He fumbled at the clasp with fingers that didn't seem to be working right. I watched him struggle for a moment before gently moving his hand away.
"Let me," I said softly.
I reached across him, trying to be careful not to bump his head or hurt him more. Being this close to Deputy Dan made my insides fizz like soda, but I pushed those feelings down deep. This wasn't the time for that. The belt release clicked, and I quickly put my arm under his shoulders to keep him from falling onto the roof of the car.
"I got you," I promised, easing him down as gently as I could.
He groaned when his body twisted, and I froze, afraid I'd hurt him. "Did I hurt you? I'm sorry if I hurt you."
"No," he said through gritted teeth. "Just sore. Think I might have... cracked a rib."
I nodded, understanding. Pa had cracked ribs last year when he fell off the barn roof, and he'd made those same tight-faced expressions for weeks.
Getting Deputy Dan out of the car was like one of those puzzle games Ransom sometimes played—where you had to figure out how to move something through a space that seemed too small. I talked the whole time, explaining each move before I made it, asking if he was okay, apologizing when he winced. I wasn't usually so chatty, but it seemed important to keep him awake and to warn him before I touched him.
"Almost there," I said as I carefully maneuvered his legs through the door frame. "Just need to... there we go."
Finally, he was free of the car and sitting on the wet ground beside it, leaning heavily against my side. I kept one arm around his shoulders, afraid he might topple over if I let go.
Despite the rain and mud and blood on his forehead, I could still smell that pine soap he used—the kind from the general store that reminded me of the woods after rainfall. Being this close to him made my heart trip over itself like a newborn foal learning to walk.
I noticed things I'd never been near enough to see before—the tiny scar near his right eyebrow, the way his eyelashes clumped together when wet, how his jaw had that light stubble that appeared late in the day.
"Thank you," he said, looking up at me with eyes that seemed to have trouble focusing. "How'd you find me?"
I shrugged, not knowing how to explain about the chickens and the twisty feeling and the invisible string that had pulled me here. "Just had a feeling," I said instead. "Something wasn't right."
He tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace. "Lucky for me."
Rain continued to pour down around us, soaking through my yellow jacket and making Deputy Dan shiver against me. I needed to get him somewhere dry, somewhere warm.
"We should call for help," I said, remembering the walkie-talkie in my pocket. I pulled it out, but when I pressed the button, all I got was static. The storm was interfering with the signal.
Deputy Dan patted his pockets weakly. "Radio... in the car. Phone too."
I glanced back at the overturned patrol car. The rain was coming down harder now, filling the car like a fish tank. Even if the radio was still working, it would be underwater soon.
"We need to get you out of this rain," I decided, looking around for shelter. The nearest structure was our old hunting cabin, but that was at least a mile away through dense woods. The homestead was closer, maybe half that distance, but it would mean carrying Deputy Dan through the storm.
As if reading my mind, he tried to push himself to his feet. "I can walk," he insisted, but his legs wobbled beneath him, and he would have fallen if I hadn't caught him.
I held him steady, his body feeling small and fragile against mine despite him being a grown man. Something protective woke up inside me—the same feeling I got when I found an injured animal or when the spring lambs were born during a cold snap. I needed to keep him safe.
"I got you," I said again, my voice firm and certain now. "Just lean on me."
I looked more closely at Deputy Dan's face and my stomach did a flip-flop. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, mixing with rainwater and running down the side of his face in thin pink streams. It wasn't gushing, but head wounds always looked worse than they were—at least that's what Ma always said when one of us boys came in bleeding.
"You're hurt," I said, reaching out without thinking and then pulling my hand back, afraid to touch him where it might cause pain.
Deputy Dan raised his fingers to his forehead and winced when they came away red. "Hit my head when the car flipped," he said, his words a little slurred around the edges. "Doesn't feel too bad."
But his eyes weren't focusing right, and I remembered what Ma had told Knox when he'd fallen from the hay loft and knocked himself silly. "Head wounds are tricky," she'd said, shining a flashlight in Knox's eyes. "The brain can swell upinside with nowhere to go. You've got to watch for confusion, sleepiness, pupils different sizes."
I didn't know how to check Deputy Dan's pupils, but the way he was blinking slow and heavy worried me. He needed to be inside, dry and warm, with someone who knew about head injuries looking after him.
"We need to get you out of this rain," I said, trying to sound calm and sure like Knox would. "The farmhouse isn't too far. Ma will know what to do."
I slipped my arm around his waist and tried to help him stand. He leaned against me, but when he put weight on his legs, they wobbled like a newborn calf's, and he nearly toppled over.
