slowly, Quinn managed to wrest his gaze from Louis.
Still cutting, she repeated, “See what I’m doing? How I’m making strips? I need you to do this with your sweatshirt, too. Do you understand?”
Blank eyes stared back at her. Ally feared he might pass out. Combat experience had taught her that the best way to handle a person on the verge of shock was to keep them moving—even better if you could give them a job to do.
“Quinn, I need your help here, kiddo.”
Louis let out a moan, hoarse and full of anguish.
That seemed to spur something in Quinn, and he nodded. He removed his top and held out a hand. Handle first, she passed him the knife. “It’s super sharp, okay?” she warned. “And hey.” Gripping his shoulder tightly until dark brown, terror-filled eyes met hers, she forced a confidence she didn’t feel into her tone. “He looks worse than he is. We will save him. But this is important. We need these strips to stop the bleeding.”
The sound of crunching leaves and snapping branches had her snatching up the bear spray at her side. Adrenaline flooded her bloodstream. Jessie and Ryder Shelton and their three monster-sized dogs, Colfax, Pia and Fife, emerged from the brush. Exhaling a relieved breath, she dropped the canister and focused her attention back on to her patient.
“That was fast,” she said. “I expected you to come across the lake.”
“The ATV was quicker.” Jessie knelt on the opposite side of Louis, already tearing into the packs of dressings she’d brought along. “We have a stretcher.”
Ally and her teenaged cousins Louis and Quinn had spent the morning fishing in Jessie’s canoe on Jasper Lake. A road accessed the scattering of homes located on the south shore of the lake, while the wooded northwestern shore could be reached only by boat or trail.
As lunchtime approached, she and the boys had paddled to this remote portion to eat and enjoy the view. Quinn had suggested a hike up a scenic trail that followed a winding stream past Sullivan’s Spring to Sullivan’s Falls. Round trip was only a few miles, and because they’d made it almost back to the spring when the bear attacked, Ally estimated they were now half a mile from the lake.
Thank the stars, she had her cell phone. Double and triple thanks that she had service and Jessie was around to hear the call. Jessie and Ryder ran a dog rescue facility, where Jessie rehabilitated injured and abused dogs, and Ryder trained service dogs for the police and military.
Ryder silently went to work on Louis’s neck and shoulder. After doing what they could on his front, they rolled him over so Ally could inspect his back. Relief surged through her. It didn’t appear that the bear had punctured the chest or abdominal cavity.
“Tag James is picking him up in his float plane,” Jessie said. “It’s the fastest way. The Coast Guard could send a search and rescue team with a hoist, but it would take longer. I already called.”
“Good.” Ally was relieved. The less jostling around for Louis, the better. “Let’s get him on the stretcher. I want to stop at the spring on the way to the lake.”
* * *
TAG CLIMBED OUT of the plane onto the pontoon and stepped into the shallow water of the lake. A few splashing strides and the pebbles of the shoreline were crunching beneath his booted feet. He hurried to where his friend Ryder stood nearby.
“Ryder, man, I’m glad to see you and Jessie here.”
Ryder was former military special forces and had medical training. Transport would go so much faster with his help since Tag didn’t have to apply first aid and stabilize the patient. Already on a stretcher and covered with a wool blanket, the wounded teenager looked ready for transport. A girl was crouched beside him, holding his hand. Jessie stood several feet away, talking with another boy.
“Hey, Tag. Feeling’s mutual,” Ryder said, giving his hand a quick shake.
Taking positions on each end of the stretcher, they quickly loaded the patient inside the plane while Ryder filled him in on the details of the attack. Tag didn’t notice the problem until they’d secured the stretcher inside. That’s when the blanket shifted, and instead of fresh white dressing, he saw dingy gray-and-brown strips, almost like...
Peeling the blanket back farther, he found a mass of dirty, albeit neatly arranged, bandages. What in the world? Had they dropped him? If so, why hadn’t they cleaned him up?
“Why is he so dirty? These bandages are filthy.”
“Ally did that,” Jessie explained. “Native healing thing. She says the clay in Sullivan’s Spring contains antibiotic properties and helps stanch the bleeding.”
Tag was familiar with the small mineral hot spring. Most people didn’t even know it was there. It wasn’t large enough to draw visitors. There were no deep or colorful pools to attract attention, but he’d heard about its purported healing properties for most of his life.
“Who is Ally?” he asked, although his keen powers of deduction were telling him she had to be the only other female who wasn’t Jessie. Initially he’d assumed she was a teenager, maybe the injured kid’s sister or girlfriend, as she’d been holding his hand and talking to him right up until they’d loaded him inside the plane.
Ryder’s brows shot up. “Ally Mowak? You haven’t met her yet?”
“No. Why would I have?”
“She’s the new hospital liaison in Rankins. I guess, technically, she doesn’t start until tomorrow.”
Tag glanced over to where Ally was hurriedly stuffing gear into a backpack. Pretty, and like Jessie, she appeared to be of Native American descent, as did the two boys. She was petite and fit, her silky black hair tied back in a ponytail, and she wore no makeup. He supposed she might not be as young as he’d assumed.
“How old is she?”
“Young. Twenty...something. Early twenties. Old enough to have served in the Army, including a couple of combat tours. She was a medic and then came home to earn her paramedic certification.”
“Huh.” Because of his affiliation with the hospital, he knew a liaison had been hired. Flynn Ramsey, a doctor at the hospital, had told him because the position entailed overseeing medical transport, which meant Tag would occasionally be working with the new person. Up until now, the task had been tacked on to Flynn’s already demanding schedule.
Tag watched as Ally slung the pack over her shoulder. The two women exchanged a brief hug, and then Ally turned and jogged toward the plane.
“Hey, pilot, let’s go!” she called, a note of impatience infusing her tone, as if he was the one who’d been holding them up. Without waiting for a response, she waded into the water, climbed nimbly onto the pontoon and scrambled inside the plane.
Tag called out thanks to Ryder and Jessie and followed, even though he wasn’t sure of their destination yet. Anchorage and Juneau both had excellent trauma units. Either way, he needed to call and inform them they were en route.
Turning around, he asked, “Alaska Regional or Bartlett?”
“Rankins,” she answered without hesitation.
