“Glorious evening.” He’s brandishing a chainsaw in one hand and cutters in the other like he’s in a horror movie. Holiday’s influence is rubbing off. “Trust this fucking goat to get stuck on the night it decides to drop a year’s worth of rain.”
“Yeah.” I roll my eyes. “It’s bad, though. He’s stuck in barbed wire.”
Lando’s expression turns thunderous. There’s not an inch of Burlington land he doesn’t know and isn’t aware of.
“Where the fuck’s that come from? There shouldn’t be barbed wire anywhere near here.”
I shake my head. “No idea. But we needto get him out.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“He’s sedated, and I think we need to chainsaw around the hedge, then I can see how bad he’s caught.”
“Got it.” He steps forward, then turns to Story. “Can you move both the cars so the lights are facing here? Block the lane if you have to.”
“Sure.”
“Also, hi, nice to see you back in Valentine Nook, Story.”
I want to add, “Not for long,” but I bite my tongue.
With more light, it’s easier to assess the situation, which isn’t great, but not as dire as I originally thought. The first kick of the chainsaw, however, causes Churchill to panic enough to deepen his wounds, so I get another dose of ketamine until he’s knocked out, and it makes things much easier.
In total it takes twenty minutes to free Churchill.
I cut the barbed wire where it’s tangled in the branches, but I can’t remove it from his legs without causing more damage.
Lando and I work together quickly, while Story stays next to Churchill soothing him. I should tell her it’s pointless because he’s unconscious, but truthfully the muffled whisper in his ear is soothing me too. I can’t hear what she’s saying but every time I glance at her, I’m transfixed watching her mouth move.
Full lips, still slightly pink . . .fuck, the things I want to do to it.
“Hen?” Lando’s holding his hand out, and I know I haven’t heard a word he’s said. Based on the smirk he’s sporting, he’s fully aware why. “Pass me the cutters,then I think we might be able to move.”
The hardest part of the entire operation is getting him up the rainy, muddy slope, until Miles arrives with one of Max’s old sleds and we hoist him into the back of the car.
“This is not how I expected my evening to go.” Miles slams the Land Rover shut. “Poor Churchy, I hope he’s going to be okay.”
“I think he will, but I need to get him back now.”
“Did anyone call Mrs. Winston?” Story’s stopped shivering, but she’s back to being wet and muddy like the rest of us. “I can if you want.”
I nod. “Yes, thank you. Tell her he’ll be at the surgery. Lando or Miles can drop you home.”
“No, I want to come with you, if that’s okay. I want to make sure Churchill is sound.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Miles’s brow raise, and he glances at Lando.
“Um, it might be a while?—”
“That’s okay. I didn’t have plans anyway.”
“All right then.” I sweep my hand in front of me, gesturing her toward the passenger door, and turn back to my brothers. “I’ll see you both later.”
“Catch you at home. Hot Duke and I are getting the hell out of here.”
I hear Lando mutter something along the lines of, “You’re such a dick,” and Story’s already at the passenger side, so she doesn’t notice that Miles doesn’t acknowledge her. Though I doubt she’d care.
We drive in silence to the clinic, where the overnight nurse meets us at the door, and the three of us carry Churchill into the operating room. One thing’s for sure,he’s going on a restricted diet when he’s out of here. His days of stripping every fruit tree in the village are over.
