“I’m good, Mom,” Blake finally said, pulling away.

“Go get in the ATV with Margie. You kids try to keep warm.”

Blake didn’t move. “What about Flann—”

“We’ll get her,” Abby said. “Go on now.”

Blake looked back one last time, then stumbled over the littered ground to the ATV. Margie held out a hand and he climbed in next to her, sliding his arm around her shoulders. They cradled the box between them, their heads close.

“Flann, your turn,” Harper called.

“I can’t,” Flann said. “I can’t move.”

Abby’s throat closed. Oh God. Harper’s face blanked, her body freezing in place. Evaluate, assess, act.

Abby crouched and peered into the tunnel. “Can you feel both legs?”

“Yes, it’s—”

“Any numbness or tingling?”

“It’s not my spine. I’m pinned by something.”

Abby heard Harper start breathing again.

“Any other injuries?” Abby said.

“I don’t think so. Something’s bleeding, but not a lot.”

“Jesus,” Harper said. Her face paled, and for the first time, Abby saw panic in her eyes.

“Harper,” she said sharply, “it’s not serious. But we need to get her out of there.”

Harper shuddered, and her gaze cleared. She let out a long breath. “We need to make sure the tunnel doesn’t collapse. I’m going to get her.”

“It’s not big enough for you,” Abby said.

“Then we’ll make it bigger.”

They went back to work, widening the path into the depths of debris, shoving blocks of wood under canted uprights to keep the structure from shifting. Abby followed Harper, holding the light. An endless time later, Flann’s face appeared, ghostly and pale.

“Hey.” Flann grinned and the cold, hard fist in Abby’s chest eased.

“Hey, yourself,” Harper said. “Abby, I need a two-by-four about five feet long.”

“Right.” Abby braced the light between two boards in the rubble, called out to Presley what they needed, and backed out.

“Here,” Presley said a moment later, passing her a wet length of wood. “Is she all right?”

“I think so.” Abby crawled back in with the board. “Harper—here.”

“There’s a big beam across your left leg, Flann. I’ll lever it up and you need to crawl toward me.”

“If you move things,” Flann said, “this whole thing might come down.”

“We’ll go slow.”

“Leave me. When you get more people, you can take this thing apart from the top down.”

“It’ll be a day. I’m not leaving you in there.”

“It’s not gonna help for both of us—”

Abby’s frayed nerves snapped. “The two of you, hush. Harper, how long before you can get more help?”

“Twelve hours minimum, maybe a day.”

“What’s the chance this whole thing might come down before then?”

“Fifty-fifty, maybe worse.”

“Get her out.”

Flann cursed. “Look—”

“Risk assessment, Dr. Rivers,” Abby pronounced. “This is the safest course.”

“Then at least you should get out of the way so you can pull Harper out if it goes bad.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.” Abby murmured, “Be careful, Harper.”

“Yeah.” Harper jammed the two-by-four under the beam pinning Flann’s leg and pushed another hunk of wood under it.

“Get ready to move.”

“I’m not sure my leg will work right away,” Flann said.

“Just get close—we’ll take it from there.” Harper pushed down on the lever and the pile of wood groaned. Abby watched from the mouth of the tunnel, ready to grab Harper and pull her out if the pile started to shift. Endless moments later, Harper eased aside and an arm appeared next to her.

Abby crowded forward and grabbed Flann’s hand. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m not at my fighting best,” Flann said weakly. “So don’t let go.”

Abby tightened her grip. “I’m not going to.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Flann pushed herself to her knees but didn’t have the strength to stand. Her leg might as well have been a dead log attached to her hip for all she could control it. “Leg’s useless for a bit.”

Abby slipped an arm around her waist, saying gently, “Take your time. You can make it.”

A second later Harper was on her other side, and Flann managed to get both legs under her and wobble to her feet. Her injured leg burned like someone had rammed a hot poker down the middle of her quad. Congealing blood soaked her jeans to the knee.

“Jesus, Flann,” Harper said, “you’re a mess.”

“Thanks, sis.”

“Are you dizzy?” Abby asked.

“No,” Flann croaked. “A little weak in general, but I don’t think I lost that much blood.

“We’ll see when we get you to the ER.”

Flann grunted and put a little more weight on the leg. It held. “By the time we get to the ER, it’ll be filled with patients and I’ll be too busy to worry about it.”

“You’re not going to be doing anything tonight,” Abby said.

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with here, Abby.” Flann didn’t have the patience to argue. “Look at the damage here. If that twister went through town or even stayed on the ground on the outskirts, there’s gonna be a lot more than property damage. People are going to be hurt. I’ve got work to do.”

Abby gritted her teeth and stared at Flann’s set jaw. The woman was so stubborn that reasoning with her was about as effective as trying to hold back the tornado with a bedsheet. “Harper, maybe you can talk some sense into her.”

Harper cleared her throat. “Uh…how about we get everybody inside and we’ll do a quick check on the three of them. I’ll take the kids, you look at Flann. If her leg’s not too bad, then for the short term, at least, it makes the most sense to let her try to work. I’ve got everything you’ll need to treat a straightforward injury.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Abby muttered. Two against one was hopeless odds, but she was counting on Harper’s concern for Flann’s welfare to win out if she found anything serious. “Let’s get inside. If the wound is manageable as an outpatient, okay. But if I say she needs the OR, then what I say goes.”

“No,” Flann said.

“Okay,” Harper said.

“God damn it, Harp,” Flann said.

Harper held firm. “If it’s not bad like you say, then you’ve got nothing to complain about.”

Flann didn’t argue. She’d just work on Abby when she got her alone.

“Everybody okay?” Presley called.

“We’re good,” Harper said. “Take Flann and the kids back to the house. Abby and I will catch up.”

Flann didn’t argue about riding—she couldn’t maneuver through the rubble. Once she got situated next to Margie, Presley navigated a circuitous path back to the house. Miraculously, the house was undamaged other than a few slates lying scattered around on the grass. Margie and Blake carried the chickens inside, and Presley gave her a hand climbing down from the ATV.

“How are you doing?” Presley asked.

“Better,” Flann said. “I’m starting to feel my leg again.”

Inside, Margie and Blake immediately settled into one corner of the kitchen, discussing how best to create a temporary pen for the chicks. Harper appeared a minute later with a medical bag in one hand and a plastic crate filled with instrument packs and surgical bandages. Presley put flashlights on the counter and table.

Abby immediately joined Blake and Margie. “You two need to get into dry clothes.”

“We just need to get the chicks settled,” Blake said, barely giving her a glance as Margie set a big cardboard box on the floor.

“Five minutes,” Abby ordered.

“I’ll see what I can find for them,” Presley said, pausing by Abby. “They look like they’re doing better than the rest of us.”

Abby glanced over at Flann. “Right. Harper, can you take a look at these two while I get a look at Flann’s leg.”

“Sure.” Harper pulled out a kitchen chair. “Margie, sit.”

Flann desperately wanted to sit down too, but she didn’t. Any sign of weakness now would get her benched for the rest of the night. She’d be fine as soon as she had something to drink and a little bit to eat. Time to get on top of the situation.

“Let’s go in the sitting room, Abby. You can check me over in there.”

Surprised that Flann acquiesced so easily, Abby grabbed the container of surgical supplies and one of the big lantern flashlights, and followed Flann down the hall. Flann moved slowly and Abby suspected she was trying hard to hide a limp. The sitting room was a large cozy space with a fireplace, an overstuffed sofa and matching easy chair with a floral pattern, and a big hooked rug on the wood floor. An oversized coffee table that looked as old as the house sat in the middle of the room with a few business magazines and general medical journals scattered on top. Harper and Presley obviously used this room to relax, and the companionable image gave her a pang of envy.

“Stretch out on the sofa.” Abby put the supplies and light on the coffee table. “Can you get your jeans off?”

“I don’t want to get blood on their rug.” Flann stopped just inside the door, unbuttoned her jeans, and started to push them down. She winced and stopped. “I might need a little help.”

Abby pulled on a pair of disposable gloves. “Hold on to the door frame for balance. I’m going to have to tug.”

Flann braced one arm against the doorway. “All set.”

Abby crouched, gripped the waistband of Flann’s jeans, and rocked them down over her hips to midthigh. Flann could think of a lot of scenarios where she wouldn’t mind Abby on her knees in front of her, but this definitely wasn’t one of them. She hated appearing helpless in front of Abby and hated being tended to as if she were incapable of looking after herself—or anyone—even more. Abby tugged on her jeans, and Flann swore.

“Sorry.” Abby rocked back on her heels and looked up at Flann. “It’s stuck to the laceration and I can’t tell how bad it is. I’ll have to soak the material with some saline and try again.”