It took a couple of tries before the dog limped over to me, nudging my hand with his long narrow snout. I bent to rub the damp hair across his side in an attempt to offer some comfort.
“Good boy.” Then to the woman I asked, “How long have you guys been out here?”
“Ten minutes, I think?” She sounded less confident than I would have liked, and I wondered if she’d hit her head.
“Okay. My name is Vaughn. Can you tell me yours?”
“Kristin.”
“You’re going to be okay, Kristin. Can you tell me if you’re hurt?”
“Y-yes. My l-leg. It’s… it’s b-broken,” she cried. “And my ribs. My ribs hurt so bad!”
Shit.Turning to look back at the road, I saw Bri was still on the phone, but she gave me a thumbs-up when she saw me. “Ten minutes!” she shouted. “They want to know how many people?”
I turned back to the woman. “You hear that? Ten minutes! Is anyone else with you?”
“N-no,” she stammered. “Please! Get me out of here!” She sounded more panicked than she had a few minutes ago, and it made me worry she’d injure herself worse.
“You’re doing great, Kristin. Just stay calm. I know it hurts, but just try to stay still. I can’t get down there to help. It’s a miracle Diego didn’t hurt himself worse on this incline.”
After relaying the info to Bri, I knelt by Diego and reached for his paw. He yelped when I lifted it and tried to get away, but years of training had me securing a hold before he could. “Shhh, boy. Shh. It’s okay. Just let me have a look.”
Diego squirmed and whined as I turned the paw over. It wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d feared after seeing all the blood in the snow. There was a two-inch gash along the pad of his foot, but it didn’t appear to be too deep, and I couldn’t see any broken shards of glass. There was another cut going up one side of his leg, but that too seemed pretty superficial.
I was sure to keep my voice calm as I spoke to him. “This isn’t too bad. We’ll get you fixed up quickly.” He leaned against me, shivering in the cold. “You saved your momma’s life, you know that? You’re a good boy, Diego. A very good boy.”
27
It only took an hour for the emergency personnel to pull Kristin out of the ravine. They must have called for a tow truck at the same time they dispatched paramedics because one arrived not even five minutes later. Diego was a complete mess, confused by everything going on around him. He’d snapped and barked at a few people and had tried to leave my side twice to get back to his owner. It left me no choice but to put him in the back of Bri’s car with Prince and Noel. Thankfully our dogs seemed to comfort him and the three of them huddled in the back seat, staring at us through the window with pleading eyes.
I’d given my information to both Kristin and the paramedics and told her she could pick Diego up as soon as she was able but not to worry about him at all until then. Once they’d sped away, Bri and I started to make our way to my house again.
My sister was quiet on the short drive back to the house, rubbing her stomach anxiously.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Not really. I can’t stop thinking about that poor woman. And the dog,” she said, looking over at Diego, who was whining restlessly out the back window.
“I know. They’ll be okay, though.”
I was surprised when we pulled up in front of the clinic a few minutes later to find a red pickup parked out front, its engine running. I had expected Alex to be out clearing the streets.
Alex came running out of the building, pulling a beanie down over his ears. His steps faltered as soon as he saw us. “Vaughn,” he breathed, obviously surprised to see us. “You’re back.”
“Yeah. Came back early because of the storm.”
Alex’s eyes lingered just a little longer than strictly necessary, scanning me questioningly. Was he relieved to see me, or was that my heart playing tricks on me?
“I’m…”
Bri chose that moment to open the back door of the car and all three dogs barreled out, whining and barking at the snow. It cut off whatever Alex had been about to say, and I could see how much it frustrated him, like he’d managed to work himself up to say something and lost his chance.
Wishful thinking, though.
“Sorry, I gotta go,” I said, eager to get a better look at Diego’s wound.
“Yeah. I’ll see you later.”
