A Thousand Falling Crows (23 page)

“We can't take him to a hospital. They'll be looking for us there.”

“They'll be looking for us everywhere. He needs stitches.”

“We can't stop. Not yet,” Eddie said. His tone had changed. “It's really that bad?”

Carmen nodded, but said nothing more.

Eddie tapped the steering wheel heavily, thinking. “All right, but we need to get a good ways from here. Damn it.”

“Don't be mad, Eddie,” Tió pleaded.

“Is Lugert too far away?” Carmen asked.

Eddie looked back at her. “Why?”

“My father took us to the river there once. It's at the base of Quartz Mountain. There are old hunting shacks scattered about in the hills. We stayed in one. It might be a place to hide, a place for Tió to get better.”

Eddie nodded. “Good. You remember how to get there?”

“Yes.”

The tenseness in Eddie's shoulders relaxed. “All right. Hang on, Tió. Maybe there's a doctor in that town. Wrap his arm tight with the shirt, Carmen. Try to get the bleeding stopped. Make a tourniquet. You know what I mean?”

“I don't know what to do, Eddie,” Carmen said as her stomach rolled with nervousness. “I‘m not a nurse. I‘m just a girl.”

“Well, figure it out. Just fuckin' figure it out!”

There was no town where Carmen thought one should be. Just a lake. Eddie pulled the Model A over to the side of the road and looked out at a wide view. “You're sure this is the place?” he asked Carmen. There was a short fuse on the tip of his tongue, but he had not started yelling—yet.

“Yes. I‘m certain. Or, I thought I was.” She saw the same thing Eddie did. A big lake with rising hills surrounding it and mountains off in the distance. There wasn't a building to be seen. Not one sign of a town of any kind.

“How long ago were you here?” Eddie asked.

“I was just a little girl, Eddie. Seven or eight years ago. I‘m not sure.”

Eddie pulled the car forward, inching along the road, if it could be called that. It was more like a dirt path that butted up to the shore of the lake.

Carmen took her attention away from Tió, who was sleeping. He'd balled himself up in the corner of the seat after she'd gotten the bleeding to slow. She followed the point of the car and saw a man up ahead, standing ankle-deep in the water with a fishing pole in his hand.

Eddie stopped the car, turned off the engine, and shouted to the fisherman. “Hey, mister, can you tell me how to get to Lugert?”

The man turned around. He was gaunt, haggard, looked like he hadn't had a bath in a month. “You're sittin' in it.”

“Ain't no town that I see,” Eddie said.

“Was. Town was right here. Tornado came through in '27, flattened all but one building. The rest of them was reduced to nothing but sticks. Feds came in after that and dammed up the North Fork of the Red River. Got us a lake now.”

Eddie looked out over the lake, sighed, and tapped the steering wheel. The drumming sound was like fingers on a chalkboard to Carmen. She wanted to yell at him to stop, but her fear of him was returning. It was her idea to come to Lugert, and now there was nothing around. There'd be a price to pay for that. She was sure of it.

“Ain't no doctor around, then?” Eddie asked. He slid his fingers around the steering wheel and gripped it tightly.

The man craned his neck toward the car but didn't take a step toward it. He looked wary of them. “Somebody in there hurt?”

Eddie shook his head. “We're thinkin' of settling down around here. Might need a doctor on occasion.”

“You should drive up to Vinson, then. But there ain't much there these days, either. Just a whole lot of dust and broken dreams, just like everywheres else in this godforsaken state. Seems like everybody's on the move lookin' for a rainbow. FDR keeps promisin' relief, but all I see is black clouds and empty stomachs.”

Eddie fidgeted in the seat, glanced over his shoulder to Carmen, who was watching—and listening—intently. “Nobody's much around then?”

“Here? No. Just travelers, on occasion, like you.”

“Will this road take me on to Vinson then? Up through that pass?”

The fisherman shook his head. “Road ends into the lake. You want to go to Vinson you'll have to go back a piece and turn left at the first house you come to. That road'll take you straight into town.”

“How do I get over the mountain then?” Eddie asked.

“Only one way that I know of and that's to walk. It's hard country. Not much there but thicket and lonesome wind these days.”

“There was a time when there was some huntin' shacks up that way,” Eddie said.

“Still are, as far as I know. They could've been used as firewood. Hard to say. I ain't been up that way in a coon's age. My gout's been a actin' up on me, and my days on that mountain are pretty much at an end. All's I can do is look at it these days. That and take some fish out of this lake. But even they're skinny and few and far between. We don't get more rain soon, it'll be empty and dead, just like everything else 'round here.”

Eddie nodded. “Thank you for your help, then.” He started the car and pulled away with a wave.

The fisherman waved back and stared after the car.

Carmen watched the man disappear out the back window and turned around once she realized that Eddie wasn't going to turn around and go back to Vinson. He was heading for the end of the road.

There was a small series of foothills at the base of Quartz Mountain. All brown, with scrub trees poking about and some bushes low to the ground. Anything that was tender and green had been chewed off by squirrels or deer, struggling to make a living just like every other creature in the world. All that was left were bare branches. It didn't look like anything could survive there for long, not even them.

“I think this is a bad idea,” Carmen said. “We don't know where the shacks are. You heard the man. It's hard country. Tió's not up to this.”

“He can stay here and die then.” Eddie got out of the car, walked to the front of it, and stared at the mountain. “You'll recognize the place when you get up there.”

“I was just a kid, Eddie,” Carmen yelled after him. She looked over to Tió, who was wide awake now. The bleeding had stopped, and he looked paler than he had before. “I don't think I can change his mind,” she said softly.

Tió stared at Carmen, then reached across his belly with his good hand and opened the door. “I‘m not gonna die
here
.” He reached over the seat and grabbed the hood ornament, Mercury, from the Buick they had stolen in Shamrock, eased out of the car, found his footing, and made his way toward Eddie, using the car to steady himself as he went.

Carmen shook her head and got out the car on the other side, being careful of the glass.

Eddie stared at Tió, then looked back at the mountain. “What is that?” he asked, staring at the hood ornament.

“Mercury, our good-luck charm.”

“Leave it,” Eddie said.

“It's good luck, Eddie.”

“Put it back in the car. I‘ll need it later.”

Tió glared at Eddie, muttered something under his breath, then did as he was told.

Eddie eyed Tió angrily. “We'll go up, find a place, then I‘ll come back down and go into town and get some supplies. How's the arm?”

Carmen joined them. “It needs sewed up and cleaned up so infection won't set in.”

“What do you know?” Eddie snapped.

“I know more than you think.” Carmen used the same tone.

“Stop. Stop it, both of you,” Tió yelled. “Kiss and make up. The girl is here to stay, Eddie. She knows how to sew. How to do things we don't. Leave her be, Eddie. We need her.”

Eddie started to say something to Tió but held back. He slammed his fist into his own leg, turned, and headed back to the trunk of the battered Model A. “We have two bottles of Dr. Pepper and half a loaf of bread. That'll have to do you until I get back.” He hoisted the two bottled drinks and the bread out of the trunk, slammed the lid, and stalked off toward the foothills. His pistol was sticking out of the back of his pants, the barrel jammed downward.

Carmen hesitated and looked at Tió, who was already struggling to catch up. She had no choice but to follow after the boys. She was sure Eddie would've shot her if she'd made a run for it. Besides, where would she go?

CHAPTER 22

Sonny stopped the truck behind Jonesy's car. There was another car in front of the sheriff's. One Sonny recognized immediately. It was Jesse's car. A sigh slipped out of his mouth, and Blue whined at the same time. “What's the matter, fella?” Sonny's feet became heavy, like they had cinder blocks tied to them as he opened the door and swung them out of the truck.

The dog stood up, wagged its tail, and stared at Sonny expectantly.

“Be a lot easier if you could talk.” Sonny looked away from Blue then, past the two cars, out into the open field. The sheriff and Jesse were standing next to each other, staring down at the girl's body. Somebody had covered her with a sheet or a blanket.

Things were as they should be—the sheriff and a Ranger talking between themselves—but it bothered Sonny. Bothered him more than he ever thought it would—because it wasn't him standing there. Wouldn't have mattered if it was Jesse or a stranger. He had lost his place through no fault of his own, and his whole body itched, like he had rolled in a patch of prickly pear.

“You probably have to pee, don't you, boy? I‘m sorry. I haven't owned a dog for a long time.” Sonny motioned for Blue, and the dog obliged. He stopped at the edge of the seat, and looked at the ground like it was a tall cliff. Before the hound could think about jumping, injuring his bad leg even more, Sonny reached in with his left hand and scooped up Blue the best he could, easing him to the ground. The dog immediately hobbled off, found the closest dead bush, and raised his leg.

“Figured as much,” Sonny said. He waited for Blue to finish, then walked out toward the sheriff and Jesse. “Come on, you can go with me this time. If the tall one growls at you, you can growl back. Won't hurt my feelings none at all.”

Blue looked up at Sonny, then followed after him, a happy sway to his tail.

Aldo stayed behind. He sat in the bed of the truck with his head bent forward over his knees, like he was praying. The two men hadn't spoken since they'd left the Maxwell's place. There was nothing more to be said. Aldo wanted to wait another day.

Sonny slowed as he passed by Jesse's car, a year-old Plymouth with baby moon hubcaps. The hubcap on the rear wheel was missing. The windshield looked a rock had been thrown against it, or, upon closer inspection, it looked like Jesse had been shot at. It was a spider web shatter with a distinct pattern. A perfect hole at the very center of the cracks was unmistakable. The point of impact was about three inches off the mark.

He looked behind him. Blue was on his heels. The dog's loyal presence forced a smile to flash across his face. But it disappeared quickly when he looked up and made eye contact with Jesse.

It only took Sonny a second or two to reach the two men. “I hope that was a rock that came up and cracked your front glass,” Sonny said.

Like every other Ranger, Jesse was not obligated to wear a uniform. He had on a pair of well-worn dungarees, a brown, short-sleeved work shirt, and a white Stetson on his head. There was a Cinco badge pinned over his heart, and a holster on his hip with the standard of the organization, a .38-caliber Smith & Wesson revolver, sticking out of it.

“Not a rock,” Jesse said. “What are you doin' here?”

“Out for a stroll with my dog,” Sonny answered smartly.

“And a Mexican.” Jesse flipped his chin into the air, toward the truck.

“Didn't know that it was a crime to give a man a ride.”

Jonesy remained quiet. He looked at the ground, just past the sheet-covered body, and pretended like he wasn't listening—but he was. Layton Jones didn't miss a thing. Not in front of him or two hundred yards away, on any day of the week.