By Jane L.
Roy was
out of the Squad and running towards the hospital only seconds after the
ambulance arrived yet he barely caught sight of his partner turning into
Treatment Room One. He sprinted down the hallway and rushed into the same
room, meeting the ambulance crew at the door. Stepping aside as they pushed the
gurney past him, Roy could see that things were rapidly going downhill.
Dr. Brackett was already inserting an airway, but his apprehensive frown showed how little hope he held. Dixie held the young child’s arm as she checked the IV, then gently laid it next to the still form while Johnny prepared the paddles. He seemed to be almost bouncing with nervous energy. Roy had a feeling that losing this one was going to hit his partner hard.
“Okay, I’m in. Dix, take over here.”
Roy watched as Dixie moved into place and started the oxygen. Brackett grabbed the paddles, waiting impatiently as Johnny marked the wattage. It was when the little girl’s body arched upward that Roy first realized his partner was in trouble. There was no mistaking the expression on John’s face. He was furious.
Most paramedics have experienced it, that emotional level where the human heart overrides medical knowledge. Where everything screams at you to do more, work harder to save the patient. And when it’s a child . . .
“Once more.” Brackett’s voice was terse, his own face revealing the strain of this struggle.
Roy joined the others in working to save the little girl, but he continued to watch his partner throughout the ordeal. In all that time, Johnny’s expression never changed. It was obvious that he would not accept defeat. But everyone else in the room knew what the outcome would be. When Dr. Brackett finally stepped back from the silent form and looked towards the clock, the room grew silent. When Brackett spoke, his voice was strained but firm.
“Time of death, 1:42 am.”
And that’s when it happened.
A strangled “no” echoed through the treatment room, as Johnny stepped up to the gurney and resumed CPR. His long fingers draped across the child’s chest as he gently pushed air into the tiny lungs. Johnny’s eyes seemed to focus only on the girl’s face, and his expression had finally changed. No longer angry, he looked as if he were standing on a precipice, afraid that he might fall.
Unable to move at first, Roy simply watched in amazement as his friend lost control. Then suddenly, he was moving, his hands grasping Johnny’s shoulders. Brackett was trying to do the same.
“Stop it, Johnny. She’s gone.”
“Johnny! John . . .that’s enough.”
He fought them . . . trying valiantly to continue his ministrations to the child. His eyes were locked on the angelic face of the innocent four year old, and Johnny wouldn’t quit. Brackett headed for the drug cabinet, and in some corner of his mind, Roy registered the fact that the doctor was looking for something to calm Johnny down.
“Johnny, you have to let her go. There’s nothing else we can do.” Roy tried to talk to his partner, but there was no response. Still, he wouldn’t let go – his hold firm on Johnny’s shoulders. His heart swelled with emotion of his own, the little girl reminding him of a younger Jennifer. But his partner was the one who needed his attention now, and Roy couldn’t let himself be swept into the emotion that John was caught in.
It was Dixie’s voice that finally got through to Johnny. Or maybe it was her own long fingers, encircling his forearm. Whatever the catalyst, John’s movements stopped. He didn’t turn, didn’t walk away. Instead, he stood over the gurney, staring at what they’d lost.
Silence filled the treatment room. No one moved. No one spoke. The minutes ticked by as each person struggled to control his or her own emotions. This was an all too familiar scene, one that each of them dreaded. Brackett cleared his throat then turned to Johnny.
“We did everything we could. She just wasn’t strong enough, and the smoke inhalation was-”
“I know, Doc, I know. Thing is . . she never should’ve been here in the first place. She should still be sound asleep in her own bed, dreaming of beautiful things, not . . .”
Roy stood by silently as Johnny looked once more at the young child. He seemed to stare right through her for a moment, then with head hung low, he walked slowly out of the room.
“Roy . . .”
“Yeah, Doc, I got him.”
Silence fell like a dark cloak over the room, as Roy turned to follow his partner.
***********************
“Are
you sure you won’t change your mind, Roy?”
Johnny paused in the middle of tying his shoes and looked up at his partner hopefully. He quickly dropped his head when he saw Roy shaking his.
“Sorry, partner, I’d really like to, but it’s just not going to work out this time. My mother-in-law still isn’t feeling well, so Joanne is driving down to San Diego to spend a few days with her. That leaves me handling the home front. You understand, don’t you?”
“Sure, I understand.” Johnny’s smile was reassuring, but his tone of voice wasn’t. It was obvious that he was disappointed, and Roy felt more than a twinge of regret at the circumstances.
“Hey, maybe you could change your plans a little . . . wait for a couple of weeks. By then, Joanne will be home, and things back to normal. I’m sure we could get headquarters to find replacements for us.”
“Yeah . . .maybe.”
There was a stretch of silence, as Roy let Johnny think about his suggestion. In the end, the younger man shook his head, though he attempted a smile.
“Nahh. I’m gonna go ahead. Everything’s already set up, there’s a replacement coming in for my shifts, and the Rover’s all packed. Besides, I think I could use a few days away from here.”
Although he wanted to, Roy couldn’t argue. His friend sounded as worn out as he looked, so maybe it was best that Johnny took a little time to enjoy the nature he loved so much. Maybe it would heal his wounded spirit, help him get back on top so he could deal with the job again. Roy just wished that he could go along to watch that healing take place.
Johnny remained quiet as he finished up, and moments later he’d closed his locker and picked up his duffle bag.
“Well, guess I’ll see ya later, Roy. Take care.”
“Hey, you take care, Junior. And give us a call, will ya?”
“Yeah, sure. See ya.”
Watching silently as Johnny hurried out to the Rover then sped away, Roy had a sinking feeling, an unexplainable sensation that he should have made more of an effort to work things out so he could accompany his friend. Gage had been planning this trip for weeks, and he’d wanted Roy and Chet to join him. Unfortunately, neither man had been able to work it into their plans, and now Johnny was embarking on a solitary trek to fish the rivers of Oregon. The situation wasn’t that unusual for the young fireman, but this time was different.
Roy knew that his partner wasn’t in the best frame of mind. In fact, he’d been noticeably quiet since they’d lost the little girl several weeks earlier. After his outburst in the Emergency room, when both Roy and Dr. Brackett had been forced to pull him away from the child, Johnny had refused to talk about the rescue, not to Brackett, Cap, or even Roy. Each shift had followed the same routine. Johnny did his job with the utmost professionalism, but distanced himself from the rest of the crew. And just last night, Johnny had tossed and turned in his bunk, caught in the throes of a nightmare that Roy was sure had something to do with the unsuccessful rescue.
Now, Johnny was leaving town, and would be alone with his doubts or fears for over a week. Roy was unable to shake his own fear that there was trouble ahead for his young friend, and a fair amount of guilt on his own part for not being there for his partner.
**********************
Johnny tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, keeping time to the music from the radio. He’d found his first few days on the road to be relaxing, and slowly felt like he might be able to unwind and enjoy the solitude of his vacation. The journey had been uneventful so far, and he’d even found a few streams to cast his line into at several camping spots along the way. Still, he was looking forward to the great fishing his friend Brian had promised he’d find up north.
There was a certain time of the evening, as Johnny sat alone at his campfire, when he struggled to keep the memories at bay. The recollections of a little girl in his arms were almost more than he could stand. A sense of resentment settled over him at those times; feelings that his friends had abandoned him when he needed them most. He knew that he was being unreasonable, probably even irrational, but Johnny couldn’t shake the idea that Roy and Chet had let him down.
There had been no chance for the little girl. Everyone knew it, yet Johnny felt like he’d failed. After all, he was trained to save lives. But when he’d had the chance to save an innocent child, a youngster with years of living ahead of her, he hadn’t been able to make a difference. The paramedic couldn’t get past the remorse; he just knew there was something else he should’ve done.
So each evening, as the sky turned black and stars began to light the heavens, Johnny sat before his campfire alone. With no one to reassure him, and even though it was unwarranted, he bore his guilt stoically. Although he knew it was selfish, Johnny longed to look across the fire, and see his partner sitting there. This was one time that he would’ve enjoyed the company.
Mentally shaking himself, Johnny pushed the dark thoughts aside, focusing instead on the view around him. The countryside was beautiful, trees a vibrant green and the stream a rippling ribbon of white along the highway. He’d chosen a secondary road, his destination a certain fishing place that his friend swore would make his whole trip worthwhile. As an added bonus, there was a butte in the vicinity that would give him a view of the scenery; a sight that Brian promised would be well worth the hike.
Johnny soon found himself lost in the beauty of the area, and the miles sped by. Before he knew it, the sun was setting and the highway was almost deserted. Rounding a curve, Johnny uttered an expletive as his foot stomped on the brake, the Rover’s tires squealing in protest. As he turned the steering wheel sharply to the right, the startled driver was relieved when the lone deer bounded on across the road. His relief was short lived.
Frantically struggling to regain control, Johnny’s mind barely registered the chorus of noises that followed. The screech of the tires on pavement, the thud inside the Rover as the brakes locked and held. Finally the noise was joined by a flurry of motion as the Rover flipped over, landing against a tree on the side of the road.
Inside the vehicle Johnny lay draped, unmoving, across the steering wheel.
**********************
Captain Stanley poured two cups of coffee while inconspicuously watching his senior paramedic. Roy had been quiet ever since Johnny left on vacation a few days earlier, and Hank was growing worried. Setting one cup on the table, the captain sank into a chair across from Roy, and took a sip out of his own cup.
“You want to talk about it?”
There was silence for several minutes as Roy looked up to meet his captain’s gaze. He knew there was no sense in covering his concern; it was obvious that Captain Stanley already suspected something was up. Yet, he didn’t really know what to say. How could he express his uncertainty, his fear for his friend? He knew how he felt, but talking about those feelings was another thing altogether. And, too, there was always the possibility that he was overreacting. Maybe Johnny had already resolved his feelings and was enjoying a carefree vacation. Either way, he knew he owed Cap some kind of explanation.
“There’s really nothing to talk about, Cap. Guess I’m just a little worried about Johnny.”
“You think there’s something to be worried about?”
“I’m not sure. I mean, he was pretty upset about losing that little girl, and I’m almost positive he had a nightmare on his last shift. But he’s probably doing okay, now. The thing is, he was going to call in after a few days on the road, and I haven’t heard from him yet.”
Cap leaned back in his chair a bit, searching his mind for just the right words of encouragement.
“You know how Johnny is when he’s on one of his fishing trips. He’s probably just so busy enjoying nature that he forgot his promise to call. Don’t worry, Pal, he’ll be in touch.”
“Yeah. . .”
“And, Roy, give Johnny some time. He always takes it hard when he loses a patient, but he comes around.”
There was no answer as the paramedic looked down into his coffee cup, studiously examining the dark liquid. In fact, Hank wondered if Roy would even reply. It took several minutes, before he finally did.
“You’re right, Cap. Thanks.”
Hank stood up and headed for his office, but turned at the doorway to look back. Although Roy had sounded convincing, it was obvious that his words had been forced. His expression was still one of concern, and the captain found himself hoping that his youngest crewmember would be calling in soon.
**********************
Hours passed before Johnny opened his eyes again. Pulling himself slowly away from the steering wheel, he looked around apprehensively. ‘Where am I?’ The inside of the Rover was lit with faint moonlight, but even though he could make out the interior of the vehicle, nothing looked familiar. The pain in his head was incredible, and he moved carefully so as not to aggravate the agonizing throbbing. Struggling to ignore the pain, Johnny pressed frantically against the door, anxious to escape the strange space that seemed to taunt him with its presence. It took several minutes, but finally the door gave way and he was able to move it.
Tumbling out of the opening onto the rocky ground below, he lay quiet, as the world seemed to tilt eerily around him. Unsure of how long he had laid there, Johnny finally pulled himself up and looked around. The Rover was sitting at an awkward angle, the passenger side perched partly against a tree, and partially against the edge of a ravine. Knowing, instinctively, that there was no help for him here, Johnny pulled himself next to the vehicle and peered inside. There was little there of any use, but he did find a white t-shirt and a jean jacket.
Unfortunately, the one thing he’d hoped to find was nowhere in sight. There was nothing to identify who he was, no wallet with driver’s license or identification to tell him his name or where he belonged. The realization that he was all alone was terrifying, and he pushed himself quickly away from the vehicle. Stumbling in his hurry to escape, from what he wasn’t sure, Johnny pulled and clawed his way up the slope to the highway above.
With the white t-shirt pressed against his bleeding forehead, John Gage made his way unsteadily down the dark and desolate road.
**********************
Mr. Jenkins enjoyed his job as a traveling salesman. Still, the road could be a lonely place at times, and he wasn’t against picking up an occasional hitchhiker. So, when he rounded a corner and spotted the solitary man trudging alongside the deserted highway, he didn’t hesitate a moment before pulling over on the shoulder of the road. It didn’t look like the man was feeling any too good, and the salesman entertained a moment of doubt, but then opened his door.
“Hey, Mister, you okay?”
“Yeah.” The thin voice didn’t sound too reassuring, but his pace did quicken, and moments later he reached the back of the Dodge.
“You sure don’t look too good. What happened?” Jenkins persisted.
“Just took a little fall. I’m all right.”
The hitchhiker was tall and thin. His dark unruly hair, hanging low over his forehead, was in sore need of a cut in Mr. Jenkins opinion. But his clothes, though mussed, seemed well made, and his boots were of high quality. It only took several minutes for the salesman to relax, as he convinced himself that this young man wasn’t simply a vagrant, but someone down on his luck. When the hitchhiker flashed a faint grin at him, his mind was made up.
“You want a ride?”
The young man looked relieved, yet strangely, kind of lost.
“Sure, thanks, Mister . . .”
“Jenkins. My name is Bob Jenkins.”
“Thanks, Mr. Jenkins. I really appreciate this.”
Moments later, they were speeding down the darkened highway. The young man was obviously exhausted, as he leaned back and fell asleep almost instantly. The lights on the dashboard afforded a dim glow, but enough that Jenkins could periodically examine his quiet passenger. It looked like the young man had been roughed up a bit; whether from some kind of altercation, an accident or a simple fall, he wasn’t sure.
Looking closely, he could see traces of blood on the man’s hands and face, the origin of which he suspected was somewhere beneath the dark hair. He couldn’t help but speculate on what had happened to his companion, and as he drove on into the night realized he hadn’t even asked the young man for his name. But that’s the way it went when you lived on the road and had only strangers to visit with. There were many unanswered questions and stories left untold. It would be the same with this young man.
In the end, Jenkins decided it didn’t really matter. The guy was polite, and though he didn’t afford much in the way of conversation, he wasn’t bothering anyone either. Besides, in his years on the road, the salesman had learned not to be too inquisitive. Turning on the radio, he lost himself in the music, as he continued his lonely journey.
Dawn was breaking on the horizon when he finally pulled the car to a stop. They were at a crossroads, and his journey was almost to an end. His out-of-the-way route had taken him near his sister’s home, and Jenkins had planned to make a brief visit. However, he wanted his hitchhiker to be aware that once he turned off the main road, there wouldn’t be much chance of another ride. Although they’d been traveling for several hours, the young man had barely stirred.
Reaching across the seat, Jenkins shook the sleeping man several times before gaining a response. Bleary eyes met his as the dark haired man slowly awoke.
“Good
to see you awake, young man.”
“Yeah . . yeah, I’m awake.”
Mr. Jenkins stifled a smile as he studied his fellow traveler. In the faint light of early morning, it was obvious that the young man was not at his best, but in all fairness, he was struggling to pull himself together.
“Where are we?” He finally mumbled.
“We’re at my turn off. You’re welcome to travel on with me, but I’ll warn you, the little town I’m headed for is pretty much off the beaten path. If you’re hoping for another ride, I suggest you stay close to the main road. Even though it’s not a highway, you’ll have a better chance here.”
“Oh, okay . . sure.”
The young man swiped a hand across his face, flinching slightly. Fumbling with the door handle, he finally managed to open it. From the driver’s seat, Mr. Jenkins watched closely as the hitchhiker got out and stretched his legs.
At first, it looked as if he were somewhat unsteady on his feet, and Jenkins wondered if he were doing the right thing by leaving the young man out here alone. He hastily convinced himself that this stranger would be fine. It wasn’t up to him to watch over every transient he came across. Still, there was something different about this one . . .
Shaking himself from his daydreaming, Jenkins realized the young man was speaking to him.
“Thanks again for the ride, Mr. Jenkins. You have a good trip.”
With a weak smile, the dark haired man closed the door and waved a farewell. Jenkins pulled back on the roadway, and made his turn towards his sister’s place. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he realized the young man was already out of sight.
“Sure was the most polite hitchhiker I ever met,” he mumbled.
**********************
A dark haired man crawled out of the old battered pickup, his feet barely on firm ground before the truck sped off. Looking tired, but resolute, the man resumed his solitary journey on foot, unaware that he was no longer on a main route. The roadway followed a steep grade, its rocky bank sloping down to a shallow river far below, and although the scenery was breathtaking, the weary traveler didn’t seem to notice as he trudged along the edge of the pavement.
The day had passed in a haze, each incident blending into the fog of memories he couldn’t quite sort out. There had been some kind of accident, of that he was fairly sure, but the young man was no longer sure what kind of mishap. He could recall a white vehicle along the side of the road, but everything else was a blur. Since then, he knew he’d accepted several rides, however no one had really spent much time talking to him, and that last ride had been in the back of an open pickup.
Stopping for a moment, he looked around, as if trying to get his bearings. There was a moment of hesitation, a minute or two when he gently probed the cut above his hairline that it seemed as if he might stop, or even give up. Then, gently pushing his hair away from his eyes, the man resumed his walking, seeming to concentrate only on the placement of each foot as he moved silently forward. Up the hill, over its summit, and down the other side, he continued his trek along the empty road.
It was late afternoon when he finally left the paved road to find a grassy place to rest. Slowly lowering himself to the ground, he leaned back against a small pine tree and closed his eyes as the afternoon shadows lengthened around him.
Although the landscape had continued to change along his route, from mountainous roads, past barren plateaus, through wide valleys dotted with cattle and horses, the exhausted man had barely noticed. And now, hundreds of miles from the scene of the accident, he had no clear idea of where he’d been or where he was going. He only knew that there was someone he needed to find, one person that would help him. Someone who could make the confusion and uncertainty go away. What he didn’t know was that he was traveling farther away from the one man he was searching for.
**********************
Roy
climbed out of the squad and headed for the Dayroom. It was only noon, but with
the number of runs they’d already responded to, it might as well be midnight.
Several steps ahead of him, Charlie Dwyer was already through the doorway.
Charlie was pulling some overtime, filling in for Johnny, a fact Roy felt very
grateful for. After all, the alternative was Brice.
As he followed Charlie into the kitchen, Roy’s greeting died on his lips as he recognized the unusual behavior of his shift mates. Usually a cheerful group of firefighters, the men now sat silently around the table. The most obvious difference, however, was their captain. Hank Stanley was standing with his back towards the group, his attention focused somewhere outside the window he was staring through. It was clear that he was waiting for something or someone, and Roy instinctively knew that Cap was waiting for him.
He stopped near the table, his gaze moving from one firefighter to the other, each of whom merely shrugged in response to his questioning glance. Roy didn’t have to wait long. Cap turned almost immediately and motioned him into a seat. Charlie started to leave the room, but Cap shook his head slightly. Instead, Dwyer stepped over to the counter where he leaned back and waited quietly.
After clearing his throat several times, Hank finally spoke.
“The department received a call this morning from the state police up in Oregon. Seems they found a wrecked Land Rover along one of their highways, and after they traced the plates, they contacted the Chief.”
“What?” Chair legs scraped across the floor, as Chet jumped to his feet.
Marco moaned a soft “Madre Dios” under his breath, even as Mike’s fist thumped the table. But there was only one voice that spoke for them.
“What happened? Did he get hurt? Where is he now?”
Cap didn’t answer; in fact, he didn’t even look up as his senior paramedic peppered him with questions. Instead, he waited silently until Roy stopped for a breath, then Hank continued with his rehearsed communication.
“The Rover is John’s. From their preliminary investigation, they think it went down an embankment and flipped over, but there’s no evidence that any other vehicle was involved.”
The break in Cap’s speech was unexpected, and the men waited impatiently for him to continue. Roy didn’t notice the others looking at him. His gaze was focused specifically on Stanley.
“Cap?”
This time Hank turned to face Roy, staring at the man for a moment before continuing.
“He wasn’t there, Roy. There’s no sign of him. The police think the accident occurred last night sometime, but his vehicle wasn’t spotted until early this morning. They’ve already searched the area, but other than some blood inside the Rover . . . nothing.”
Numb silence filled the room, as five men struggled to make sense of the information they’d just been presented. Roy watched as Hank looked around the group, and then sank into the nearest chair. There was no expression on his face, and for just a moment, Roy felt sorry for the man. It must’ve been hard for Cap to relay the news, but not any harder than it was for them to hear it. The captain’s voice was thin when he added his last bit of news.
“One more thing. They found all his gear still inside, and his wallet was in the glove box.”
Roy pushed himself from his seat, and made his way silently towards the window. It was his turn to stare unseeingly through the clear pane of glass. His mind strove to make sense of the information he’d just been given, but the only thing he could think of was the morning Johnny had left on his trip. His partner’s words rang in his mind, over and over again: ‘Are you sure you won’t change your mind, Roy? Are you sure you won’t change your mind, Roy?’ Why? Why hadn’t he gone along? He should’ve been there. Maybe then . . .
Unaware of the movement, Roy was startled to find Cap standing at his elbow.
“We don’t know anything for sure, Roy. Could be he got a ride and just hasn’t had a chance to call yet.”
“After this long, Cap? No.”
Again silence permeated the dayroom. Roy seemed lost as he continued to stare out into the bright daylight. But his mind was really focused on a scene hundreds of miles away.
“Cap? Can you get a replacement for me?”
“Yeah, sure, Roy.” Cap answered confidently. He’d assumed that would be Roy’s response, and had already checked into the possibility. However, he was somewhat surprised when another voice echoed the request.
“You’ll need one for me too, Cap.”
Roy turned to see Chet Kelly standing on the other side of Captain Stanley. The expression on the fireman’s face was one of steadfast conviction. Chet was going along, and nothing was going to stop him. With a sigh, Hank nodded and walked out towards his office to make the necessary arrangements, while Roy headed over to the payphone. Dropping a coin into the slot, he dialed his home number, and waited impatiently for Joanne to answer.
**********************
Harold Wilson pulled his red 4x4 onto the side of the road, and stepped down from the cab. Cautiously, he approached the motionless figure, stopping a few feet shy of the dark haired stranger.
“Hey there, young fella, everything okay?”
The dark head moved slowly, but the flash of relief in the young man’s eyes was obvious as he looked up. Harold knew, instinctively, that he’d found someone in need of a friend.
“Here, let me give you a hand.”
Harold reached down and helped the man stand up, taking in his unsteady balance and bedraggled appearance.
“Looks like you tangled with a wildcat . . and lost.”
Again, the crooked smile flashed briefly across the tired face, this time accompanied by a tired voice.
“Something like that.”
“What’s your name, son?”
For just a second, the young man’s face went almost white, as if the question was more than he could handle. Then he simply looked blankly at the older man, as if to ask why a name might be important. It seemed like a strange reaction to a simple question, and somewhat disconcerting to the Good Samaritan. Still, he seemed harmless enough.
Studying the young man for a moment longer, Harold made his decision. Taking the stranger by the elbow, he began to guide him slowly towards his pickup.
“I have to deliver this load of feed to a neighbor, but after that, I think you need a good hot meal and a clean bed to sleep in. How’s that sound?”
“Good. That sounds real good.” The voice was still tired, but the tone somewhat lighter, as if a burden had been lifted from the weary man.
It took only a few minutes for Harold to settle his passenger in the front seat. Hurrying around to the driver’s side, he climbed in and started the engine.
“So, what happened to land you here on the side of this country road?”
His passenger went so far as to chuckle at Harold’s question.
“Did you ever have one of those days when nothing went right?”
It could’ve been the plaintive voice. Maybe it was the tattered look of the man, or possibly even the dry delivery of his answer. Whatever it was, Harold Wilson didn’t care one wit, he merely bust out laughing as he shifted the pickup into gear.
“Yes I have, son. Yes, I have.”
**********************
A dusty haze followed the truck as it sped up the dirt lane. From her kitchen window, the Widow Hilton watched its steady progress, smiling happily when she recognized the red Ford as the culprit. Turning the burner to low, she snatched a worn yellow potholder from the counter, and used it to lift the metal lid. She briskly stirred the bubbling stew before setting the cover back on the blue enamel pot. Only then did the petite woman hurry to the screen door and push it open. By the time she reached the driveway, the pickup had rolled to a stop near the large barn, and the driver was climbing out of the cab.
“Evening, Bess.”
“Harold. How did the sale go today?”
“’bout what I figured. The mare I was looking at went for more than I could afford.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Bess answered sympathetically. “You know, I was really hoping Steve would sell that mare to you before the auction, but then knowing him . . .”
Her voice trailed off as Bess watched the stranger emerge from the passenger side of Harold’s pickup. The young man moved quietly towards the corral, where he stopped to lean against the wooden fence, his eyes taking in the horses milling about there.
“Who’s the new hand?”
Harold laughed lightly, amused at his friend’s brusque manner. Bess sure wasn’t one to waste time on frivolities when she wanted to know something; she just cut right to the chase.
“No, nothing like that. Just a young fella I picked up down at the end of your lane.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Kinda strange, though. When I asked him his name, he went real quiet on me. Still don’t know what to think of it, but he seemed friendly enough on the ride over.”
Bess eyed the young man thoughtfully, carefully noting his appearance as Harold dropped the tailgate.
“Well, Bess, no use putting this off. Where d’ya want me to stack the feed?”
“Oh, same old place. Here, let me get the door open.”
The small gray-haired woman hurried over to the barn, Harold following close behind with a sack of grain flung over his shoulder. They were only out of sight for a moment before returning for another load, but Bess barely stopped at the door in time. The young man was faltering slightly, yet he held the feed sack as if it were the most natural chore in the world to him.
Bess broke the awkward moment with her typical good cheer.
“I almost knocked you clean into next Sunday, young man. Sorry about that!”
His answering smile was not enough, and the woman persisted gently.
“Oh, come on now, I know we haven’t been introduced properly, but you can at least speak to me, can’t ya?”
The
man’s smile graduated to a full-blown grin.
”Yes, Ma’am. Excuse me.”
“Now, that’s better. But I’m the one who should be asking to be excused, getting in a man’s way when he’s working. What’s your name, son?”
A cloud of doubt and uncertainty was evident on the stranger’s face. Like Harold, Bess wondered what could make a man act so bothered by such a simple question, then mentally chided herself for her curiosity.
“Here, let me show you where that goes.” She offered, in an effort to put him at ease.
Watching the young man carefully, Bess continued to direct the two men as they unloaded the pickup. Although she visited with Harold, she worried over the stranger, fully aware that he was unsteady on his feet. With only a few sacks of feed left, she managed to divert his attention for a moment when she poured a scoop full of grain in the mares’ feed bin.
“Sure is a nice place you have here,” he offered.
“Oh, this is nothing. You should’ve seen it a few years ago when my husband was still alive. Back then, we raised some of the best cutting horses this side of the Rockies.” The woman’s eyes strayed out to gaze at the distant hills for a moment, her mind remembering happier times. Harold’s voice brought her back.
“Don’t let her fool you, young man. She still provides some of the best stock you’ll find west of anywhere.”
“Oh, Harold, go on.” The two chuckled, their manner comfortable and relaxed.
“You like horses, young man?”
“Yes, I think so.”
Bess couldn’t help but wonder at the strange answer, but as Harold toted the last sack of grain into the barn, she stepped over to the pickup and slammed the tailgate into place. Intent on her task, Bess didn’t realize what was happening until her friend’s shout of surprise burst into her musings.
The young man, who only moments before had joined in their conversation, was now lying on the ground, unconscious. Rushing to his side, the woman gathered his hand in her own, rubbing it briskly as she called to him. On his other side, Harold was squatting down, his brow furrowed in concern as he waited for some sign that the stranger was coming to. Within seconds, he was rewarded as the dark eyes half-opened.
“What . . .”
“No, you stay still, young man. That was quite a scare you gave us, and neither Harold or I can stand too many more scares at our age.”
Bess held his arm as she scolded him gently. She watched intently as he became more aware of his surroundings.
“Now, tell me the truth, how long has it been since you’ve eaten anything?”
The dark eyes flicked back and forth from man to woman as he struggled to find the right answer. Finally giving up in frustration, he mumbled faintly: “don’t remember.”
Bess harrumphed sternly. “Well, then, I say we get ourselves up to the house for something to eat. I have a pot of stew that’s just waiting to be sampled, and you look like you could use a little sustenance. And a little doctorin’ too, if this blood in your hair tells me what I think it does.”
Without waiting for a reply, Bess stood up, her movements more agile than expected for a woman of her age. She held out a wrinkled hand, encouraging the young man to join her, which he did, but at a much slower rate. Harold’s ill-concealed smile only partly covered his look of concern as he followed the pair towards the old white farmhouse.
**********************
With a duffle bag in one hand and a single sheet of paper in the other, Roy stepped off the airplane and moved towards the waiting crowd. Chet was directly behind him, both men scanning the group of people gathered to meet the plane. Several minutes of confusion followed as people milled around, happy voices raised in greeting, friends and relatives hugging each other in joyful reunion. Roy swallowed hard as a vision of his missing friend flashed through his mind. He wondered if they’d ever share that kind of cheerful meeting again.
“There, Roy.”
Turning slightly to the left, he watched as Chet pointed towards several men on the edge of the crowd, recognizing immediately that only one of the men was in police uniform. The other man, clad in a black suit and tie, was probably the detective they were looking for. Moving forward, Roy quickly glanced down at the paper to check the name again, but his effort was unnecessary.
“Mr. DeSoto?”
“Yes, I’m Roy DeSoto.”
Roy stretched out his arm, and shook the other man’s hand as the detective introduced himself.
“I’m Dale Saunders, and this is Sergeant Bud Williams.”
“Sergeant.”
“This is Chet Kelly, he works with us at Station 51.”
“Mr. Kelly.”
Chet gamely shook hands but didn’t speak, adding a silent nod to the sergeant.
Greetings finally exchanged, the group stood silent for only a moment before Detective Saunders got down to business.
“Did you bring the items I requested?”
“Yes, I have everything you asked for.”
“All right, then, let’s go directly to headquarters.”
Roy and Chet merely nodded in response as they followed the two men towards the waiting cruiser. Everything seemed to be happening at fast speed. Still, it wasn’t fast enough to suit Roy. He wanted some answers, and he wanted them now. So, when the sergeant put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot, Roy immediately began to interrogate the detective.
“Has there been anything new since we spoke earlier?”
“No, Mr. DeSoto.”
“Roy.”
“Okay. No, Roy, nothing’s changed since we spoke. We’re going to the State Police office, where we’ll leave the pictures and identification you brought. Hopefully that will help us get the information out to more departments statewide. After that, I’ll be driving you to the scene of the accident. It’s over a hundred miles southeast of here, but I figured you’d want to get out to the main search area.”
“Yes, we would. Thanks.”
The silence was oppressive, and Roy could tell that Chet was holding in his frustration as the Irishman sat quietly, staring out the window. He wanted, needed, to know more, but suddenly he found that no questions seemed important enough. The only one he really wanted to ask was simply, what happened to John Gage? And it was obvious that there was no answer to that question.
In the front seat, Dale Saunders sensed the frustration of the two firemen behind him. Turning in his seat, he looked at them compassionately. This was the part of his job he hated the most: trying to encourage people in a seemingly hopeless situation. Still, he had to try.
“We’ll find your friend. It might take a little time, but we’ll find him.”
Chet answered before Roy had a chance, but the sentiment was the same.
“Will you find him in time?”
No one answered, and Roy was grateful for the silence. He stared out his window, fully aware that Chet was doing the same thing at the other end of the seat. The detective was looking intently at the passing sites, as if unsure how to respond, while the sergeant simply focused on the road ahead.
**********************
Hank Stanley lowered himself to the couch, grateful when Henry moved closer. Quietly scratching the dog’s neck, the captain did his best to relax.
It had been an uneventful day at the station, at least in terms of runs. In fact, their temporary paramedics were the only ones called out, since Roy and Chet left for the airport that afternoon. Mike and Marco kept themselves busy making coffee and answering the phone, while Hank had spent most of his time in his office on the department line, contacting various department heads and police agencies. Nothing seemed to help. As far as anyone could tell him, John Gage has simply disappeared into thin air.
Looking up, he was surprised to see that Mike and Marco had joined him. The three men sat silently in the Dayroom, staring intermittently at each other or the floor beneath them. No one made a move to start dinner, turn on the TV, or even attempt conversation. Instead, they shared their worry silently, each wishing there was something more they could do to help find their friend.
**********************
The scenery was beautiful. A ribbon of blue water followed the highway. More appropriately, the highway followed the river. It gave Roy something to focus on.
Since leaving the city, the four men remained quiet for the most part, with only feeble attempts at conversation. Roy thought of several questions to ask, as they drove through the mountain pass to the eastern side of the state, but each time he started, he stopped himself resolutely. With no real desire to converse about the scenery or the weather, he focused instead on this final part of their journey. Closer and closer with each mile, he was sure there would be some answer to Johnny’s whereabouts when they finally reached the site of his friend’s accident. In the meantime, he stared out at the tall fir trees that stretched away from the highway, and the occasional wildlife along the river. Johnny would’ve loved this.
Their time at the police station had been uneventful. Other than handing over the small packet of information the LA County Fire Department had sent along, there was little to do. The underlying theme remained the same. The Land Rover had been found late last night . . . no one at the site . . .no clue as to Johnny’s whereabouts. The detective reiterated that they had little to go on, but the search teams were looking.
Several hours passed, and the sun was low in the sky when Sgt. Williams finally pulled his cruiser off the road. Unsure, at first, as to why they’d stopped, Roy was surprised when the detective pushed open his door and got out. He couldn’t see anything worth looking at, just a dusty stretch of road, no sign of civilization in any direction. But as Saunders stood waiting patiently by the door, it was clear that this was the place.
Forcing his hand to grip the handle, Roy managed to open the door and join the other men at the side of the road. Chet was already looking around, as if trying to convince himself that such a desolate spot was the focus for all their grief. But Roy stood rooted in place, his eyes searching for something, anything that would prove to him that his friend had been here. There was nothing.
“You sure this is the place?” He finally asked quietly.
“Yes, this is it. Come on, I’ll show you what little there is to see.”
Roy followed Saunders across the narrow strip of pavement to the other side of the two-lane road. From there, they made their way down the dirt embankment, then towards a barbwire fence. Already Roy could see where they were headed. A gnarled tree stood beside the fence, its side scraped clean of any bark. It was obvious from the ruts and scaring on the ground around its base, that there had been a vehicle here not long before. Unaware that he had stopped to stare, Roy startled when Chet stepped closer.
“Wonder what happened.”
Unable to fashion a reply, Roy turned to the detective instead.
“Where is everyone?”
“Pardon?”
“The search team. You said there was an active search underway.”
“Yes, yes there is.”
“Well then, where is everyone?” Chet joined in.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve made myself clear. There was an active search in this area most of the day, but as of several hours ago, that group has disbanded.”
“What? They quit?”
“You mean they just quit and went home?”
The two angry voices echoed as if in stereo, but their response didn’t faze Saunders.
“No. No one’s quit. But you have to understand, there’s nothing out here. There’s no tracks, no evidence whatsoever. We’ve been all over this area, and there’s absolutely no leads.”
“So, what now?” Roy asked after a long silence.
“We keep looking-”
“But you just said-”
“Looking in a different way, Chet. The pictures you brought will help. We’ll get those distributed. We have teams checking in towns up and down the highway. If we get lucky, we’ll find someone who’s seen your friend.”
“And if we don’t?”
Silence settled over the men, as they stared at the scarred tree.
“Detective?”
“Yes, Sergeant?”
“Just got a call from Team One, said they’d meet you at Mac’s if you’re going that way.”
“Thanks. We’ll be right up.”
The officer disappeared back across the highway towards his cruiser, leaving Roy and Chet to look one more time at the scene.
“Gentlemen, whenever you’re ready, we’ll go on into town and see what our lead team has for us.”
“Yeah, we’re ready.” Roy answered quietly. “Maybe you could show us where the Rover is while we’re there?”
“Sure thing. In fact, that’s exactly where we’re headed.”
Detective Saunders made his way back up the embankment, leaving Roy and Chet following slowly behind. The two friends didn’t speak, but their shared look of frustration spoke volumes. They hadn’t really expected to find anything here, and unfortunately, they’d been right.
By the time the group had traveled the remaining twenty miles, Roy was past tired and frustrated, and moving towards exhausted and despondent. A lot had transpired since Joanne had kissed him awake at 5:30am, and he’d had little time to share it with her. They had only a few minutes to talk when he stopped at the house to pack, barely enough time for him to explain what little they knew of Johnny’s accident and his own plans. After a quick hug and kiss, he’d left for the airport while Joanne waved to him from the front steps, tears streaming down her face.
Now he yearned for a minute or two in her embrace . . . something, anything to erase the past twelve hours from his memory, and awaken him from this nightmare. But Joanne was thousands of miles away, making dinner for their children, and going about her regular routine. He, on the other hand, was stuck in the middle of nowhere, with absolutely no idea of how to find his best friend.
“Here we are.”
Recognizing that they’d finally reached the city limits, Roy studied the area as they slowed down. The two-lane highway became Main Street as it angled through the small town. There was a line of shops on each side, most of them closed for the evening. At one corner, a diner was already doing a brisk evening business while across the street a sign flashed its bright neon notice of “Drinks” over a narrow window. As they passed the downtown area, Roy made out a motel sign towards the southern edge of town, but before they got that far, the policeman turned his car into a busy parking lot. A wooden sign perched just over the eves of an old metal building, clearly marked the site as “Mac’s.”
Once again, Roy and Chet followed the detective out of the car. Only this time, Roy needed no urging . . .he knew right where he was going. Chet was right behind him, step for step, but when they reached their destination, neither spoke. Standing there in front of Johnny’s Rover, the silence stretched between them. There was no need to voice the questions they knew there were no answers to.
With grim determination, Roy finally forced himself to walk over to the driver’s side and pull open the door. He looked for, and found, proof of his friend’s injury. The steering wheel was stained dark red, along with part of the seat and floor below it. More startling was a faint red imprint of a man’s hand on the dashboard.
“Roy.”
“Yeah.”
Closing the driver’s door, Roy was almost grateful for the interruption. At the same time, he noticed that Chet hadn’t moved from where he’d stopped in front of the Rover. But Detective Saunders was waiting, so Roy pushed aside his personal concerns and focused on the detective instead.
“Roy, I’d like you to come over and meet some of our search and rescue people. I have a feeling you’re going to be working pretty closely with them in the next few days. After that, we’ll get you checked into the local motel. It’s not much, but it’s clean.”
“Okay, sure.” Roy stood quietly, his gaze still being pulled toward the damaged Rover.
“What would you like us to do with it?” Saunders asked quietly.
Roy didn’t hesitate, and he was silently grateful for Chet’s nod of affirmation as he answered.
“Fix it.”
**********************
Harold leaned against the doorjamb, and fingered the toothpick dangling between his lips, his expression thoughtful. Inside the small bunkhouse, Bess was chattering happily, and Harold was suddenly reminded of a runaway freight train. From the time the three sat down at the kitchen table, he’d known what direction this situation was going to take. His first impulse was to dissuade or argue with Bess about her plans, but he quickly gave up and accepted the inevitable. Bess was taking the boy in, and that was that.
After a good meal, the young man was clearly exhausted, and the woman wasted no time in shepherding him across the yard and into the bunkhouse. It was really just a small wing attached to the main barn, but it had been remodeled into a decent living area, consisting of a sitting area, several bunks, and even a modern bathroom. Bess was already doling out towels, sheets and blankets from a cupboard, everything a man could need to settle in with. However, Harold couldn’t hold back a low chuckle as the woman continued to fuss over her charge.
“Now, there’s a nice shower in the bathroom, and we’ll stay out here and visit while you get cleaned up a bit. Wouldn’t do to have you keelin’ over in the shower, and nobody around to help ya. After you get some of that grime cleared off of ya, I’ll take a good look at that cut of yours. Seems to me you should’ve had some stitches in that wound, but I’m ‘fraid it’s too late now. Besides, Old Doc Timmons lives almost forty miles from here, and he’s usually kept pretty busy. Even if we did make the drive, chances are he wouldn’t be in his office when we got there.”
The dark haired man nodded occasionally at the woman’s diatribe, and finally, she took the hint.
“Landsakes! Here I am, talkin’ your ear off and you’re needin’ some rest. Go on now, off with ya! The bathroom’s through that door, and take your time. You holler out if you need something, though. Harold will still be here, right Harold?”
Pulling the toothpick from his mouth, the amused onlooker grunted lightly. “Uh huh.”
When they were alone a few minutes later, Harold settled himself in one of the over-stuffed chairs, and stared at his friend.
“Bess? You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Why sure I do, Harold. I’m giving this poor boy a place to stay. You heard what he said at dinner, when you finally asked him again about his name. He doesn’t know who he. Doesn’t have any idea where he belongs. Poor thing, seemed to get upset when you even mentioned where he come from. And he’s not well, either. Somethin’ real bad has happened to that boy. Somethin’ he can’t or doesn’t want to remember.“
There was a long pause, as Bess seemed to mull over the implications of the young man’s fate. But then, almost as if a switched had been flipped, she smiled and resumed her cheerful planning.
“Well, I have plenty of room, and work for him to do. When he’s up to it. And maybe by then, he’ll remember who he is and where he’s from.”
Harold shook his head solemnly.
“Bess, you don’t have any idea what you could be getting mixed up in. The world’s a different place these days. Why, from what I hear, there’re killings in the cities all the time, and there’s folks out stealin’ to buy drugs. It’s not the kind of world we grew up in, and you should pay more attention to what’s going on out there. You need to be careful, now that you’re livin’ up here alone.”
“I have a TV, too, ya know.”
Harold’s eyebrows rose a notch or two.
“Well, I did until the darn thing broke down last year. But it doesn’t matter one hoot about what’s happening in the cities. It’s what’s happening here on my land that matters to me, and this young man’s hurt and in need of help. Well, I’m going to give him that help. Besides, did you ever see a more polite young man? And I can tell, just by looking in his eyes, that boy’s the most honest young person you’ll meet. So there’s no use trying to convince me otherwise, Harold Wilson.”
“All right, Bess, all right. Don’t go gettin’ yourself all riled up about it. I sorta figured this is what you’d do. But I still want you to keep a close eye on him. No matter how honest you think his eyes are, he’s a stranger around here, and you don’t know a thing about him. Shoot, he doesn’t know a thing about himself. And even if you have got yourself cut-off from the rest of the world, it can still reach out and grab ya’. Just keep your eyes and ears open, and if you see him acting peculiar, you call me, all right?”
“All right, Harold. If that’s what it’ll take to make you feel better, I’ll call you if he acts worse than Rocky. After all, compared to that fellow, no one seems strange.”
Unable to stop, Harold burst out with a hearty laugh. No matter what else she might be, Bess Hilton was a good-hearted woman.
After that, the two old friends visited together until the young man returned from his shower. Bess forced him to sit still while she applied antiseptic cream and bandaged his head, but no sooner had she’d applied the last piece of tape, than the woman was shooing him off to bed. Later, as she walked Harold to his pickup, Bess reached out and clasped the man’s arm.
“It’s going to be fine, Harold. You’ll see. It’ll be fine.”
Harold couldn’t think of anything that would cause him to disagree, so he merely nodded his head in defeat.
“For your sake, Bess, I hope so.”
**********************
Morning sunlight filtered through the long windows, and Bess paused a moment to enjoy the golden rays decorating her kitchen. This was her favorite time of day. Birds singing, a light breeze lifting white sheers gently from the window frames, an occasional horse nickering in the paddock. The only thing she found missing from these early mornings, was the sound of her Robert as he thumped his way up the walk from the barn, his black rubber boots caked with mud. By now, his workday would be well started, with his stomach growling for a hearty breakfast.
Glancing out the screen door, Bess half expected to see Robert, but sadly, the walk was empty. She paused for a moment, wondering at an old woman’s silliness. Robert had been gone several years, long enough that she’d accepted his absence, though she’d never stop missing him. She rubbed her chin absently, speculating on what was filling her mind with thoughts of him today.
Her gaze moved slowly towards the barn with its attached dwelling, and she quickly realized what had started her on this line of thinking. Or maybe it wasn’t realizing, as much as it was admitting. There was something about that young man . . .
“Okay, Bess, that’s enough of that. You have work to do.”
Talking to herself wasn’t something new, but Bess grinned nonetheless. With a swipe of her broom across the floor, she turned and went back to her chores, humming quietly as she completed her morning routine. It was almost three hours later when she heard a soft tapping at the screen door.
“Well, good morning, sleepy head. I’ve been wondering how long before you’d make an appearance.”
The dark eyes looked at her solemnly, as if he weren’t quite sure of his reception. She knew her teasing tone must have put him at ease, when he flashed a bright grin.
“Sorry. Must’ve been more tired than I thought.”
“Well, it’s no wonder. And don’t be sorry, I’m glad you were comfortable enough to sleep in. You sure looked like you could use a good long rest. Now, come on in here.”
Bess stepped closer and pushed the door open, beckoning for him to enter.
“I think you could probably do with a little food about now, don’t you?”
“Ohh, well, no . . .that’s okay. Maybe just a little of that coffee, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“What? No breakfast? Now, listen here, young man, you need some food in that stomach.”
She watched as the dark head nodded slightly, while at the same time, he gently massaged his temple below the bandage. Her voice softened when she spoke again.
“You feelin’ all right?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, just a little headache.”
“Well, I shouldn’t wonder. There’s a bottle of aspirin, left side of the sink. Coffee cup’s on the right side, and pot’s on the stove. Help yourself.”
Pulling open the rounded door of the aging refrigerator, Bess gathered a carton of milk, bacon, butter, and a bowl filled with fresh brown eggs. Taking them back to the counter, she glanced over at her guest, who stood quietly at the sink, looking blankly at the two white tablets in his hand. She quietly took a small juice glass from the cupboard and filled it at the tap, wordlessly handing him the water to wash down the painkiller.
“How do you like your eggs?”
The visitor looked down at her, and shook his head slowly.
“Don’t go to the trouble, ma’am. I’m not that hungry, really.”
Bess didn’t miss a beat. She simply placed her hands on her hips, and stared at the man as if he had two heads.
“You liked my cookin’ all right last night, didn’t ya?”
“Sure. Your cooking is great, and-”
“Then set yourself down, tell me how you want your eggs cooked, and drink your coffee while I fix your breakfast.”
Rather than offend him, Bess’s no-nonsense tone of voice seemed to amuse him, and he nodded in submission.
“Yes, ma’am.”
With a wide grin, he pulled out a coffee cup and filled it with the thick, dark brew. Then, he settled himself at the wooden table, and took his first sip. Watching him discreetly, Bess was also happy to note that he nibbled on a piece of toast she’d laid before him, slowly easing into the full ranch-style breakfast she was preparing. In no time, she’d added a plate of fried eggs, potatoes, and crisp bacon, along with fresh biscuits and a large bowl of peaches. He dug in with gusto.
Bess tidied up the kitchen while he ate, but within a few minutes, it was obvious that the good cooking, and comfortable atmosphere, had inspired him to talk. With a mouth full of egg and toast, he started asking questions.
“I’m real sorry about taking up your extra room last night. I didn’t put anybody out, did I?”
“Now don’t worry yourself about that. My hired hand lives there, but he’s up in Portland right now.”
“Oh?”
The young man answered around another bite of toast, smothered in homemade jam.
”Yes. Rocky hurt his shoulder a few weeks back, and he’s convalescing at his
sister’s place.”
Bess watched the young man, as he digested this information, her mind suddenly flashing back to Harold’s warning the night before. For a split second, she wondered if maybe she was nothing more than a foolish old woman, giving out a lot of personal details to a complete stranger. In the next second, she scoffed at herself for the sudden burst of paranoia. The man in front of her was busily devouring his breakfast, his friendly gaze and pleasant demeanor reassuring her that he was nothing more than a nice young man.
“Sorry to hear that. Hope it wasn’t anything serious.”
“Well, for a man his age, it is. But I think Rocky will be all right.”
She chuckled lightly, as she realized that her hired man was a scant ten years her junior, but there was no reason to pass that information along. The man before her only nodded as he reached for his glass of milk, downing the foamy white liquid in barely two gulps. Wiping his mouth, he bit into another piece of bacon, before pursuing the conversation.
“Rocky?”
“Yeah. He likes to tell everyone he was a fighter, long before that other Rocky guy came along. You know, the one in the movie. Well, ever since that flick came out, Rocky thinks he can get lots of mileage out of his name when he goes down to Barney’s to play pool. Thinks he’ll get more attention from the gals, if he brags about how big and tough he is, like that other Rocky. Truth is, he got his nickname when he was a kid. His father owned a rock quarry, somewhere up in the mountains, and his friends tagged the moniker on him ‘fore he even got to school. Course, I did see some pictures of Rocky when he was a young man. He was in the Navy, or maybe it was the Merchant Marines, I don’t know. But if I’m not mistaken, he did a little boxing in his younger days. Anyway, he’s full of hot air, so when he comes back, you just humor him, okay?”
“Uhh . . sure.”
Bess took another sip of her own coffee, having sat down across from her guest. He took another bite of eggs, then looked up and smiled.
“You sure do have a nice place here, Mrs. . . . .”
“Bess. You can call me, Bess. Everyone else does.”
“Okay, Bess.” Scooping up a spoonful of peaches, he grinned at his host. “This sure is a great breakfast!”
Bess laughed with pure pleasure. She enjoyed cooking for someone with such a hearty appetite, and this young man was no skimpy eater.
“It looks like you’re enjoying it. But, do you always carry on a conversation while you’re eating? ”
The sudden drop of his head made Bess want to slap her own.
‘Foolish old woman.’ She muttered under her breath.’
“I’m sorry, son, that was unforgivable. I know you can’t remember. . .”
“Yeah . . . well.”
He wiped his mouth on the napkin, then folded it carefully and tucked it under the edge of his plate. Then, pushing himself slowly from the table, he stood and nodded gratefully at Bess.
“Thanks again for your hospitality, Bess. Guess I’ll be moving on, now.”
“What? Where . . .” Bess fairly jumped to her feet. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes. I’m grateful for your help, but it’s time for me to go.”
“Go where?”
“I . . .I don’t know, for sure. Find a town somewhere, I guess, where I can get a job. . .” His voice trailed off sadly.
Bess stared at him for almost a whole minute, before stomping her small foot on the blue and white linoleum squares.
“Now you just wait one minute, young man!”
He stopped, and turned to look at her, as if caught in a familiar scene.
“There’s no reason for you to go traipsing off down the road, to Lord knows where. I know you can’t remember anything right now, and I’m more sorry than I can say about my thoughtless blunder a minute ago. But I’d really like for you to stay here. There’s plenty of room, and plenty of work, when you’re ready. And later, when you remember, or if you decide you want to move on, I’ll give you a ride into town.”
Bess stopped for a breath, staring at the young man, as if daring him to defy her. At the same time, she smiled gently, encouraging him with her eyes to accept her invitation.
“I guess . . .”
“Good. It’s all settled then. You can stay in the bunkhouse. Now, sit back down, there’s more eggs, and I’m sure you can drink another cup of coffee.”
His enthusiastic laughter filled the room, startling the old woman as she hurried to the stove.
“Do you always get your way, Bess?”
“Yep. And don’t you forget it . . . Now, that’s another thing. We can’t go on like this. We’re gonna have to find you a name.”
“What do you mean? A new name?”
“Yes, sir. A new name. Something for you to go by, besides hey you, and boy.”
His laugh echoed hers.
“Guess you’re right.”
“All right, then. How about Bill?”
He shook his head no.
“Sam?”
Another negative shake.
“Tom?”
“No.”
“Joe? Eddie . . .Rick.”
His head came up, a quick flash of recognition briefly crossing his features.
“What? Did you remember something?”
“No. Not really. But that name . . .it seems kinda, I don’t know . . .”
“Well then, Rick it is.”
“I don’t know, Bess. It seems kind of funny, getting a new name, like you get a new pair of shoes or something.”
“No, it’s not like that. This is only temporary. Just until your memory comes back, and I know it will. But I’m not havin’ any man on my place that has to be called to supper with ‘hey you’ as his name.”
Her laughter was infectious, and Rick soon joined in.
“Okay, have it your way. I’ll answer to Rick. Just don’t forget to call me to dinner. You’re a good cook.”
Rick spooned another pile of potatoes onto his plate, and began to eat.
**********************
Hank pushed the old lawnmower around his backyard, barely aware of the job he was doing. His mind was elsewhere, hundreds of miles north with two of his men. As captain, he was responsible for his crew at work, but over the years, that sense of responsibility had spread to include his men off-duty as well. And that particular sense of duty seemed to increase, where his youngest charge was concerned.
Johnny had no immediate family, and since he’d joined A-shift, that role had fallen to his co-workers. Roy and the rest of the crew were like his brothers, but it was Hank who occasionally filled the role of surrogate father. It was a position that the captain didn’t really mind. He enjoyed Johnny’s energy and love of life, and if occasionally the guy got on his nerves with an off the wall rant, or some wild scheme, Hank knew that it was never done with anything other than the best of intentions. Johnny was a good and honest man. One that Hank was proud to know.
Turning the mower, Hank began to cut the next strip of grass, his thoughts going over the past few weeks. He’d been worried about Johnny’s state of mind after Roy filled him in on what happened in the Emergency Room when the little girl had died. In the days that followed, he’d made several attempts to talk to Johnny, but all had failed. In the end, his young paramedic had left on vacation alone, and his captain regretted that he hadn’t pushed John to talk to him. And now . . .now it might be too late.
Guilt was something a good fire captain couldn’t give in to. If he did, he could spend his career second-guessing himself, and all his decisions. But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t harbor a regret or two. And where young Gage was concerned, Hank felt he had more than a few to atone for. He just hoped that his lack of judgment in this case, hadn’t played a role in the young man’s accident. But that might be something he’d never know for sure.
“Hank! Hank, it’s the phone.”
Startled from his musing, Hank stopped the mower and ran for the door. Breathless from exertion in the warm sun, he wiped his hands on a towel before picking up the receiver. He already knew who was on the other line. He could tell from the look on Em’s face.
“Roy?”
“Yeah, Cap, it’s me.”
“What’s the news, Pal?”
“Nothing. There’s nothing to tell. Cap, it’s like he just disappeared into thin air. They’ve had search and rescue teams all over the area where the Rover was found, but there’s nothing . . .no sign, no trail.”
There was a pause on the line, as Roy struggled to keep himself under control, and Hank fought to hold back the string of questions he longed to ask. Finally, Hank went with the most obvious.
“What’s next?”
“We’re putting up flyers, distributing them to as many places as we can. But he could be miles from here by now. Or . . .”
The comment dropped, neither man wanting to pursue that line of thinking.
“Is Chet there with you?”
“Yeah, he’s talking to some of the officers right now. He’s pretty upset . . .”
That simple statement wasn’t meant to describe Chet’s feelings alone, and they both knew it. But there was no sense in stating what they all clearly knew. Roy was lost for words to tell Cap how scared he was. And Cap had few words of encouragement for Roy. They were both stuck in that masculine void, where ego kept a man from admitting his true feelings.
“Well, keep us informed. If there’s anything we can do on this end, just call.”
“Yeah, will do. Talk to you soon.”
“Okay.”
“Thanks, Cap.”
The line went dead, and Hank slowly laid the receiver back in its cradle. He could feel his wife’s curious gaze watching him, could feel her love and concern as it filled the empty space between them. But he didn’t look at her, didn’t say a word. Hank Stanley simply turned and walked out the door towards his mower.
**********************
Almost a week had passed, since Bess named him Rick, and insisted he stay at her ranch. Since that time, he’d rested and healed, until he was as fit as any man had the right to be, in her opinion. Although he wasn’t a large man, he was strong and agile, and in excellent shape. In fact, he was more than ready to take on any work that might be needed around the ranch. Still, she wasn’t in any hurry to send him out to the barn, or to work on the heavier chores. There was a boy from down the road, who’d been hired to do the feeding while Rocky was stove up. Bess was happy to leave that arrangement stand for the time being. Rick, however, didn’t agree.
He’d been content, at first, to do a few menial chores around the house. There was the wooden railing on the front porch that needed a few nails, and a fresh coat of paint. Then, there were the Adirondack chairs that Bess enjoyed using under the apple trees. A few adjustments, a little sanding, and a fresh coat of lacquer made them look as good as new, and she marveled at the professional looking job. There was the old white trellis that had fallen under the weight of her roses, and several bushes that needed minor pruning. Yes, Bess had plenty of small things he could take care of.
Rick seemed to enjoy the simple jobs she found for him, or at least she thought he did, until today. She’d come out from the kitchen, a plate of freshly baked oatmeal cookies ready for the tasting. But her new hand was sitting on the back porch, his elbows on his knees, head down, brown eyes studying his boot tips.
“What’s the problem? Rick, you okay?”
“Huh? Ohh . . . yeah, I’m fine.”
“Good, cause I’ve brought you those cookies I’ve been promising.”
She held out the plate, and watched while he grabbed several off the pile, and sampled them absentmindedly.
“You sure you’re all right, now?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Bess, I think I’ll move that tractor this afternoon. It’s in the way of your round pen, and you’ll be wanting that clear to work the mares. And if you don’t mind, I think your tack room could use a good cleaning.”
Rick looked up at her, his expression a mixture of hope and tenacity. It seemed, for a moment, that her husband had come back to life. Robert used to give her a similar look, one that usually convinced her to do things his way. He had a certain style about him, and this young man obviously had the same knack. In a flash, Bess knew that if her own son had lived, he’d be wrapping her around his finger in much the same way. There was no fighting it, and Bess capitulated. Reluctantly, she nodded her consent.
“All right. But not today. First, I want to take you for a little tour around the property. If you’re going to work here, you may as well know what you’re getting yourself into. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” This time, when he reached for the cookies, Rick was smiling broadly. “How long before we leave?”
“Well, give an old woman a chance to catch her breath, will ya? I’ll pack us a lunch, and be out in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Rick sauntered off towards the bunkhouse, a tuneless melody floating behind him in the breeze. For the first time, Bess saw him looking happy, and she hoped it would be his new style.
**********************
-Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap- The fingers drummed incessantly.
“Roy. Roy! Man, that’s driving me nuts!”
-Bam!- Roy’s hand slapped the small table.
“And your constant channel roaming isn’t?”
Roy charged out of his chair, and stalked furiously towards the door. It slammed closed with a bang, the noise echoing through the small motel room. With a frustrated shake of his head, Chet reached out to the small television and switched off the set.
“Wasn’t much to watch anyway, unless you like snow. . .”
With a tired sigh, Chet rose from the edge of the lumpy mattress and strode to the window. Pulling back the faded orange curtains, he watched as Roy paced back and forth across the deserted parking lot. He couldn’t deny a feeling of compassion for Roy’s pain. After all, Johnny had been his partner and close friend for several years now. But for Chet, the overwhelming emotion right now, was one of anger. Anger at the police for their inability to find John, anger at the circumstances that left their co-worker injured on a lonely road in the middle of nowhere, but more than anything, he was just plain damn mad at Gage.
Chet knew it didn’t make any sense to be mad at Johnny. It wasn’t like his friend would cause an accident like this on purpose. Yet, that was the feeling that kept coming back to him. Anger. And since Johnny wasn’t here, he kept letting that anger loose on Roy.
Kicking absently at the chair leg, Chet continued to watch as Roy made his third turn around the dusty lot. For just a moment, the older man stopped to stare down the desolate highway. It had only been a few hours since the state police officer had driven away, but when he left, he seemed to take their last vestige of hope with him. He had suggested, or rather encouraged, the two men to go home. Search teams had been disbanded, posters had been circulated, and though the firefighters from LA had canvassed many of the back roads, there had been no leads. The officer was right, and as hard as it was for them to admit, there was little more they could do.
So here they were. Sitting out their last night in a rundown motel room, in the middle of nowhere. With few words spoken, they’d tacitly agreed that tomorrow morning they’d head west, and meet up with Detective Saunders one last time. From there, they’d book a flight home. Without Johnny . . .
With a loud bang, the chair hit the floor, its leg finally and completely dislodged. Chet stared sheepishly at his handiwork, grateful that Roy wasn’t in the room to reprimand him. There was enough tension as it was. Collecting the parts, Chet leaned the chair in the corner, idly wondering how much his foolishness would cost him.
A sudden movement near their rental car caught his attention, quickly causing him to forget about the damaged furniture. Roy had climbed onto the front of the hood, his feet planted on the front bumper. The paramedic’s elbows were firmly balanced on his knees, and his head rested in his hands. There was no denying the man’s need for solace, but Chet knew he wasn’t the one to provide that. Instead, he turned back toward the television set, turned it on, and began to flip through the three channels.