Read Lifeline Echoes Online

Authors: Kay Springsteen

Lifeline Echoes (24 page)

Out of commission because of her own
stupidity, all Sandy could do was watch the mopping up process.

Wisps of white crept upward from hot spots
in the blackened field, and volunteers used shovels to check each
smoldering heap to be sure no errant sparks remained.

Ryan assisted with rolling hoses and packing
gear, showing an easy camaraderie with the other firefighters. He
might say he'd come back to Wyoming because he wanted to run the
ranch. He might even believe it. But fighting fire was in his
blood. And once it got that far into a person, she knew, it
wouldn't easily leave. He was as much in his element fighting the
flames as he was in the saddle. Would he be able to straddle both
worlds or could he choose one? And if he chose fighting fire over
ranching, would she be able to live with his choice?

When the VFD pulled out of the driveway,
Ryan turned his attention to the redheaded teenager who was still
hovering nearby. He spoke to Ricky for several minutes. Then he
shook the boy's hand and patted him on the back. When the boy began
walking toward the road, Ryan watched him for a few minutes before
turning to meet the approaching state trooper.

Justin returned with a small bottle of eye
drops and Sandy stood motionless while he efficiently flushed her
eyes. She blinked with the rush of fluid, grateful when the sting
began to ease.

"Umm, feels good," she murmured. "Thank
you."

She permitted herself a last long look in
Ryan's direction before walking to the stable to care for her
horse.

"A firefighter," she mumbled under her
breath. "I must be crazy."

 

****

 

Coated in layers of soot and dirt and sweat,
Ryan pulled off another ruined shirt and used it to mop his face on
his way to the house. He was exhausted, but it was so much more
than physical weariness. Fury rose again, mingling with despair and
angst, in a triple surge demanding instant outlet. Bending to pluck
a sizeable stone from the gravel drive, he cursed violently as he
hurled it into the ruined field. The blackbird sitting on the
charred fence squawked its protest and took off in a flutter of
black feathers.

When Ryan raised his eyes from the dusty
gravel drive, he locked onto Sandy's face. Flinging the shirt
aside, his steps quickened, urgency to get to her driving his pace.
It had been a new experience for Ryan to feel torn between duty and
emotion. He hadn't liked it.

They met at the top of the drive. A half
step between them, he opened his arms. With a tiny cry, Sandy
entered the embrace, rubbing her cheek over the bare skin of his
chest. His world righted itself.

"I knew you were on the other side of the
fire," he whispered into her hair. "I didn't think I'd get to you
in time. When I saw flames all around you—"

Abruptly he pulled back, needing to see her
face. Streaks of soot were difficult to distinguish from smudges of
dirt. Her hair now lay in loose disarray about her bare shoulders,
bits of leaves and grass caught in the tangles. "You look like you
just fought a fire." Tenderly, he extricated a dry twig from just
above her ear and cast it aside. "I've never seen you more
beautiful."

"I couldn't find my way out," she said
shakily. "All I could see was more fire and smoke. It's like the
fire was alive."

"That's one of the first things they teach
you at the academy," he said. "Fire is alive. It breathes. It
moves. Sometimes it even seems to think."

"For a minute I felt like—" She shook her
head. "Never mind. You'll think I'm crazy."

"Like you were under a spell?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes wide.

He rubbed his thumb over her cheek, wiping
away a smudge of soot, glad the skin beneath was unmarred. "That's
common. Lots of good firefighters get trapped. You can’t fight a
fire without getting to know it, but getting intimate with fire
is—risky."

"Yeah. . ." She frowned, then shook her head
again.

Closing his eyes, Ryan nuzzled her neck.
Breathing in the scent of smoke mingling with Sandy's scent
reminded him how close he'd come to losing her. He'd been in
situations where he'd barely made it out of burning buildings, been
forced to stand by helplessly while friends had lost their lives.
He'd seen prairie fires form tornados in the blink of an eye,
watched them dance over the ground. Seeing the fire form a twister
around Sandy had nearly killed him. He'd been certain she was gone.
Only by some miracle had they gotten out of that conflagration
relatively unharmed.

 

****

 

Her arms locked around his waist, Sandy
caressed Ryan's chest with her cheek. His skin was warm and smelled
strongly of smoke. She shivered and squeezed him tighter then
looked up at him.

"Ry, how did the fire start?"

He glanced at the lost field. "It was arson.
They found a cigarette lighter next to a can of gasoline and some
beer cans loaded with fertilizer and cotton." He laughed without
any trace of humor. "The Wyoming version of a Molotov
cocktail."

"It wasn't random, was it?" she asked
softly.

He pulled back, trouble clouding his eyes.
His terse headshake and grim expression said it all. "We should
talk, Sandy. There're some things you need to know. You almost died
today because you're involved with me."

Sandy blinked.
Involved?
What kind of
lukewarm word was that? No matter how he'd denied it, he was
drifting.

She looked down at her soot-covered shirt.
"Okay. Let me see if I can clean up a little first." She regarded
him critically. "You could use a spray-down yourself."

Needing the contact, she laid her hands on
Ryan's shoulders then traced twin paths downward toward his
hands.

He hissed a breath through clenched
teeth.

"What is it?" Carefully, she turned both
arms over, gasping at the gaping jagged gash on the back of his
left upper arm. Running from just below his shoulder, almost to his
elbow, the skin closest to the elbow was blistered and red. The
outer edges of the wound were black.

"Got caught by a piece of burning fence." He
winced as she ran a finger alongside the injury. "A rookie
mistake."

"You need an emergency room."

Ryan shook his head. "It'll be okay."

Sandy tilted her head sideways to look at
him while they walked. "Really? Have you seen it?"

Awkwardly, he tried to look at the back of
his arm. "Can't see it but I don't feel it anymore—unless someone
touches it. Hey!" He dodged her questing fingers, only half
playfully slapping at her with his other hand.

Sandy tugged him over to his car by his good
arm. Angling the rearview mirror upward, she gently steered his
injured arm so he could see its reflection.

He shrugged. "It's nothing. Gus has some
first-aid training. He can patch me up. Won't be the first
time."

"Can he give you a tetanus shot, too?"

"I'm up to date."

Sandy felt her heart give a little squeeze
and realized she would do anything for Ryan. Even tap into
expertise she'd hoped to never use again.

She groaned, hoping she wasn't about to make
a huge mistake. "Lord, save me from stubborn men. Come on, I've had
some training. I can patch you up." She led him to the front porch,
where his father and brother waited, grumbling under her breath,
"Just don't expect me to shoot you up with cow antibiotics."

"Not at all," he answered smoothly. "Horse
pills will do fine."

His soft chuckle began to settle her
nerves.

 

****

 

Like most ranches, first-aid on the Cross MC
ran somewhat more sophisticated than the average suburban American
household. Sean produced a disposable irrigation and suture kit
with surgical wash, topical anesthetic spray and latex gloves.

"I wish I could give you a shot of
lidocaine." Sandy gave Sean a pointed look over Ryan's head.
"There's no way to do this without causing some pain."

Seated at the kitchen table, Ryan braced
himself against his brother. "Just do it," he said through gritted
teeth. "I've had worse."

No doubt he could tell some horrific
stories. And she would listen if he did tell them. But now she only
sighed. "Maybe you have, but I wasn't the one hurting you
then."

Astonishing even herself, Sandy's hands
remained steady as she irrigated and debrided his injury. After
trimming away some of the charred flesh, she carefully sutured the
deepest part of the gaping wound.

A low moan emerged from deep in his throat
when she touched the burned area. But other than repositioning
himself more firmly against his brother, he didn't move.

"Okay," she murmured. "It's actually good
you felt that. Less chance there's nerve damage. I don't think the
burns are full thickness. But there's not enough skin left here to
hold. We'll have to put a good dressing on you and watch it for
infection. It'll leave a big scar."

"I wasn't planning on entering any beauty
contests."

"I was more worried about the scar impairing
movement," Sandy snapped as she applied antiseptic salve, then a
layered gauze dressing. "You should see a doctor."

At her nod, Sean released his brother.

Sandy peeled off the latex gloves and pulled
Ryan's hand into her own. She checked the circulation in each
finger, then took his pulse. It was a little quick but steady and
strong. Finally, she studied his face. He was pale but his eyes
were clear and his pupils matched.

"How do you feel?"

"Like a crazy woman just made a quilt out of
my arm," Ryan said, emphasizing each word.

"Where did you learn to do all that, Sandy?"
asked Sean.

Maintaining her calm with effort, Sandy
shrugged. "I was an EMT in another lifetime, while I was in nursing
school."

"You’re a nurse?" asked Sean.

She shook her head. "No, I dropped out."

"Our little bartender has skills. Guess we
should keep her." Sean chuckled. "Why did you quit?"

She puffed out a breath. "Sometimes stuff
happens and life doesn't quite work out the way you thought it
would." Turning away from Sean, she ran into Ryan's broad, bare
chest. His right arm closed around her. She didn't care that he was
sweaty and dirty and smelled of smoke. Sandy slipped her arms
around his waist, leaned her forehead against his warm chest and
hung on.

Ryan brushed her hair behind her ears. With
his thumb under her chin, he tipped her face up and gave her a
gentle kiss on the lips.

"Thank you," he whispered. Turning to his
brother, he said, "I could go for some hundred proof. You?"

Sean was already at the kitchen cabinet.
"Way ahead of you. Got a little medicinal Jack right here."

Almost by magic a bottle of whiskey and
three tumblers appeared. Sean poured generous measures into the
glasses. Sandy accepted the drink he handed her and knocked it
back, appreciating the burn as it went down.

"I'm going to go see to the stock," Sean
announced. "Dad's out front with Gus."

When they were alone, Ryan laid a kiss on
Sandy's forehead. "I'm going to get cleaned up. Want to borrow some
clothes?"

She poked a finger through one of the holes
burned in her shirt. "Ya think I need to? This could be a great new
style."

His eyes darkened. He swallowed hard.
Tenderly, Ryan captured her mouth, his right hand moving
convulsively against the skin of her back.

Sandy swayed against him, her hands sliding
up his chest to his shoulders. He began brushing feathery kisses to
her lips. The need swelled until Sandy was trembling.

"Do they know?"

Stepping back, Ryan stared, obviously thrown
by the question. "I'm . . . going to need a little more
information. Does who know what?"

"Sean and your dad. Do they know you spent
the night at my place? Do they think we—"

Ryan rocked back onto his heels. Then he
huffed out an easy laugh. His green eyes sparkled. "Chicory, I
haven't felt the need to ask my father's permission to spend the
night out in a while now, and I haven't had any burning desire to
have a conversation with Sean about what's between you and me. But
I'm a healthy man and you're a beautiful woman. I breezed in here
at about five this morning after Sean saw us leaving the bar
together last night. It's a fair bet they're thinking along those
lines."

One of his killer smiles curved his mouth,
shooting warmth to sensitive places.

"Okay. Good." She rolled her shoulders to
ease the strain. "Then no one'll be shocked when I get cleaned up
here, too."

Tension visibly drained from Ryan's body. He
grinned and held out his hand. "No, Chicory, I don't guess they
will."

 

****

 

The bathroom Ryan led her to was painfully
neat. The array of soaps and shampoos numbered two of each, not
discount products but not top end either. Sandy smiled as Ryan
showed her around. It was exactly what she would have expected.

"I share this bathroom with Sean." Ryan set
a couple of towels on the counter. "He won't come in while you're
getting cleaned up." Pushing open the glass shower door, he
gestured inside. "Pretty basic but the water'll be hot. Use
whatever soap and shampoo you need." He looked a little sheepish.
"Sorry, it's kind of masculine."

Sandy's smile widened. "If they were
feminine, I'd be a little worried." She touched him on the arm.
"Are you going to join me?"

Her words seemed to throw him off balance.
He lifted a hand to caress her cheek, searching her eyes for a long
moment before he finally spoke. "I'm going to use my dad's
bathroom."

Grazing her lips with a butterfly kiss, he
then pointed her toward the shower, and slipped from the tiny
room.

Sandy reached into the shower and turned on
the water, oddly grateful for Ryan's resolve. They'd just been
through a few hours of terror. Now was definitely not the time to
take their relationship to the next level. Before she could dwell
on that particular need for too long, she stripped out of her
clothing and stepped under the spray, enjoying the pulsing beat of
warm water. She knew by smell which was Ryan's soap and she closed
her eyes as she pulled the soapy wash cloth across her body,
dreaming of a time when it would maybe be all right to touch him
and be touched by the man who now held her heart.

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