Dr. Bruce Purcell of Barstow was a desert rat in his own right. He drove a battered Jeep station wagon, wore a sweat-stained stockman’s Stetson, and called his patient a dried-up old son of a bitch.
Rupert Kelton laughed at the comment, although it was a feeble kind of laugh. The station owner had come around a few minutes before the doc had arrived. He was shaky, but his head was clear and he didn’t seem ready to pack it in yet.
Kelton insisted on shaking my hand, and we had a hard time keeping him down on the pillow while doing it. “I surely appreciate it, son,” he said gravely, “and I’m sorry, causin’ you all this trouble.”
“Forget it,” I replied. Beat up or not, the old gent had a grip. “No big deal.”
“The question is, what happened to you?” the doctor demanded, rigging a blood-pressure cuff around Kelton’s other arm. “Any chest pain? Anything go numb or paralyzed? Any sparks of light in front of your eyes?”
“Ah, hell, Bruce. Nothin’ like that.” Kelton sounded disgusted. “I don’t know what happened out on that road... Damn me, I think I just fell asleep.”
He glanced toward his wife sitting stiffly in the cabin’s one straight-backed chair. “I’m sorry, Treasure. I guess you’re right. I am getting old.”
She didn’t make an attempt to go to him. “I told you, Rupe. This damn station is killing you!”
He shrugged and winced. “A man’s got to die someplace. You might as well do it somewhere you know.”
The doc pumped at the bulb of the blood-pressure cuff and scowled at the results on the dial. “I thought you had a buyer for the place?”
“Oh, I been thinkin’ about it. I was goin’ in to Barstow to talk to the fella again.” The old man closed his eyes. “I don’t think it’s gonna work out. He’s not offering enough to keep me, Sue, and the boy going for long. At least here we can stay alive.”
“No we can’t, Rupe!” For the first time there was real feeling in Sue Kelton’s voice and she sat forward in the chair. “Can’t you see that? Now the truck’s wrecked on top of everything else.”
“Don’t take on, Treasure,” the old man murmured back, not opening his eyes. “We’ll make out.”
The doctor unstrapped the cuff from his patient’s arm. “From what I can see, it’s cuts, bruises, and a mild concussion. Nothing seems broken, and I can’t see any indication of internal injuries yet. I don’t suppose I could convince you to go to the hospital for a couple of days for observation?”
Kelton still didn’t open his eyes. “Not likely.”
“On your own head be it, then. All I can say is to stay in bed for a few days and watch yourself. Concussions can be tricky.” The doctor started stowing his gear back in his bag. “If you start to feel strange or if you pass out again, have me called immediately, but by then it’ll probably be too late anyhow.”
The corner of Kelton’s mouth twitched up. “I’ll take it easy, Bruce.”
“What do you figure made him conk out, Doc?” I interjected.
“Damned if I know. His heart’s strong. Pupils are equal and responsive. Blood pressure is right where it’s supposed to be. No overt indication of a stroke or heart attack. If I could get this old fool into a hospital for some tests I might be able to tell you something.”
“I was wondering if it might have been the heat.”
The old man on the bed opened his eyes. “No, son, it wasn’t that. I’ve lived out here all of my life and the heat doesn’t get to me much anymore. Anyway, Teddy filled up my swamp cooler before I left and it was working real good.”
I recalled touching Kelton’s throat and the chill feel of his skin. Yeah. That thing had been working real good. “Could you have had an exhaust leak?”
The old man looked faintly puzzled. “I don’t recall hearing one or smelling any fumes. Anyway, I keep my rollin’ stock in good shape and it ain’t as if anything ever rusts much out here.”
Sue Kelton stood up abruptly. “Look, I really think it would be best if we let Rupe rest now. Isn’t that so, Doctor? He’s had a hard day and he’s tired.”
The doctor rose from the far side of the bed. “You’re right, Sue. Rest’s as good a prescription as any. I’ll come by tomorrow and have another look at him.” He glanced down at the woman’s hands. “And maybe at you, too. What happened to your hand?”
The woman’s right hand wasn’t wrapped in a towel anymore but in a swathing of gauze and adhesive tape. “This? It’s nothing. I just burned it on the grill in the lunchroom.”
“Better let me have a look at it while I’m here. No sense in taking any chances.”
She took a hasty step back. “No, really. It’s nothing.”
Rupe Kelton spoke up from the bed. “Let the old croaker have a look, Treasure. He can use the money.”
Reluctantly Mrs. Kelton extended her hand. Dr. Purcell guided her back to the chair and started to unwrap the bandages. As for me, I just sort of stood back out of the way, trying to look dumb and uninvolved.
With a professional patch job done on her hand, Sue Kelton returned to the lunchroom, while I trailed out after the doc. As he stowed his bag in the back of his Jeep I unobtrusively flashed my star at him.
“You’re a deputy,” he said, his brows lifting.
“Yeah, and if you’re surprised I’ll take it as a compliment.” I slid my badge wallet back in my hip pocket, looking around to make sure Teddy boy wasn’t hovering around anywhere. “You sound like you’ve known the Keltons for a long time.”
“I’ve known Rupe since just about forever,” the doctor replied, tilting his Stetson back. “He was already working out here for the Southern Pacific when I went away to medical school.”
“How about his wife and her kid?”
“Well, at least since they moved to Barstow just after the war. She was married to Lee James then. Lee was killed by a hangfire at the White Arrow Mine back in ’fifty-two and Sue and Rupe married up a little while afterwards.”
“How’s it worked out for them?”
Doctor Purcell hesitated.
“This is official, Doc.”
He frowned back. “If you put it that way, it was a damn fool stunt for all involved. Rupe married because he was so lonely out here he was talking to the Gila monsters, while Sue and her boy were starving to death because she’d run through all of her first husband’s insurance money. Since then, Rupe’s been halfway okay with how things are, while she’s been going stir-crazy. She’s been nagging on Rupe to sell out, but I doubt it’s ever going to happen. Rupe’s a desert man. If you know the breed, you know how they are.”
I glanced out across the shimmering cholla flats and the naked lava ridges beyond. I did know the breed. Running hot rods on the Mojave’s dry lakes, I’d gotten to know a few of them.
There is abso-goddamn-lutely nothing out here to hold a person, yet, somehow, the very vast emptiness of it can creep into you and grab hold. I’ve picked up a touch of it myself, enough to understand, at any rate. Put a born desert rat into a greener, more crowded land and, man, they’ll just curl up and die like a horn toad in a snowbank.
“I’m more worried about him not living here, Doc, or at least his not staying alive.”
The doc cut his eyes at me sharply. “What do you mean, Deputy?”
“I’m still thinking about it. What did you think about those burns on Mrs. Kelton’s hand?”
“They weren’t too bad. Mild, with a little blistering. They likely hurt a bit but if they’re kept clean there shouldn’t be any problems.”
“You figure they came from a hot grill, like she’s saying?”
His frown deepened, and he looked at the gravel underfoot. “Well, I don’t know. Now that you mention it, they didn’t look quite right for that somehow.”