“Gotcha.” He picked up her purse and handed it to her, then reached for her phone. “I don’t think you’re going to be making any calls with this.” He turned the screen toward her, and she frowned at the shattered screen. Darn it, he was right, she doubted it would even turn on.
“Let’s get you out of here and someplace where you can get that ankle taken care of ASAP.”
She sighed as he slid his arms beneath her thighs and under her back, lifting her with ease, and she clutched her purse in one hand and her shattered phone in the other as he turned and headed for the door.
“Be careful. I heard a rattler under the shed, and I don’t know if there might be more around.”
He froze for a few seconds before continuing to walk out of the building. She raised her face toward the sun, feeling the warmth on her skin. Drawing in a deep breath, she turned her head and got her first good look at her rescuer. She was right; she didn’t recognize him, but he did seem somehow familiar. Maybe she’d seen him in town and hadn’t paid a lot of attention.
“Thank you again for your help, Mister…” She deliberately trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the blank.
“Ferguson. Stan Ferguson.”
“I’m Patricia Boudreau, but most folks around here call me Ms. Patti.”
He stopped walking and looked down at her. Suddenly, a huge grin spread across his face, and he chuckled. “You’re Ms. Patti? I’ve heard quite a bit about you since I got here. It seems you’re an institution in Shiloh Springs, at least according to my mother.”
“Your mother?”
“Beverly Ferguson. She and my dad own a place just down the road.” He jerked his chin to the left, though it wasn’t necessary. Beverly and her spouse had lived in Shiloh Springs for years and attended the same church as the Boudreaus. She knew them well; they’d been out to the Big House numerous times. William had been a county judge, and he’d just recently retired, though he was still full of energy. He’d told her they planned to travel once Beverly retired from her school board position, which was still several months away.
“I know Beverly and William. How’s she doing?”
Stan drew in a deep breath and kept walking toward the front porch of the house. “Not so good at the moment. Dad’s in the hospital over in Santa Lucia, and she’s staying there while the docs try and figure out what’s wrong with him. She called and asked me to come keep an eye on their place, take care of the animals and such, while he’s in the hospital.”
“Oh, no. Is there anything I can do?”
Stan shook his head. “I think you’re gonna have your hands full taking care of yourself, Ms. Boudreau. That looks like a nasty sprain you’ve got there. Doubt you’ll be doing much of anything except sitting with your leg elevated for a few days. I’d like to get it wrapped before heading into town, if you don’t mind. I’m an EMT in Amarillo, at least in my day job, when I’m not shoveling manure out of my mother’s stalls.” His grin had her smiling back, though the pain in her ankle was throbbing worse than any toothache. Every step he took was agonizing for her, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.
“If you could get me to my truck, I can—”
“No can do, Ms. Boudreau. What I’m gonna do is this. I am going to take you to the front porch of this house and get some medical supplies out of my trunk.” He nodded toward a dark blue sedan parked not far from her truck. “I’m going to wrap your ankle and then we’re going to get you to a hospital.”
“I don’t think a hospital is necessary, Mr. Ferguson.”
“Stan.”
“I think I’ll be okay if we go to the emergency clinic. Doc Jennings can do x-rays and call Douglas, my husband, or one of my boys to pick me up.”
“Doc Jennings? I thought he retired, and you had somebody new running things, at least that’s what my mom said. Tell you what, Ms. Boudreau. Let me get a better look at your ankle. If it’s only a sprain, we’ll go with your plan. If it looks like there might be torn ligaments or there’s the possibility of it being broken, we’ll head to the hospital. Deal?”
She huffed out a breath. “Deal.”
Reaching the porch, he gently lowered her onto the top step. She couldn’t hide her wince of pain as her foot landed on the second step. Glancing down, she noted the darkening bruises, along with the massive swelling. Maybe Stan was right, and she needed to head to the emergency room.
“Give me a second, I’ll be right back.”
“No problem.”
Sprinting toward his car, he popped the trunk, pulled out a red canvas bag, and headed back toward her. Kneeling down in front of her, he started to reach for her ankle, but waited until she nodded her approval. Better to get it over with than prolong the inevitable. He kept his touch light and professional, but when he moved her ankle, she barely bit back a scream at the pain that shot through her foot.
“I’m sorry, I know it hurts. Hang in there, I’m almost done, and then I’ll secure it with some athletic sports tape I have to keep it stable until we can get you looked at, okay?”
She nodded, afraid if she unclenched her jaw, she’d be screaming at the top of her lungs. Not only did she hurt, but she was embarrassed for doing something so foolish, so stupid. Maybe she deserved to hurt after pulling a dumb stunt like jumping for a light cord. She should have known better. She wasn’t a spring chicken anymore, more like the old gray goose. And if Douglas heard her talking like that, he’d straighten her out quick. She smiled at the thought.
Stan finished wrapping the athletic tape around her ankle, and she had to admit it felt better. At least she didn’t feel like she had burning hot knives being shoved into her with every movement.
“That feels better. Thank you.”
