Chapter 21
Clawson Amleth Clawson stared at the tiled floor of the emergency room, a blanket about him, his mind elsewhere. His thoughts kept churning over what had happened: Gwendy's bizarre actions, strange words, and--more than all the rest--the joyful smile on her face as she'd fallen backwards. He had stared a full twenty seconds in dismay and shock at the body crumpled in the water, the sickening crack of her neck breaking still echoing in his ears, before he could get himself to move. He had screamed and shouted while trying to get down the embankment himself. That had been his own trial, as he had to get low enough to land in the water without hurting himself, but fast enough to keep her from drowning. Her limbs had moved with more than the current, as if they were trying to keep Gwen's entire body alive, but every moment that passed would take her a little farther away. By the time he'd reached her, he was confident she'd be dead. Knowing that moving a head after a neck injury was a bad idea, but letting her drown in the muddy creek seemed a worse one, he'd splashed his way toward her, shivering as the icy water splashed over him, soaking his jeans and filling his shoes. The water was only about shin deep, but that would be more than enough to kill her, he had decided. His shouts had brought help, who saw him sitting in the creek, his body acting as a levee of sorts, with Gwendy's head in his lap, just above the waterline. It had taken twenty minutes to get to her. They weren't sure what to expect now, though one doctor had stopped by the curtained area of the ER where he was sitting, his soggy clothes exchanged for a hospital gown, a thin blanket, and a cup of crappy coffee (he remembered his brother's admonition to never drink Mormon-made coffee; they had no idea what they were doing), and thanked him for his efforts. "Without you there," the doctor had said, her hands gently holding onto the stethoscope, as if it were a towel she'd thrown about her neck, "she would've been dead. Completely dead." "Now?" he had asked, though without much hope. "Well," said the doctor, her eyes growing distant. "Well, we'll see, won't we?" Clawson sniffed and shook his head. He could hardly believe what had happened to him the past few days. If he were a superstitious guy, the quantity of missteps and accidents they'd suffered at Elsinore Ranch would be enough to make him think that the land was cursed. Paul, dead; Gwen, insane and at death's door; Jen, recovered and improving, but it had been a close call; Ryan and George, unwilling to return calls or texts; Lenny, saying that he was on his way but without an ETA; and, of course, Dane, the source of all of Clawson's woes, was out of his coma and leaving the hospital the next afternoon--just a few hours after Jenny was scheduled to be released. Thinking of Dane Jr. inevitably led him to think of Dane Sr., which was not something that he really wanted to do. He'd known that there were problems he'd have to deal with when he pulled that trigger; feeling guilty wasn't one of them. Dane Sr. would never have agreed to parcel off the land to Northern Way Ranch, and he certainly wouldn't have given Clawson a fair share of the profit, even though it had been Clawson's doing from the get-go. And Jenny, well…she knew that her husband was probably making a mistake. She didn't know what Clawson had done, of course--who would tell his future wife that it was he who killed her previous husband?--but she certainly had her reasons for being reluctant to marry. Senior's death had thrown so much of the ranch into chaos that it was a wonder that Clawson had managed to fix as much as he had. None of that changed the fact that part of him couldn't really rationalize what he'd done. If he were a religious man, he would have called it a fit of conscience. The thought to pray, to offer up some sort of apologetic supplication slipped into his mind, but he rejected it outright. Not only was he an atheist, but even if he did believe in a god, what god would condone fratricide? Or bribery, as he'd done to Paul to keep the murder from looking suspicious? Or…incest? No, it wasn't that far. He and Jenny weren't actually related. Only in-laws, only through marriage. That, at least, was not something he had to worry about. But why worry at all? Because of the gun, that was why. Dane had acted so strangely in the house while he and Paul had watched through the hidden camera. He wasn't behaving the way a normal, mourning kid would. More than once, Clawson had spotted Dane staring at him with a look of suspicion and outright hostility. Hadn't he given Paul a runaround at the house when the sheriff had gone to talk to him? That was so out of character for his nephew that even Jenny had mentioned that she was worried about her son. And how had she ended up in the accident, anyway? Clawson had thought that she'd gone to town for some groceries, but instead he'd arrived where Ryan and George had told him to go, in the opposite direction--heading into the mountains. He sipped the coffee, then grimaced. In that, at least, Senior had been right: This stuff was awful. Groaning, he stood up, his bare feet rebelling against the cold tile floor. Clawson tugged the blanket more tightly about him, trying hard not to think about how many times someone else's blood had sprayed on the floor here. The buzz of the ER surrounded him, undiminished by the cloth curtains. He tugged free his phone from the pocket of his pants, but it wouldn't turn on. Probably dead for good, after being in the creek for as long as he had been. "Sir! You can't go back there!" The admittance nurse sounded close, shrill, and upset. Clawson frowned as the sound of curtains being thrown back came closer and closer to him. At last, the curtain dividing him from the rest of the emergency room clattered open and, much to his surprise, Lenny Madsen stood there, his face red and huffing, his body taut with a fury that Clawson could empathize with. Behind him was the little admittance nurse, who only came up to about the middle of Lenny's bicep, and was trying to tug on him. "You can't be back here, sir! I'll call security!" Clawson held up a hand. "Please, miss. He's a friend. I can have a visitor, can't I?" She looked from Lenny to Clawson, concern rife on her face. "He needs to sign in." "I'll send him back in just a moment. Please." He gestured at the curtains. "A little privacy?" The nurse didn't look happy to concede, but in the end, she did, leaving the two men alone. "You made it," said Clawson, unsure of what else to say. "You're damn right I did," said Lenny, his voice a mixture of anger, sadness, and confusion. Clawson felt like that made a lot of sense, all things considered. "My dad is dead." "Did you hear--" "About Gwen? Yeah, that too. What'd you do, Clawson? Push her?" Clawson bristled at that. "Oh, please. Why would I have jumped into the creek with her if I'd been the one to push her?" Lenny wiped a hand across the scraggly beard on his face. His dark eyes glared from beneath a beetled brow. "You saw it happen." Clawson nodded at the non-question question. "I did." "Tell me." Clawson did, making sure that Lenny got the understanding that it was no one's fault, really--Gwen was out of her mind and he had not been expecting the blow to the side of the head. It was, by all counts, an accident. Lenny sat down on the gurney-bed, the metal barriers clattering. "Why?" he asked, tears glistening in his eyes, the anger from earlier bled away. "Why did this happen?" Clawson shook his head and sat next to the grieving man. "I couldn't say. The paramedics mentioned that she had started screaming when she saw…well…" "Dad's body?" "Yeah." "And then, what, they just left her to herself?" Clawson sighed. "She was taken home, and some people came to check on her periodically. No one was around--you were still in training in the mountains, away from our phone calls. We had even had some people go up and try to find you…" "We were doing a rescue simulation," he said, his voice hollow. "We weren't supposed to be easy to find." "The, uh, funeral was nice." He cleared his throat. "Short." Lenny closed his eyes. "And Gwen?" "I don't--" Before he could finish his comment, the doctor from earlier poked her head in. "Mr. Amleth? I thought--oh, I'm sorry. Who's this?" Clawson gestured at Lenny. "This is Gwen's brother, Lenny. He just arrived back in town." "Oh. Well, I guess I should tell you, then…I'm really sorry. There's nothing that we can do. We thought that we could maybe stabilize her enough to get her on the helicopter, but there was a pretty bad accident in Gunnison and the chopper won't be back for another hour or so." The doctor looked genuinely distressed. "I'm afraid she won't last that long." She looked from one man to the other. "Lenny, I can take you back, if you want." "Clawson?" asked Lenny, his voice ragged. "Would you mind coming with?" "Not at all, son. Not at all." Clawson followed along, feeling strangely out of place in his hospital clothes, despite the fact that he was in a hospital. He caught glimpses of Lenny's face as they walked, tears shimmering in the bottom of his eyes. They stopped at the appropriate room--it wasn't far from the emergency room, but then again, the hospital wasn't particularly large--and the doctor let them in. "Here you go," she said softly. "Thank you, Doctor…" "Priest. Doctor Priest." Lenny bobbed his head. "Thank you, Doctor Priest." "Of course. We'll be outside if you need anything." The room was silent except for the mechanical breathing and the buzz of overhead lights. Lenny sniffled. Clawson swallowed back a knot of grief. Losing Paul was difficult--the man was Clawson's best friend, and he owed the sheriff a great deal. Dane getting injured was fine with him…but Gwen? What had she done to deserve this sort of trauma? That she would lose her life in such a stupid way…it was too unfair. She was innocent of any real wrong doing. Why should she have to suffer? But there were no answers to his silent questions. Lenny choked a bit, his large shoulders bouncing in time with his sobs. "Oh, God. Why? Why?" He took a step toward his sister, but his knees buckled. Clawson reached out to steady him. "Why, Clawson? What did she do?" Clawson couldn't keep eye-contact with the agony in Lenny's face, so he looked away, shaking his head. The sound of Gwen stirring on the bed was enough to draw their attention to her. They gathered closer. "Gwendy?" asked Lenny, hope flaring in his voice. "It's me…Lenny. I'm back. Hey." His voice was surprisingly tender, considering the gruffness of his typical demeanor and his massive stature. "Hey, girl. I'm here." A breathing tube filled her mouth, a brace held her neck in place. An array of wires snaked about the bed and into her body, which looked pale and trembling at this chance encounter of siblings. Her eyelids fluttered open. Around the respirator, she tried to say something. "Don't. Don't do that. Don't talk. We'll be…" Lenny's voice tripped, but he mastered himself eventually. "I'm here. That's what matters." Dried lips worked hard around the respirator. "Don't talk…" Lenny tried again, but it was clear that Gwen was trying to do something, to say something. It took a moment--several minutes, in fact--before it was clear: "Good…bye…" Lenny's tears coursed down his cheeks. Clawson wiped away his own with the corner of his blanket. Gwen's head moved about sporadically, twitching a bit as if something bothered her--a fly buzzing around her head, or some other superficial thing--and then lay still. The alarms on the machines went off, and Doctor Priest walked in a moment later. Clawson hardly knew what to do, though Lenny's sudden need for a hug provided some purpose, if only for a while. Eventually, however, there was nothing left to do, and the two men retired into a spare room that Doctor Priest gave them. "I want…I want to do something about this, you know? Like, I can't just let that be it. I can't let her death just be this…" Lenny's grief and rage choked off his words. At last, he said, "Dane." "Excuse me?" "It's Dane's fault. He's the one who ran over my dad--killed my dad." Clawson swallowed at that. The workings of revenge…did Dane know the truth? Did he know, not merely suspect? Was that part of it? If Clawson had been with Paul and walking back to the Lodge to get some gas, Clawson might have been the one who was hit by Dane's car. Had…had the accident been, at least, in part, on purpose? Worry prickled over him. The last thing he wanted was more blood on his hands, but if Dane harbored the same levels of vengeance that Lenny was showing, then it probably wouldn't be safe for him, Clawson, to leave Dane unchecked. "You're right," said Clawson, startling himself and Lenny at the same time. "You're absolutely right. It is Dane's fault." "I'm gonna bash his head in, then choke him with his own tongue," said Lenny standing up with such abruptness that Clawson flinched. "Wait! Wait, hold on." "Why?" Clawson put a consoling hand on Lenny's shoulder, only to have it forcefully shrugged off. "Because, Lenny, going out and punching my wife's son to death will get you in jail. That doesn't help anyone." "It helps me. It makes me feel better." "I don't disagree. But, look: We can figure out something better, you know? We can plan something that will make everyone who sees it believe it's an accident--even his own mother, if you can believe it." Lenny stared at Clawson with incredulity and a fair dash of suspicion. "Why would you want to help me?" "Dane is a menace to the family, Lenny. He's been nothing but trouble since I arrived. And I think that he's mentally deranged, if I'm being honest. I don't need this kind of stress in my life, if you follow me." "Kind of. What are you thinking?" Clawson worked his most charming smile onto his face. "A chance at retribution. So what do you say, Mr. Madsen? Would you like to help me out?" Lenny stared at Clawson's extended hand. After a long moment, he nodded, clasping Clawson's hand. "Just tell me what we're going to do." |