Someone grabbed my arm and pulled me from the group. Cookie. Her lips were pulled down and a vein pounded in her forehead. “Folks, please head into the lodge. We’ll update you shortly. You come with me, Miz Graham.” She towed me to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. “Tell me what happened.”

After taking a gulp, I explained, trying to control my voice.

Cookie sucked in air, making a hissing sound. “Nasty business.” She looked at her watch. “The chopper will be here soon. You stay here while I—”

“I’m okay now. I want to help. I need to help.”

Cookie nodded. “Very well then. I’ll give you some things to take over to the barn. I’ll get Liam to finish unloading the wagon so we can use it. I’m sure Riccardo’s folks want to be with him, but the chopper can only evacuate one adult plus the patient. We’ll need the wagon to get any others to town.” Without waiting for me to respond, she bustled off, returning shortly with a clean sheet and blanket. “See if they can use these. I’ll try and calm the rest of the guests.”

I took the items and trotted to the barn.

Riccardo was already covered with a blanket. Roy and Wyatt were huddled over him while Nona was sitting cross-legged next to him holding his hand. Teddy stood behind her, hands on her shoulders.

Wyatt took the items from me and used the second blanket to slightly elevate Riccardo’s legs.

I shifted my weight from leg to leg. What should I do now?

You know.

My mind shifted to a symposium I’d attended years before on mass-disaster and crime-scene reconstruction. The presenters told of horrific experiences—Pan Am Flight 103 that crashed in Lockerbie, Scotland. The Challenger space shuttle disaster. The Hyatt Regency walkway collapse in Kansas City. In each case the presenters told what happened, what they did right, and what they did wrong. Again and again they shared how, out of compassion, first responders didn’t do their jobs. They wanted to help but often just got in the way.

I couldn’t help Riccardo right now. I had very little medical knowledge beyond basic first aid. But I did know about potential crime scenes.

I gazed up at the opening to the hayloft. How could Riccardo have fallen through that opening? It was over three feet square.

I backed away and walked to the other end of the hall, where the second access to the loft was located. Grabbing the ladder, I stopped. At that same symposium they talked about the effects of PTSD, which wasn’t well understood at the time. First responders were told they could get counseling, but if they did, it would be viewed as weakness and lack of professionalism. Marriages collapsed, families fell apart, careers ended, and suicides resulted.

Mental health had come a long way since then.