Jake’s voice threatened to betray him as he knelt by his wife in the hard dirt. “9-1-1 – What is your emergency?” the operator came on, and he had to struggle to keep himself calm enough to talk. “My wife’s been hurt,” he began, “I think she’s dying…” he said, and somehow stumbled through the address and directions to the property.
The sun was
setting, and Zebediah, the big puppy, was rooting through the contents of the
plastic bag Jake had dropped on the ground.
Somehow he found
an intact lead rope in the bucket by the gate, and tied the nervous Nightmare
to a pole across the paddock; His hands were trembling so hard, that he could
barely swing the gate open for the ambulance attendants.
Then he knelt down
in the dirt, again, next to his wife and stroked her face. “Stay with me, hon,
stay with me,” he called to her, but her eyes were distant and glazed, and she
didn’t hear him. He heard the siren of the approaching ambulance and ran to his
truck to move it out of the way.
The attendants put
a bag on Jeannie’s face and were rhythmically pumping, trying to get her to
saw the glances they exchanged – he saw that they thought it was hopeless.
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