The Texan's Secret (14 page)

“I’ll change boots, grab my hard hat and go with you.”

“Okay.” Chance headed down the hall. “Do you think Cadde’s in?”

Kid laughed. “Hell, yeah.”

“Son of a bitch,” Cadde muttered when he heard the news. “I’ll get my boots and hat and go with you. I want to see firsthand what’s going on.”

“I can take care of it,” Chance said.

“But three Hardins can take care of it faster.”

Within minutes they were in the helicopter and headed for Crocker Number One. Chance landed the aircraft smoothly some distance from the well. Sam’s
eyes opened wide when he saw all three brothers get off the chopper.

“It’s all under control, sir.” Sam spoke to Cadde. “We’re trying to reach the broken pipe.”

Chance looked up to see roughnecks busy on the platform, attaching chains and ropes to a pipe as a large hydraulic lift hoisted it up out of the well. A man high on the derrick looped a rope around it and roughnecks guided it to the pipe rack. They repeated the process as mud, grime and oil coated the drilling platform.

“I’ll see for myself,” Cadde said, turning to Sam. “I need work gloves.” Sam immediately found three pairs. Slipping his on, Cadde headed for the platform. Chance and Kid exchanged glances and followed, shoving their own hands into gloves.

“Going smoothly, sir,” Mick, the driller, shouted above the roar of the rig.

Suddenly mud that kept the drilling process cool spewed up from the well, splattering everyone on the platform. No one winced or said a word. If you were a roughneck, you were used to the muck and grime of drilling.

“I want this well back on track,” Cadde said, as if nothing had happened.

“Yes, sir. We’re doing our best.”

Just then a loud bang cut through the noise of the rig. Chance looked up to see Brad, the derrick man, hanging in thin air. His safety harness held him in place.

“Shut down the rig,” Cadde ordered. Chance knew how hard that was for him, but a man’s life was at stake.

Several roughnecks shouted up to Brad, but he didn’t move.

“Something’s wrong,” Cadde said. “I’m going up to see if I can attach his harness to a pulley line that will bring him down. Any other suggestions?”

“I can climb the derrick,” Chance offered.

Cadde ignored the suggestion. “You and Kid be ready to catch him when he slides down.”

They watched as Cadde climbed the derrick. Once he reached the crow’s nest, as Brad’s position was called, he caught the safety cables that were attached to the derrick. Using them, he slowly pulled Brad toward him, and then reached for the pulley line the derrick man used every day to slide down after work.

Evidently Brad was deadweight, because Cadde was having a hell of a time attaching his harness to the pulley. Finally he waved a hand. “He’s coming down,” he called on the Sunday morning breeze.

Chance, Kid and four roughnecks hurried down the platform to catch Brad. He came down fast, but Chance made sure he landed smoothly, just as an ambulance roared onto the site.

A paramedic quickly checked Brad, who was lying on the grass, lifeless.

“I’m not getting a response,” he said. “Let’s get him to a hospital. Go, go, go!”

Brad was pasty and pale, and Chance worried he was dead. Probably a heart attack, but he was so young—only twenty-four, with a young wife. This part of the oil business sucked. This part of life sucked.

He heard a shout and turned to see Cadde slipping
off the derrick into the ropes, chains and pulleys. His hard hat plummeted, bouncing off the platform moments later, as Cadde hung there like a broken kite. A chain held his right boot, and that was the only thing keeping him from tumbling to his death, headfirst.

For a split second Chance couldn’t move.

A scream shattered his shock. It was Kid. Roughnecks tried to hold him back from the derrick, but Kid broke free.

Chance realized he was already on the derrick, climbing up to save his brother.

Not another death in his family, he vowed, climbing higher.

Not another death.

C
HANCE REACHED
their brother first. “Cadde,” he called, but Cadde was unmoving. His right boot was being held by a rope, not a chain, he noted. His left foot lay against a pipe they had pulled out of the well.

“Cadde,” Kid yelled in turn, and again there was not a flicker of response. After surveying the position of Cadde’s body, Kid looked up at Chance. “How do we get him out of here? We can’t use the pulley, ’cause he’s inside the derrick wall.” Kid glanced around. “Where’s the crane?”

“It’s on another job.” Chance had already thought of that, but the crane was too far away. They needed to get Cadde down now as safely and quickly as possible.

A warm June breeze cooled Chance’s sweaty body as he held on to the derrick. He viewed the situation again and knew they had to stabilize Cadde before he catapulted downward. At the moment that had to be their main goal. “I’m going to try to tie his legs together and secure him to the derrick.”

“But…”

“The rope could give at any minute, Kid. We don’t have many choices.”

“Sir.”

Chance looked down to see Woody, one of the roughnecks, with a rope over his shoulder. Two other roughnecks were there with ropes. He hadn’t even noticed them.

Very carefully, he reached for Cadde’s left foot. If he missed…if he jarred it in any way…the pipe, ropes and chains could all crash downward. Holding his breath, he stretched as far as he could with his right arm and closed his hand on a fistful of denim. Once he had a good grip, Woody handed him the rope. Chance looped it around both legs with one hand, and was amazed to find he hadn’t forgotten a thing from his days of hog-tying steers.

He secured Cadde to the derrick, then let out a long, agonizing breath. Now his brother would not tumble to his death. But they still had to get him down.

“We have to secure his arms,” Chance shouted to Kid. Woody and Mick scurried to help, as did Chance. “Okay. Here’s what we do. I’m going to pull him in as close as I can. Woody and Mick, your jobs are to get his arms up so Kid can secure them to his chest. Ready?”

“His head is bleeding,” Kid said. “We have to do this quickly.”

“No,” Chance told him. “We have to do this carefully. Concentrate. Focus. Let’s do it.” He held on to the derrick with one hand and reached out with his other for his brother. The first attempt failed, and Chance swore under his breath as the Texas sun bored through his hard hat. He took a sharp breath and noted the quiet. Around an oil rig there was always noise. But not today. The crew on the ground was looking up in
silence. No roar of the rig, no pipes or chains rattling, no yelling—just silence. Dead silence.

“Everyone ready?” he called as he attempted another try.

“Yes,” echoed through the stillness.

Again Chance stretched out his arm, straining toward his brother with everything in him. This time he was able to shove two fingers into Cadde’s waist-band and pull. Woody and Mick went into action, each lifting an arm upward to Cadde’s side. Holding on with one arm, Kid threw the rope and jerked it tight around Cadde’s chest. They had him hog-tied.

And safe. For now.

“Is he breathing?” Kid asked.

“I can’t tell,” Chance replied, not letting his mind go in that direction. He had to concentrate. Stay focused.

He turned to Woody. “Tell Sam to send up the medical cage, more ropes and some bandages.”

“Yes, sir.” Woody scurried down like a monkey.

“How in the hell are we going to get him in the cage?” Kid wanted to know.

“With brute strength,” Chance replied. And little else.

He looked toward the sky and saw the Texas and U.S. flags waving in the breeze at the top of the derrick. For a moment, all he could see were green eyes. They disappeared in a haze of thundercloud blue as the sun disappeared. He could use some of Nettie’s magic right about now. But the only kind of magic he knew, the only kind his mother had taught him, was the real
deal. His eyes centered on the rolling clouds and he prayed like he’d never prayed before.

Woody returned with a rope wrapped around each shoulder and a bandage in his pocket. He pulled out the latter and handed it to Kid. “Mr. Sam said to peel off the back and stick it on.”

Kid followed instructions and leaned out to apply it. “It’s soaking up the blood.”

“Maybe it will clot,” Chance said, as two roughnecks inched upward with the medical cage. “Apply some pressure.”

“It’s not working,” Kid yelled in a frantic voice. “We have to get him to a hospital.”

“Calm down,” Chance shouted. He had one brother in crisis. He didn’t need another.

The stretcher with the leather straps reached them. “What’s the plan?” Kid asked.

“We have to get his body on it.” Chance glanced toward the threatening sky and felt a warm gust of wind on his face. “We could use a little help,” he whispered. Almost on request, the dark clouds vanished and the sun poked through again, bathing them in sunshine.
“Thank you,”
he mouthed, and devised a plan to save his brother.

He didn’t have to do much planning. The roughnecks, who’d faced many crises on the rigs, knew what to do. They were hardworking men devoted to a dangerous job. And right now they were all devoted to saving their boss.

Four roughnecks with two-by-fours tucked against their bodies climbed the derrick from the other side.
Chance knew what they were going to do. He didn’t need to tell them. With the two-by-fours they were going to guide the stretcher down and keep it from jarring against the derrick.

Now they had to get Cadde on it.

Woody and Mick aligned the stretcher against Cadde’s long body. The other roughnecks held it in place with the two-by-fours. Chance and Kid went to work strapping Cadde into the cage with the attached leather thongs. Then Chance looped a rope around and around their brother, making sure Cadde was firmly anchored inside the cage.

Kid positioned Cadde’s head in the padded horseshoe-shaped headrest and tightened a strap across his forehead.

They both worked while holding on to the derrick with one hand, and using the other to the best of their ability.

“We got him secure,” Kid finally called.

Chance shoved his hand into the carrying handle so he could use his arm to take the weight off Kid’s back.

Kid did the same for more leverage.

Woody and Mick climbed to stand between them, each with a grip on the stretcher. The other roughnecks were in place with the two-by-fours.

They were ready.

“Okay, boys,” Chance shouted. “Let’s go down—slowly. Wait a minute.” He realized they had one small problem. Cadde was still anchored to the derrick.

“I’ll get it, sir,” Woody called, realizing the problem
at the same time. He crawled higher and reached up to undo Cadde’s legs.

Chance felt the weight on his arm, and his muscles tightened. But he held on.

Woody then hurried down to release Cadde’s chest. “Ready,” he called.

“Let it go,” Kid said, and Chance knew Kid was bracing for the weight that was about to come down on him.

Slowly, Woody untied the knot and Cadde was deadweight in their hands. Kid groaned under the impact. Chance pulled as hard as he could, trying to take the weight off him. Woody hurried back into place and grabbed the stretcher.

“Let’s go,” Chance called.

Inch by inch the stretcher moved downward. Everyone did their job. No one flinched. No one complained. They just kept holding on with all their strength. The wind blew against them and shook their composure a couple of times, but no one let go. It seemed like hours, but Chance knew it was only minutes before they reached the drilling platform.

For a moment he couldn’t move his arm. It was clenched tight, still holding the stretcher. Eventually he yanked it out, as did Kid.

The crew gathered round Cadde, staring at a man Chance was sure they thought invincible. Hell, he did, too. He looked down at his older brother, whose hair was caked with blood, as was the side of his face and his shirt.

There wasn’t anything Cadde couldn’t do. He’d said
High Cotton was going to win the state championship in basketball, even though they were facing a team that hadn’t lost all year. With two seconds left in the game, the other team had been ahead by one point. The coach knew that if they could get the ball to Cadde, he’d make something happen. And he did. He shot a three-pointer from center court at the sound of the buzzer, and High Cotton had its first state championship ever.

As a boy, Cadde would say he was going to own an oil company one day. He’d made that happen, too. Today he was CEO of Shilah Oil.

If he set his mind to it, Cadde could do anything, it seemed, except take a breath. His big body was still inside the straps, and Chance felt a moment of fear.

“Rev up the chopper,” he said to Kid. “We have to get him to a hospital.”

Kid seemed paralyzed now, unable to move.

“Kid,” he shouted, and his brother practically jumped off the platform.

This time Chance grabbed the stretcher with both hands. “I need a little more help, boys, to get him on the chopper.”

“Yes, sir.” Woody and Mick reached for the stretcher.

“You boys did good today. Real good,” Chance told them as they hurried to the aircraft. “We couldn’t have saved him without you.”

“It’s our job, sir.” Woody looked embarrassed.

Not quite,
Chance thought as they loaded Cadde onto the chopper.

“Mr. Hardin,” Sam called above the roar of the he
licopter, trying to hold on to his hard hat. “What about the well?”

“Give the boys the rest of the day off. They’ve earned it. We’ll start again in the morning.”

As the helicopter lifted off, Chance leaned his back against the wall of the aircraft, the front part of the stretcher resting on his legs. He sucked in much needed air.

“Is he breathing?” Kid asked, navigating the controls.

Chance’s eyes were glued to Cadde’s chest. There was no movement. He was so afraid.
Don’t you die on us, Cadde.
Chance removed his gloves and placed his hand over the leather there. No movement. No breath.

You can do anything. Don’t you dare die on us.

Chance curled his other hand into a fist and then brought it down hard atop the one on Cadde’s heart. Cadde’s chest wall rose and then he coughed. His chest rose again. Cadde was alive and breathing. Chance sank back, exhausted.

“Hot damn,” Kid said. “Best sound I ever heard.” He glanced back. “Where are we going?”

“Memorial Hermann. Call and get us a clearance to land on their pad.”

“I don’t have their number.”

“Are you brain-dead?” Chance snapped. “Call Barbara, Cadde’s secretary. She’ll do it for you.”

“It’s Sunday, idiot.”

“Call her cell. It’s an emergency.”

The fall had shaken Kid, but the kidder was coming back. On that derrick, though, he’d been dead serious.
As serious as Chance had ever seen him, or probably ever would again.

He heard Kid talking to Barbara. “She’s calling,” he announced. “She’ll let us know as soon as she gets us clearance.”

“We don’t have a lot of time.” Chance watched blood ooze through the bandage, and he applied light pressure with his hand.

“I know,” Kid said. “If she doesn’t call back before we get there, I’m landing anywhere I can.”

Chance thought he probably would, and he saw no need to stop him. Cadde needed medical attention fast.

“Prepare for landing,” Kid called.

Chance glanced out the window, and all he could see were cars. “Where in the hell…?”

“Welcome to Memorial Hermann parking lot,” Kid said, climbing into the back with Chance and Cadde. “Let’s get him inside.”

“You landed in the parking lot?” Chance was still in shock.

“Hell, yeah.” Kid reached for the end of the stretcher, and Chance noticed how blue Kid’s right arm was. Chance looked down to see that his was black-and-blue, too.

“Let’s go,” Kid shouted, and Chance rose to his feet with his hands clamped around the stretcher one more time.

As they were unloading Cadde, two burly guys in white ran toward them. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” one yelled.

“We have an injured man who needs medical attention,” Kid yelled back.

“Why didn’t you use the helicopter pad?” the other one asked.

“Now that’s a long story,” Kid told him. “Too long to share here. Could we get a move on, please?

“What did y’all do to him?” the first guy asked, looking down at Cadde strapped in with ropes and leather.

“That’s another long story and—”

The other guy had been on a radio, obviously calling the emergency room. Two more people came running with a stretcher.

“Now we’re talking,” Kid muttered as they gave up their burden to professionals.

A police siren could be heard in the distance, getting closer and closer.

“You better move that thing.” Burly guy number one thumbed toward the chopper. “Evidently the police have been called.”

Kid jumped into the helicopter. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Call if they arrest you,” Chance said.

“Like hell!”

Chance heard the door slam shut. In seconds the helicopter lifted off the pavement, just as two police cars roared onto the scene. Chance ran after the stretcher, choosing to ignore the police—for now. But he knew they would be asking questions.

He filled out paperwork and put Jessie down as next of kin. “I don’t have his insurance information,” he told
the nurse. “It’s probably in his wallet. I’ll get it to you as soon as I can.”

As he walked off, a young woman stepped in front of him. “Mr. Hardin?” Her hand rested on her stomach. She was very pregnant.

“Yes,” he answered.

“I’m Brad Coulson’s wife, Sherry. Brad’s been in surgery a long time, and no one has told us anything. I’m worried.” She pointed to two people in their forties sitting in the waiting area. “His parents are worried, too. Could you please get some information for us?”

“I’ll do my best,” he promised, and went back to the nurse at the desk. Brad was in surgery. That meant he was alive. Thank God!

“Ma’am,” he said to the nurse.