Chapter Five
Mike sprinted over to Davy, skidding into the dirt next to him. “Davy! You okay?”
Slightly glassy eyes looked up at Mike. “Uh-uh . . . ” He was clutching his shoulder.
“Mike, we have to get him inside, quick,” Peter said, waving Micky over. Mike nodded and got to his feet. “I’ll have Kate get the bed ready,” he said, running inside. Micky and Peter lifted Davy up into a fireman’s carry and moved him inside.
Lucy—gun nowhere to be seen—bustled behind them, locking the door and jerking off Davy’s shoes as they moved past.
It took several minutes to maneuver Davy upstairs without hurting him further, into the farmhouse’s spare bedroom. He groaned as they set him down.
“How bad?” Kate asked as she gathered blankets.
“Don’t know,” Mike said as they untied Davy’s belt and stripped him of his jacket. Davy’s shoulder was a bruised, darkening red, and his forearm was already starting to turn purple.
Peter felt under the arm, to the ribs and belly. “Looks like his arm took the brunt of it.”
Mike nodded. “Yeah, lucky we caught a break—” His hand brushed the side of Davy’s head and the shorter man let out a cry. “Oh . . . shit, he got hit in the head too.”
“Yeah, a bad break,” Micky growled from the doorway.
“Michael, I told you this was going to happen,” Kate said brusquely. She shoved Mike out of the way and sat down next to Davy, a large bowl of ice in her hands and towels and bandages nestled in the crook of her arm. “Now out of here, all of you. Git.” All three of them opened their mouths to protest. “It’s always like this,” she said, not looking at them. “The men go out to prove how tough they are and we women have to clean up the mess.”
Davy let out a sigh and slid into a deep sleep. “C’mon, guys,” Mike said, herding them out of the room.
Lucy came out looking pale. “I ain’t never seen a sleep like that.”
“It’s a healing sleep,” Peter said, his voice hushed. “It helps us bounce back quicker.”
“So it’s . . . normal?”
“Normal enough,” Mike said. “We only sleep like that when we’re healing from an injury.”
“So he’s healin’.”
“Yeah.”
Lucy smiled. “Good. That was some fancy fightin’ you did out there!”
Micky smiled. “Thanks. Although that creep got away. That usually doesn’t happen.”
“Bart’s slicker than a horny-toad. I’m not surprised he got away. I am surprised he didn’t hurt more’n the one of you!”
Mike’s face darkened and he looked away.
Peter squeezed his shoulder. “He’ll be okay, Mike,” he whispered.
Mike just shook him off and walked away.
“Micky, you stay here. I’m going after him.” Peter handed his weapons to Micky and took off after Mike. Micky slid the blades and star pouch into his belt and returned to the house. Peter jogged until he was alongside Mike. He fell in easy step with him, not speaking. Mike remained silent. His entire focus lay on the path in front of him, his eyes glaring, yet wide.
They walked for a good fifteen minutes before Peter broke the silence. “He’s gonna be okay.”
“That’s not what I’m mad about.”
“What are you mad about?”
“I let ‘em down, Peter. Davy got hurt ‘cause I was so sure Bart’d be scared away by us. Now Aunt Kate probably thinks I’m a fool.” He emphasized the word ‘fool’ by kicking at the dirt.
Peter thought carefully before he answered. “Davy got hurt because he jumped in front of a spooked horse.”
“While trying to stop Bart,” Mike said. “And he’ll be back.”
“And we’ll be ready.”
“This is the worst,” Mike said, stopping. “If we leave, Kate and Lucy’ll be in danger. If we stay . . . ” He trailed off, rubbing his eyes.
“They’ll still be in danger,” Peter said softly. “But they might have a chance.”
“You’re right,” Mike sighed. “We have to stay, no matter what happens. We’ll have to regroup once Davy wakes up . . . and figure out what to do.”
Peter smiled. “We did scare him.”
“And Micky winged him, I think.”
“I saw that. Didn’t see where it hit, though.” He looked up at the sky for a moment. “You ready to head back?”
“Yeah. Might as well.” A nod, and they started back. The silence fell again.
~~~~~
Upstairs, Kate sat by Davy, adjusting the bandage on his shoulder before placing a cool cloth on his forehead. Young . . . he’s so young . . . Under her ministrations Davy stirred slightly, then relaxed with a sigh back into the deep sleep.
She heard the front door open, then close. Mike’s and Peter’s voices echoed up the stairs and she clenched her fists against a sudden burst of anger. Bolting to her feet, she thumped down the stairs to the living room. “Michael! Kitchen! Now!”
Mike looked at Peter for a moment before he moved to the kitchen. “Yeah, Aunt Kate?”
“How could you?”
“How could we what?” he shot back. “Try to protect you and Lucy?”
“How could let that . . . boy . . . get hurt like that? He’s just a child!”
“Davy is twenty-two years old. He’s an adult and he knew what he was getting into.”
“Yes, but you’re the leader!” she snapped.
“And I’m human, Kate! There are things I can’t see or predict!”
“Then you don’t send your friends out into battle until you can see!” she snarled. “Next time I hope it’s you who gets hurt!” She stomped over to the downstairs bedroom and went inside, slamming the door behind her.
Mike stood there for a moment, his fists clenching and unclenching as her words washed over him again and again. Emotions flared across his face, finally settling into deep pain and angry sorrow. He spun on his heel and stormed out the back door, the bang it gave when it hit the post by the steps a strange comfort to him as he stormed away.
Peter sighed and leaned back in his chair.
“It’s kinda like Moonlighting, isn’t it?” Micky said.
“Kinda like what?” Peter asked.
“Moonlighting? Ralph Cramden?” Micky prompted.
“The Honeymooners,” Peter corrected, leaning against the wall. “And yeah, it is.”
“All we need is one of them shouting ‘To the moon!’ to make it perfect.” Micky plopped down on the sofa.
“Give it time,” Peter sighed. “Have you been to see Davy?”
“Yeah. He’s out big time.”
“I’m concerned about that head wound. We’ve never had to deal with those before.”
“It’s just a bump, Peter. He’ll be okay. Probably have a headache when he wakes up, though.”
“I hope so . . . I always seem to be a worrywart now.”
“No, you’re not. That’s still Mike’s job.”
“Yeah, well,” Peter smiled tiredly. “Mike has his hands full with Kate and Lucy.”
Micky sat up straight. “Hey, that’s it!”
Peter frowned. “What’s it?”
“We can help Mike out! We’ll go spy on Bart!”
There was silence for a long time. Then Peter slowly began to smile.
On to Chapter Six
Back to Chapter Four
Back to Secrets and Lies Index
