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stay. Casey remained in ICU, but the nurses allowed Pauline to sit with her unconscious daughter part of the time. At times, Pauline tried to talk to the unresponsive Casey, but she didn’t know what to say. They had never been close. Most of the time, she just sat and watched the ever-moving bed.
    While Pauline kept her vigil, Jake and Tres signed the charges filed against the wealthy oilman’s son, Jody Witten, who had thrown the firecrackers.
    Witnesses said as Jody became drunk, he talked about how ranchers acted like they were royalty. He’d boasted his dad could buy out any one of the ranchers and never miss the money. One of his contemporaries said, “We’re used to his crude bragging, so we didn’t pay any attention when he said he was going to have some fun.”
    Forty-three days after the incident, Casey opened her eyes. She saw a woman in a wheelchair sitting by her bed. She blinked and looked again. Was her mind still playing tricks on her? For days, she’d heard voices but nobody seemed to hear her. She couldn’t get anyone to tell her what was going on. A dark-haired woman with an engaging smile loomed up into her vision.

    “Casey, it’s wonderful to see you awake! I’m Amy, your nurse. You have a tube in your throat, so don’t try to talk. It will hurt. I’ll call the doctor to see if we can remove it.”
    Casey tried to move her hand, only to discover it firmly strapped to the bed. Panicked, Casey made guttural sounds around the tube, struggling with all her might to get loose.
    Amy rubbed her hand across Casey’s. “Don’t be frightened. You’ve been unconscious. You’re tied to the bed so you wouldn’t fall off as the bed moved.” She flipped the switch to stop the bed’s movement as she talked. “We need to leave your hands strapped until the doctor comes so you can’t touch the paraphernalia in your head.” She gave Casey an encouraging pat on the arm. “He’ll tell you what has been going on while you’ve been asleep.”
    The doctor strode through the door with loping steps. “I’m Dr. Newton. Glad you’re awake.” He didn’t touch her as he watched every flicker of Casey’s eyes. “The nurse will get this tube out, then we can talk. But the neck and head brace has to stay on for a while longer.” He shined a tiny beam of light into her eyes. “Things look good. I know having your hands restrained is a little scary but we can’t have you messy up our handiwork, you know.” He grinned. “We’ll get some pictures to see if the tube and wires in your head can be removed. If they can, then we can turn you loose.”
    Casey felt panic roar to life like a monster deep inside. She stifled a scream but jerked frantically at the restraints. Her eyes darted this way and that. Why didn’t she recognize anything or any of these people? She felt the doctor hold one of her arms with a gentle, firm hand. He smiled, giving her arm a reassuring pat.
    “We’ll get you down for an MRI. Be patient a little longer.” He patted her shoulder as he turned to talk to Amy. He looked back at Casey. “I’ll be back. Dr. Halson will be by before long. He’s the bone specialist who fixed your leg and hip and helped fit the brace on your neck. Tell the nurse if you have pain so she can give you something for it.”

    Casey gagged as the nurse slipped the tube out of her throat. But she could swallow and breathe more easily. Her first words were raspy, coming from her raw throat. But she wanted to ask questions.
    She saw Pauline sitting in the wheelchair beside her. “Did you get hurt, too?”
    “No.”
    “Sorry. I just assumed because you were in a wheelchair . . .” Pauline looked up at the nurse in confusion, then looked back at Casey. “No, remember, I had Lyme Disease? It caused arthritis and now I need to use a wheelchair.”
    “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t know.”
    “Casey, do you remember getting hurt?”
    Casey was quiet for a moment. “No.”
    “Do you remember falling off a