Tacker (Arizona Vengeance 5)

My heart leaps into my throat.

Raul is on the ground.

Just that fast, he was talking to me and walking Starlight, and in the next second, he was down.

“Raul,” I scream, taking off running toward him.

Starlight stands placidly beside him, just a little too close, so I put a hand to her chest and the other to her lead, encouraging her to back up. She’s such an obedient horse that she does so easily, then she’s forgotten as I scramble to Raul.

I drop to my knees in the dirt beside him. He’s on his side, his hat having been knocked off in the fall, but his face is turned downward and hidden by his arm.

“Raul,” I call, giving him a slight shake of the shoulder.

I don’t get a single sound back from him.

Panic seizes me, and tears fill my eyes. My initial thoughts are that I can’t handle him dying. I’m not ready for this.

And, just as quickly, a measure of calm sneaks in as I realize… I don’t even know if he’s dead.

“Fuck,” I mutter, quickly but gently rolling him to his back.

He’s completely unconscious, and my training kicks in. Since I deal with so many children on the ranch, I’m certified in CPR. I even have a portable defibrillator in my office.

When I place shaky fingers on his neck, I can’t detect a pulse. “Oh, God… Raul,” I moan before grabbing my phone from my back pocket.

I quickly dial 9-1-1 and put the phone to my ear, holding it in place with a hunched shoulder. As it’s ringing, I place one hand over the other, lace my fingers, and begin compressions on Raul’s chest.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” a man’s voice comes across the phone.

My voice is shaking. “Yes… um… I’m at 4811 Goose Camp Road… it’s Shërim Ranch. My foreman has collapsed, and I can’t find a pulse. I need an ambulance.”

The man’s voice is cool and collected, sounding softly reassuring. “Okay… I’m dispatching paramedics to you right now. Do you know how to perform CPR?”

“Yes, and I’m doing compressions right now,” I say, but then I get really panicky. “And fuck… I don’t even know how many I’ve done. It’s thirty, right? I do thirty and then two breaths?”

“Ma’am,” the man says smoothly. “It’s fine. You can just continue to do compressions, no more than one hundred per minute until paramedics arrive.”

“I have a defibrillator in my office,” I say, my voice squeaking with nerves.

“Is there anyone who can get that for you?” he asks.

“No,” I reply, and then a sob comes out. “I’m here by myself.”

“Okay, you just stay with him and continue compressions. I’m showing the paramedics are just about four minutes out right now.”

Four minutes? That’s an eternity.

I want to check for a pulse, but I’m afraid to stop what I’m doing. I can’t tell if he’s breathing while I’m doing compressions.

I want to break down and cry, but I can’t because his life depends on me right now.

Turns out, watching an unconscious Raul for four minutes while waiting for medical help to arrive is perhaps one of the most excruciating things I’ve ever been through. Not nearly as traumatic as watching my family gunned down or my sister raped, but it’s third in line.

Even watching Helen die wasn’t this horrific because I’d been prepared. She was in pain, and it was a relief. It was also very peaceful.

If Raul dies under my hands in the dirt with Starlight watching over my shoulder, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to get over it.

Finally, I hear the beautiful wail of the siren. It gets louder and louder. Soon, the ambulance is bumping down my gravel road. Thankfully, Raul fell in a spot where they can easily see us as they approach. They pull in close, two young men jumping out with gear bags.

I don’t stop compressing his chest until they tell me to move aside. When I do, I watch helplessly as they work on him.

“I have a pulse,” I hear one say. The flood of relief at hearing those words is so great my legs give way. I sag to the ground, right at Starlight’s hooves.

I watch for a few moments as they work on Raul. They’re efficient, managing to hook him up to monitors, get an IV rolling, and put him on a gurney in less than two minutes.

“Ma’am, we’re going to take him to Lake General,” one says as they start moving him toward the back of the ambulance. I blink, trying to focus. “Would you like to ride with us or meet us there?”

“Shit,” I mutter as I scramble to my feet. “I want to ride with you. Let me just put Starlight up.”

I’ll have to call and cancel the next two appointments, and I’m going to need to get someone to come feed the horses later.