Fading Thunder Page 5

  Uncle Colt took the seat. “I’ll stay here in case he wakes.”

  I nodded and reluctantly followed Aunt Jenny out.

  She softly closed the door behind us. “I’m sorry to take you away from your baby, but I need to tell you something.”

  “What?” I searched her face, bracing for more bad news.

  She tightened her lips. “Michael’s home.”

  Chapter 8—The Return

  It took a moment for the words to penetrate. “Michael’s back?” The moment I had waited for, for so long. My hands trembled as I grabbed Aunt Jenny’s arms. “Where is he?”

  She rubbed my upper arm, as if trying to soothe her words. “He was here, but he left.”

  “Did he say where he was going?” I was torn between finding my husband and staying with my baby.

  She grimaced, and pain flashed in her eyes. “He didn’t. He had his say and left.”

  “You mean he said something —”

  She nodded her head. “He lit into Laurie. Colt stood all he could before he told Michael he was out of line.” The planes of her face tightened. “I’m sorry. Not much of a homecoming for Michael.”

  I brushed over her concerns. “He’ll get over it,” I said. “Did you tell him I was on my way?”

  “Yes.”

  Why hadn’t he waited? Why wasn’t he here with his child now? “Where’s Laurie?” My heart broke for her, knowing she would blame herself for what had happened, and then Michael — no telling what he had said.

  Aunt Jenny pushed back a strand of hair that had broken free from her bun. “She took Joe Joe home. Walter is with her.”

  “Good.” I struggled for a moment, wanting to rush out, to go home and see if Michael was there. But I couldn’t ... not yet. Michael should have waited. As difficult as it was, I pushed the thought of my husband away for the moment.

  “What did the doctor say about J.C.?”

  She shrugged again. “It’s a wait and see. James Colton may regain full function, partial function, or it’s possible he’ll lose his thumb.”

  My heart constricted. “My poor little boy.”

  “I’m praying; have been praying since this happened.” Tears swam in her eyes.

  I threw my arms around her and spoke in her ear. “I know you did all you could, and Laurie too.” I pulled back to look into her face. “You can go home. I’ll stay.”

  “Child, you look worn to a frazzle.” Her unfocused eyes looked away. “And you might want to look for Michael?” She spoke softly, tentatively.

  I shook my head. “I can’t leave J.C. Not until I know he’s okay.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I understand.” She sighed heavily. “Colt and I will go. We’ll be back this evening; let you go home so you can get some rest.”

  “If you could call and check on Zeke? And Uncle Howard?” I could have hunted down a phone and called myself, but I didn’t want to leave J.C.

  “Of course! I should have already thought of that, It’s just so much has been going on.”

  I gave her Marla’s number and the numbers to both hospitals. She and Uncle Colt left, and I went into the room to sit with my son.

  The nurse came in and checked J.C.’s vital signs. He slept through it all.

  “How is he?” I asked.

  “Your little boy is doing fine. The doctor gave him a mild sedative. He’ll probably sleep for a while longer.”

  “Thank you.”

  She left, and I leaned back in the chair, exhausted. I closed my eyes, concentrating on relaxing, knowing I would need my strength for what lay ahead. I don’t know if I dozed ... I did not hear the door open, only heard the deep breathing. I knew immediately, before my eyes opened.

  It was Michael, and he crossed the room to me. He took my hand in his. I hadn’t cried, not until now. Tears rolled silently down my cheeks as I looked up at him.

  “Don’t, Jay. Please.” His voice was a murmur. He pulled me to my feet, and I threw my arms around him.

  We stayed that way for a long time, and he kissed my tears away. After a few minutes, he pulled away. “Why don’t we sit down?”

  Another chair was in the corner, and he brought it over to mine. He took my hand, not speaking, only looking at me. There was so much to say, so many questions to ask, but I could only drink hungrily of his sight. He was slimmer than the last time I had seen him, and more muscular. He wore a short-sleeved tan shirt, blue jeans, and work boots. The planes of his face were sharper and his eyes, though warm as ever, were bloodshot and had developed crow’s feet. He hadn’t shaved in a day or two, and I ran my free hand over the stubble.

  He scooted closer and put his arm around my shoulders. I leaned into him, laying my head on his chest. He smoothed my hair and asked about Zeke. I told him what I knew and also told him about Uncle Howard. We fell silent again while he held me close. It was some minutes before he stirred.

  “I said some things to your cousin.” He pulled away, his back rigid.

  “What did you say?”

  He ducked his head. “I don’t remember. Not exactly. I yelled, and Laurie cried.”

  “It’s understandable. You were upset. But accidents happen in a split second. You shouldn’t have blamed her. She must feel terrible.”

  “She should.” A muscle in his jaw twitched, and his gaze fell to his hands clasped between his knees.

  “Michael.”

  He twisted his head and regarded me through his dark, thick lashes but didn’t speak.

  “These things happen. Two active little boys ... it’s difficult, if not impossible, to keep them from getting hurt.”

  He nodded and again lowered his eyes before he pushed his chair back and stood. He leaned over and kissed my forehead, and then he moved away.

  I stood also. “Where are you going?”

  “I’ve got to get away for a little while. I’ll be at home — if your mother isn’t there.”

  “She’s at Aunt Jenny’s, the last I heard. But Michael, you just got here. Please wait,” I protested, but he had slipped out of the door and was gone.

  James Colton awoke and blinked at me. “Momma ...”

  I was immediately at his side, smoothing back his hair, asking how he felt.

  My son looked at me, his eyes wide. “Joe Joe hurt me.”

  “It’ll be all better soon. Does it hurt now?”

  He nodded his head. “Momma, I want Zeke.”

  “Zeke’s not here. He had to go to the hospital at Fort Benning —” But he didn’t have to, did he? It would have been better if I had stayed here, brought Zeke to this hospital. Then none of this would have happened, and I would have been here when Michael arrived. But what would have happened when Zeke’s heart stopped beating? Would they have been able to restart it?

  J.C. sat up in the bed. “I want down, Momma.” He held up his arms.

  I shook my head. “You can’t get up until we ask the nurse.”

  There was a buzzer next to the crib, and I pushed it. The nurse came in and smiled when she saw James Colton. “Feeling better?”

  “He wants to get up. He probably has to use the bathroom.”

  “We brought in a potty chair this morning.”

  It had been slid under the bed, and she retrieved it. She lowered the rails of the crib and helped him down, but he refused to use the potty until she left

  When he finished, instead of putting him back in the crib, I took him over to my chair and lifted him to my lap. “I missed you so much.” His hand was completely bandaged, and I couldn’t tell how badly he had been hurt.

  The nurse came back in to check on us and told me to be careful not to hurt his hand. I nodded, and she went back out. It wasn’t long before Laurie, Aunt Jenny, and Uncle Colt were back. William had stayed at home with Joe Joe.

  Laurie started to apologize, but I stopped her. “There’s no need. Accidents happen.”

  “Mike was so mad. I’ve never seen anyone so angry, except Poppa that one time.” She threw a sidew
ays glance to her daddy, and I grinned, knowing exactly what she was talking about. Uncle Colt had had a fit when she’d eloped with Walter.

  “I’m sorry Michael was so angry,” I said.

  Uncle Colt snorted. “It’s Michael who should apologize.”

  “Colt, he just got back yesterday. We don’t know what he’s been through,” Aunt Jenny said soothingly.

  Uncle Colt folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t care what he’s been through. Ain’t no one cussing my daughter.”

  “It’s okay, Daddy. He was upset.”

  “What did he say?” I asked. “He didn’t remember.”

  “He was here?” Laurie asked.

  “Yes. He left, said he was going home.”

  Uncle Colt made a sound halfway between a laugh and a snort. “I’m not repeating what he said.”

  I set J.C. on his feet. “Maybe I need to go check on him.” What they were saying had me worried.

  Aunt Jenny nodded. “Your momma is still at our house. I think it might be best if she stays a few more days.”

  “I hate to ask ...”

  Uncle Colt straightened. “You’ve gone through a lot, and Michael’s home now. We can put up with Molly for a few days.”

  James Colton had gone to Laurie. “Where Joe Joe?”

  “He’s at home with his daddy,” Laurie said. She placed a hand on J.C.’s head. “We’ll watch him like a hawk, Jay. Don’t worry.”

  I was still torn, but knew I had to check on Michael. It had been so long since I had seen him, and he was my husband.

  “I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”

  “Go on and see about Michael,” Aunt Jenny urged. “I’ll stay tonight. Maybe they’ll release James Colton tomorrow.”

  “I hope so.” He was still in Laurie’s arms, and I gave him a kiss. “Love you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Bye, Momma.” He loved Laurie. She was like a second mother to him.

  “Bye, sweetie.” I gave him and Laurie hugs and hurried out.

  When I drove into our yard, there was no other car. We only had the truck. How had Michael made it to the hospital?

  There was no sign anyone was home.

  When I got out and slammed the truck door, Coby did not run to meet me as he usually did. Instead, a dog I didn’t recognize came barreling around the end of the house, barking to wake the dead. I had dealt with my share of aggressive dogs and stopped in my tracks, not looking at him, knowing he would see it as a challenge. The German shepherd came to a snarling halt and sniffed around my legs, deep growls emanating from his chest. His coat was rough, with partially bald areas. A scar ran the full length of the right side of his muzzle, crossing over near his left eye. One ear looked as if it had been chewed away by a rat.

  I heard the door of the house open and looked up to see Michael.

  “Argos!” One whistle and the dog went to him, growls still rumbling.

  I climbed up the steps, and Michael opened the door, nodding for me to go in.

  “Thought I heard someone. You need to be careful until Argos gets to know you.”

  “Argos? He’s your dog?”

  “I brought him with me. He’s the one I told you about, in my letters.”

  “Where’s Coby?” I asked.

  I went into the sitting room, beyond exhausted. Michael followed me, and I turned to wrap my arms around him. He held me close.

  “I’ve missed you so,” I said, not ever wanting to let go. I breathed deeply, allowing his strength to comfort me.

  “I haven’t seen Coby since I got here,” he said, still holding me.

  For a moment, I had forgotten I had asked about Coby. I pulled away a bit, to peer into his face. “You don’t think your dog has hurt him?”

  “Coby can take care of himself.”

  “Maybe Argos needs to be chained up until —”

  “No. I’m not chaining him. It will only make him more aggressive. He’s free to come and go as he pleases.”

  I traced the line of Michael’s jaw, sharper, with no sign of softness. “Do you think he might hurt J.C.? I mean, maybe accidentally?”

  “Argos won’t hurt a child.”

  “How can you know that? Obviously, he’s a war dog, trained to attack.”

  “Trained to attack on orders. I’m not chaining him.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t want to argue. We could sort it all out later.

  “How’s our son?” he asked, his eyes reflecting his concern.

  “Okay.” Our son. All the stress of the last few days welled up in me. Michael’s homecoming had been spoiled. Tears began to fall. I sobbed, all the worry from the past few days rolling down my face, wetting his shoulder.

  “Jay ... please don’t. I can’t bear it.”

  And my face was cradled in his hands as he kissed away my tears.

  Chapter 9—Argos

  Later, I lay in his arms. It wasn’t dark outside, but the sun was setting. I stirred, but Michael didn’t release me.

  I pushed on his arm. “I need to find Coby.”

  He rolled over as I slid out of bed. His eyes were mere slits as he watched me pull on a shirt and a pair of overalls. I expected him to get up and help or at least offer. But he gave no indication he had heard my words. Perhaps he was just tired. If he was right, I had no need to fear Argos.

  His dog was on the back porch and raised his hackles but didn’t growl as I went past. I whistled and called, but Coby didn’t come. I looked around the outside of the house and checked under the wooden steps. He was nowhere to be found. I continued to the barn and sensed rather than saw Argos follow me.

  I pointed back to the house. “Go. Get!”

  He stopped in his tracks, his ears back, a ridge of hair rising between his shoulder blades and along his spine. I continued into the barn, still calling for Coby. I found him in a corner of a stall and closed the gate before Argos could follow. Coby’s ears were up; he flapped his tail but did not rise to his feet.

  I knelt to examine him. He was fine except for a superficial tear on his right foreleg. It looked as if he had been bitten, although I couldn’t be sure.

  I sat down beside him on the straw, and he laid his head in my lap. I scratched his ears and talked to him softly. Argos had his nose between the slats of the stall, snuffling loudly. I got to my feet and went to the spot.

  “Get out of here! Go on!” I thumped the black nose, and he backed away, growling deeply.

  I turned to Coby. “What are we supposed to do now? You can’t stay in here forever.” Coby wagged his tail as if he understood.

  “But I guess you can stay here until I can persuade Michael to pen Argos.” I went to the gate of the stall and cracked it, planning to squeeze out. Argos had backed away to what I thought was a safe distance. However, as the gate swung open, Argos leapt forward with incredible speed, knocking it from my grip. He lunged at Coby’s throat. I screamed and ran to them, grabbing Argos’s collar.

  “Stop it! Heel, Argos! Down!” I tried every command I could think of, pulling against him with all my strength.

  He twisted and turned until my shoulder felt as if it was being jerked from its socket. I had to let go. Coby got to his feet and growled, backing slowly away. Argos lunged again. Coby met him but was no match for Argos’s fury. He had my dog down, and I screamed again. Without conscious thought, I stuck my hand into the mêlée, grabbing for his collar.

  Argos’s teeth sank into my forearm. Reflexively, I jerked away from the pain and my flesh tore. Argos turned his attention back to Coby and clamped onto his front leg. Ignoring my pain, I moved forward again to stop him.

  “What are you doing?” It was Michael. I didn’t know if his words were aimed at me or the dogs.

  “Stop!” Michael commanded. Argos released Coby and went to sit at Michael’s feet.

  Coby shook himself, and I quickly checked for any severe wounds.

  “You’d better check yourself,” Michael said.

  I looked at my a
rm that was bleeding profusely.

  “You need to see a doctor.” His voice was calm.

  “You think?” I twisted my face into a sneer, angry that Michael had not come with me; angry that his dog had attacked Coby; angry that his dog had bitten me.

  He held out a hand. After a moment, I gripped it and got to my feet. I released him to clasp my hand over the wound, trying to stanch the flow of blood. “I need a rag or something.”

  He stripped off his T-shirt and handed it to me. I wrapped my arm, gritting my teeth. I was angrier than I had ever been at him.

  “I’ll pull the truck around,” he said and was gone, leaving me with Coby and Argos.

  Argos still bared his teeth but was no longer growling. I heard the truck come to a stop, but I didn’t leave. The T-shirt was already red with blood.

  After a few seconds, Michael came to the entrance of the barn. “Come on, Jay. You’re going to bleed to death.”

  “I’m not leaving Coby,” I said through clenched teeth.

  Michael moved closer into the barn. “Come on, Jay,” he said again, his voice gruff.

  “I am not leaving without Coby,” I repeated.

  He sighed heavily and moved into the stall, scooping up Coby. He carried him to the truck and put him in the back. I followed and climbed into the cab without assistance. The bleeding did not appear to be slowing.

  Michael got in and cranked up. “That was a crazy thing to do.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “You, of all people, should know not to come between fighting dogs.”

  “He was going to kill Coby.”

  Michael snorted. “He would not have killed him. Dogs have to fight it out — find out who’s top dog.”

  I stared out the window, refusing to say another word. I wasn’t arguing with him right now, but Argos had to go.

  The doctor’s office was closed, so Michael drove straight to Dr. Burch’s house. We left Coby in the back of the truck. Dr. Burch ushered us into a small office built to the side.

  He dosed my arm liberally with antiseptic and then began to sew it up. The bleeding had finally slowed to a trickle.

  After he had sewn my arm back together as well as he could, he wrapped it with bandages. “This may sound strange, but when your arm was ripped open, the blood flow washed out the bacteria. Too many times I’ve seen the puncture wounds heal over, leaving the bacteria beneath. It allows the germs to multiply and form an abscess. Very difficult to treat.”