One more inch to the left and he would have been dead.
—
AFTER CLEANING HIS FACE with snow, Joe opened his first-aid kit and did the best job he could of taping a square of gauze over the wound. Within a few seconds, the gauze turned pink, but the blood had stopped flowing.
He was even able to clamp his hat back on.
When he turned and saw that Daisy was eating snow near Bull’s body that had been colored with a mist of blood and bits of brain matter, he yelled harshly at her. She slunk away, looking humiliated.
Then he threw up between his boots and waited for the last of the adrenaline in his bloodstream to burn off.
27
Sheridan and Lucy Pickett stood shoulder to shoulder on a small open balcony they’d discovered on the fifth floor of the hospital—April’s floor—and watched the snow fall on downtown Billings. Although it wasn’t yet dark, the streetlights had come on below and they lit up the snowflakes like fireflies. The streets were black and wet and the girls could hear the distant sizzle of tires.
“God, I’m sick of winter,” Sheridan said. “It seems like it’s never going to end.”
Lucy nodded in agreement. She was still a little surprised when her older sister talked to her like she was a peer. Although the circumstances that had brought them together were terrible, Lucy felt more mature and intelligent standing there next to Sheridan, who was both.
Since Sheridan had been away at college for three years, the family adjusted. When Sheridan came home for summers or holidays it got confusing because no one really knew what role to assume while she was back. Was it like before, or different? Sheridan seemed to want to maintain the independence she had gotten used to in Laramie, but at the same time she expected to be treated as she had been before she left, when it came time to having dinner, getting laundry done, and having her parents pay for everything. At the same time, her old responsibilities—feeding the dogs, putting away the dishes, vacuuming the living room—had fallen to Lucy, and Sheridan had no compulsion to take them back. The hospital seemed like a neutral location, though, neither home nor college. Lucy enjoyed being regarded as a peer by her sister. Finally.
“People use this balcony to smoke,” Sheridan said, using the toe of her shoe to scrape flattened butts off the concrete. “I’m sure they’re not supposed to, but they must come out here to light up when nobody is looking. You’d think doctors and nurses would know better, wouldn’t you?”
“I guess.”
“You’d be amazed how many kids I know who smoke cigarettes,” Sheridan said. “Of course, even more of them smoke weed. It’s just too easy to get down in Colorado now.”
“I know some kids who smoke weed,” Lucy said.
“That’s too young.”
“You should tell them that. I’m sure they’d stop,” Lucy said with a sly smile.
Sheridan huffed. She obviously didn’t like getting needled, even when she deserved it. Sheridan could be bossy and haughty because she was the oldest and most put-together. At least that’s what everybody thought.
Sheridan said, “Don’t you start smoking.”
Lucy shook her head. “I tried it and it made my throat sore. I just didn’t like it at all.”
“Good.”
“What about you?”
Sheridan watched an airplane descend toward the Billings airport up on the rimrocks above the city. She said, “I smoked weed with April once, back before she turned into a cowgirl. I guess I was trying to bond with her, sort of, during her outlaw period. I didn’t like the way it made me feel. I hate not feeling in control. And don’t you dare tell Mom and Dad.”
“I won’t. Was it yours or April’s?”
“Hers.” After a beat: “Of course.”
“Do you think she’ll ever be . . . normal?” Lucy asked her older sister.
“I don’t know. She looks terrible.”
“Mom said she looked worse last week.”
Sheridan shook her head. “You just wonder, you know? What if she comes out of it with real brain damage? How are Mom and Dad going to cope with that? What if she needs constant care? If that’s the case, maybe it would be better if . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“Don’t say it,” Lucy said.
“You’re right.”
The balcony door opened and Marybeth looked out and said, “There you two are.” She sounded frustrated. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Sheridan said. “Just watching the snow. Did you think we were smoking?”
“Why would I think that?” Marybeth said.
“I was just kidding, Mom,” Sheridan said, shaking her head.
“Aren’t you getting cold?”
“A little,” Sheridan said.
Lucy asked her mom, “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” Marybeth said. “Well, not really. I can’t get your father on the phone. I’ve called the house and his cell phone. Finally, I called the dispatcher and she said she’d try to raise him.”
Both girls turned toward their mother. Whenever she referred to Joe as “your father,” it meant she was angry with him. Sheridan said, “This sounds kind of familiar.”
“I know,” Marybeth said. “It happens all the time. But I don’t want him to go off the grid now.”
“You know Dad,” Sheridan said. Lucy always envied her sister’s close relationship with their dad. It was a result of being the oldest and also being the most willing to spend time in his world. At the same time, Lucy knew she couldn’t fake interest in hunting, fishing, and driving around in a pickup, checking licenses.
Regarding Sheridan’s comment, Marybeth just shook her head. Her eyes were hard.
“What does the doctor say?” Sheridan asked.
Marybeth took a deep breath as if to put her anger with Joe aside for a moment. “They’ve completely stopped the propofol drip. Now it’s a waiting game. They’re thinking she should regain consciousness by midmorning. They’ll watch her vital signs all night and be on the alert for problems.”
“What kinds of problems?” Lucy asked.
“Maybe a seizure,” Marybeth said, reaching out and putting her hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “It could be anything, I guess. But if she comes out of it on schedule and without problems, well, we’ll know something tomorrow.”
Lucy nodded.
“There’s nothing we can do tonight except be with her and pray,” Marybeth said softly.
“We could eat,” Sheridan said. When both Marybeth and Lucy looked at her, she said, “Sorry, that sounded bad. What I meant was, we should have dinner and maybe get checked into the hotel. Then we could do shifts during the night so everyone gets at least a little sleep.”
Marybeth considered it for a moment, then nodded briskly. Sheridan knew how much her mother loved a mission. “You’re right. I’ll call the hotel, and I’ll get some dinner recommendations from the front desk. What do you girls want to eat?”
“Not elk steak,” Lucy said.
“I’d like elk steak,” Sheridan said, gently shoving her sister, who smiled. “I miss it.”
Marybeth rolled her eyes, then told them she was off to make the calls. She said she also had to meet with the financial representative at the hospital administrative office about still-unresolved insurance issues.
“Are you two going to stay out here in the snow until it gets dark?” Marybeth asked.
Sheridan shrugged.