The Texas Lawman's Woman. Cathy Thacker Gillen

Austin shouted, waving his arms.

      Well, Shelley thought wearily, at least her son knew what they were after. Unfortunately, the only store open that late was on the outskirts of town, near the entrance to the Lake Laramie State Park grounds. For once, the Mega-Mart was not crowded with summer campers, so Shelley and Austin were able to zip in and out.

      The problem appeared en route home as dusk was falling. Shelley had just turned onto the two-lane highway toward town and gone about a half mile when a pair of headlights coming the opposite direction wove into her lane, then out again, then back toward her.

      Terrified, she hit her horn and brake simultaneously, steering her car as far onto the shoulder as she could go without actually swerving off the road. And still the oncoming vehicle kept heading right for her, weaving back and forth. Knowing she had no choice if she wanted to avoid a collision, Shelley swung the steering wheel farther right and veered off the highway to get out of the way of the wildly careening vehicle.

      Her car shot forward as it completely cleared the shoulder and the low ditch beside it, then slammed down on the rough sagebrush-covered ground, bumping hard once, with teeth-clenching force, and then, to a lesser degree, again and again and again.

      Finally, the Prius ground to a halt while the big sedan that had almost crashed into her continued on its way, not slowing down in the slightest as it swerved into the wrong lane yet again.

      Only this time, she noted in slow-motion horror, the SUV coming toward it was not able to react fast enough. Despite the squealing brakes and blaring horn, the two vehicles collided with a huge boom. A dark-colored SUV went airborne before crash-landing onto its side. The instigating white sedan was thrust into a field one hundred yards south of Shelley’s Prius. And then all fell horribly silent.

      Hands shaking, Shelley turned off her ignition but kept the headlights on. She hit the emergency flashers and swung around to look at Austin. He was still strapped safely into his car seat, but looked as stunned and shell-shocked by their unexpected leap off the road and near miss as she felt.

      Her heart pounding, Shelley scrambled out of the car, opened the back door and removed her son from his car seat, clutching him fiercely.

      My heaven, that had been close!

      “You okay, li’l fella?” Shelley asked, stroking his back.

      Austin nodded. He put his head on her chest. She could feel him trembling. Poor thing. Still cuddling her son in her arms, Shelley reached for her phone and dialed 9-1-1. The operator came on the line. Shelley quickly described what had happened.

      “Is anyone hurt?”

      “I don’t know.” She looked at the crash scene, which was eerily still. “I can’t tell from here.”

      “Can you get a visual for us? So we’ll have an idea how many ambulances to send?”

      Her whole body quaking with a mixture of adrenaline and nerves, Shelley strapped Austin in his seat, got back in the car, and did as required. Emergency lights flashing the entire way, she drove slowly through the field to the scene of the accident. The SUV that had taken the hit had flipped and was still on its side in a nearby field. It had a New York license plate and two passengers inside.

      The sedan that had caused the crash bore Texas plates. The man who’d been driving was sitting behind a deployed airbag that looked like it had deflated. He was shouting belligerently in a slurred voice.

      Shelley got back on the line and told the operator what she knew.

      Fortunately, by the time she had finished, several other motorists were on the scene. One immediately set out flares to stop oncoming traffic. Another went over to the SUV. Everyone left their own vehicles’ lights on to better illuminate the scene.

      Moments later, Shelley couldn’t help noticing that Austin, who normally chattered nonstop while they were in the car, was still ominously silent. She pivoted around in her seat to face him. Her toddler was staring at the scene uncomprehendingly. “Austin?” she asked, aware she was trapped now by all the vehicles, too. “Are you okay?”

      He didn’t respond. Just continued to stare in that same dazed, emotionless way.

      Panicked, Shelley shut down her ignition and jumped out of the car. She reached in to release Austin from his safety harness. He had seemed fine a moment ago, but was it possible he’d somehow gotten hurt without her knowledge? Shelley checked her son over but found nothing—no cuts, bruises or any outward sign of injury.

      A Laramie County Sheriff’s Department car drove up, siren blaring, lights flashing. The officer parked horizontally across the road, further blocking off the scene. Deputy Colt McCabe stepped out wearing a tan uniform.

      As he strode toward her, Shelley had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

      Handsome brow furrowed in concern, he asked, “Were you involved?”

      She nodded. “I was run off the road by that white sedan, just before those two vehicles crashed.”

      A siren blared in the distance.

      “Is Austin okay?”

      “I’m not sure. I—” Austin rested limply in her arms, and he looked awfully pale in the bright yellow headlights. He still wasn’t reacting much. She’d half expected him to be crying by now; there was so much chaos and confusion. The fact he wasn’t alarmed her.

      “He might be going into shock.” Colt went back to his squad car, got a blanket out of the trunk. He brought it back to her. “Here. Put this around him. Keep him warm. We’ll get him to the E.R., too.”

      The siren grew louder, then fell silent as another squad car arrived and parked horizontally to block off the opposite direction. Deputy Rio Vasquez stepped out. And still no paramedics, ambulances or fire trucks, Shelley noted in frustration, although to her relief she hadn’t yet noticed smoke or leaking gasoline.

      “It’s going to be okay,” Colt told Shelley firmly, wrapping a reassuring arm around her.

      Rio headed for the sedan to assess injuries. Colt took the SUV. While they did their jobs, Shelley paced, Austin cradled in her arms, turning him so he could no longer see the crash site. In the background she heard the blur of angry voices, apportioning blame. All the airbags had gone off, and had since deflated, but there were still possible injuries, so everyone was advised to stay put until the paramedics arrived. Unfortunately, the driver of the sedan got out of his car anyway. He pushed past Rio and the people trying to help him and wove toward Shelley drunkenly.

      “What the heck is going on here?” he slurred, a cut streaming blood from his scalp.

      Colt moved to assist. “Mr. Zellecky?”

      The elderly man lurched unsteadily. “No need for alarm. Everything’s fine.”

      “What’s the ETA on the paramedics?” Colt asked into the radio on his shoulder.

      “Another five minutes.”

      That was a lifetime! Shelley thought in despair.

      Colt turned to Rio. “I’m getting Mr. Zellecky to the hospital.”

      Colt took another look at her subdued, pale son and told Shelley, “You and Austin should come, too.”

      Seconds later, they were all strapped in and on their way.

      He drove them to Laramie Community Hospital. Shelley sat in back with Austin. Mr. Zellecky rode shotgun. He seemed roaring drunk when they started out. By the time they’d gone two miles, he was slumped over in his seat, unconscious.

      Colt was on the speakerphone with the E.R. “Got a shocky two-year-old and a seventy-something diabetic coming in. Terrence Zellecky.”

      A pause. “Mr. Zellecky whose wife just had a stroke?”

      “That’s him,” Colt confirmed. “He was apparently driving erratically and got in a car accident. He was belligerent at the scene, but