“I didn’t want to move her, but I felt horrible leaving her in the snow like this.” Removing his white cowboy hat, Spencer speared his fingers through his hair. He jammed the hat back on.
“You did the right thing.”
RJ got to work on the ABC’s, checking Josephine’s airway, her breathing, and her circulation.
“Jo, can you tell us what happened?” Mitch asked while his colleague continued his assessment.
The woman grunted. “Sure can.” Her voice was as frail as her body, but she tried to muster some strength. “My best friend tried to kill me, that’s what happened.”
RJ stilled, his stethoscope held mid-air. “I thought the call was for a horseback riding accident,” he whispered to Mitch.
“That’s what I said,” Josephine asserted, hearing him loud and clear. She attempted to sit upright, propping an elbow up on the slushy ground, but it instantly gave out under her weight.
Mitch gently placed his hand on her shoulder to keep her in place until she’d been fully assessed and they were ready to move her.
“My best friend, Alpine, bucked me off.”
“Alpine’s her horse,” Spencer clarified, although Mitch had already made the connection. “I wrangled him and put him back in his stall before you got here. Didn’t want him running loose while you were trying to work.”
“That horse deserves to be locked in his stall for the next six months,” Josephine grimaced. “He knows better than to bite the hand that feeds him.”
While RJ continued evaluating Josephine, making sure there were no spinal injuries or fractures, Captain Anderson met the ambulance at the gate and relayed Josephine’s status. Broken tibia, likely a handful of broken ribs, and a concussion, but thankfully no paralysis.
“This happened at the worst possible time,” Josephine complained, even while they carefully transferred her to the stretcher to transport her to the hospital for care. “I’ve got the soiree coming up, and I’m supposed to run the entire thing again this year. I swear, that horse is such a killjoy sometimes.Can’t just let me enjoy a winter afternoon trail ride without unnecessary drama and shenanigans. He always has to be the center of attention.”
“The soiree?” Mitch asked, not realizing he’d said the words aloud. So, this wastheJosephine Major, the woman who held all of Faith’s baked goods hopes and dreams in her hands.
“The Sweetheart Soiree,” Josephine said, blinking up at him as the stretcher rolled across the bumpy ground. She’d been stabilized, but Mitch still didn’t like to see her jostle like that. He grabbed onto her hand to serve as an anchor of reassurance.
“Suppose they’ll have to cancel the event without anyone to run it,” Josephine continued dramatically. “Such a shame. The town really looks forward to this.”
“What about Faith Porter?” Mitch blurted. “Is that something she’d be qualified to do?”
RJ shot Mitch a look across the stretcher separating them, eyebrow cocked in suspicion.
“Faith?” Josephine held firmly to Mitch’s hand. “Doubt she would be interested in taking that on. It’s a lot of work.”
“I think she’d be perfect for the job,” Mitch insisted, knowing that if Faith was in charge of the entire event, then she’d be in full control of the desserts and the bakeries that were selected to showcase. “She was just saying the other day that she wishes she could have a bigger role in participating in the event.” It was a lie; she’d never said that. But there was some truth in it, too. Faith seemed desperate to be chosen as this year’s official baker. She’d been very loud and very clear about that much.
“Well, maybe you could pass it along to her that we’ll need a new chairperson at the helm. Without one, I just don’t see how it would be possible to pull off the soiree at all.” Josephine’s words were swallowed as her stretcher was lifted into the ambulance, and the doors shut. Spencer had climbed up into the rig toaccompany her on her way to the hospital, and RJ and Mitch stood by until the vehicle fired up and departed.
“I see what you did there.” RJ peeled his gloves off, right one first, then the left. He balled them up.
“What?”
“Put in a good word for your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Mitch quickly corrected.
“Did Faith really say that? That she wanted to run the show?”
“Not in so many words.” RJ gave Mitch a leveling look, and Mitch recognized he’d been caught. “Okay, not inanywords. But I know how badly she wants her desserts to be picked, and if she’s in charge, then she would have full control. It seems like a no-brainer, if you ask me.”
“While I think your timing might be a little questionable—having that discussion with an injured, elderly woman that just got tossed from her favorite horse and all—I can’t deny you’ve got some serious initiative. Talk about a grand gesture.”
Mitch knew this move might completely backfire on him. And when he really considered it, Faith was already stressed about perfecting her meringues. Thrusting this added responsibility of running the entire event might be too much. He might have overstepped, but it was too late to change that now. The idea was already out there.
“You really like her, huh?”
