Western Flame

Chapter 11

"He's in the ditch!" Jake shouted as they drove towards the turnoff up to Sandstone Ridge. Tanner saw the truck the same moment that Jake did. The front end was buried into the snowbank, tilted sideways off the road.Tanner swerved over and parked, and they both ran for it.

"Brady!" Tanner yelled, scrambling over the snowbank on the passenger side, his heart in his throat. He yanked the door open with a squeal, the entire side dented in. Brady was out cold, a gash on his forehead bleeding down his face and the deflated airbag was spattered with blood. The truck had turned off, somehow, and steam was hissing out from under the hood.

Brady wasn't moving. At all. Tanner swallowed the acrid bile that slid up his throat and forced himself to keep breathing. "JAKE! He's not conscious!" he screamed.

Jake appeared on the other side, wading through the displaced snow to get to the driver's door. The truck had obviously hit something, and then stopped very abruptly by the hard, half-melted snowbank. The tires had caught and stopped it from flipping, thank God, but it looked like Brady had hit the steering wheel after the airbag deployed and deflated. His phone was on the floor at his feet.

Jake yanked open the driver side door, and once they figured out the truck was not going to slide if Tanner got in, Tanner scrambled up on the passenger seat and put a hand on his brother's neck. Please, please don't be dead, he prayed, and pressed two fingers into his brother's neck. A pulse bounced back to his fingertips.

"Thank Fuck," he swore and nodded at Jake who visibly sagged in relief, his phone already pressed to his ear.

"Wha—" Brady mumbled. He turned his neck and winced as the light hit his eyes. "Tan? What happened?"

"Don't fucking move," Tanner snapped. "You've cracked your head off the wheel."

Tanner looked Brady in the eyes.They weren't focusing the way they should, which meant he had whacked his head but good. Roving over his body once, Tanner felt for broken bones and other blood. Nothing else seemed to be torn open, Brady's hands weren't hurt, but he winced when Tanner pressed gently on his midsection.

"Your ribs might be broken. Can you breathe?" Tanner clipped. Brady feebly batted his hand away and grunted a wheezy uh-huh as he shifted his hips in the seat.

"Ambulance and police on their way," Jake cut in. "Hey man. You know where you are?"

"In my damned truck, New York, where else? Where's Caitlin?" Brady rasped and looked around.

"What did I say? Don't move your damned head. Whiplash, idiot," Tanner growled. "Caitlin is safe. She came home with Liana. She wasn't with you."

Brady relaxed his whole body and closed his eyes. "Oh. Right."

"What do you remember?" Tanner asked and put a hand on Brady's shoulder to keep him from moving. It was also to touch him, and slow his racing heart before it exploded. Brady needed him to be calm right now. He needed to be as well, for his own sake.

"I was driving back to the ranch. I... I had a truck come up beside me... shoved me sideways. I three-sixtied... hit the road sign... hit the ditch," Brady mumbled slowly, gesturing behind him.

Tanner looked up, and the road sign was now at an awkward angle, tilted into the ditch. Yup. Road signs were trivial to what Brady had just told him.

"Someone drove you off the road? What?"

Jake was texting and nodded at Tanner. "Can you call Liana? I don't have her number, and I think she should be the one to tell Caitlin."

Tanner pulled out his phone, thankful she was at the house with Caitlin. This was going to be a gong show, so he texted her first so she could decide how best to tell everyone. 'Found Brady. He's OK but banged up. Truck in the ditch. Ambulance coming' he wrote.