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“Remember,” she said. “Take it a little easy for a few days. No heavy lifting with that arm. You don’t want to tear any of the doc’s fine stitching.”
“I’ll remember.” Quint stood up and winced a little as he slipped on his jacket.
The nurse opened the door. Quint wasn’t surprised to see an officer standing outside the treatment room. He stepped into the hallway and paused next to the man.
“Do you still need me?” he asked.
“I just got word you’re free to go. At least, for now,” the officer replied, somewhat grudgingly.
“What about Boone?”
There was a single negative movement of the man’s head. “He never made it to the operating room.” He paused, his eyes narrowing on Quint with sharpened interest. “A curious thing, though, he had a pattern of small puncture wounds along the back of one shoulder that looked to be recent. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about them, would you?”
“Was it the kind of pattern a shotgun might leave?” Quint asked with a thoughtful look.
The officer stared, his eyes widening at the possibility. “It might.”
“The night my hay caught fire, I saw someone running away. I fired off a shot. At the time I thought he was too far away. Maybe he wasn’t,” Quint suggested.
“You don’t really think Boone Rutledge set fire to it, do you?” The officer looked at him askance.
“I don’t imagine we’ll ever know for sure,” Quint admitted, although privately he had his own opinion. “Will you be giving me a ride back to the ranch?”
“No. The Garners are out in the lobby waiting for you.” He gestured toward the exit sign. “Like I said, you’re free to go. Just don’t leave the area in case anything comes up that we need to talk to you about again.”
“I won’t be going anywhere,” Quint told him.
“Good,” the officer said and moved off, heading in the opposite direction of the emergency room exit.
Quint watched him a moment, then turned to leave just as a door in a side hall opened and Max Rutledge rolled out in his wheelchair. It stopped abruptly when Max caught sight of Quint.
After an instant’s hesitation, Quint approached him. He couldn’t help noticing that Max looked older and colder, but the fire hadn’t left his dark eyes.
“I’m sorry about your son, Max,” Quint told him. “He gave me no choice.”
“He was worthless and a liar,” Max stated in a hard, flat voice. “But he was my son.”
“I know,” Quint said calmly. “You paid a high price for your attempt to grab the Cee Bar. Too high.”
“I imagine you’re wondering now if I intend to avenge his death,?
? Max stated.
“I think you’re smarter than that, Max.” With a respectful nod, Quint turned and walked back to the main hall and the exit door to the ER’s waiting room.
He pushed through the door and was instantly greeted by the cranky cries of a baby refusing to be comforted by his mother. There was a stir of movement on his right as Dallas sprang out of a chair and took a quick step toward him, then checked her headlong rush for something slower. Empty showed no such hesitation, moving quickly to Quint’s side.
“I thought you were never coming out of there,” he declared. “I never knew it could take so long to sew up a cut. To be honest, I’d just about decided that they’d arrested you and whisked you out some other door.”
“I’m free to go, though I imagine there’ll be an inquest of some sort.” The response was directed to Empty, but it was Dallas who had his attention.
There was a new lividness to the bruise on her cheek and the marks on her neck. Boone had done that to her, and Quint felt some of that old rage. He sensed it must have shown in his expression when he saw that hers took on a look of quick reserve and uncertainty. It reminded him of all the things that had been left unsaid.
“They had a doctor examine you, didn’t they?” Quint asked, needing to rid himself of that concern.
“Yes.” She managed a short nod. Then a tension crept into her expression. “Quint, this is all my fault—with Boone, I mean. If I hadn’t—”
He wouldn’t let her finish. “None of us can be sure of that. One way or another it took a lot of courage to do what you did. I’m sorry I didn’t see it right away. In the long run, it doesn’t really matter why you went along with Boone; it only matters why you stopped.”
