and he couldn't stop. They ran through a stop sign, directly in front of an eighteen-wheeler. No way could the truck's driver avoid hitting them. Val is critical, Johnny. According to Shamika, the doctors don't offer much hope."
A slender blond man with a deep tan stood outside Val's hospital room door, smoking a cigarette and staring at his feet. He looked up and frowned at Johnny as Johnny moved by him, headed for Val's room.
The man grabbed Johnny's arm. "Hey, buddy, where the hell do you think you're going?"
Once Johnny had believed Val to have his mother's eyes, but looking down into Richard Starr's eyes, he realized he had been wrong. He bit back his urge to wrap his hands around Val's father's throat and crush it, not just because he had abandoned Leah and Val, but because he'd married Leah in the first place.
"Nobody goes in there except family," Starr said.
Johnny jerked his arm away and turned for the door.
Richard grabbed him again. "I know who you are, Whitehorse. You might muscle your way around Hollywood or Washington, but not here. You're going to leave my kid and my wife alone."
"Ex-wife."
"My kid."
Johnny replied with a short laugh, put his hand on Richard's chest, and shoved him against the wall. He then pointed his finger in Starr's face. "Be nice. Be very nice, Dickie, or I'm liable to do something I'll later regret. I'm in a particularly sore mood right now, and anyone who has known me for any length of time knows my patience has its endurance. Backed into a corner, I come out swinging."
"Are you threatening me, Whitehorse?"
"Definitely."
"I'll get the cops."
"You do that." Twisting his fingers in Richard's shirt, Johnny pushed him toward a nurse and orderly, who caught him before he fell on his face. The pair stared at Johnny as if a unicorn had suddenly materialized before them.
Johnny eased open the door.
Leah sat at Val's bedside, her head resting on the bed, eyes closed, her hand holding her son's as the monitors beeped frighteningly weakly in the quiet.
Johnny sank against the wall, unable to speak.
First Dolores. Now this. But this was worse, so much worse. This was a child. A very special child. Who might have, if things had gone differently those years ago, been his and Leah's. A young soul, a broken spirit that ached to fly. Johnny had wanted so desperately to teach him how.
Leah opened her swollen red eyes and raised her head slowly. For the briefest instant a look of desperate relief wiped the lines from her brow, and her lips trembled. Then, just as swiftly, it was gone, replaced by an outrage that hit Johnny with a sickening punch.
"Get out," her lips whispered.
"Please—"
"How dare you."
"Don't do this, Leah."
"If you don't leave this minute—"
"I have to see him."
"Haven't you done enough? You've destroyed my father and, thanks to your subterfuge regarding your feelings for us, you've broken Val's heart. If you don't leave here now I'm calling the police. I'll file charges on you for harassment."
"I love you. I love Val."
Looking as if she might crumble into a thousand pieces, Leah sagged against the bed. "I so wanted it to be true. That you loved us. I can't tell you how often I fantasized of our finding one another again, of your coming to love my son like I do.
"I think, if I really want to be honest with myself for a change, that my real reason for returning to Ruidoso was in hopes of your forgiving me for my stupidity years ago. How infantile to believe you would come to care for us more than you care to remedy an injustice perpetrated against your people. Very selfish on my part to think you would give up half a lifetime of struggle for love. Johnny Whitehorse never turned his back on a fight. He always saw his obligations through. Funny. One of the very attributes that made me fall in love with you in the first place is the same one that breaks my heart now."
Johnny shoved away from the wall. This time as he moved toward the bed Leah did not stop him.
Johnny touched Val's cold brow. "Hey, pal. It's Johnny. I've brought you something." Reaching into his shirt pocket, he withdrew the small trinket that had been carved into the shape of a human form. "It's called a tzi-daltai. A very long time ago I made it for your mother. I never got around to giving it to her. The