A Longer Fall (Gunnie Rose #2)(69)

Leaving this town, leaving Dixie, would be great. But I would also be leaving Eli. I sighed real heavy.

“What’s the matter?” he asked me.

At the edge of my vision, I caught a movement, and I was shoving Eli down as I heard the shot. I stood over him, my Colt in my hand, firing.

Then nothing. Nothing moved. I crouched over Eli in the rain, which had turned to a light mist. I ran my free hand over him without glancing down. “You okay?” I said. I was keeping watch.

But he didn’t answer.

I glanced down to see blood soaking his shirt and vest.

I needed help. Fast. “I got a man down!” I yelled, hoping someone could hear me. “I need a doctor!”

“Do you need help?” a voice answered from maybe thirty feet away. Coming from the trees.

“Yes,” I called back, but I felt this wasn’t someone who wanted to help at all. “Eli’s been hit,” I added, hoping the voice would answer, so I could get a better fix on it.

Mr. Mercer from the hotel rounded a car maybe ten feet away, his arm already up with a gun in it. I fired before he could. And I fired more accurately.

His bullet missed me by a foot.

Mine did not miss him.

I went to him to be sure. His eyes were open and filled with hate.

“I guess you have magic blood too,” I said. “You can resist Moses’s message of love the same way Eli and I can. No wonder you hate us so much.”

I turned and went back to Eli. I found I didn’t care if Mercer was dead or not, as long as he was down. It was hard and took longer than I wanted, but I managed to get Eli into the back seat of the stolen car—the owner wasn’t going to need it again—and drove to Ballard Memorial Hospital. I followed the signs to the emergency entrance. I honked the horn until the double doors opened. Two men in orderly white came out, but they weren’t moving fast enough to suit me.

“Move faster than that, or die,” I said, showing them a Colt.

“No call for that,” said the larger one. “We’ll hurry.”

And they did, skillfully getting Eli out of the back of the car and onto a stretcher, with a little help from me.

“You need to move this car while we take him in,” the smaller orderly said. “We’re gonna take care of him now.”

I did move the car into a parking space. Ran into the hospital. Noticed it had quit raining. Got stopped by a nurse behind a desk, who had paperwork.

There hadn’t been any new patients for an hour, since Moses had sung, the admissions nurse told me. “You’re lucky—the doctors have just finished operating and stitching and bandaging. We’ve been busy all afternoon.”

“If I was lucky, Eli wouldn’t have been shot,” I said, and she began filling out forms real quickly.

The two orderlies had carried Eli into an examination cubicle—I could just see the end of the table from where I stood—and a doctor (name tag read GIMBALL) and a nurse (ALLEN) were already on either side of Eli, whose eyes were closed. The nurse began cutting off Eli’s shirt, while the doctor listened to his chest, asked Eli questions he didn’t answer, and began to examine the bullet hole.

The canvas curtains were drawn around the booth beside Eli’s. From the sounds, a woman was having a baby.

“Are you the wife?” Nurse Allen called. She was stocky and middle-aged. She looked tired. I signed the last piece of paper and ran over.

“I am,” I said, and gasped like someone had stuck me with a needle. I landed back in my body from wherever I’d been.

“You all right?” Nurse Allen’s heavy face was creased with concern.

“Yes, ma’am. Just work on him! Please!”

“We’ll take care of your husband. Please take a chair outside.”

I didn’t want to leave Eli, but there was no room in the cubicle, even I could see that. I collapsed into a wooden chair against a wall opposite the canvas she pulled across. I could hear the doctor talking to the nurse, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying.

From my pocket I pulled the healing spell Eli had been trying to teach me. I began chanting the words just under my breath. The spell flowed out, all the words making sense to me. I kept it up, over and over, while I heard Dr. Gimball give orders to Nurse Allen. After twenty times, I had to stop for a minute.

So this time, I heard what they said.

“Bullet’s still in there. Where’s Dr. Fielder when you need him? Have you seen him, Nurse Allen?” Dr. Gimball was grouchy and tired.

There was a heavy little pause.

“I’m sorry to spread bad news, Dr. Gimball. Dr. Fielder went home to check on his wife, and someone had thrown a brick through their window. It hit Millie. She’s not conscious. Nurse Mayhew lives down the street, and she ran over when she heard him yell. He’s not going to leave her until he knows she’s going to recover.”

“Poor fellow.” Dr. Gimball seemed more curious than grieved.

“You taking the surgery?” Nurse Allen asked, after a respectful pause.

“I have to. I guess I have one more left in me.”

This did not inspire confidence. I doubled down on my chanting. I had my hands together, just in case. When Nurse Allen stepped from behind the curtain, she said with approval, “That’s the way to ask for help.”