Frontier Justice - 01 (18 page)

He stopped and stood patiently in front of the table.

When she finally looked up and saw him, she scrambled to her feet, pulling off her mask and gloves.

“Leave it to a lawman to sneak up on an old woman.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Sneaking up means that you’re up to no good, and I like men who are up to no good.” She winked.

Mason wasn’t sure of what to say, so he just smiled.

“What brings you to our little slice of heaven?”

“I was taking Bowie out for a walk and saw the lights.”

“Your dog is here, too?”

Mason pointed toward the door.

“You know, when I was a little girl, we had a Great Dane that was probably about his size. Sweetest animal you could ever find. I used to dress it in my sister’s clothes.” She closed her eyes and smiled. “Better times, you know?”

He nodded. “I do.”

“It’s wonderful what you’re doing for us, Marshal. You and Father Paul have brought hope back to Boone. I swear one day they’ll erect a statue of you two. Probably right down on King Street, next to that old liquor store that used to get held up every summer.”

“The good Father might deserve a statue in a better part of town,” he said, chuckling.

“Father Paul a godsend all right.” She held out her hand. “I’m Fran by the way.”

He shook it lightly. She felt frail even beyond her years, as if her bones were constructed of paper mache.

“It’s nice to meet you, Fran.” He looked around the room. “I’m surprised to see that the hospital is even open.”

“Not to brag, but I was the one who convinced the other nurses and doctors to come back and give this a try. Of course, it’s just the ER for now.”

“You’re a regular Florence Nightingale.”

“Why thank you, Marshal. Like you and your badge, it’s what I do.”

“I get it. End of the world or not, we all have to do something.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Ava said you were a man on a mission. I can see that fire shining in your eyes.”

“A lot of people seem to think I’m here to stir up trouble.”

“What do they know? I say, bring it on.”

Mason grinned. Fran’s enthusiasm was as contagious as the lyrics to an old Billy Ray Cyrus song.

“You and the doctor were talking about me?” He envisioned Ava’s beautiful face.

Fran seemed to see right through him.

“Oh my goodness, you’ve caught the bug.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s okay,” she said, giving him a shrewd look. “Poor Ava’s got it, too. Bit that girl right on the tush.” She laughed, and then her eyes grew wide. “My goodness, I see it now. You’re here to call on her!”

He shook his head a bit too vigorously.

“No, really we just happened this way. We saw the lights—”

“Save it,” she said. “I’ve been around long enough to know the look in a man’s eye when he’s wantin’a little honey. Seen it a few times myself, if you know what I mean.” She winked at him again, making it that much more uncomfortable.

Mason had no idea what to say to a firecracker like Fran, so he just shrugged and said, “You caught me.”

She reached up and placed her hands against his cheeks, like a mother might when inspecting a child she was sending off to school.

“You are a hunk of red meat, all right.”

Mason’s eyes widened. “Thank you, I think.”

“You ever made love to an older woman?” Fran made her fingers into claws and scratched playfully at the air.

His head was spinning.

She started laughing and didn’t stop until she was clutching her sides in pain.

“I’m just funnin’you, Marshal.”

He let out a nervous chuckle.

“I know that.”

“I’m sort of known for my wacky sense of humor. No harm done, I hope?”

He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

“No harm done.”

She turned a bright shade of pink and, for once, appeared speechless.

“I’m curious,” he said, hoping to redirect their conversation, “are you able to treat people who have the virus?”

She touched her cheek on the spot where he’d pressed his lips.

“Not really. We don’t have antivirals, so there’s not much we can do for them. We give out pain medicine to ease their suffering. That’s about it.”

“Aren’t you worried about catching the virus?”

“It’s why we screen people at the door. But, the truth is that the virus has already passed. We haven’t seen a contagious case in almost a week.” She gestured to several people around the room. “Mostly, we’re treating dehydration, some heart conditions, and, of course cuts, broken bones, and gunshot wounds. Without power, we can’t take x-rays or MRIs, or even consistently monitor patients’ vital signs.”

“Still, you’re helping.”

She smiled. “Yes, we’re helping.”

Ava emerged from one of the treatment rooms and spied Mason across the room. She waved and walked toward him. She was wearing the same green scrubs as earlier in the day, and, despite being sprinkled in blood and other bodily fluids, she looked amazing.

“Marshal Raines,” she said with a big smile. “What a nice surprise.”

“I thought I’d walk the town a bit to see what it was like after dark.”

She came close and he could smell a faint trace of perfume.

“I can tell you that all sorts of things happen around here at night,” she said. “None of them good.”

“Something good happened tonight,” Fran said, blatantly nodding her head in Mason’s direction.

Ava turned to him and rolled her eyes.

“Please don’t believe a thing this crazy old coot tells you.” Even as she said the words, Ava leaned over and hugged Fran.

“I think she’s planning our wedding,” he said.

Ava’s eyes opened wide.

“Fran, what did you—”

Fran immediately sat down and started scribbling in her log.

“Get along you two. I’ve got work to do. In case you’ve forgotten, this is a hospital.”

Ava surprised Mason by reaching out and grabbing his arm.

“Come on,” she said with a sigh. “Let me show you around before she names our first child.”

As they turned to leave, Mason heard Fran murmur, “Daniella would be nice.”

Ava led him through the waiting area and into a long hallway with treatment rooms on both sides. Curtains were drawn across most of the rooms, but a few appeared to be occupied. Candles, identical to those in the waiting room, lit each of the small treatment areas. An elderly doctor with thick gray hair was leading a patient out while giving him a small bottle of pills.

Ava pulled Mason over to the doctor.

“Marshal Raines, this is the best doctor in town and my dearest friend, Chuck Darby.”

“It’s good to meet you, Marshal,” he said. “I couldn’t make it to the church earlier, but Ava speaks highly of you. We all appreciate your efforts.”

Mason extended his hand, but the doctor just smiled in return.

“Forgive me,” he said, “but we’re trying our best to prevent the spread of germs and viruses. Without water, I find myself using hand sanitizer at least twenty times a day.”

“I understand,” Mason said, making a mental note to do a better job of minimizing his own exposure.

The doctor was about to say something else when a loud commotion came from the waiting room.

“Oh, no,” Ava said, turning and hurrying back into the main room.

Mason and Dr. Darby quickly followed.

By the time Mason entered the waiting room, Ava was already standing face to face with a man who could have moonlighted as a World Wrestling Federation competitor. The barrel-chested goon had arms as big as Popeye’s archenemy, Bluto, and a tangle of curly, black chest hair poking up through the neck of his shirt to match. His forearms were awash in dark green tattoos, and his face sported a bushy black mustache.

Fran was lying on the floor behind her small entryway table, struggling to get up.

“Get out!” Ava commanded, pointing to the door.

Bluto reached forward to grab her, but stopped short when he saw Mason.

In the two seconds that it took Mason to take everything in, three other men strode through the front door. Two had handguns in their waistbands, and the third carried a large stainless steel revolver hanging at his side like a fistful of bad news.

For a moment, no one moved. Everyone just stared, looking from one face to the next. Sensing things were about to go from bad to worse, Ava began backing away from Bluto. The patients in the room instinctively moved closer to the walls in an attempt to blend in with their surroundings.

Mason walked slowly to the center of the room, struggling to keep his heartbeat in check. Calm hearts lead to calm hands, he reminded himself.

Ava stepped back to stand beside him. Bowie peered in from outside the door. His ears were pinned back, and his tail was tucked. He was a sneeze away from ruining someone’s day.

“That brute attacked my nurse,” she said, as if needing to explain what had transpired.

Mason noticed Fran holding one arm close to her body. Her carefree smile had been replaced with anguish and worry. Bluto stood confidently in the center of the room, obviously enjoying the attention. His three henchmen watched Mason, not advancing any closer but not retreating either. None of them seemed to notice the giant dog standing just a few feet behind them.

Mason turned to Bluto and parted his jacket to expose his pistol and badge. He placed his hand on the butt of his Supergrade.

“The doctor made it clear that you men are not welcome here.”

“We go where we want. We take what we want,” Bluto said in a deep voice befitting of his girth. “If she’s not nice, we may take more than just drugs.” He looked over his shoulder to make sure that his men were still there. They were.

The man holding the revolver smiled at Mason, showing off a single gold tooth.

Without ever taking his eyes off the men, Mason said, “Ava, I want you and Dr. Darby to remain very still.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because,” he said in the same even tone, “it looks as if I’m going to have to kill these men, and I don’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.”

“You really think you’re fast enough to draw on me?” the man with the revolver said, cocking the hammer back but not yet raising his pistol.

“Are you kidding me? You’ll never get that hand cannon up in time.”

The man’s smile faded.

“I’ll make this simple, Marshal,” said Bluto. “Throw down your pistol, or we’ll kill everyone in this room.” When Mason didn’t move, he said, “I mean it. We’ll butcher them like pigs in a slaughterhouse.”

Several people in the emergency room started to cry and lower themselves to the floor.

“How much do you weigh?” asked Mason.

“What?”

“Two hundred and eighty pounds, give or take?”

The man puffed his chest out.

“I was two-eighty when I was twelve years old.”

“And you’re what? Six-foot-five?”

“Are you planning on making me a suit?” Bluto laughed, looking over his shoulder to his buddies for their approval.

“No,” Mason said, shaking his head. “I was just wondering how many men it was going to take to drag your giant carcass out of here.”

Before anyone could take another breath, he drew his Supergrade and fired a single shot through the bridge of Bluto’s nose. The man’s lights went out instantly, but his body teetered for a moment as it tried to sort out the sudden lack of electrical impulses.

Mason shifted his aim and put two bullets in the chest of the man holding the revolver.

Both of the other men went for their guns. The faster of the two fumbled the draw, and the pistol fell heavily to the floor. He reached down to pick it up, but before he got it in hand, Bowie was on him. The dog knocked the man to the floor and began ripping into him with its mighty fangs.

The fourth man got his pistol in hand, but, when he brought it up to fire, he became disoriented. Mason had dropped to one knee, and by the time the man processed the change in his target, a bullet punched through his mouth and took off the top of his head.

Everything fell silent except for the terrible screams of a man being mauled by a one-hundred-and-forty-pound animal with a head the size of a cannonball.

Mason and Ava sat outside on a stone bench in the hospital’s garden. Soft rays of candlelight from the emergency room spilled out to provide just enough illumination for them to see one another. The night was filled with the sounds of insects and Bowie’s incessant licking as he worked to clean his paws.

“That was horrible,” she said, her voice shaking almost as much as her hands.

“I’m sorry.”

“As a doctor, I’ve seen things that would repulse any normal person. But I’ve never been so close to that kind of violence.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, not sure of what else to say.

“The gunfire, the screaming … and your dog.” She shook her head, trying to clear the images of the past few minutes.

Bowie looked up as if he understood that he was the topic of conversation. When Ava didn’t reach down to pet him, he went back to chewing on his paws.

“I was terribly afraid. I suppose that makes me a coward.”

“I was afraid, too. Does that make me a coward?”

She shook her head. “I can’t imagine anyone being more confident.”