And then she saw blood pooling on the stoop near the dog’s left flank.
Cora backed up her wheelchair as fast as her arthritic hands would allow. She turned the chair and wheeled it up to Ned. She placed a hand on his knee and shook it as best as she could. “Ned, wake up! Something is wrong with Rosie.”
Underneath bushy eyebrows, Ned’s muddy brown eyes popped open. “What… what did you say, dear?”
“Rosie is here, and she’s hurt. She’s bleeding all over the stoop.”
Still groggy with sleep, Ned asked, “Rosie the dog?”
Cora sighed. “Yes, Ned. Jon and Annie’s dog is hurt and lying on our stoop. She’s bleeding,” Cora said loudly to compensate for Ned’s cheap and inefficient hearing aids.
Ned stood up, swayed in place for a second, and then tottered over to the door. He opened the screen door and stepped out. Cora rolled up to the door behind him. “It’s her left flank that’s hurt.”
Ned sat down on the stoop beside Rosie. He stroked the dog. “How’s my girl? Cora says you’re hurt.” Ned moved his hand through the dog’s long black fur and down to her left flank. His hand came away bloody. “Yes, you’re all dinged up, Rosie. How did you manage to hurt yourself?”
“Ned, I thought I heard gunfire near the Rafters’ house,” Cora said.
“Jon or Annie would never shoot Rosie. They love this dog.”
“Well, I wouldn’t think they would shoot her. I’m just saying what I heard.”
Ned found the source of the bleeding and examined it the best he could. “I don’t see or feel an entry or exit hole. That’s good. If she was shot the bullet only grazed her.” Ned looked up at Cora. “Can you fetch me an old towel and our first aid kit?”
Cora nodded and rolled back into the living room and down the hall to the linen closet. She grabbed one of their more raggedy towels, as well as the first aid kit. She then rolled back toward the front door to Ned and Rosie. “Here you go, hon.”
Ned took the towel and first aid kit from her. He placed the towel on the wound and applied direct pressure. Rosie flinched but allowed him to treat her. She half-heartedly wagged her tail.
“You think she’s going to make it? She’s lost a lot of blood.”
Ned didn’t answer. He lifted the towel and examined the wound. He smiled cautiously. “The bleeding is slowing down already. I think she’ll be okay,” he said after a bit.
“I’m going to go call Jon and Annie and tell them we have their dog,” Cora said.
“Good idea. I’m going to put some antibiotic cream on the wound, and then bandage her up.”
Cora wheeled herself back into the living room and picked up the phone. She carefully pushed the buttons for Jon and Annie’s number and placed the handset to her ear. She heard the phone on the other side ring. But after the tenth unanswered ring she hung up. Cora rejoined Ned. “I can’t get anyone to answer the phone.”
“I guess I’ll have to drive up there. Maybe I can roust someone.”
“We still haven’t eaten supper, Ned. And you’ll need to take your medications.”
“Oh, fiddle. I don’t need all those medications. I’m eighty-nine-years old. Why not let nature take its course?”
“Because I don’t want to be a widow in a wheelchair, that’s why.”
Ned stood up, faster this time. He didn’t wobble. “It won’t take me long, Cora. I’ll be gone at the most for thirty minutes. And then I’ll come back and we’ll eat and I’ll take my insulin shot and those confounded pills.”
Cora sighed. “Okay. But please don’t tarry. I know how you like to shoot the breeze with Jon.”
Ned bent down and kissed his wife of sixty-two years. “I’ll be right back, dear. You’ll hardly know I’m gone.”
****
Nighttime insects chirped and buzzed all around Damien and Colette as they scanned the ground for a blood trail. Using headlamps and flashlights, they searched the big field to the west of the house. Their feet crunched old pecan husks as they walked.
“I thought we were supposed to be looking for doubloons, not dog blood,” Colette grumbled.
“And I thought I explained it to you. We need to finish the dog before it makes it to a neighbor’s house. We might be discovered if it does.”
“I think you and I should leave now and never look back. We’re not going to find any treasure. And I don’t want to go to prison. And I know you don’t want to go to prison either.”
Damien stopped so abruptly that Colette bumped into him. “No matter whether we find the gold or not, we’re going to be fugitives. And we need money to live on.”
“But the longer we keep looking, the less likely we’ll be able to get away,” Colette argued. “I say the heck with Arcadias and his fool’s gold. We should just take off now. Fake our deaths and take our chances.”
“It’s not fool’s gold, Colette. I’ve seen the box of doubloons and pieces of eight that Arcadias found on the beach. I also saw the note in the box that stated this spot hid the rest of the loot. The treasure is real.” Damien looked at his girlfriend. He hated how she was usually right about things, like now. But every once in a while her brain came up with stuff he never would’ve thought of. “I sort of like your idea about faking our deaths. How do you propose we do it?”
“It wouldn’t be that hard. We go back to your place and get your boat, take it out on a lake or the Mississippi River like we’re going catfishing at night. We anchor the boat and then swim to shore and walk away. I’ll leave my purse in your truck so the authorities will know I was with you.”
Damien scratched his head. “And what if we drown? The Mississippi has dangerous currents.”
“We’ll wear life jackets, dope. And the currents will make our deaths look plausible. Plus, when our bodies aren’t found they’ll assume the currents washed us away. We’ll leave some empty liquor bottles in the boat to make it look like we were drinking.”
“I only have two-hundred dollars in cash on me. That won’t get us far. We should hold out another hour or two and see if the treasure turns up before we do anything like you’re suggesting,” Damien said.
“Okay, but the longer we wait the less time we’ll have to fake our deaths.”
Damien whirled around and faced the house. “Did you hear something?”
Colette shook her head. “The only thing I hear is noisy bugs.”
“I heard something back at the house: a clattering noise, like metal against metal.”
“It’s probably just Arcadias exiting the crawlspace.”
“Come on, Colette, we should probably go check it out real fast,” Damien said and trotted off for the plantation house.
“What about the dog?” Colette asked.
“We’ll resume the hunt as soon as we determine what caused that sound.”
Chapter 18
Like a drunken or accident-prone chimneysweep, Rafter’s head emerged from the chimney. He looked around, sucked fresh air into his lungs in big gulps, and gripped the chimney edges. Annie waited on the iron rungs just below him.
Rafter tilted his head so the flashlight in his mouth played its beam briefly off the underside of the chimney cap. The space between the chimney and the chimney cap proved narrower than he thought. It looked like maybe eighteen inches in all. Fortunately he and Annie both possessed lean bodies or they’d surely get stuck like Mr. and Mrs. Claus on Christmas Eve.