“She’s going to make it,” Lauren murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
Outside the trauma bay doors, Ranger hadn’t moved. His body was coiled low, chin resting on paws, amber eyes tracking every person who walked past. Not aggressive. Not frantic.
Guarding.
The automatic doors at the ER entrance opened again twenty minutes later—this time admitting flashing blue lights.
Deputies from the Knox County Sheriff’s Office stepped in, boots wet from sleet, hands resting near their belts more out of habit than threat. Word traveled fast in rural counties. A dog carrying a child into a hospital at nearly four in the morning wasn’t something you ignored.
Deputy Harris approached the desk cautiously.
“Where’s the child?”
“Stable,” Lauren answered evenly. “Hypothermic but responding.”
“And the dog?”
She nodded toward Ranger.
