like those that slipped under the fence every now and then, got lost in the grove, and had to be carried back to the pasture. Grizz ignored the aching muscle in his own abdomen, worrying that if he set Lee down and made him walk the boy’s wounds would reopen.
Once he got him into the cab, Grizz drove him to the hospital, remembering the day he and Seth had found the coyotes. It was a good memory, one of a few he had, and thinking on it passed the silent miles that took them over the prairie.
When they pulled up at the Fell Creek Area Hospital, Grizz paused. The parking lot lay empty. “I don’t think I’ll stick around once you get inside. I don’t know what folks will say if they see us together.”
Lee was shaking, holding the wounded arm that Grizz had bound with knotted pieces of his shirt.
“When is your pop’s funeral?”
“In a couple days.”
He hated to ask it, but didn’t know when he would get another chance. “Did you know about Seth? Did he say anything to your brother?”
Lee hesitated, his nostrils flaring. Grizz thought he might start crying and worried he wouldn’t know what to do if the child did, but Lee only wiped his nose on his sleeve and looked out the window.
“You think you’re done trying to kill me?”
He turned sharply. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess so.”
Grizz knew he wasn’t afraid to die. He would have been glad to be shut of his problems. “It’s too bad your aim wasn’t better.”
“I could have hit you if I wanted.”
“Sure.” He didn’t ask about why. He thought he knew. His own son had looked at a man down a barrel and pulled the trigger. This boy thought to do the same. He couldn’t account for the feeling floating in his chest, a floating bubble of thought. To die. It would be a good thing. Only by dying could he come closer to what he had lost. Yet he could feel the steering wheel under his hands, the breath in his lungs. A child beside him. He had made promises to Seth. If he died, who would tell Seth’s story? Who would see to it that his son was buried properly? His work wasn’t done yet. “What are you going to tell people about how you got hurt?”
Lee still trembled. He was expecting for Grizz to turn him in to the law, but he wasn’t afraid either. He was hurt bad, maybe not in his right mind. His right mind. Who was these days? The cab reeked with the iron smell of his blood.
“If you don’t mention the coyotes, I won’t tell about the gun.” Grizz held out his hand.
“Okay,” he said. His eyes rolled back in his head like he might faint.
“Just tell people that you were out running and some wild dogs were chasing you and you fell down the ridge. Tell them you stumbled out to the road and someone found you and drove you here.” It was a dumb story, but how closely would people question Lee? Especially considering what his family had been through. The words his own child had carved into the desk rose up unbidden in his mind. Wergild. A blood debt. Grizz heard the words leave his mouth before he even knew what he was saying. “You have a job?”
Lee shook his head.
“You want a job?”
Another nod. “You think you could work for me, help a little around the farm?”
The boy’s hand was on the door handle. Their families were two of the oldest in the valley, had been there since the beginning through Indian uprisings and droughts. There was ugliness in the shared story, both recent and long buried. Lee looked at him, and he saw something spark in his eyes. He didn’t appear to be as dumb as people made him out. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Just think it over.”
He grunted as he moved to climb out of the cab.
“You need help inside?”
“No. I’m fine.”
The door wheezed as it swung shut. “Lee?” he called, reaching across to catch it before it closed all the way.
“What?”
He considered a moment. “If you come see me again, next time you make sure you come by the driveway.”
Lee shuffled along the sidewalk until the sliding glass doors of the emergency room opened. He paused at the threshold, but before he stepped inside he raised his good arm and waved to Grizz.