held up a hand. “We’ve never spoken of that, and we shouldn’t, even now. Minette doesn’t know. You promised your father that you’d never tell her. You have to keep that promise.”
Hayes took a steadying breath. “It’s hard.”
“Life is hard. Get used to it,” Coltrain told him.
“I’m doing that. This is my third gunshot wound,” Hayes pointed out.
Coltrain cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “You know, that’s either damned bad luck or a death wish on your part.”
“I don’t have a death wish!”
“You walk headfirst into dangerous situations, without any thought of letting your men help.”
“They all have families. Young families.”
“Zack doesn’t. But if it worries you, hire some more single deputies,” Coltrain said curtly. “Some men with guts and independent thinking who know the ropes and can calculate the risk.”
“Chance would be a fine thing,” he huffed. “The last deputy I hired was from up in San Antonio. He commutes. We don’t have a big employment pool here. Most of the young men move to the city to find work, and law enforcement is notoriously low-paying, considering where we are. If it was my only source of income, I’d be hard-pressed to pay the bills, even on my salary.”
“I know all that.”
“The family men needed jobs desperately,” he added quietly. “This economy is the worst I’ve ever experienced in my life.”
“Tell me about it. Even physicians are feeling the bite. And it’s bad for our patients, many of whom won’t come in for early treatment because they don’t have insurance to pay for it. So they wait until conditions are life-threatening. It breaks my heart.”
“Too true.” Hayes leaned back on the pillows. “Thanks for letting me out.”
Coltrain shrugged. “What are friends for?” He looked at the chart. “I’m giving you prescriptions to carry with you, and I’ve made an appointment with the physical therapist who’s in a group that practices here. You’ll need to go three times a week. Don’t argue,” he said when Hayes started to protest. “If you want to ever be able to use that arm again, you’ll do what I say.”
Hayes glared at him. After a minute he sighed. “All right.”
“It’s not so bad. You’ll learn how to exercise the arm, and they’ll do heat treatments. Those feel good.”
Hayes shrugged, wincing at the brief pain.
“Isn’t that drip working?” Coltrain put down the clipboard and fiddled with the drip. “It’s clogged.” He called a nurse and indicated the drip. She grimaced and quickly fixed it.
“Sorry, Doctor,” she said quietly. “I should have checked it earlier. It’s just, we’re so busy and there are so few of us...”
“Budget cuts,” Coltrain nodded, sighing. “Just be more careful,” he said gently.
She smiled faintly. “Yes, sir.”
She left and Coltrain shook his head. “We have our own staffing problems, as you can see. I’ll have that drip removed later and we’ll give you a patch for the pain meds.”
“Modern technology,” Carson chuckled.
“Yes. Some of the new stuff is amazing. I spend an hour on the internet every once in a while researching the new techniques they’re experimenting with. I wish I was twenty years younger, so that I could be learning this stuff at medical school. What a future physicians can look forward to now!”
“I’ve read about some of it. You’re right. It is amazing.” He was feeling suddenly sleepy.
“Get some rest,” Coltrain said. “We’ll talk again tomorrow.”
Hayes nodded. “Thanks, Copper,” he said, using Coltrain’s nickname.
“My pleasure.”
Seconds later, he was asleep.
* * *
The next morning, everything was suddenly bustling. The nurses got him bathed, if you could call a tub bath bathed, and ready to check out by eleven o’clock.
Coltrain came by with the prescriptions and releases. “Now if you have any trouble, any trouble at all, you call me. I don’t care what time it is. Any redness, inflammation, that sort of thing.”
Hayes nodded. “Red streaks running up my arm...” he teased.
Coltrain made a face. “Gangrene isn’t likely.”
“Well, you never know,” Hayes chuckled.
“I’m glad to see you feeling better.”
“Thanks for helping to get me that way.”
“That’s my job,” Coltrain replied with a smile. He glanced toward the door. “Come on in,” he said.
Minette Raynor came into the room. She was tall and willowy, with a curtain of pale gold hair that fell almost to her waist in back, neatly combed and clean. Her eyes were almost black and she had freckles just across the bridge of her nose. Hayes recalled that her mother had been redheaded. Perhaps the freckles were inherited. She had pert little breasts and long, elegant fingers. Didn’t she play piano at church? He couldn’t remember. He hadn’t been in a church in a very long time.
“I’m here to drive you home,” Minette told Hayes quietly. She didn’t smile.
Hayes nodded and looked uncomfortable.
“We’ll get him dressed and a nurse will bring him down to the front door in a wheelchair.”
“I can walk,” Hayes snapped.
“It’s hospital policy,” Coltrain shot back. “You’ll do it.”
Hayes glowered at him, but he didn’t speak.
Minette didn’t speak, either, but she was thinking about the next couple of weeks with pure anguish. She’d felt sorry for Hayes. He had nobody, really, not even cousins who would have taken care of him. There was MacCreedy, but that would be a total disaster. His sweet Mrs. Mallard, who did his housework three days a week, was out of town because her sister was ill. So Minette had offered him room and board until he was healed up.
She was having second thoughts. He looked at her with angry dark eyes that wished her anywhere but here.
“I’ll just wait outside,” Minette said after a minute, one hand on her purse.
“He won’t be long,” Coltrain promised.
She left and went down to the waiting room.
“This is a bad idea,” Hayes gritted as
