Doctor And The Debutante. Pat Warren

he set aside this one week where he could weep in private if that’s how he felt, or rail at the fates for changing his life so radically. Alone up here, he could chop wood, take long walks, read a book and hopefully heal. Then he could go back and get on with his life. Or so the theory went.

      Sean had built the cabin himself and knew it was rock solid. Some would call it rustic and remote, sitting as it was in the midst of evergreens and rocks large enough to be called boulders. There was a stream that ran along the back perimeter with water so pure and clean you could count every pebble. The evenings and early mornings he’d sat on his covered porch and listened to the birds and small wildlife scurrying about in the tall grass had been some of the happiest of his life.

      But that had been then and this was now.

      He’d learned the hard way that not everyone shared his pleasure in seclusion and solitude, in the simple life, in hard work and patiently moving toward a goal.

      Straightening, he dusted off his hands and decided to warm some soup. But a loud crashing sound from outside had him stopping in his tracks and cocking his head to listen more closely. Was it just the wind and the storm escalating? Or could a tree limb have broken loose and fallen onto his attached garage where his Mercedes was parked? Moving to the window again, he tried to see out, but the snow was coming down thick and heavy. Reluctantly, he decided he’d better go check.

      He tugged on his boots, then his sheepskin jacket, zipping it up against the swirling snow as he ventured out, pulling on his leather gloves before closing the door. The wind howled past, the snow blowing every which way. Stepping off the porch, he sank into a drift almost to his knees, making walking difficult. Squinting as he looked up along the roofline, he could see no damage to the garage. Still, something had made that noise. There were trees all around—pine and cottonwood and paloverdes—but he couldn’t spot any fallen limbs.

      Only late afternoon and yet it was growing dark rapidly with no sign the snow would let up anytime soon. Already he could barely make out his driveway leading to the one-lane road two miles in from the highway. Trudging out aways, trying to spot anything amiss, Sean felt a clump of cold white stuff fall beneath his collar, causing him to shiver. Suddenly he noticed some wide tracks veering off the driveway that seemed to be fresh. That was odd.

      As he gazed off to the left, he saw lights glinting off something silvery coming from the hillside below. Curiosity had Sean stepping gingerly along the incline toward the light. Closer now, he could see more tracks in the snow that were definitely recent, wide tire tracks.

      Through the snow-covered branches, he peered down and was able to make out a large vehicle stuck between two trees near the bottom of the gully. Smoky steam was spiraling up from beneath a crushed hood. Getting closer, he saw that it was a late model silver Bronco that had probably hit a tree, then done a complete 180, swiveling about in the slippery snow, its back end wedged in tightly, its nose pointing upward.

      Hurrying over, Sean peeked in through the closest window. A woman was slumped over on her side in the front seat, her thick hair hiding her face. A fat tree limb had broken through the windshield, probably on first impact, stopping mere centimeters from her very still form. He could see no one else in the vehicle.

      Medical instincts on alert, Sean knew he had to see if she was alive, to check out her injuries. He tried to open the driver’s door, but it was too close to a large fir. Moving as fast as humanly possible in the deep snow, he went around to the other side where there was a little more room between the passenger side and a tall pine. But the door was locked.

      Worried about the woman trapped inside, that she might be bleeding to death while he figured out how to rescue her, he looked around for any fallen branches large enough to break the side window. He could see none.

      Cursing under his breath, he retraced his steps to the cabin. He’d need some tools to break a window or pry open a door. But the overhead door of the garage was blocked by mounds of windblown snow. Rushing, he entered his house and all but ran through to the connecting door to the garage. Grabbing a hammer and crowbar, he made his painstaking way back to the Bronco.

      The woman hadn’t moved.

      It took two swings to break the passenger side window enough so he could reach in and unlock the door. Wedging the door open as far as the pine tree would allow and propping it in place with the crowbar, Sean leaned into the front seat and yanked off one glove. He brushed her hair aside and placed two fingers on her throat, searching for a pulse. At last, he felt her heartbeat, thready but definitely there. He let out a relieved breath.

      If she’d been driving a smaller car, she probably wouldn’t be breathing. The heavy Bronco had saved her life.

      Decision time. To remove her might make any internal injuries worse, yet he couldn’t leave her there with the blowing snow and the temperature well below freezing. The chances of getting an EMS unit here quickly in this storm were slim to none. He’d have to do his best to get her inside his cabin and tend to her injuries.

      As if to remind him to quit stalling, the merciless wind sent a rush of snow right at him, powdering his face and hair. The storm was building in intensity. Sean knew from past experience that residents up here could be marooned for days before help could arrive to dig them out. He was the woman’s only hope. And he was a doctor, dedicated to saving lives.

      There’d never really been any other choice.

      Carefully, he leaned back in, reached over and unbuckled her seat belt. Slowly, he eased the woman’s upper torso away from the protruding branch and the steering wheel, maneuvering her toward himself. As her head fell back, he saw blood from a wound on her forehead, but he’d known she’d probably have some lacerations from the flying glass of the windshield, if not from the impact itself. With no small effort in the cramped space, he finally got her shoulders through the door, but he couldn’t reach back in for her legs.

      Praying that he wasn’t adding to her injuries, he dragged her through the confined space until she was totally free of the vehicle. Bracing his booted feet in the slippery snow, he bent at the knees and managed to hoist her up into his arms. Thankfully, she was a small woman. Her head angled toward his shoulder, and she mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out. Something that sounded like Max or Mex.

      Had he missed someone, perhaps a child? As best he could with the woman in his arms, he squinted into the back seat, searching for a tiny form, a movement, a sound. No, there was only a leather handbag on the floor next to a somewhat tattered blanket.

      It seemed a mile to the cabin door as he carried his dead-weight burden in nearly knee-deep snow up the incline and across the unshoveled driveway. At six-one and a healthy thirty-one years old, Sean was in good shape, yet he still found the going rough. Boosting her up for a better hold, he climbed the porch steps and almost dropped her legs as he struggled to open the door.

      At last inside, he carried her to the couch in front of the fireplace and placed her on it as gently as he was able. Letting out a deep breath, he shook the snow off his hair, then went back to close the door, remove his gloves and toe off his boots. Unzipping his coat as he hurried back to her, he saw that blood streaked her face and she was quite wet from the snow that had fallen in on her through the broken windshield and the walk to the cabin. The crash he’d heard in the cabin had undoubtedly been the Bronco which meant she hadn’t lain out there too long.

      Still, hypothermia can set in quickly when an injured person’s blood pressure drops, Sean knew. Quickly, he whipped off his jacket and went to his bedroom, returning with his medical bag and a towel. Shifting her into a better position on the oversize couch, he again checked her pulse, pleased to find it even stronger than before. She looked to be somewhere in her twenties, which would definitely be in her favor.

      Gently he pushed up first one eyelid, then the other. Pupils okay, a good sign. Her eyes were large and deep blue. Probably one of her best assets, Sean thought absently.

      Dampening a sterile gauze pad with alcohol, he brushed back her long black hair and cleaned the wound on her forehead. Quite deep but still just a superficial cut. He put antibiotic ointment on a clean gauze pad, placed it on the wound, then taped it in place.