“I’ll go with,” Tom said.

“We need room to work, Tom. We’ll be busy until you and Cal get to Denver—we’ll have to take him to the hospital there. If anything changes, anything at all, we’ll be in touch by phone.”

Someone handed her a rag, hydrogen peroxide and a bottled water and she rinsed and washed off her hands.

“It’s taking them too long,” Tom complained, watching the edge of the ridge, waiting.

“It’s all right, I think the immediate danger is past,” she said. “I relieved the intracranial pressure. I’d like more information, but we can’t get that until we get him to Denver. There isn’t any place closer.”

“Isn’t Colorado Springs closer?”

“It’s a tie,” she said. “And I know the hospital and staff in Denver. I know who to call.” There was a shout and the basket was lifted over the lip of the cliff. The men carrying the basket to the helicopter were moving quickly and carefully. She jogged after them. “I’ll be in touch. Drive safely.”

She jumped into the helicopter behind her patient.

* * *

Her hands only shook when she was being lowered down a steep hillside or trying to get into a harness on a thin shelf. When she was with her patient, she was steady.

Terry met her in the OR. “You’re on call?” Maggie asked.

“Hell no, it’s a holiday weekend. I was having time off. I got a call that you were coming in with a critical patient you’d rescued off a cliff. I decided I could party later.”

“I didn’t rescue him,” she said, hurrying to the locker room. “I did drill a couple of burr holes in his cranium with a shop drill, however. Go prep him, Terry. We need a CT. And thanks for coming in. I need all the help I can get.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said. “Good to have you back.”

“I’m not back,” she said. “I’m just helping out.”

“Me, too,” Terry laughed, her short round form jogging off in the direction of the OR.

She came in for me, Maggie thought. She was probably hosting a barbecue at her house for her grown kids and grandkids. No one would have scheduled surgeries for a holiday weekend, but there would always be emergencies. One of her favorite colleagues, Jake Morris, was the neurosurgeon on call and he joined her at the sink to scrub. “Your case, Maggie. I’ll be in there with you if you need anything.”

“I need this kid to be okay,” she said.

“Rumor is you shimmied down a mountain to get to him,” he said.

“Mostly true,” she admitted. “That was a lot more terrifying than this. I think he’s stable. Let’s go see what the CT says.”

“Did you notice his hands are scraped almost raw?” Jake asked.

“I did. I’m hoping that means he was able to lessen the impact of his fall because the kid got a bad head knock.”

* * *

Two hours later Maggie walked into the OR waiting room. Tom and Cal both jumped to their feet.

“He’s stable, Tom. He’s still unconscious and we’re not rousing him right away. We won’t know the extent of his injuries until he wakes up and has a little recovery time but I like his chances for a full recovery. There was a second small epidural hematoma and that’s all that showed up on the CT. His brain was slammed around inside his skull—there will be issues. Hopefully issues rehab can resolve. But he’s stable, his reflexes are good, he’s going to make it.”

“Thank God,” Tom said, sinking to the chair and holding his head in his hands as he wept.