19
Shep
Thetiresstruggledtohold traction as we sped down the mountain. I knew every twist and turn, so I pushed my truck to its limits, even though the roads were wet.
The all-too-familiar metallic tang of blood hung thick inside the car. Each of Ranger’s labored breaths spurred me on. I was thankful he was still breathing. I’d seen a soldier die with a similar injury, and it was a horrible way to go.
My only solace was that Cam comforted him in the backseat. If he could hear her quiet words, he’d try to rally. I think he cared about her as much as I did, and he sure as hell had stepped up when she needed him.
“How much further?” asked Cam.
“Five minutes. Maybe less.”
Her pale green eyes met mine in the rear vision mirror. “Go faster!”
That wasn’t what I wanted to hear because if we went any quicker around this hairpin, we’d all be going over a five-hundred-foot drop off.
He’d saved her life today. I wasn’t sure how, but I was grateful for it.
When we’d turned off the road and onto the driveway to the house, the distinct sound of gunfire surprised me. It wasn’t the pitch of a rifle, which you might sometimes hear if people were hunting nearby. It was the sound of a pistol. Ranger jumped right through my rolled-down window and bolted toward the river. I grabbed my rifle and went after him. He’d bought me precious time to get close enough to line those fuckers up.
I’d almost lost Cam for the second goddamn time today. I struggled to think about it without crushing the steering wheel in my grip.
My girl was holding herself together for Ranger, even though her pale face suggested she was in some level of shock. She was a strong woman. Stronger than I gave her credit for when I first laid eyes on her.
We pulled into the parking lot outside the vet.
“Hurry, Shep. His breathing is shallow.” Cam’s voice was thick with emotion.
I jumped out and scooped Ranger from the back seat. “Stay here. Keep out of sight. Grab my jacket from up front.”
She nodded and did as I asked. She needed warmth to prevent the shock from getting worse, plus her clothes were soaked through.
I pushed through the clinic door and found Debbie, the town’s vet for the last twenty something years, seeing off a client.
She tensed when she saw us. “Ethan? What the hell happened?” She rounded the counter and rushed us into a consultation room, calling me by the alias name I used in town.
“Bullet wound. Hunting accident.” I laid his limp body on the table.
She peeled Cam’s sweater away to look at the injury and used her stethoscope to listen to his chest.
“Bring him through to the surgery.” Her stern voice echoed through the room.
She charged to the back of the clinic, her short, stout frame taking two steps for every one of mine.
Debbie issued rapid-fire orders to a vet tech, who moved with haste to assemble what they needed.
I laid Ranger on the stainless-steel table. My heart jammed in my throat as I stepped back to give them space to work.
Debbie tied her hair back. “I’ve got it from here, Ethan. Why don’t you wait out front?”
I nodded and backed out of the room, hating that I was powerless to help Ranger.
I paced in the waiting room for twenty minutes before slumping into a chair. The wait was killing me. My knee bounced like a jackhammer as I stared at the door leading to the surgery.
Other clients shot me furtive glances, but none engaged in conversation, thank Christ. The fact I was soaking wet and covered in blood probably helped with that. Or perhaps they could tell I had murder on my mind. I scrubbed my hands over my face and groaned.
It hit me extra hard how much this damn dog meant to me. When I’d picked Ranger out at the shelter four years ago, he was a day from getting the big green needle. He didn’t deserve it then, and I wasn’t ready to let him go now. His name, scrawled on a whiteboard hanging on the door of his cage, had been a beacon. That and the sad goddamn look in his eyes. We were a perfect match.