Page 2 of Surly Sheriff
The events tonight …him… a mere hiccup in a plan months in the making.
Improvise
1
Raegan
Present Day …
Rae activated the blinker and inched the minivan across the midline of the road, looking beyond the truck piled high with fresh produce. Seeing no oncoming traffic, she moved fully into the left lane, accelerating to pass the slow-moving vehicle. Without warning, the truck swerved in front of her. She slammed on brakes and yanked the red Odyssey back into the right-hand lane.
Xena yelped, and Jack cried out, “Momma!”
Heart thumping, hands shaking, she steered the vehicle onto the shoulder of the road and stopped. She twisted in her seat and gave her son a quick scan. “You okay?” Still secure in his booster seat, he looked fine, but she had braked hard.
He nodded. “But Xena fell.” The stocky Rottweiler scrambled from the footwell back onto the seat and gave a sharp bark.
She narrowed her eyes. “Did you unclip her harness, Jack?”
He pursed his lips and met her stare head-on. Her kid was not one to back down from a confrontation. “She wanted me to,” he grumbled, placing his hand on his friend’s neck. “Sorry, Xena.” The dog shifted and lowered her head to Jack’s lap.
Biting back an impatient reprimand — they were all tired after days on the road — she managed a calm response. “We’ll discuss this again. Later.”
Jack dropped his eyes. “Yes, Momma.”
Her gaze shifted to the road behind them.
Damn. The farm truck lay on its side, the underside facing them. Cargo lay strewn far and wide. She stretched an arm between the seats and patted Jack’s knee. “I need to check up on something, but you must stay here with Xena. No disobeying me. Promise?”
“Promise,” he whispered. “Can I watch a movie? Please?”
She forced a smile and squeezed his knee. “Yes,” she said, and handed him the iPad. She turned her attention to the canine. “Xena.” The dog straightened and cocked her head, waiting for her instruction. “Watch Jack.”
Xena gave a sharp bark.
Satisfied that Jack was occupied for the next fifteen or so minutes, and Xena would alert her if anyone approached the minivan, she engaged the hazard lights and lowered the windows a few inches for sufficient airflow. Thankfully, it wasn’t scorching hot today. Grabbing her cellphone, she slid out of the vehicle and moved to the back.
Viewing the full extent of the accident scene, the impact of their near miss hit home. “Jack’s fine,” she muttered, inwardly cursing fate.
This wasnotthe return she had planned.
She willed away her apprehension, opened the rear gate, and grabbed the emergency kit.
Jogging about thirty yards ahead, she placed an orange triangle in the middle of the road. She retraced her steps, picking her way through scattered heads of cabbage and bunches of turnips to the farther side of the accident and set down the second triangle.
She turned her attention to the truck, slip-sliding down the short embankment and trampling over the downed barbed wire fencing to reach the front. Peering through the cracked windscreen, she located the driver. The man lay crumbled on the side against the ground. She recognized the older man despite the blood covering half his face.
“Andy,” she called out. “Can you hear me? Andy?”
He didn’t stir. Not even a flicker of an eyelid. She scanned the vehicle for a way to reach him but dismissed the idea of clambering up and lowering herself into the cab. In her ignorance, she might exacerbate his injuries, but damn, it was heartbreaking to see the kind and gentle farmer in such a life-threatening situation. Rae placed her palm against the windshield. “I’ll get help, Andy. Just hang on. Okay?”
Straightening, she pulled her cellphone from her back pocket and tapped 911.
The operator was familiar, too.
Drawing in a breath, she explained, “There’s been a single vehicle accident on US-6 just beyond Rock Creek. The driver is Andy Long. He’s unconscious and pinned in the cab. I’ve no way of reaching him. He’s in a bad way, June. Real bad.”
“Hold the line, hon. Let me send help.”
