A Fair to Remember

“Get your dad,” Wes instructed. “And call 911.”

Tara ran for the house and the moment the tree settled, Wes rushed to the man’s side. A large branch across his chest pinned him to the ground, and he gasped in obvious pain.

“C-can’t…breathe…”

Wes straddled the branch, wrapped his arms around the rough bark, and lifted. Bark bit hard into his bare arms, but the tree didn’t give. The man’s white face and blue lips didn’t look good. Wes sucked in a breath and strained harder. Pounding footsteps reached his ears, along with a jangling of metal tags that could only be—

“Sugar!”

Wes glanced over his shoulder to see Sugar barreling toward him. Great, not now, dog.

“Sugar, sit!” he bellowed. The tone of his voice halted the Great Dane in her tracks. “Stay,” Wes commanded. She cowered down as Tara and her father ran past to take hold of the tree with him.

“Mom’s calling the rescue squad.”

“Lift on three.”

Wes counted swiftly, and this time the tree moved a little, but the man on the ground cried out in agony.

“Hold it right there—don’t move,” Wes ordered. “We’re rolling it on him when we lift the branch. We need to get the entire thing straight up.”

“How?” Kurt Russell ground out through clenched teeth.

“We need something to leverage it up with.” Back muscles burning, Wes swept his gaze around the yard for something that might help.

“I got it! I’ll be right back,” Tara exclaimed and sprinted toward the garage.

“Hang in there, Jeff,” Kurt said. “We’re gonna get you out of there.”

Jackie Russell ran from the house as sirens sounded in the distance. Relief washed over Wes, lifting some of the weight of responsibility off his shoulders. Tara returned with two long metal pipes just as the rescue squad and two police cars screamed around the corner. She shoved one pipe across to Wes and Kurt, then positioned the other on the opposite side and braced it on her shoulder.

“Mom, help me with this.”

“You got it?” Wes asked Kurt before letting go of the tree. He nodded, so Wes grabbed the other pole and positioned it the same as Tara and her mother, directly opposite so the pipes crossed underneath the branch. Squatting slightly, he pushed up with everything he had, using his entire body to bear the weight. At Wes’s instruction, Kurt switched with Jackie to even out their strength.

Between the four of them, they lifted the tree a few inches. The man gasped and coughed as the EMT’s hurried from their squad, Charlie one of them. From the corner of his eye, Wes saw Sugar run toward her owner.

“Sugar, come,” Wes ordered in a firm tone. The dog slowed, turning her head toward Wes. Charlie paused to confer with another EMT, and Sugar focused back on him. Wes knew she’d only get in the way so he called her again. She paused, clearly torn. Tara joined in, and together, they coaxed the dog over as Charlie took charge of the situation.

He gave commands with calm efficiency, working fast to access the injured man so they could move him clear. Wes heard “broken ribs” and a “possible punctured lung” and hoped the guy would be okay. Sugar sidled up to Wes’s leg, surprising him by sitting as if she now understood the gravity of the situation. Wes praised her quietly.

Even though the police officers now helped with the weight of tree, Wes’s arms started to shake. He looked across at Tara. She was doing great, and so smart of her to grab pipes that allowed the tree to slide easier. Their eyes met. Her brief smile gave him a renewed sense of strength.

“All clear!” Charlie called after they’d lifted the man on a backboard to the stretcher and moved him away. Wes saw his own relief reflected in Tara, Jackie, and Kurt’s faces. They let the tree and poles drop with a combined crunch of branches and echo of metal. The other three started toward the ambulance, so Wes took hold of Sugar’s collar and followed.

Charlie met them halfway. “He’s got a couple broken ribs, but we’re not sure about his lungs. He’s gaining color back already, so hopefully his injuries won’t be too serious. Anyone know where Carol is?”

Sugar turned her head to lick Wes’s arm, and he flin

ched away from her rough tongue as Tara’s mom supplied, “She goes to bingo on Sunday afternoons. I’ll pick her up and meet you at the hospital.”

“Okay, I’ll see you there. Good job, you guys, thanks for the help.” Charlie started to turn away, then did a double take to focus on Wes and Sugar. “You should come get those cuts cleaned up.”

Wes looked down. The moment he saw his raw, blood-dried forearms, his brain registered stinging pain. Sugar tried to lick again, but Wes pulled away. “It’s nothing, just superficial.”

“When was your last tetanus shot?” Charlie asked as he backed toward the squad.

Three weeks ago when he’d been shot. “I’m current.”