Texas Gothic - By Rosemary Clement-Moore Page 0,109

slope on the other side, the dry, loose soil making it hard to get traction. At the top I paused, searching for the glint of Lila’s reflective vest in the dark. I spotted her arrowing across a flat space, then up another hill.

This time she stopped, panting, waiting expectantly for me and Ben to catch up. When we reached her, I said, “Where’s Mac, Lila?” and she turned in a circle, then lay down.

“What does that mean?” asked Ben.

“She’s supposed to lie down when she finds something.” I tried to remember exactly. “Maybe she can’t follow his trail any farther.”

Ben turned in a slow circle. “But he’s not here.”

I turned, too, scanning the terrain. I could see Mark and Phin headed our way in the Jeep, driving carefully over the rocky hills. The night carried the purr of the engine and the sound of Lila’s panting breaths.

Then Ben grabbed my arm, his hand hot on my skin.

“Do you hear that?”

When I froze, Lila did, too, and her panting quieted for a second. Just long enough for me to hear what Ben did. A soft voice singing.

The breeze carried it through the hills like a phantom, but as we listened, Ben still holding my arm, the song strengthened, until I could hear words as well as a tune, even over Lila’s panting.

“When I walked out on the streets of Laredo …”

“Which way?” I asked Ben, who knew the terrain.

“Here.” He started along the ridge, and I realized why Lila had stopped where she did. The drop-off was terrifyingly steep.

Ben doubled back on a cutback that took him lower, and as he made the turn, he stopped to get his bearings and sang out, “As I walked out in Laredo one day.”

The answer came right away. “I spied a young cowboy all dressed in white linen …”

They finished the stanza together, with Ben picking his way down the steep drop, holding on to the branches of trees as he went.

“All wrapped in white linen and cold as the clay.”

Mac lay halfway down the slope, his fall stopped by a dwarf cedar. I could see his outline in the moonlight. He tried to get up as his grandson approached, but Ben ordered him to stay where he was.

“Amy!” he shouted up at me. “Get on the phone and call nine-one-one. Have them connect you with the sheriff. I think Mark and I can get Grandpa up and into the Jeep. Have the ambulance come to gate thirty-two.”

I barely had any bars of service, and my fingers shook as I dialed. We’d found Mac, but in what kind of shape? I was surprised how much relief could hurt when it cycled right back into worry.

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once I made it down the hill, I handed Ben my flashlight and knelt by Mac’s head. “Stay still, Mr. McCulloch. Let me check you over.”

He ignored me, of course. “I saw him, Ben,” Mac said, trying again to rise. Ben, after a moment of still surprise, gently but firmly pushed his grandfather back down.

“Hold still, Grandpa. We called for an ambulance.”

There was a soft hitch in his voice that made my heart hurt. Ben left his hands resting on Mac’s shoulders, reassuring both of them, I think.

A wet darkness soaked Mac’s gray hair, and I ran my hands lightly over his skull, feeling for lumps. My fingers came away smeared with blood, but it seemed to be tacky and clotted, and there was a good-sized goose egg on the back of his head. He was certainly showing no lethargy as he batted my hands away.

“I don’t need a damn ambulance. I just fell down the gol-durned hill and couldn’t get up. So I sat here to wait for someone to come the hell and find me.”

“You did the right thing,” said Ben.

“Were you singing so Ben could find you?” I asked, meaning to distract him as I checked for other injuries. No problem moving his arms, for sure. But his legs …

“I was singing,” snapped Granddad Mac, “because my leg hurts like a sonovabitch and it was sing or cry like a gol-durned girl.”

He was not saying “gol-durned.” And when I ran my hands over his lower extremities and he hollered “mother effer,” that wasn’t what he really said, either. Ben looked mortified at his grandfather’s language. Not to mention the name he called me as I confirmed his hip was broken.

It didn’t help that Mark and Phin arrived just then, half sliding down the hill. “Did you find