Song of the Road (43 page)

Ocie was rolling on the ground, holding his thigh and screaming with pain. Lon’s words hadn’t even registered in his brain.

“Guess ya want another bullet.” Lon’s face was a mask of hatred. He stepped up close and fired into Ocie’s other knee.

The pain was excruciating. Ocie never even heard Lon’s next words.

“Have ya got a will in old Miller’s office? Goddammit! Have ya? If ya ain’t tellin’ me, the next bullet goes into that shit between yore ears.” He waited. When Ocie didn’t answer, he pointed the gun toward his head. “When ya get to hell, say hello to old Temple, who didn’t want to admit that Lon Delano was kin to the almighty Clawsons.”

Lon never pulled the trigger. A loud blast came from a shotgun in the hands of old Ben. He had come out the back door. The heavy pellets struck Lon in the chest and threw him back into the dirt. His horse shied, then broke away and ran to the far side of the corral.

When the first shots were fired, all hands within hearing distance stopped work. At the blast from the shotgun, they hurried to the back of the house. Ben was on his knees beside Ocie.

“The bastard’s dead, Ocie. We’ll get ya to the doctor.” Then he shouted, “Somebody get a board to carry him on!”

Chapter 31

B
ECAUSE THE MOTORCYCLE
made so much noise, Jake directed Deke by hand signals. It seemed to Jake they crossed rangeland forever before they reached the river. After they turned south, the terrain grew rougher, and they had to slow down. When they came to the place that Jake thought would be a half mile from the shack, he touched Deke’s arm and motioned for him to stop.

“It’s not far now. We’d better walk. I wish I had a gun. I never thought to get one from Ocie.”

“I’ve got one.” Deke lifted the seat in the sidecar, pulled out a small revolver, checked to see that it was loaded, then tucked it into his belt. “Let’s go.”

Jake wanted to run, but his high-heeled boots made running difficult and he wanted to conserve his strength for what might face him when they reached the shack. As they hurried along, Deke did his best to keep up with Jake.

“A car has been here recently.” Deke pointed to two sets of tire tracks. The blades of grass were flattened going in one direction on one set, and in the opposite direction on the other.

“They’ve been here and gone.” Jake managed to speak over the huge lump in his throat.

He had never been so afraid in his life, not even when three hardened convicts at the state prison had backed him into a corner of the fence in the exercise area and he had believed that he might not get out of that corner alive.

Madre de Dios, he prayed,
I’ll never ask for another thing if you’ll let her be all right. I love her so damn much. She and her baby mean everything to me. They are all I want in this world. I can’t lose her. I can’t!

His heart was pumping with dread at what they would find as they approached the windowless shack. It was quiet, serene, almost hallowed there amid the fir trees. Not even the scolding of blue jays or the caws of crows soaring overhead broke the silence. Jake wanted his love to be there but feared that if she was, she was already lost to him.

Deke pulled the gun from his belt. Jake lifted the bar, threw back the door and sprang into the room. At first he saw what he thought was a pile of rags on the dirt floor; a second later a cry tore from his throat.

“Querida!”

Mary Lee lay on her side on the dirt floor, her hands bound behind her back, her knees drawn up as if she were trying to protect her baby. Blood had soaked the front of her shirt. The part of her face not covered with dirt was deathly white.

“Querida. Mi bella querida.”
Jake fell on his knees beside her, lifted her face out of the dirt with his cupped palm and smoothed the hair back from her neck. He searched and found a pulse. He gave a glad cry. “She’s alive! Thank you, God!”

“See the powder burns on her shirt,” Deke said. “She was on her back when she was shot.” He slashed the ropes that bound her hands and feet, then made a cut in the shirt and pulled it off her shoulder. “Looks like it went through. We’ve got to stop the blood or she’ll bleed to —”

“Cut the sleeve out of her shirt, it’s cleaner than mine. Turn it wrong side out and pack the wound. She’s got a big lump on the side of her head. Goddamn bastards left her lying in the dirt.”

Working fast, they packed the wound the best they could. Jake ran his hand over her belly several times, searching for movement, and found none.

Don’t be dead, Gaston. It would break her heart and . . . mine.
He lifted her into his arms. Deke jerked a blanket off the bunk. They wrapped her in it and, holding her high against his chest, Jake walked out of the shack.

“I’ll get the cycle.” Deke took off on the run.

Carrying his precious burden, Jake followed. He stopped once, kissed her soft mouth and whispered his love for her.

Mary Lee opened eyes that refused to focus. Someone was holding her tenderly and lovingly, cradling her against his chest. She wasn’t afraid.
I’m dreaming,
she thought tiredly. Then she heard a beloved voice crooning to her. Jake’s voice. He had come when she called to him.

Jake heard the motorcycle when it started, and kept walking toward it. Deke circled the machine and headed it back in the other direction before he stopped, then got off and reached to hold Mary Lee while Jake got into the sidecar. When she was settled in his arms, Jake gave Deke directions to the highway.

Knowing the bumpy ride was hurting her shoulder, he held her close, his head bent over her, his lips close to her ear. He told her that he loved her and that he had almost died until he found her. He murmured to her that Gaston was all right and they would be at the doctor’s soon. Once he thought he heard a sound come from her, but he couldn’t be sure because of the roar of the motorcycle.

When they passed the Santez gas station, Deke slowed and honked the horn to let the man know that Mary Lee had been found. When they reached the motor court, Deke turned in. Trudy and Eli were on the porch, and a deputy sheriff’s car was there.

“Lock the door and come to the doctor’s office!” Jake yelled.

The deputy yelled back, “I’ll bring ’em!”

They roared down the main street of town and stopped beside the stairs going up the side of the building. Deke jumped off and bounded up the stairs to see if the doctor was there. He was back a minute later.

“Doc’s gone out to Clawson’s. Lon Delano shot up Ocie, and old Ben killed Delano with a shotgun. The nurse said to bring Mary Lee in and she’ll do what she can until the doctor gets back.”

People had gathered on the sidewalk, all offering helping hands. Paco was there. He came to lift Mary Lee out of Jake’s arms so he could get out of the sidecar. Then, as if he couldn’t bear to be parted from her, Jake reached for her and carried her up the stairs. Deke stayed behind to answer questions from the curious crowd.

The nurse was waiting and led him to the back room and a high sheet-covered table. As soon as Mary Lee was on the table, she took her pulse and lifted her eyelid.

“You’ll have to help me with this. Go over there and scrub your hands.”

Jake obeyed without hesitation. For the next half hour they worked as a team, the nurse giving the orders. The man who had shot Mary Lee had pressed the gun barrel against her shoulder. The shot had gone in and out and probably into the dirt floor where Jake had found her. The wound itself was not so serious, the nurse explained, but the loss of blood was.

Several times Mary Lee rolled her head and groaned as if she was trying to awaken.

“A few more hours and she would have bled to death.”

“Why doesn’t she wake up?”

“Probably because of the blow to her head. The doctor will have a look at it.”

After asking him to leave the room for a few minutes, the nurse bared Mary Lee’s belly and with the stethoscope listened for the baby’s heartbeat. Jake took the opportunity to speak to Deke, Eli and Trudy, who were in the waiting room.

“Jake,” the nurse called to him, and he hurried back into the room. “She’s trying to wake up.”

Mary Lee was moving her legs and rolling her head.

“She told me once that it was hard for her to lie on her back,” Jake said. “Can we roll her over on her side?”

“I don’t see why not. Take a good hold on the sheet she’s lying on, pull her over, then up to roll her over. I’ll hold her arm so that the wound doesn’t start bleeding again.”

When she was on her side with her knees drawn up, she seemed to settle down. Jake pulled up a stool and sat down so that he was close to her face.

“As far as I can tell, the baby is snug as a bug in a rug. He has a strong heartbeat. We’ve done about as much as we can do, Jake. Watch her to be sure she doesn’t wake, thrash around, and fall off the table.”

“I’ll be right here.”

The nurse put her hand on his shoulder as she passed behind him. “You love her?”

“With all my heart.”

“Does she love you?”

“She says she does and I believe her.”

“I’m glad for you, Jake.”

“Thank you.”

As soon as he was alone with Mary Lee, he took her hand and, leaning over, kissed her still lips tenderly. He whispered to her that he loved her, over and over. He spoke reassuringly of their future together.

“With Eli and Gaston, honey, we’ll have a good start on our family. Later we may be blessed with a couple of little girls who will look like their pretty mama. We’ll have big gatherings on Christmas and birthdays. I’ll teach our boys to be cowboys and you can teach our girls to cook and sew.”

Minutes passed into an hour. At times he heard voices coming from the waiting room, Deke’s or Trudy’s. Several times the nurse came in and took Mary Lee’s pulse. Jake left her side only to dampen the cloth the nurse had placed on her forehead.

He sat with shoulders hunched, eyes bleak, not caring how much he might be exposing his human frailty. They had taken off the bloody shirt and put Mary Lee in a gown that opened all the way down the back. She was covered with a light blanket.

Jake felt an urge to know if Gaston was all right. He slipped his hand beneath the blanket and felt her tight belly. Gaston was moving, but not boisterously as he sometimes did. Jake withdrew his hand and tucked the blanket behind Mary Lee’s back and around her neck.

Shortly after that, she began to flutter her hands restlessly. He changed the wet cloth on her head and noticed that her lips were moving and a frown puckered her brows. She jerked her head suddenly and let out a little cry.

Jake became alarmed. “Nurse!”

The nurse came and listened to her heart. “She’s trying to wake up. Hold this pillow to the side of her head so that she can’t turn it.”

Mary Lee tried to lift her hand but didn’t have the strength to bring it out from under the blanket.

“Oh,” she murmured. “Oh, my head.”

The words filled Jake with hope. Her eyelids quivered; she opened her eyes, shut them, opened them again and blinked as if she were trying to wake up.

“Don’t move your head,
querida.
” Jake’s voice trembled with tenderness. “Can you wake up, sweetheart?”

“Jake . . .” Her lips trembled, and she began to cry. Tears squeezed out from under her closed lids. “I want . . . Jake.”

“I’m here,
querida.
Don’t cry. I’ll not leave you.” He brought her hand to his lips. “Lie still, my love.”

“Am I dreaming that you’re here?”

“No. Open your eyes and you’ll see me.”

“You came for me.”

“Didn’t you know that I’d cross the earth to get to you if you needed me?” He gently wiped her cheeks with a corner of the blanket.

“I called you.”

“I heard you calling me.”

Her eyes flew open. “Jake! You
are
here!”

“Yes,
mi vida,
and I’m not leaving you for the next fifty years.”

“Can’t you stay longer than that?” Her eyes drifted shut.

“I’ll try, sweetheart. Stay awake and talk to me.”

“Where are we?”

“In Doctor Morris’s office.”

“Is my baby all right?”

“He’s fine. The nurse listened to his heartbeat.”

“Why did they do that to me? I thought I was going to die there and . . . and I’d never see you again.”

“If you had, my world would have ended.”

“The man told the boy he had to shoot me. Later, he said, he’d think no more of it than shooting a squirrel. I looked up and saw the boy looking at me. He didn’t want to do it.”

“He shot you in the shoulder.”

“I woke up after they’d gone, and called you.”

“I came as soon as I could, sweetheart.”

Her eyes drifted shut. He could tell by her breathing that she was sleeping. After a few minutes he removed the pillow and stroked her hair.

It was near dark when the doctor returned to his office. The nurse briefed him on Mary Lee’s condition before he came into the room. She was sleeping soundly, her hand in Jake’s. He released it and stepped back.