sure. My ankle might be broken. It swelled up enough I had to take off my shoe.”
Shit.The last thing you were supposed to do was remove the shoe—it gave the ankle too much room to swell. “Hold tight. I’ll be down shortly.”
Ford radioed in his location and asked for backup. Then he searched for the best spot to set up a single point anchor.
The nearest pine was dead and thus a no go. After assessing the trunks of the other nearby trees and the length of rope needed, Ford got to work.
A quick water knot, two strands of tight webbing, and he clipped in the carabiner.
With that rig set up, Ford put on his harness, secured everything, and headed to the edge of the rock so he could rappel down. He glanced at the dogs. “Sit. Stay.”
Their furry butts hit the ground, but Pyro whimpered, his attention on the hiker.
“I’m gonna get him. You two stay and wait for backup.” Slowly, Ford hung over the edge. As sure as he was in his anchor, this moment always tested his nerves, an intoxicating mix of trepidation and thrill.
One foot at a time, he began the descent.
Halfway to the outcropping, Ford’s foot slipped out from under him, the moss, rain, and mud caking his boots a dangerous combo.
