Page 55 of Prophet
“Yeah, Roller, maybe.” Wildcat nodded.
“Well, he’s got help,” someone said from the doorway.
Looking over, I saw Ma walking in.
Heading to the man on the bed, she asked Wildcat, “How does his eyes look?”
“Non responsive as of about twenty minutes or so ago.”
“Well, that don’t count now.” She leaned down closer to the man in the bed as she took a penlight out of her apron and pinched his eyelid open. Flashing the light over his eye, she then pinched his other lid to do the same. “Hmm, not bad.” Shaking her head, she peeled back the bandage cover the huge gash and took a peek. “Dang, that’s a gully of a cut.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Wildcat said as he nodded at Roller. “Let’s set up the IV.”
“I can help with that,” Ma said as she stepped around to where they stood. “We need to hurry too, that cut needs to be stitched up.”
I stood back and watched as Ma nearly took over the medical care of the man on the bed. She had nursing skills. Of that, I had no doubt. I knew she was doing it as per her rule of anyone injured that passed through her house, had to pass by her first. But I also knew she was highly aware that this man was our only hope to getting Jewel and my father safe. If I had any faith, it was in this woman, she met shit head on and did her best. No wonder Jarret loved her. Yes, we all knew he did as that man was an entirely different person now, since he came back home and decided to stay.
However, would they still have the ranch to stay in? I reset my focus on the bed again.
They now had him hooked up. Ma set her kit on the bed and sat down in a chair to sew the man’s head up.
I waited and the wait was more hell. Frustrated, I finally took the now irritating comm device from my ear and shoved it into my pocket. Minutes had tapped up into yet another hour. The clock on Jewel’s and my dad’s life was literally ticking in my head.
The man winced then groaned as she stitched up that large cut he’d gotten in the crash.
At his movement, I stepped closer. He felt it. So was he conscious enough to wake up? I stood at the end of the bed with Wildcat.
He handed me a cold bottle of water.
I grabbed it as I realized I hadn’t drunk anything for hours. Chugging it down, I blinked as I lowered the empty bottle.
“Take it easy there, Prophet,” Wildcat said. “We should have thought of hydrating you on the way over here.”
“I’m fine,” I said, my eyes remaining glued on the bed.
“No, you ain’t,” Ma spoke up as she tied off her last stitch.
I gave no answer as she was right. I wasn’t fine. Not in any way.
Ma checked the stitching she’d just finished then she did something odd, even for her it was odd. Reaching over, she raised the man’s arm then pinched him hard on his armpit.
With a lurching gasp, the man’s eyes popped open.
“The hell?” Wildcat muttered.
Anxious and desperate at the sight of him awake, I stepped closer to the other side of the bed.
Before I could open my mouth, Ma spoke, “Son, you are in great peril. You may be dying.”
The man blinked his eyes and whispered, “D-dying?”
“Yes, dear boy.” Her voice was soft and gentle. “God waits for you. But you need to help us.”
He laid still for a long moment.
We all waited. He might not tell her anything. Slowly he turned his head and looked over at her face. “Mat?” he whispered as his Russian accent had turned thick.
“Da.” Ma nodded her head.
