Sudden Independents - By Ted Hill Page 0,10

releasing the sweet smell of butane. He ignited a tiny fire and added sticks to the flames. Warm light filled their surroundings.

“Aren’t we going to leave soon?” Hunter asked.

“Not a chance. We’re going to have to make camp and wait ’til morning. You can’t ride like that, anyway.”

Scout lifted Hunter’s bike and set the kickstand, inspecting the handlebars while Hunter worried that he ruined his bike for good this time. He might be forced to ride a new bike, but he liked his Kawasaki. They had covered a lot of miles together over the past two years. The bike started on Scout’s second kick, the engine hummed and Hunter relaxed.

Scout cut the motor, restoring quiet. “We’ll see if it still rolls straight in the morning.”

They ate apples and dried meat from Scout’s backpack clustered beside the jittering flames. Scout left with the water bottles. After a while, he brought them back full and disappeared again, returning with another armload of firewood.

Scout examined two sticks before placing them away from the fire. He pulled a shirt from Hunter’s bag. “Is this clean?”

Hunter nodded. “I washed it in the Platte yesterday.”

“I guess that will have to do,” Scout said, dropping the shirt on the two sticks.

Hunter tracked Scout’s movements around until it made him dizzy. “Why are you so busy? Sit down. Take a break.”

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” Scout said. “Good news is I don’t think your Kawasaki is that bad off.”

Hunter stared at him until the dramatic pause stretched too long. “And the bad news?”

“You won’t be riding for a while with a broken right arm. Can’t throttle, can’t brake, and you certainly can’t steer, but I think that last one is what caused the accident in the first place.”

Hunter understood the real bad news. “I’m going to be stuck in town.”

Scout’s grin flashed in the firelight. “Yeah, that sucks for everybody.”

Hunter groaned, but not from pain.

“One more piece of bad news,” Scout said. “I have to set the arm back in place.”

A shiver ran through Hunter’s body, causing a sudden urge to flee that he was totally unable to muster. “Shouldn’t we wait until we get back to town and let Luis take a look at it?”

Scout nodded. “Sure, we could wait and you could go into shock, but I know how to set a broken bone. Remember, I helped Luis last year when that tree fell on Brady’s leg.”

“Brady! You mean that lumberjack kid with the limp?”

Scout spread his hands. “I don’t want to do this anymore than you, but I’m thinking we might as well get it over with and let you start healing.”

Hunter stared into the flames of the campfire; terrified of the pain to come no matter what magic Catherine worked. A spasm triggered in his right leg. He had never experienced fear like this before, and hated it.

“It’s going to hurt.”

“Yeah,” Scout said.

“Do you have any liquor?”

Scout shook his head. “None that lasted.”

“This sucks.”

“Yeah,” Scout said and scooted closer with a grim, determined expression. “Ready?”

Hunter looked at Catherine sitting quietly with her hands resting on his brow. “I want you to let go.”

“I’ll be all right. I’m a big girl.”

“Seriously, I don’t feel right.”

“What’s all this?” Scout asked.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” Hunter said.

Catherine pushed a lock of Hunter’s hair aside and smiled. “Everything will be all right, Michael. I promise. Go ahead, Scout. We’re ready.”

Hunter closed his eyes and took several deep, rapid breaths as Scout removed the makeshift bandage from his right arm. He gritted his teeth, wincing as every little movement scattered pins and needles throughout his arm and into his chest.

Scout placed his foot into Hunter’s armpit, grabbed Hunter’s wrist and pulled before anyone could change his mind.

Hunter shrieked from the excruciating agony of bones grinding back into place. Catherine cried out and crumpled to the ground and Hunter quickly followed her into unconsciousness.

Jimmy loved summer with the extra hours of daylight. They made him feel like there was still time to do something—besides work.

As he and Samuel headed into town, they passed rows of hanging clothes, towels, and sheets. The launderers hustled about collecting the dried articles and the smell of clean cotton and denim filled the air. Jimmy watched the multiple colors rippling on their lines in the evening breeze like the flags of defunct countries. The metal basins on the ground were flipped over and drained.

Each kid in Independents brought their laundry to be washed on a specific day, then after supper on their assigned days