Even before they went unseeing, Thatcher was kneeling beside Laurel and yanking a rancid dishcloth out of her mouth. In seconds, he had her hands untied. He ran his hands over her to reassure himself that she was intact.
She placed her hands on his chest, saying in a rush of breath, “She caught me at the foot of the stairs and stuffed that cloth in my mouth. I couldn’t call out to you.”
He pulled her to him and placed his chin on the crown of her head. He looked at Corrine. “How’d you get here?”
“Irv and them deputies setting up the roadblock got into an argument over who was moving what vehicle first. It got to be a real pissin’ contest. Ain’t that just like men? I run off while they weren’t looking.”
She grinned and extended her hand, palm up, on which lay the small Derringer. “I come to give Miss Laurel her pistol back.”
Sixty
The J.P. was summoned to declare Bernard Croft, Jimmy Hennessy, and Gertrude Atkins dead. Lefty, who seemed relieved rather than upset to learn that Gert had departed this life, was taken in for questioning and to sleep off his bender. He would keep Gabe Driscoll company in the cell block that night.
Bill had taken a bullet in the thigh. It had missed major blood vessels, but was buried in the muscle and would need to be surgically removed. Irv offered to transport him to town in the back of his truck. Deputies carried him over and placed him in it.
Laurel insisted she would be fine when her head cleared, but everyone else, especially Thatcher, was just as insistent that Dr. Perkins should check her over. He personally tucked her into the backseat of Bill’s car, drove her to the clinic himself, and hand-delivered her to the doctor and a nurse.
They gowned her and left her lying on the table in the examination room, where Thatcher was granted a private moment with her while they assembled what they would need to treat her mild injuries.
She scooted over, creating a spot for Thatcher to sit. He clasped hands with her and looked her over. “Do you hurt anywhere?”
“A little bit everywhere. Bumps and bruises, mostly.”
“Your head?” He wasn’t sure she was aware of the large bruise on her temple.
“The nurse already gave me aspirin powder. What happened there?” Tenderly she touched the cut beneath his eye made by the wood splinter.
“Nothing.”
She kissed her fingertip and barely touched it to the scrape. “I have some good news. Mike O’Connor is in a room down the hall. He’s holding his own, Dr. Perkins said. He predicts a full recovery. But he also told me that, in a lucid moment, Mike vowed on his Saint Christopher medal to get revenge for Davy.”
“Maybe he’ll have a change of heart.”
“I doubt it,” she said wistfully.
So did Thatcher, actually.
To get her off that subject, he said, “You and Corrine will have to give your statements about what happened with Gert. It’ll be a formality.”
“Of course.”
“But I have one question. Why did Corrine have your pistol?”
“When all the trouble started happening in the hills, I was afraid for her safety. Even though Ernie—”
“Who’s Ernie?”
She smiled. “I’ll tell you about him sometime.”
He fingered a strand of her hair. “I think we both have a lot to tell each other.”
“Give me a hint.”
He softly kissed her lips.
As he eased away from her, she whispered, “I can’t wait to hear the rest.”
From the other side of the door, Dr. Perkins cleared his throat. “Mr. Hutton, they need your help with Sheriff Amos downstairs.”