Read Online Short Cut to Santa Fe by Medora Sale - Free Book Online

“Gently,” Jennifer repeated. “You’re only keeping those things in place. Not wrestling her to the floor.” The nurse sat back on her heels and looked at the wounded woman. “We’ll have to roll her on her side,” she said at last. “That’s an exit wound we’re dealing with.”
    â€œIt’s bleeding,” said Karen, as she watched the gauze darken and felt the blood ooze up between her fingers.
    â€œI know. Just a minute.” She settled more pads under Karen’s fingers and looked over at Mrs. Green. “I need those scarves,” she said, grabbing them and tying them over the collection of gauze on Diana Morris’s leg. “We’re going to turn you on your side,” said Jennifer briskly. “It’ll probably hurt like hell, but there’s nothing for it.”
    Ms. Morris’s olive skin had turned to gray, but she nodded and allowed herself to be turned.
    â€œTwo rounds,” said Jennifer Nicholls. “One is still in there, one we dealt with.” Karen glanced down and turned her eyes rapidly away. She could see nothing but blood and Jennifer’s rapidly moving hands. She had been swabbing quickly as she spoke and setting pads on the cleaned area, taping them down with the inadequate materials in the kit. “Give me the rest of those scarves,” she said, and began to wrap the leg firmly. “You’ll do for a while, sweetheart,” she said to the woman on the floor. “And, by God, do you have guts.”
    Up at the front of the bus, the two drivers were whispering vehemently together. While Jennifer was still speaking, the lights flickered and went out.
    The bus had turned onto a track, rocky and very narrow, that climbed steeply up the side of the mountain. Darkness had rolled in around them, unalleviated by the glow of cities or the pale emanations from clouds. Their headlights stabbed the night like a flashlight probing into black water. There was no moon. Harriet abandoned her usual driving style to crawl along the ruts ahead, feeling her way through the darkness.
    â€œThis is brutal,” she said. “All we need to improve the situation is a bit of fog.”
    â€œDoesn’t seem to be the place for fog, somehow,” said John mildly. “May I ask why we are doing this? I’m not trying to criticize . . .”
    â€œAt the moment,” said Harriet, in a waspish tone, but keeping her voice down. There was no point in alarming the twins needlessly. “At the moment, as I said, we’re doing this because we’re not sure that we would survive an attempt to turn around. Originally, we were acting on girlish impulse and curiosity. And stupidity, if you insist. Any more questions? As soon as I find a place where it is possible to reverse direction without hurtling down a hillside, I shall. Believe me. Because I doubt very much if the bus has really found a wonderful short cut to Taos. I can’t imagine what they’re doing on this road.”
    â€œThey’re lost?”
    â€œPossibly,” said Harriet and dropped her voice again. “Either that or trying to avoid us.” The track shifted direction again and Harriet followed; brush scraped against the paintwork; the right wheel dropped into a hole. “Well—we’ve found the bus,” she said brightly, and brought the van to a halt. Their headlights lit up a symmetrical pattern ahead: bus angling off to the right; road curving away to the left, with the rear end of the bus blocking their way completely. Harriet sighed and switched off headlights and ignition. “Now what?” she said. “This could be awkward. Definitely awkward.”
    The bus appeared to be in worse trouble than they were. Its left headlight lit up a steep slope only inches away; its right headlight seemed to be buried in something. “Stupid bastard plowed right into the side of the mountain,” muttered John.