The Loner's Thanksgiving Wish. Roxanne Rustand

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Mei lifted his eyelids, checking for even pupil reactions. Was the right one more sluggish? Hard to tell, in these shadows, and she wished she had a flashlight. But if the pupils were uneven, what could she do? The first aid kit was the extent of what she had to work with.

      And what worried her the most was his lack of responsiveness. A head injury could easily be fatal. Even now, his brain could be swelling.

      And his spine …

      Mei said a long, silent prayer as the minutes ticked by, then kept up a steady patter of small talk to distract Jasmine.

      A half hour passed.

      Then another.

      Blood still seeped through the makeshift bandages. Noticing it was worse at Cade’s temple, Mei added another layer of bandaging, then applied gentle pressure.

      Shouts of excitement erupted from the top of the cliff.

      “They’re almost here!” a woman shouted. “Three county rescue guys!”

      Jasmine closed her eyes and sighed with obvious relief. “Thank you, God. I’ve been praying this whole time for help to get here.” Her gaze shot up the sides of the ravine. “But how—what can they do?”

      “This is their job, honey,” Mei said with more confidence than she felt. “They do this sort of thing all the time.”

      In minutes, one man in sunglasses, a dark jacket and a COUNTY SEARCH & RESCUE–emblazoned backpack quickly rappelled down into the ravine, while the other two rescuers stayed at the top and watched, presumably awaiting directions.

      Relief and gratitude welled up in Mei’s chest until she was barely able to speak. “Thank you, thank you,” she finally managed, fighting back the sting of tears in her eyes as the first man reached them. “I’m so glad—”

      Her next words froze in her throat when she realized just who he was … and, with the next heartbeat, recognized the tragic irony of him being the first one on the scene.

      Although he was all too familiar to Mei now that he’d removed his shades and black ball cap, he didn’t even glance her way because his attention was riveted on Cade.

      He was all business, pure professional skill, as he hunkered down next to the injured boy. Working rapidly, he opened up his duffel bag and withdrew a stethoscope and portable blood pressure cuff, donned vinyl gloves, then began a careful exam.

      But she’d seen his split second of hesitation.

      The shock in his eyes.

      And the way he’d blanched before throwing himself into EMT mode. Of all the people in the world to answer this call, Jack McCord had shown up. And Cade was his half brother.

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