Breathe Again

Chapter 31

Ashfield raised his head from his pillow and blinked several times to clear the sleep from his eyes. The heavy-handed knocking grew more insistent and intruded on his dreams.

When his sleep-clouded mind at last determined the knocking was not a part of his dream but was coming from his front door, he groaned and rubbed his face. Why? Why couldn't people let him sleep? Just once, he wanted to have a full night of uninterrupted rest.

Maybe if he didn't answer, they'd leave. After all, how were they to know some other night emergency hadn't already called him away? He held his breath and waited. The knocking continued. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he stood and pulled on his pants.

The knocking grew louder, followed by a man, who sounded suspiciously like Sterling Hawkins, shouting, "ASHFIELD."

"I'm coming," He grumbled and lit the lantern on his bedside table before pulling a shirt on over his head.

"Ashfield, WAKE UP."

Ashfield huffed an irritated breath, tucked his shirt into his trousers, and pulled his boots on. "I am COMING."

Whomever it was pounding at his front door and yelling his name didn't bring good news, that much was certain. Covering a yawn and scratching his head as he walked, he combed his fingers through his curly hair before opening the door.

Sterling stood before him, completely drenched and covered in thick globs of mud and twigs.

"At least you knocked this time." Ashfield opened the door wider and smiled, "What can I do for you?" He raised the lantern higher and looked Sterling over, "It would appear you've been playing in the mud."

Although Sterling could see the humor in the situation, he worried that with each visit to Ashfield's door, he was becoming the harbinger of doom. "Dottie's been hurt, will you come and make sure she's all right?"

The humor immediately vanished from Ashfield's eyes, "Of course. Let me grab my bag." He spun around, disappeared into the dark interior of his home, and yelled, "What happened?"

"The simple version," Sterling called out as he peered in, "is we both got caught out in the storm, but she ended up at the base of the ravine and hurt her head."

Ashfield darted around the front room where all of his tools and medicines were neatly arranged, grabbing various jars of different shapes and sizes, as well as bundles of boiled bandages and sterilized needles which he then placed in his black doctor's bag.

Eager to be on his way back to Dottie, Sterling turned, "I'll get your buggy ready, Doc." He jogged over to the small barn, only slowing when he entered the building. He closed his eyes and took a calming breath, but it didn't help.

His hands noticeably shook, making him clumsy as he finished buckling the harness, tightening the straps, and led the mule out to wait in front of the cabin. He looked up just as Ashfield emerged with his bag in hand and his hat firmly in place.

Running to where Fancy patiently waited, Sterling, vaulted into the saddle and raced back toward Dottie.

Ashfield climbed into his buggy and snapped the reins, following Sterling down the road to the Griggs.

The pace Sterling set dried his clothing, causing the globs of mud clinging tenaciously to his body to wriggle their way free and ricochet against Fancy before dropping to the ground.

Chaotic thoughts swirled in Sterling's mind the entire ride over, each one more gruesome than the next. By the time he and Ashfield finally arrived at the barn and saw faint lantern light shining from the partially open door, Sterling was positive they were too late, and Dottie was dead.