Page 22 of Roughing It

Chapter7

Maddox

The last thing in the world I want right now—no, the last thing in the world Ineedright now—is an accident on the property. Especially one involving the horses. Especially one happening to that little group of people who damn near made Phoenix cry.

When I get the call, I’m in my apartment, flat on my back, with the kitten purring on my chest. She’s a sweet girl, and I’m trying hard not to give her a name because the last thing I want to do is get attached.

But here we are.

Then my phone rings, and everything barrels straight to hell as I struggle into my boots and run faster than I thought I was capable of. Orson, the maintenance manager, is waiting out front with his quad and the folding stretcher, so I jump behind him, and we tear up the trail.

It’s barely a quarter of a mile when we see the small group—Miguel hovering off to the side, holding the reins of three horses, and the larger man kneeling beside the woman who is flat on her back in the mud.

I brace myself for the man to lose his absolute shit at me because he looks halfway into a panic attack when he glances up, but instead, he just marches over and thrusts out his hand. He looks like every single trust fund kid I’ve ever known, but his grip is shaky, along with his voice, when he finally speaks.

“Thanks for getting here so fast. Her pulse is a little quick, but it’s steady. She said the pain is pretty bad, but your friend there said she’s not going into shock.” His voice is thready with fear and nerves, but he doesn’t seem angry, which is… new and very unexpected.

I clasp his arm now that I’m sure he’s not going to start screaming obscenities at me and threatening to sue me until my lodge goes out of business, which has happened for a lot less than a horseback riding incident.

“I’m no EMT, but if Miguel isn’t worried, you shouldn’t be either. We’ve already got an ambulance heading up to the lodge, okay? We just need to get her back, and you can ride down with her.” I brush past him as I hear Orson and Miguel getting the stretcher ready.

It’s going to be a long walk, but between the three of us, we can get it done, and the EMTs will probably meet us halfway anyway. We’re a little way from town, but they usually get up here pretty quick.

I look down at the woman, who gives me a weak smile, and I kneel beside her and do my best to assess her wounds. I’m only trained in basic first aid, but if Miguel seems confident, I don’t panic.

“Did Eden make it back okay?” the woman asks as I kneel down next to her. “She was with that douchebag.”

She says it like I’m supposed to know who she’s talking about, but I’m pretty sure I hadn’t seen any of their party other than—well, the douchebag. Him, I remember. I bite back my snort of derision over the whole sheet incident and give her my most reassuring smile, though I doubt it does much good. “I’m sure everything’s just fine. They headed back to the lodge, right?”

She nods, then absently tries to lift her arm and cries out. Her husband drops down next to her and brushes a soothing hand over her cheek. “Sweetheart, don’t,” he murmurs.

She softens and laughs. “I forgot.”

He looks up at me and scoffs, but his eyes are achingly tender as he looks back down at her. “She forgot she has a broken wrist after getting thrown from a horse.”

I manage a smile, though hearing that just makes me feel worse. There could be more damage, and the idea of moving her is a little terrifying. Still, we’ve done it before. I stand up and walk over to Miguel where he has the stretcher spread out and the straps untangled. Dropping my hand to his shoulder, I pull him a little farther away and lower my voice.

“What the fuck happened?”

“I don’t actually know,” he says, his tone strained. “I was leading up the trail, and we heard a scream. When I looked over, Wicker had already thrown her.”

It’s not like her. That’s not like any of my horses. “Any incidents before that?”

Miguel bites his lip, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it now. “Yeah, but can we talk later?”

I nod, my stomach sinking. “We should get her started up the trail.”

Miguel gives me a quick assessment of her condition. He doesn’t think there’s any internal bleeding. They were barely at a trot when she was thrown, and she didn’t hit her head, so I allow myself to relax before we carefully get her onto the stretcher.

Her husband is gracious enough to take the horses as Orson, Miguel, and I lift her and begin the walk back. It’s totally silent, but I can see the poor woman is pale with how much it hurts. Exactly as I predicted, four younger guys in uniforms appear a few minutes later. They take over the carry, and I turn to her husband, who looks like he wants to run after them, and I gently pull the reins from his hands.

“Go with her,” I urge. “We’ll be right behind you.”

He lets out a sigh of relief and takes up the rear with Orson as Miguel and I linger behind, urging Wicker, North Sea, and Achilles to follow behind. They seem a little agitated, and that bothers me, but it’s not out of the ordinary with an incident like this. We’ve only had a couple in the years I’ve been running the lodge, but I’m not foolish enough to think they can’t happen.

“Okay, you wanna tell me what the fuck happened?” I finally say when it’s clear the party is too far ahead to hear.

Miguel sighs. “The other woman on the ride, Eden—real fuckin’ sweet, boss—we were talking earlier about her fear of horses beforehand.”

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