Bachelor Remedy
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Carol Ross
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21
Chapter One
“HOW DOES IT feel to be dirt free?”
“Honestly?” Tag James gave his cousin Bering a sober look and whooshed out a breath. “I totally lucked out. Can’t believe that private investigator didn’t find out about the insider trading or the body buried in my backyard. What an amateur.”
Bering laughed. “I know. The background check seems a little over the top to me, too, but you know Jack.”
“Jack” was United States Senator Marsh, longtime client and friend of Bering’s, who was helping them prepare for Tag’s future political run.
“Yes, I do. ‘Find the dirt and clean it up before your opponent finds it first and smears it all over you.’ I believe that’s the quote?”
“That’s it,” Bering agreed. “Senator James...” the snap of the metal tape measure retracting in his hand was like a loud punctuation mark “...has such a nice ring to it.” Wielding a pencil in his other hand, he drew a tiny line on the freshly painted lavender-colored wall in his daughter’s bedroom.
“It certainly does,” Tag agreed. Despite his outward nonchalance, the topic always caused a twinge of nerves. Plenty of time, he reminded himself, before he needed to start worrying about it. Lots of time to prepare.
Wordlessly, they each took an end of a bookcase and adjusted it to line up with the pencil marks and the units they’d already installed. Tag wound the screws through the brackets, securing the shelving against the wall. Neither earthquake nor climbing toddler would bring it down now. “Violet proofing,” Bering’s wife, Emily, called it, although with baby Brady walking now, Tag figured she would soon have to broaden the term.
He stepped back and eyed his cousin. “And you’re sure you don’t want that senator title for yourself?”
“Ha. Positive. We’ve had this conversation, my friend, and you and I both know I’d be no good as a politician.”
Tag couldn’t dispute that fact. His cousin and best friend wasn’t exactly the most diplomatic person in the world. Besides, it was Tag’s turn. Bering had saved the town of Rankins once from a proposed massive oil-development project. He’d formed and led the coalition against Cam-Field Oil & Mineral, and with the backing of Senator Marsh, they’d prevailed.
Bering had scored the bonus of a lifetime by meeting his now-wife, Emily, during the antidevelopment campaign. As relieved as they’d all been at the project’s outcome, the experience had shown just how vulnerable Rankins was. Tag, Bering, their family and friends, virtually the entire area relied on the pristine natural beauty of the Opal River Valley in some respect for their livelihoods. His winning a seat in the state senate would provide long-term security for them all. And they’d agreed, Tag was more suited to political life.
“Anyway,” Bering said, bracing his big hands on a shelf to test its sturdiness. “Jack says you’re on the right track, doing everything you need to be doing. Just stay the course, keep your nose clean and we’ll be ready.”
“Got it. Stay out of the dirt.”
“Although he did mention one small thing.”
“What’s that?”
Bering let out a chuckle and began stacking kids’ books on the bottom shelf. “He said it could be helpful if Rankins’s most eligible bachelor was to find a wife and maybe start a family.”
Tag felt a familiar invisible hand reach inside his rib cage and give his heart a painful squeeze. This chest pinch had been happening more and more lately when the subject of parenthood came up, which was all too frequently now that Shay and Hannah, two of his four sisters, were married, as were his two closest cousins, Bering and his sister Janie. There were eight cousins in his generation on the James side of the family, and at thirty-eight, he was the oldest of them all.
The family bachelor. Everybody’s cool and fun uncle, cousin, brother, friend. The childless bachelor. The one everyone could count on. And, somehow, somewhere along the way, he’d earned the moniker of the town’s most eligible bachelor. Lately this unintentional status had begun to bother him. Tag loved kids. He’d always wanted a family, had just assumed it would happen one day. He’d meet someone and settle down and have kids. That’s the way it was done.
He’d met plenty of someones, all right. Problem was, either they weren’t quite right, or he wasn’t, or logistics like work schedules and geography made a relationship too difficult. Or a combination of these resulted in the woman cheating on him. Okay, maybe that one was just Kendall, his last girlfriend.
“I’ll get right on that,” he replied drily.
Bering shot him a hopeful glance. “If you mean it, Jack has someone he’d like to fix you up with.”
“No, thanks. No way.”
“Why not?”
“Seriously? You have no recollection of life pre-Emily, do you? Dating is bad enough. Blind dating is...brutal. I try not to be offended by the matches you people think will work out for me. Being single should not be the only criterion involved. A couple of weeks ago, Shay set me up with this uptight mortgage broker from Glacier City who hates sports and is afraid to fly.”
Bering grimaced. “I see your point. But until you start blind dating in the women’s professional basketball league you aren’t going to find a woman who can beat you at basketball. You do know that, right? You might need to cross that off your list.”
Tag laughed. “Hey, I’ll settle for a fan at this point. She doesn’t even have to play.”
“Tag!” Smashed, half-eaten sandwich in hand, Violet skipped into the room, her tousled blond curls and peanut butter–smeared cheeks the cutest thing he’d seen since his last visit three days ago.
“Violet, my flower, you woke up for me!” Tag picked her up and swooped her high into the air. Wild giggling ensued. Planting a kiss on her cheek, he asked, “You want to take a walk on the ceiling?”
She thrust the sandwich at her dad. “Daddy, can you hold this? Don’t eat it!”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Bering grinned and took the sandwich.
Holding Violet securely at the waist, Tag flipped her upside down until her bootie-clad feet touched the ceiling. Still giggling, she carefully placed one foot in front of the other as Tag strode across the floor while she “walked” on the ceiling. When she’d crossed about half the room, he lowered her and turned her in his arms.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, eyes nearly the color of her name fixed firmly on him, she said, “I love walking on the ceiling. And I love you, too.”
A chest pinch of mega proportions nearly made him wince. “I love you, too, flower.” Tag wondered if men had biological clocks. A prick of sadness followed as he thought about his sister Shay and how desperately she wanted a child. She and her husband, Jonah, had recently suffered yet another adoption disappointment, and Tag was worried about the long-term repercussions on her. She seemed to be having a hard time recovering from this one emotionally.
“I think you’re her favorite person, Tag.” Emily stood in the doorway, eleven-month-old Brady on her hip. She followed that up with a quick “Don’t tell your sisters I said that.” Wearing black leggings and a long flannel shirt, her blond hair bunched into a cute, messy pile on top of her head, Emily didn’t look anything like the corporate executive she used to be. Although by all accounts she was a wizard in her current job as head of the Rankins Tourism Bureau.
“Are you guys wrapping it up? Lunch is ready.” Stepping inside, she surveyed the shelving they’d constructed and installed across one entire wall. “This looks incredible. It’s even better than I imagined. Thank you so much for helping, Tag.”
“Of course. Anytime. You know that.”
A buzz in his pocket followed by a distinct-sounding chime indicated a text from his business, Copper Crossing Air Transport. This particular alert had his paramedic’s pulse thumping because it told him that an emergency required medical evacuation.
“You need that sandwich to go?” Emily asked. His family members and most of his friends were familiar with the sound. And they all understood when plans were interrupted; there was no such thing as an inconvenience if it meant a life could be saved.
“That would be great, Em. Thanks.” Tag frowned as he read the brief message. A tap on his phone sent a return text letting his crew know they needed to get the float plane ready.
“Bad?” Bering asked.
“Grizzly bear.”
Bering winced and muttered under his breath.
“Oh, no!” Emily cried, one hand coming to rest possessively on Brady’s back.
No further explanation was necessary. Everyone who lived in Rankins, or the rest of Alaska for that matter, knew what those two words meant.
* * *
SO MUCH BLOOD. Too much to see exactly how much damage the bear had wrought. With nimble fingers, Ally Mowak probed her fifteen-year-old cousin Louis’s wounds. The dressings in her first aid kit weren’t going to go far, not with this amount of shredded skin. She slipped off her jacket as well as the thick fleece shirt beneath it. Using the knife she’d already wielded to cut away Louis’s tattered clothing, she went to work on her own, arranging strips of cloth on the worst of his wounds.
“Quinn?” she barked at the other teenager crouched beside her. Zombielike, he stared down at Louis. “Quinn, look at me.” Grabbing his shoulder, she gave it a shake. “See what I’m doing?”
Blinking slowly, Quinn managed to wrest his gaze from Louis.
Still cutting, she repeated, “See what I’m doing? How I’m making strips? I need you to do this with your sweatshirt, too. Do you understand?”
Blank eyes stared back at her. Ally feared he might pass out. Combat experience had taught her that the best way to handle a person on the verge of shock was to keep them moving—even better if you could give them a job to do.
“Quinn, I need your help here, kiddo.”
Louis let out a moan, hoarse and full of anguish.
That seemed to spur something in Quinn, and he nodded. He removed his top and held out a hand. Handle first, she passed him the knife. “It’s super sharp, okay?” she warned. “And hey.” Gripping his shoulder tightly until dark brown, terror-filled eyes met hers, she forced a confidence she didn’t feel into her tone. “He looks worse than he is. We will save him. But this is important. We need these strips to stop the bleeding.”
The sound of crunching leaves and snapping branches had her snatching up the bear spray at her side. Adrenaline flooded her bloodstream. Jessie and Ryder Shelton and their three monster-sized dogs, Colfax, Pia and Fife, emerged from the brush. Exhaling a relieved breath, she dropped the canister and focused her attention back on to her patient.
“That was fast,” she said. “I expected you to come across the lake.”
“The ATV was quicker.” Jessie knelt on the opposite side of Louis, already tearing into the packs of dressings she’d brought along. “We have a stretcher.”
Ally and her teenaged cousins Louis and Quinn had spent the morning fishing in Jessie’s canoe on Jasper Lake. A road accessed the scattering of homes located on the south shore of the lake, while the wooded northwestern shore could be reached only by boat or trail.
As lunchtime approached, she and the boys had paddled to this remote portion to eat and enjoy the view. Quinn had suggested a hike up a scenic trail that followed a winding stream past Sullivan’s Spring to Sullivan’s Falls. Round trip was only a few miles, and because they’d made it almost back to the spring when the bear attacked, Ally estimated they were now half a mile from the lake.
Thank the stars, she had her cell phone. Double and triple thanks that she had service and Jessie was around to hear the call. Jessie and Ryder ran a dog rescue facility, where Jessie rehabilitated injured and abused dogs, and Ryder trained service dogs for the police and military.
Ryder silently went to work on Louis’s neck and shoulder. After doing what they could on his front, they rolled him over so Ally could inspect his back. Relief surged through her. It didn’t appear that the bear had punctured the chest or abdominal cavity.
“Tag James is picking him up in his float plane,” Jessie said. “It’s the fastest way. The Coast Guard could send a search and rescue team with a hoist, but it would take longer. I already called.”
“Good.” Ally was relieved. The less jostling around for Louis, the better. “Let’s get him on the stretcher. I want to stop at the spring on the way to the lake.”
* * *
TAG CLIMBED OUT of the plane onto the pontoon and stepped into the shallow water of the lake. A few splashing strides and the pebbles of the shoreline were crunching beneath his booted feet. He hurried to where his friend Ryder stood nearby.
“Ryder, man, I’m glad to see you and Jessie here.”
Ryder was former military special forces and had medical training. Transport would go so much faster with his help since Tag didn’t have to apply first aid and stabilize the patient. Already on a stretcher and covered with a wool blanket, the wounded teenager looked ready for transport. A girl was crouched beside him, holding his hand. Jessie stood several feet away, talking with another boy.
“Hey, Tag. Feeling’s mutual,” Ryder said, giving his hand a quick shake.
Taking positions on each end of the stretcher, they quickly loaded the patient inside the plane while Ryder filled him in on the details of the attack. Tag didn’t notice the problem until they’d secured the stretcher inside. That’s when the blanket shifted, and instead of fresh white dressing, he saw dingy gray-and-brown strips, almost like...
Peeling the blanket back farther, he found a mass of dirty, albeit neatly arranged, bandages. What in the world? Had they dropped him? If so, why hadn’t they cleaned him up?
“Why is he so dirty? These bandages are filthy.”
“Ally did that,” Jessie explained. “Native healing thing. She says the clay in Sullivan’s Spring contains antibiotic properties and helps stanch the bleeding.”
Tag was familiar with the small mineral hot spring. Most people didn’t even know it was there. It wasn’t large enough to draw visitors. There were no deep or colorful pools to attract attention, but he’d heard about its purported healing properties for most of his life.
“Who is Ally?” he asked, although his keen powers of deduction were telling him she had to be the only other female who wasn’t Jessie. Initially he’d assumed she was a teenager, maybe the injured kid’s sister or girlfriend, as she’d been holding his hand and talking to him right up until they’d loaded him inside the plane.
Ryder’s brows shot up. “Ally Mowak? You haven’t met her yet?”
“No. Why would I have?”
“She’s the new hospital liaison in Rankins. I guess, technically, she doesn’t start until tomorrow.”
Tag glanced over to where Ally was hurriedly stuffing gear into a backpack. Pretty, and like Jessie, she appeared to be of Native American descent, as did the two boys. She was petite and fit, her silky black hair tied back in a ponytail, and she wore no makeup. He supposed she might not be as young as he’d assumed.
“How old is she?”
“Young. Twenty...something. Early twenties. Old enough to have served in the Army, including a couple of combat tours. She was a medic and then came home to earn her paramedic certification.”
“Huh.” Because of his affiliation with the hospital, he knew a liaison had been hired. Flynn Ramsey, a doctor at the hospital, had told him because the position entailed overseeing medical transport, which meant Tag would occasionally be working with the new person. Up until now, the task had been tacked on to Flynn’s already demanding schedule.
Tag watched as Ally slung the pack over her shoulder. The two women exchanged a brief hug, and then Ally turned and jogged toward the plane.
“Hey, pilot, let’s go!” she called, a note of impatience infusing her tone, as if he was the one who’d been holding them up. Without waiting for a response, she waded into the water, climbed nimbly onto the pontoon and scrambled inside the plane.
Tag called out thanks to Ryder and Jessie and followed, even though he wasn’t sure of their destination yet. Anchorage and Juneau both had excellent trauma units. Either way, he needed to call and inform them they were en route.
Turning around, he asked, “Alaska Regional or Bartlett?”
“Rankins,” she answered without hesitation.
“Rankins?” Was she serious? The kid had been mauled by a bear. “Are you sure? It’s a small hospital, and Juneau has—”
“I know how big the hospital is,” she answered in a tone as crisp as an ice chip. “He’s my patient. It’s my call.”
Giving his head a stupefied shake, he turned to focus on the plane’s controls. The only thing that kept him from arguing was the fact that he didn’t want to waste any time. The patient could be airlifted from Rankins if necessary. Although, at some point in the very near future, he and Ms. Mowak were going to have a conversation about patient transport protocol when he and his company were involved.
* * *
AS LOUIS DRIFTED in and out of consciousness, Ally held his hand, touched his cheek, told him stories, all the while closely monitoring his condition: listening to his breathing, checking his pulse, scanning every inch of him from head to toe and back again. There was some oozing through the dressings but no serious bleeding. She wished she could check the injuries on his back.
What she really wished was that she’d been there to protect them.
Ally had been lingering behind on the trail taking photos when she heard the boys’ screams. She’d sprinted toward the commotion, but by the time she’d arrived at the scene the bear was gone and the damage done. Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a few seconds to appreciate how lucky Louis was to be alive. She still wasn’t sure why his injuries weren’t more severe. Ally was proud of him for keeping his head covered like he’d been taught, his scratched and raw forearms proof of the defensive move. A bear’s powerful jaws could remove a person’s entire face or crack the skull with a single bite, as easily as a nutcracker splitting an acorn.
Quinn said that in those few seconds of awareness before the attack he’d thought they were both dead. The boys had been standing maybe ten feet apart when they heard a noise in the brush behind them. They hadn’t had time to do more than turn before three-hundred-plus pounds of muscle, claws and teeth were charging toward them.
For whatever reason, the bear had gone for Louis first. As Quinn scrambled to retrieve his bear spray from the holster on his hip, the sow, seemingly distracted by something in the trees, had dropped Louis almost as quickly as she’d attacked and loped back into the brush. Probably her cubs, Ally theorized, as Quinn had seen two little ones scooting ahead of the bear’s retreating form.
It seemed like only a few minutes before the plane was descending toward the waters of the bay adjacent to the town of Rankins. After a smooth-as-glass landing, they were ferrying toward the dock. Red and blue lights from the waiting ambulance were a balm to the gnawing worry in her gut. She’d thoroughly assessed Louis’s injuries, but with the conditions and the limited resources in the field, she knew there was a chance she’d missed something.
With efficiency and care Ally approved of, the onshore team rushed Louis into the ambulance for the short ride to the hospital. She joined him inside and was soon handing her cousin off again, this time to a team of doctors and nurses.
Relief rushed through her when she saw Dr. Ramsey instead of Dr. Boyd. Like her, Flynn was new to Rankins Hospital but old to Alaska, meaning he’d grown up here, too. He was also sympathetic to traditional medical practices. He would understand the clay.
