A Thousand Falling Crows (28 page)

“Good, I‘m glad to hear he called the right man. There's a lot going on.”

“How much do you know?”

“Not much. I‘ve been laying low since . . . Since, well, you know. I figured it was best to stay out of the way.”

“But you couldn't help yourself, right? Am I right or am I wrong? I‘m right aren't I?”

“Sure, Frank. Right as rain. You're right as rain. I couldn't help myself.”

Hamer leaned in and whispered, “These murders've got everybody on edge. We think it's the same bastard doin' the deed. Add in the string of robberies and upstairs is afraid there's gonna be another set of outlaws to track down. The whole affair blasted out in the papers to make us all look bad, like we can't do our jobs protectin' the citizenry.”

Sonny lowered his head, as if in prayer. “I was there, at the robbery. That's why I wanted to talk with you. I think there was a young girl doing the driving. She's got caught up in something that's out of her league, over her head.”

Hamer listened intently, and he watched Sonny closely, never taking his eyes off of him. “Let me guess. The girl's folks have come to you and asked for help.”

“Her father. How'd you know?”

“Happens. I‘d come to you, too, if I was from 'round here. How old is this girl?”

“Sixteen.”

Hamer shook his head in disgust. “Just a baby.”

“Exactly. Not old enough to know what she's done to the rest of her life.”

“None of us know about consequences at that age.”

“True. So, what do you think?”

“Well, I don't think these murders got anything to do with these kids and their tirade, but I could be wrong about that. Gut says I‘m not. Two different things. But I‘ve been wrong before, so you never know.”

Sonny shifted his weight and was aware of people coming and going, in and out of the courthouse, eyeing them, leaning in trying to hear the words being spoken as they hurried by. “After they killed Tom Turnell, they hit a place outside of Shamrock and then, earlier this morning, I‘m certain that Jesse got into a shoot-out with them at the state line. He wouldn't say so, that's just a guess.”

“It's a good guess,” Hamer said, then paused. “Bad thing about all this is that goddamn Clyde Barrow and his ways. And, of course, the newspapers are guilty, too, for puttin' every inch of their strategies in the paper. Barrow liked to jump in and out of states to let things cool off. My guess is, these three'll come back, but venture up or down only a few roads. They won't come back on the same roads they left out on, be afraid we're watchin' for them, and they'd be right about that. Maybe tomorrow or the next day. It won't be long. That's tough country over in Oklahoma. Not much there for them. They'll come back around here, especially if they got kin here. Mark my word. They'll come in around midnight, or dawn, when they think everybody'll be asleep. I‘ll be right, you'll see.”

“I‘m sure you will be.”

“I‘ll talk to Jonesy, see if we can't set something up. I‘ll let you know when and where, if you'd like. It's the least I can do. These are good folks, right?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“All right, then, you take care of yourself, Sonny.” Hamer tapped him on the left shoulder, then turned to walk away but stopped a few feet from the door, and said, “I‘m sorry I didn't get those two sooner, Sonny. If I would've, you'd still be in the company. Did your boy give you the shell I sent up?”

Sonny nodded and had little to say other than a mute thank you. He'd never been fond of souvenirs.

Satisfied, Frank Hamer turned and bolted out the door of the courthouse, leaving a swirl of dust in the wake of his exit.

There was nothing left for Sonny to accomplish at the courthouse. Going down to see Faye, stepping foot into the office, would just make things more difficult.

Blue was glad to see Sonny, and Sonny was glad he didn't have to stay inside the courthouse any longer than he had. The inside of the truck was as hot as a brick oven.

The day was getting on, and it had been a full one. All Sonny wanted to do was go home, have a little dinner, and settle down for some rest. All of this running around had tired him out. He wasn't used to it.

Still, there was one more stop he wanted to make before he left town.

He drove straight over to the hospital, got out, and walked up to the door without any hesitation. That didn't come until he went to open it. He drew in a deep breath, like he was sucking up courage, and then walked inside, head up, heart racing, like he was on a mission that couldn't be aborted.

Betty Maxwell looked up from her desk with a surprised expression on her face. “Mr. Burton, I wasn't expecting to see you.” It looked like she was putting things in order, readying to leave for the day.

“I didn't expect to be here today, either.”

“Is there something I can help you with?”

Sonny nodded, his mouth went dry.

Nurse Betty stood up. “Are you all right?”

“I am, ma'am. I was just wondering if you could . . .” He stopped, and felt like an inexperienced young man, afraid of what he was about to set in motion.

“You've got me a little concerned,” she said.

Sonny shook his head. “No, no, there's nothing wrong. I was just wondering if you could help me?”

“Help you with what?”

“With that thing. The hook. Help me put the prosthetic on? Help me to know how to use it.”

CHAPTER 26

Betty Maxwell led Sonny into an examining room. “We have one around here, somewhere,” she said.

Sonny was already regretting asking for help with the prosthetic. It felt like a foolish thing to do, but the last few days had accumulated certainties in his mind that he couldn't avoid. He wasn't going to put a gun to his head anytime soon. Suddenly, he had things to do, promises to keep, and, most importantly, a point to prove to his son. He might not be full-bodied, but his mind was whole and still of use. The rebuke from Jesse stung deep. He still felt the anger of the harsh words, could hear them ringing in his mind, and he knew the feeling wasn't going to go away anytime soon.

The examining room was a little bigger than a closet and held a table with a big light angled over it, a chair for the doctor, a cupboard full of medicines, and a closet. A single window, with the blind closed, allowed some diffused light into the room.

Nurse Betty turned on the big light and headed to the closet.

The room smelled clean, like it had been mopped and washed down with bleach recently. The cleanliness of it stung Sonny's nose, giving him more reason to not want to be there.

“Close the door behind you,” Nurse Betty said, as she opened the door to the closet. It was full of boxes and things that Sonny had no clue what their use, or name, was. Metal rods, beakers of all sizes, blankets, sheets, and more utensils that looked like they were designed to inflict pain not heal anyone. Hospitals had always made him nervous.

He did as he was told and closed the door. But he remained there, watching Betty Maxwell make her way through the closet like she was on the most important mission in the world.

She was shapely and easy to look at. Sonny liked her, found her pleasant to be around, if not a little too direct, kind of like her son, Leo, now that Sonny thought about it.

“Ah,” Betty said, “here it is.” She pulled a box out of the closet, put it on the examining table, opened it, and laid the fake arm on the table, gently, like it was real.

The prosthetic was much like the one at home; a tangle of leather straps, wood painted to look like hard flesh, with a shiny hook attached to the end.

“Didn't we fit you with one before you went home?” Betty asked.

“I refused,” Sonny said. He couldn't take his eyes off the hook.

“Oh, yes, I remember. Doc Meyers was not happy with me at all when I told him. I figured you'd eventually come around. It just took you a little longer than I thought it would.”

“I‘m not sure this is a good idea.”

“Sure it is. Take off your shirt, Mr. Burton. I think you'll find this will be an improvement to your life, not a detriment.” Nurse Betty smiled at him, but Sonny couldn't find it in himself to return the gesture. “Come on, now, no need to be bashful. I‘ve seen men who came back from the war and plenty more.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“I‘m a little older than you might think. But some of those men have had long, productive lives, just like you. They catch colds, too. Now, go on, take it off.”

Sonny nodded. “I suppose you're right.” He reached over with his left hand, and fumbled with the top button.

Nurse Betty stepped toward him, like she was going to help, but he shook his head. She relented, stopped without saying anything else.

It took a minute, but Sonny was able to unbutton the shirt and pull it off, leaving him standing there with his undershirt still tucked into his pants, and a sock pulled up on his stump. The sock nearly went all the way to his shoulder. He only had about five inches of his arm left.

“You can leave your undershirt on,” Betty said. “Do you mind if I take the sock off and put a fresh one on? I want to see how you've healed.”

Sonny nodded. It was quiet outside the room. The day had gotten long, the comings and goings for appointments had pretty much come to an end. A ceiling fan whirled overhead, offering a little relief in the room. But he was still hot, uncomfortable. It wouldn't have mattered what the temperature was in the room.

Betty stepped up and carefully peeled the sock off his stump. She smelled like a garden of freshly cut lilacs.

“It looks like it's healed nicely.” She tossed the sock on the table and went to the cupboard to retrieve another one.

Sonny watched her intently. It was then that something struck him as odd. As foggy as it was, he remembered back to their first meeting, when Aldo had driven him home. If he remembered right, he thought Betty had looked like she was pregnant or had just had a baby. Aldo had said, “She has problems.” Funny thing was, there was only her son at the house. When Sonny had gone inside to use the phone to call Hugh Beaverwood for Jonesy, there was no sign of a baby at all. Nothing. The house was quiet as a church and neat as a pen.

It might not have meant anything, but it suddenly felt . . . odd, like seeing something out of place, that didn't quit fit. There were all kinds of possibilities, mostly tragic, as Sonny toyed with the thought of her earlier condition, but mostly, he decided, none of them were any of his business at all.

Betty came back, the smile still on her face, and slipped the fresh white sock on his stump. It fit better, like it was made to fit a stump instead of a foot.

“What's the matter? You look glum,” Nurse Betty said.

“Nothing, I was just thinking.”

“All right.” She picked up the prosthetic and pulled the strap out, then adjusted a buckle at the end of it into a loop. “Here,” she said, holding out the loop, “put your left arm through here.” Sonny straightened his arm and eased his hand through the loop. As he did, Betty pulled the arm to the other side. “Now, ease your arm into the hole.”

Sonny hesitated, stared directly into Nurse Betty's cornflower blue eyes.

“You're doin' fine, Mr. Burton.”

He nodded, then aimed his stump into the end of the prosthetic. It fit perfectly, and it moved when he did.

“Now, pull the other buckle tight, and there you are.”

“That's all there is to it?”

Nurse Betty smiled. “Yes. That's it. You'll need some time to adjust to it, figure out how to move the elbow up and down.” She pulled the hook up, then pushed it down again gently. “It'll just take some force, either with your hand, or on the wall, your chest, the gearshift. You'll see. In a few days, you'll wonder how you got along without it.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. Why don't you go ahead and try to put your shirt back on.”

“How do I get this thing off?”

“Same way you put it on. Unbuckle it, pull it off, then take the loop on your other arm off. You can do this,” Nurse Betty said. Her voice was strong as steel. There was no arguing with her.

“All right.” Sonny picked up his shirt, slid the hook through the sleeve, stood up, then reached around and pulled the other sleeve to him. In a second he had his shirt on and was buttoning it with his left hand. The prosthetic felt heavy. Heavier than a real arm. It would take a while to get used to having something there, to finding a balance to it, but to his surprise the arm wasn't as uncomfortable as he thought it would be.

“Well, look at you,” Nurse Betty smiled. “How's it feel?”

“All right, I suppose. It'll take some getting used to.” He started to unbutton his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Betty asked.

“Taking it off, giving it back.”

She shook her head. “You can keep it for a while. Try the one you have at home. See which one feels better, then bring me one back. There's no rush. I want you to be comfortable.”