Page 45 of Captivated (Salvation #3)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Nate heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the sign at the outer limits of Bozeman.

Almost there.

Not that he regretted even one of the four hundred eighty miles he’d driven so far. They were taking him not only to his new home, but a new life.

That had him running hot and cold at the same time.

He drove along Highway 191, scanning the street signs for the turnoff for S 19th Avenue, the final leg of his trip, but as he approached the intersection, all traffic had stopped.

Police cars blocked the street, and beyond them were two ambulances and more police cars.

Drivers had switched off their engines, gotten out of their vehicles, and were standing at the police barrier, most of them holding up their phones to record the view.

Nate couldn’t go any further. He might as well see what was going on, and hope it got cleared up soon. He’d be at Salvation in time for supper.

Does Zeeb even know I’m coming? Nate had no idea.

He pulled over to the side of the road and switched off the engine. He got out of the car, locked it, and walked toward the crowd. Behind the cordon, the street was empty of traffic, apart from parked cars in front of the stores.

“What’s happening?” he asked a woman who was staring into the sky for some reason.

“They’ve closed off Main Street so the chopper can land,” she told him.

He blinked. “Someone’s landing a helicopter here?”

She pointed to the ambulances. “The police said some guys got beaten up pretty badly. They must be taking them to the hospital.”

Nate squinted in the late afternoon sunlight, trying to get a better look.

Then he froze.

A black truck was parked on Main Street, close by the ambulances. On its side was one word emblazoned in yellow.

Salvation.

Panic choked him, and he was suddenly dizzy. He couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen into his lungs. Logic told him there could be any number of reasons why the truck was there.

There could also be one terrifying explanation.

Nate pushed through the throng to where two officers stood, talking quietly.

“Officer!” His voice cracked.

One of them turned. “Can I help you?”

Nate pointed a trembling finger at the Salvation truck. “The injured guys… do they have any connection to the Salvation ranch? Because I was just on my way there. I might know them.”

The officer’s grave expression filled him with dread. “I think someone said they both work at the ranch.”

Oh dear God, no.

“One of them’s in a bad way,” the officer continued. “We’re waiting for the helicopter to take them to the hospital.”

“Which hospital?”

The other officer came over. “It’ll probably be Bozeman Health Big Sky Medical Center. They’re best equipped to treat injuries and trauma, but they’re an hour from here. The chopper is the fastest transport.”

“Please, is there any way of knowing their names?” Nate was battling the urge to throw up.

He hesitated for a second. “You say you know people who work on the ranch?”

Nate nodded. “I’m about to start work at Salvation, but I know everyone there.”

Please, let them be wrong.

“We could ask,” the second officer said with a shrug.

The first officer talked into his radio in a low voice. “Do we have the names of the victims? We’ve got someone here who might know them.”

Victims. Oh Jesus.

Nate waited, unable to suppress the tremors that coursed through him.

“Okay, thanks.” The officer gazed at Nate, his face grave. “According to their ID, their names are Toby Merrow and Zeeb Nolan.”

Despite the temperature, it felt as though Nate had been plunged into a tub of ice water.

“Has the ranch been notified?” he croaked.

“I have no idea.” The first officer stared at him. “You do know them, don’t you?”

All he could manage was a nod. “I’ll call Robert.

He runs Salvation.” Nate stumbled back through the crowd, his heart pounding, his fingers and chest tingling.

When he reached the car, he got behind the wheel, his hand shaking as he removed his phone from his pocket.

Once he had the number for the ranch, he clicked on it, his breathing ragged, his heart into overdrive.

He recognized Robert’s voice the moment he answered.

“Robert, it’s Nate Caldwell. Something’s happened to Toby and Zeeb. They’re being taken to…oh fuck, what’s the name of that hospital? Big Sky something.”

“Bozeman Health Big Sky Medical Center? Nate, where are you? And how do you know this? What’s going on?”

Nate heard the panic lacing Robert’s words.

“I’m in Bozeman. Someone said they were beaten up. They also said it… it’s bad. I haven’t seen them but the police gave me their names.” His throat seized. “Don’t come to Bozeman. They’re waiting for the helicopter.”

“I’m on my way to the hospital.” Nate heard the jangle of keys.

“Me too, once I get directions from my phone. I’ll meet you there.”

“Nate… try to stay calm.”

Anything else Robert said was drowned out by the whirring blades of the helicopter, throwing dust into the air as it landed square in the middle of the intersection.

Nate got out of the car and saw the paramedics hurrying along the street, pushing two gurneys, their occupants strapped to them.

He couldn’t see their faces, but his stomach plummeted as the paramedics placed the two men into the belly of the helicopter, which rose into the air less than a minute later.

Nate followed its progress as it turned and headed southwest.

Be in time. Please, God, let them be in time.

“Robert, they’re on their way.”

“I hear ya. I’m in the car.” He hung up.

Nate got back behind the wheel, only to open it a second later and throw up onto the sidewalk. His stomach heaved. When he was done, he grabbed a wipe from the dash and cleaned up his face. He took a mouthful of water from his bottle, then spit it out.

He tapped Google maps and typed in the name of the hospital.

Fifty-three minutes away.

Not at the speed Nate had intended driving.

He couldn’t let himself think about their possible injuries. That would be a surefire distraction, and then he’d probably end up in a hospital bed too.

He pulled away from the curb and did a U-turn to head in the direction he’d taken to arrive there, his heart beating so wildly he felt sure he was having palpitations.

They’ll be all right.

They’ll be all right.

They’ll pull through.

The alternative was too horrific to contemplate.

Nate paced the lobby of the hospital, his stomach churning.

He understood the need for rules and regulations, but that hadn’t stopped him from wanting to grab the guy on the front desk by the throat when Nate had come up against a stone wall of resistance.

It had taken every ounce of restraint he possessed.

I only want to know if they’re alive. If they’ve going to get through this.

Christ, he didn’t even know what their injuries were.

“Nate.”

He turned, and almost wept with relief to see Robert, Teague, and Sol striding toward him. “Thank God. They won’t tell me a damn thing.”

Robert’s face was pale. “They’ll tell me. Thank fuck we both have medical power of attorney.” He hurried over to the front desk.

Sol pulled Nate into a tight hug. “Hey.”

Nate buried his face in Sol’s broad chest. “I’ve been so fucking scared,” he whispered. Teague’s hand was on his back, and Nate tried to breathe through the suffocating layers of panic and fear.

“Have you any idea what happened?” Teague asked in a low voice.

“Someone in the crowd said they’d been beaten up.”

Sol’s low growl reverberated through him. “For fuck’s sake, they’d only gone to the post office.” He released Nate. “Robert wants us.”

Nate whirled around. He expelled a shuddering breath when Robert beckoned.

“They’re in the trauma center,” he told them, his voice tight. “Let’s go.”

They walked briskly toward the elevators, Nate’s heart thumping.

“Did he say how they’re doing?” Nate’s mouth was dry, despite the cup of water he’d drunk.

“No.” Robert stared at the door of the elevator, and Nate knew he was doing his damnedest to hold it together.

Both of them were.

The doors slid open and Robert strode up to the nurses’ station. He and the nurse spoke for a minute, then she pointed along the hallway.

Robert beckoned them once more. “They’re in Trauma rooms one and two.

The doctor is in with Toby now.” He led the way, stopping at the door at the end of the hallway.

Chairs sat against the wall, and Nate sank into one of them, his legs trembling.

Robert paced, and Sol and Teague stood by Nate, watching him.

The door opened, and the doctor emerged, his black beard dark against his blue scrubs.

Robert didn’t hesitate. “I’m Robert Thorston. Toby is my partner, and Zeeb is one of my ranch hands.” He held his phone out to the doctor, who peered at the screen. “How are they?”

The doctor gestured to a door on the other side of the hallway. “We can talk in there.” Robert stared at him, as if his words had been in a foreign language. The doctor gave a sympathetic smile. “You can see them both, after we’ve talked.”

Sol touched Robert’s arm. “Breathe, Robert.”

He shuddered. “Okay, Doctor…” He peered at the name badge. “Dr. Ramirez.” The doctor held the door open for them, and they went into a small room filled with a sofa and comfy-looking chairs, the walls covered in prints done in tranquil colors.

Robert didn’t sit, however.

“How bad is it?”

“Mr. Nolan has sustained a head injury and a fractured clavicle. He has concussion, and we’ll be keeping him in for observation.

If the CT scan shows no brain swelling or bleed, and he seems okay, then he can go home.

But he’s going to have extensive bruising.

Any movement will be painful, and it could take weeks for him to fully recover. He’ll be going for the scan shortly.”

“But he’s going to be okay?” Nate croaked. “If there’s no brain swelling?” Dr. Ramirez nodded, and Nate crumpled, tears welling up behind his eyelids. Sol’s hand was warm on his shoulder.