Brice leans down next to the man and begins an assessment, looking into his eyes.
"He’s unconscious. He could have hit his head on the way down or possibly passed out from the pain. But I don't see a huge blood loss." Brice begins feeling the man's neck, then his arms. He pulls up his shirt up to check his stomach. Then runs his hands over his legs,
"His left leg is broken, but I don't see signs of internal bleeding. Though we’ll still have him checked."
While Brice is working on making sure the man is stable, red lights fill the field.
Looking up, I see what can only be described as a makeshift ambulance in the shape of a pickup truck. More lights flash next to the barn, which I assume is where the regular ambulance is waiting.
"This is a transport vehicle for events like this when the ambulance can't get to a field," Brice tells me as the paramedics walk up.
"We need to splint his leg before we move him," Brice tells them.
One of them runs back to the truck, returning with a board and a few other items.
Then they stabilize his leg and as they work, Brice goes over his assessment on the patient, what happened, and what needs to be done using fancy medical talk. A man is laying on the ground unconscious, his wife a mess watching it all, and I can't remember the last time a man turned me on so damn much.
Keeping watch, I look around the field, but nothing seems out of place. My guess is the red lights will scare anything away.
"Any idea what spooked the horse?" I ask his wife.
"I didn't see anything. A snake maybe?" she replies.
This poor woman needs a little comfort, and without thinking, I wrap my arm around her and pull her into my side. She sags against me and rests her head on my shoulder, watching them get her husband onto a stretcher. I don't offer false words of comfort because neither of us truly knows what the outcome will be. But I can stand with her, offering my support, and remind her she isn't alone.
Once the man has been secured, Brice steps back and lets the paramedics load him into the truck. One stays with him and one drives. The woman is watching them, and I turn to find Brice watching me. The look on his face tells me he's happy I'm here even if this isn't exactly where either of us wishes we were.
"Come on, we’ll give you a ride to the barn. You should be able to ride in the ambulance with your husband," Brice says.
I insist she sits in the front seat, and I take the back. I can tell Brice doesn't like it, but he doesn't fight me on it. At the barn, we stick around until the ambulance leaves and Brice goes to talk to the ranch hand.
"Did you all get his horse?" Brice asks.
"Yeah. He's a little wound up, but no injuries. No sign of what spooked him," the ranch hand says.
"Keep an eye on the horse, just in case. When your boss gets home, watch him and don't let him do too much. His leg is in bad shape. If he tries to get back out there too early, you call me. I’ll come get him."
They shake hands and Brice opens the truck door for me, getting me situated. I hand him the gun and he places it back in the glove box and locks it.
It's a different world out here. Yes, it's Texas, but you still wouldn't think of having a gun in your glove box in the city. Well, at least, I don't.
"Let me drive so you can make your phone calls," I tell him since he already has his phone out again. He looks at me, and then at his phone, nods and we switch places.
The truck is a little bigger than I'm used to driving, but I won't admit that to him.
While I follow the ambulance, Brice calls into the ER and has them get ready for the rancher. I thought that was the paramedic's job in the ambulance.
Then he calls his father, who is already at the hospital, and updates him on everything. His mom is already praying with the church ladies and ready to set up a meal train for his wife, who, from the sounds of it, will have to pick up more ranch chores.
Brice’s next call is to Sage, though this one surprises me. Just the fact he thought about it shows what small-town life is like. He talks to Sage about having a few guys come down to help Bill until he's back on his feet. From the sounds of it, they can't hire another ranch hand even temporarily. Of course, Sage is happy to help.
When he finishes the call, he sags against the seat. I reach over to take his hand, but he puts my hand back on the wheel and rests his hand on my thigh, which is much more distracting.
It's obvious he's uncomfortable with me driving now that his calls are done, but we have to be close to the hospital as we just reached the city limits.
"Thank you for being here," he says, looking at me.
"Of course, I'm here. I'm happy to help even just a little."