He drank almost half his bottle in one swallow. Tiel twisted off the cap and drank from her bottle, sighing after taking a long draft. "Good idea. Trying to change the subject?"
"Good guess."
"You don't practice medicine here in Rojo Flats?"
"I told you. I ranch."
"But they know you around here as Doc."
"Everybody in a small town knows everything about everyone."
"But you must've told somebody. Otherwise, how'd it get around-"
"Look, Ms. McCoy-"
"Tiel."
"I don't know how it got around that I once practiced medicine. Even if I did, what's it to you?" 'Just curious."
"Uh-huh." He was looking straight ahead, away from her. "This isn't an interview. You won't get an interview from me. So why not save yourself the breath? You might need it later."
"Prior to the… the episode, you lived a very active life.
Don't you miss being at the center of things?"
"No."
"You don't get bored out here?"
"No."
"Aren't you lonesome?"
"For what?"
"Companionship."
He turned his head and readjusted his position so that his shoulders and torso were almost facing her. "Sometimes."
His eyes moved downward, over her. "You volunteering to help me out on that?"
"Oh, please."
And when she said that, he began to laugh, letting her know that he hadn't been serious.
She hated herself for falling for the ruse. "I hoped you were above that sexist crap."
Serious again, he said, "And I hoped you were above asking questions, particularly personal ones, at a time like this. Just as I was beginning to like you."
Strangely, the way he was looking at her now, with that probing intensity, had a greater effect than the smarmy sexual insinuation. That had been phony. This was real.
Her tummy lifted weightlessly.
But then an uproar on the far side of the store brought her and Doc scrambling to their feet.
CHAPTER 8
Tiel had dubbed the shorter, stockier Mexican man Juan. It was he who had caused the commotion. He was bending over Agent Cain, lavishly cursing him-at least she assumed he was cursing. His shouted Spanish had an epithetical quality.
Cain was repeatedly screaming, "What the hell?" and futilely straining to free himself from the duct tape.
To everyone's dismay, Juan slapped a strip of duct tape over the FBI agent's mouth to shut him up. Meanwhile, Juan's taller companion let fly with a stream of Spanish that sounded both reproachful and confused by Juan's sudden attack on the agent.
Ronnie brandished his pistol, shouting, "What's going on? What're you doing there? Vern, what happened?"
"Damned if I know. I had sorta dozed off. I woke up when they started tussling and yelling at one another."
"He just jumped on him," Gladys contributed in her prissy manner. "For no apparent reason. I don't trust him.
Or his friend either, for that matter."
"Quepasa?"Doc asked.
The others fell abruptly silent, surprised that he spoke Spanish. Apparently Juan was more surprised than anyone.
He whipped his head around and glared at Doc. Undeterred by the smoldering eyes, Doc posed the question a second time.
"Nada, "Juan muttered beneath his breath.
Then Doc just stood there and exchanged glowers with the Mexican. "Well?" Tiel prompted.
"Well, what? That's the extent of my Spanish vocabulary except for hello, good-bye, please, thank you, and shit.
None apply to this particular situation."
"Why'd you jump him?" Ronnie asked the Mexican man. "What's the matter with you?"
Donna said, "He's a nutcase, that's what. Knew it the minute I laid eyes on him."
Juan answered in Spanish, but Ronnie impatiently shook his head. "I can't understand you. Just take that tape off his mouth. Do it!" he ordered when Juan failed to obey immediately. Ronnie made himself understood by pantomiming peeling the tape off Cain, who was listening and watching the proceedings with round, wide, fearful eyes.
The Mexican leaned down, pinched up a corner of the tape, and ripped it off the agent's lips. He yelped in pain, then shouted, "You son of a bitch!"
Juan actually seemed pleased with himself. He glanced at his partner and they both laughed, as though amused by the federal agent's embarrassment and discomfort.
"You're all going to jail. Every damn last one of you."
Cain looked balefully at Tiel. "Especially you. You're to blame for the fix we're in."
"Me?"
"You impeded a federal officer and prevented him from performing his duty."
"I prevented you from needlessly taking a human life just so you could earn your spurs, or get your rocks off, or whatever it was that motivated you to come in here and further complicate an already complicated situation.
Under the same set of circumstances I would clobber you again."
His hostile gaze moved from one hostage to the other, eventually landing on the Mexican who had attacked him.
"I don't understand. What the hell is wrong with you people?"
He nodded toward Ronnie. "He's the enemy, not me."
"We're only trying to keep this standoff from ending in disaster," Doc said.
"The only way that's going to happen is with a full surrender and the release of the hostages. It's a Bureau policy not to negotiate."
"We heard it already from Galloway," Tiel told him.
"If Galloway thinks I'm dead-"
"We assured him you aren't."
The agent sneered at Ronnie. "What makes you think he would believe you?"
"Because I confirmed it," Tiel said.
Doc, who'd returned his attention to Sabra, said, "I need another package of diapers."
They couldn't be for the baby, Tiel reasoned. Katherine hadn't wet that much. It took only a glance for her to understand that the replacements were for Sabra. Her bleeding had not abated. If anything it had increased.
"Ronnie, may I get another carton of diapers?"
"What's wrong? Something with the baby?"
"The baby's fine, but Sabra is bleeding."
"Oh Jesus."
"May I get the diapers?"
"Sure, sure," he said absently.
"Some hero you are, Davison," Cain remarked snidely.
"To save your own skin, you're willing to let your girlfriend and baby die. Yeah, it takes real courage to let a woman bleed to death."
"Wish that Mexican had used tape you cain't pull off,"
Donna grumbled. "You got a real fat mouth on you, G-man."
"For once, you're right, Donna," Gladys said. Speaking to Cain, she added, "What a hateful thing to say."
"All right, be quiet, all of you!" Ronnie said. Everyone instantly fell silent, except for the two Mexican men, who were conferring in whispers.
Tiel rushed back to Doc's side with the box of disposable diapers. She tore it open and unfolded a diaper for him, which he positioned beneath Sabra's hips. "What made you think of this?"
"She's bleeding through the napkins too fast. These diapers are lined with plastic."
The exchange was spoken in an undertone. Neither wanted to panic the girl or further fluster Ronnie, who was watching the wall clock behind the counter. Its long, sweeping second hand was circling dreadfully slowly.
Doc moved to Sabra's side and took her hand. "You're still bleeding a little heavier than I'd like."
Her eyes darted to Tiel, who laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "No need for immediate alarm. Doc's just thinking ahead. He doesn't want things to get so bad they can't get better."
"That's right." Leaning down nearer to her, he spoke softly. "Would you please reconsider going to the hospital?"
"No!"
He appealed to her. "Before saying no, listen to me a minute. Please."