Summer of the Guns

by Justin Daniel Herman

  “How’d this happen?” the cop asked, handing her back to Ace after he stepped down from the cab.

  “She fell from a tree,” Ace yelled. “Let’s get her inside quick.” They ran together, headed for a door that had “Emergency Room Entrance” painted on it.

  When Sister Maybelle and Sister Alex saw me lagging, they each took me by the hands, one on each side, and pulled me toward the door. I was afraid that if someone recognized Sara and me, the policeman would take us into custody.

  When we got inside, we found the receiving room filled with people, mostly women with babies, some of them crying. There wasn’t a doctor or nurse in sight. Ace and the policeman went running down the hall, calling for help. I broke away from the sisters and followed, but not for long. Ace and the policeman stopped as a man in a white smock stepped out of a room to confront them. He looked like a doctor.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” he said sternly, then he stopped and looked at Sara. “What’s this?” he asked as he looked at the makeshift splints and bandages.

  “I done enough to get her here,” said Ace. “I’m afraid she’s going into shock. It looks like she fractured her cheekbone and the bone in her wrist’s broke clean through. There may be some internal injuries. She fell out of a tree.”

  “All right, damn it, get her in here.” The doctor pointed to an examining room on the other side of the hall. Inside it was a long table with white padding on it. There was also a tall black metal box that stood upright, which I figured was an x-ray machine. Then he went back across the hall again. “Nurse Malcome,” he shouted. “I’ll need you over here. Hurry up.”

  My heart sank as I saw the hefty Nurse Malcome emerge from the hall and follow the doctor. “Old sow,” I remembered Thelma calling her. I was afraid she’d recognize me and Sara, but instead she looked at the policeman.

  “Jimmy!” she exclaimed. “Jimmy Parsons. What are you doin’ here?”

  “Got an emergency,” said the policeman. “Let him tell you.” He pointed at Ace.

  Then she shrieked again. “Ace Kelly! I didn’t expect to see you either. What’s going on?”

  “No time, Cora,” said Ace. “My niece here’s in bad shape. She needs your help right now. We’ll talk later.”

  Cora Malcome looked down at Sara, then she looked at me. I was certain she recognized us. If what they said about her was true, she wouldn’t think twice about turning us in for the reward. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do about these kids,” she said to Ace. Then she herded us all out of the room.

  The young motorcycle cop, Jimmy Parsons, turned out to be Cora Malcome’s nephew. Ace thanked him profusely. He was a tall, handsome young man with a wide, reddish face and some freckles under blonde hair. He didn’t look anything like Nurse Malcome, who had a dark complexion. She had a high forehead with a white cap hiding her pulled-up hair. She wasn’t a fat woman, but she was built like a truck. Her stockinged legs still made squeaking sounds when they rubbed together as she walked, just like they had on the day Captain Sykes had taken us to the hospital to visit my father.

  “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, just ask,” Ace told the policeman as we moved back into the receiving room with the mob of women and crying babies. Sister Maybelle suggested we return to the hallway, away from where they were working on Sara.

  “No,” said the cop, “I’m glad I could help.” Then, we just stood around ‘til the policeman spoke up again. “My aunt knows you, I guess, but why is she mad?”

  “Cora’s always mad,” Ace said with a smile.

  The policeman smiled at him. “Yeah, but she’s a damn good woman,” he answered.

  It was about a half hour or so before Nurse Malcome and the doctor came out of the room together. Jimmy Malcome had already left so he could go back on patrol.

  Cora spoke directly to Ace. “You’re a lucky man,” she said. “The little girl’s gonna be okay, but she’ll have to stay here in the hospital.”

  “That’s right,” said the doctor. “Besides that left arm, she’s suffered a serious concussion and she’s fractured her cheekbone, as you suspected. There may be some internal bleeding, but I doubt it. By the way, you did a hell of a job setting that arm. I didn’t even have to adjust it before applying the cast. Where’d you learn that?”

  “Ambulance Corps, France, nineteen eighteen,” said Ace.

  The doctor nodded silently. “Well you did a hell of a job,” he said again.

  “You’re not done yet, Ace,” Nurse Malcome interjected. “Let’s go back in and see your niece,” she added sarcastically. “You come too,” she said to me. Then she looked at the church ladies. “You and the boy can stay outside,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, Doc Roberts,” she said as she turned back to the doctor, “but I’ve got business to settle with this gentleman. I’d appreciate it if you’d call the next patient in there. The triage list is on the receiving desk.” Her face was set in a determined expression. All the rouge and powder she wore deepened her lines. When we got back into the examining room, Sara was lying there calmly, her breathing slow and regular. I guessed that they had her doped.

  “You got her here just in time, Ace,” said Nurse Malcome. “Now how did this happen? Tell me that first.”

  Ace explained about the fall from the tree.

  “I believe you about that part,” she said. “I know you wouldn’t hurt a flea, much less a child. But how in hell did you come by these girls? You know there’s a reward out for them. I’m afraid you’re in serious trouble.”

  “Then so be it,” Ace replied, “I did what I thought was right. I’ll tell you what happened step by step and you judge for yourself.” Then Ace told her about how our father had been shot and then framed for attempted murder, and how we were on the run from Tommy Sykes when Kelly found us in his clubhouse. I was taken aback that he told her everything, but I guess he had no choice.

  “Dear God,” she said with exasperation, “you’re saying that the Sykes boy attacked the governor’s daughter, left her for dead at a rest stop, and then came after the two girls? Ridiculous.” She paused and got up, walking around in the little room with her big legs rubbing together, making those squeaky sounds. Then she opened the Venetian blinds on the window and a shaft of latticed light came in, making patterns on her face. The sun had come out again after the hard afternoon rain.

  She pursed her lips as she turned back to me. “Your father, Carl Moran, already confessed to beating and shooting Miss Atkins after she shot him at that highway rest stop. He signed a full confession. I witnessed it myself for the county attorney. They took him in chains out of the hospital. I’m afraid your father is about the angriest man I’ve ever met. He almost beat up a male nurse the other day just because he refused him cigarettes.” She was trembling as she spoke.

  I felt like I’d had the wind knocked out of me. I sat down in a chair next to Sara’s gurney and began to weep.

  “Even a decent man can reach his limit,” replied Ace. “From what I hear, he’s been wronged about as much as a man could be. I don’t blame him too much, but all that meanness won’t help his cause.”

  “I’m sorry, Ace,” said Nurse Malcome, “but this is getting us nowhere. The fact is that right here and now you’re guilty of hiding these kids from the law and Lacy Horne could make a serious case out of it if he wants—certainly obstruction and maybe even kidnapping. I hate like hell to turn you in, but there’s no choice. You know I’m deputized for my work with the prisoners in the locked ward. I’m sworn to uphold the law, Ace, whether I want to or not.” Then she stopped suddenly and remained silent for a long time.

  “Though, come to think of it, there is one odd thing about that confession,” she said slowly, as if she was thinking things over. “We did finally retrieve that bullet from Carl Moran. I saw it myself. I was helping the other nurses.”

  “I don’t know what you’re driving at, Cora,” said Ace.

  “I don’t know much about guns
,” she went on, “but from what I heard, he supposedly shot Jessie Atkins with her own gun.”

  “And what’s that got to do with anything?” Ace said impatiently.

  “The gun in her purse was a .22. But the slug they took out of Moran looked bigger to me. I didn’t think much about it at the time, but it doesn’t make much sense.”

  “Then that’s it, there’s your answer,” Ace said excitedly. “He didn’t shoot her. Someone else did it with a bigger gun.”

  “It’s not that simple,” she replied. “Horne kept the slug for evidence. You couldn’t get it even if you wanted to. Not to mention Moran signed a confession.”

  “Of course he signed the damned confession,” said Ace. “If he was cleared of this, they’d send him back to Arkansas to serve out his life sentence. Or worse. He beat up a guard pretty bad when he broke out. They’ll be gunning for him.”

  Ace looked at me and shook his head. “I’m sorry to say all that in front of you, Billie. We’ll find a way out of this. I promise you.” Then he turned back to Nurse Malcome. “Cora, damn it, if you turn us in, you’ll have it on your conscience for the rest of your life. You’ve got to help us. Their lives won’t be worth a plugged nickel if they go back with Sykes.”

  “Damn it, Ace, I told you I can’t help you,” said Nurse Malcome. She plucked off her white cap, letting her short, graying hair fall all over her forehead. “I hate that thing,” she said. “Makes me feel like I’m wearing my mother’s bonnet.” Then she stood looking out the window. It was starting to rain again.

  Ace broke the silence. “You can help, if you want to,” he said. I thought I saw tears in his eyes. “I’m begging you, Cora. I’m begging for these children’s lives. Give us a month. I’ll get the goods on that bastard Tommy Sykes and get this whole mess squared away. But I need a month. You’ve got to help us.”

  She stayed silent for a while longer, then abruptly turned to face him. “Well, we have to take some chances in life, don’t we?” she said. “I guess my time for chance takin’ is here. I’ll keep the lid on it for one month, Ace. That’s the best I can do. I want regular reports about what’s happening. What I really think you should do is take these children and leave town.” She paused and frowned. “Only I know you better than that. You’d rather stay and fight than be running the rest of your life.”

  “You’re damn right,” replied Ace. “And I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Cora.”

  “I don’t want thanks,” she said. “Just make sure you get this all straightened out before I get caught up in it.”

  Just as Ace turned to leave, she grabbed his elbow and pulled him back. “Look,” she said, “the little girl belongs here in the hospital but it’s too dangerous to let her stay. You’ll have to take her home. I’ll call about her tomorrow.” Then she looked at him with her brows knitted. “When you get proof that’ll help us, bring it to me. I’ll figure out what to do then. Actually, I think you’re in a hole you can’t dig out of, Ace. I’ll help you, but don’t expect me to jump in with you.”

  11

  It had stopped raining by evening but the church service was cancelled anyway. “Too much mud in the tent,” Sister Maybelle told us. Ace was so appreciative about what the ladies had done that he invited them over for dinner and sent me to Wong’s Market for pork chops. Ace had gotten his pension check that day.

  Wong’s Market was in a brick building facing Grand Avenue, sandwiched between Hack’s Place and Damon’s Drugstore. The smell of decaying vegetables and freshly cut meat reminded me of the general store back home in Arkansas. The Wongs were a lot friendlier than the store owners in Arkansas, though.

  Sister Alex said grace as we all sat around the dinner table. Fortunately, her words were brief. Kelly and I had tended to Sara while Ace cooked dinner, which he usually complained about. After we’d finished eating, Sister Alex insisted on helping with the dishes. We were more than happy to let her do them. She washed while Kelly and I dried. Then she started her questioning.

  “When did you come over from California, Billie?” she started off. “You don’t look anything like your cousin here, but I guess that’s natural since she’s ...” I knew she’d meant to say “colored.”

  “I had a white mother and a negro father, if you really need to know,” I said, a little angry by then.

  “Oh,” she answered. “That’s fine. I didn’t even know my folks. I grew up in an orphanage. I married at sixteen to get out of there. I stayed with my husband ‘til he died a few years ago. He was an independent truck driver. I went right along with him all over the country. We didn’t have any little ones to take care of.”

  “Can you teach me to drive a truck?” Kelly cut in.

  “When you’re old enough,” she answered. “Truck drivin’s been good to me. It led me right into this calling after my husband passed. Sister Maybelle had an ad in the Sacramento paper for a good used truck and driver. I figured my Mack and I both qualified,” she said with a wink. “She ended up converting me. I gave her what money I had, plus my truck and my services for life. I haven’t regretted it, either.”

  “You don’t seem like the religious type,” Kelly said. “I mean, you’re not preachy like Sister Maybelle.”

  “You just don’t know me yet, child. Actually, I’m doin’ the service tomorrow night. You’ll see how good I am. When I’m finished I expect you to find the Holy Ghost all the way over here.” Then she winked again as she concluded. “From what I see, your dog has beat you to it.” We could hear Stranger out in front of the house, howling occasionally. Pretty soon some of the other neighborhood dogs joined in.

  After Kelly and I got all the dishes put away, we went back into the living room where Sister Maybelle and Ace were in a serious discussion. Kelly and I placed ourselves on the floor with our legs folded under us like swamis. As I studied Sister Maybelle, I realize how pretty she was. She kept her hair in a bob, with a barrette pinning it back on one side. There were smile lines at the edges of her wide-set eyes. I could see Ace was attracted to her, but not enough to stop arguing. “I heard your sermon the other night,” he said. “The one where you misquoted scripture.”

  She didn’t say anything, but her frown suggested he had struck a nerve.

  “I wasn’t surprised when you came out and lit up a cigarette,” he added.

  “You saw that?” she replied.

  “Yes, and I’m not shocked. In fact, I need a smoke right now and I’d like you and Sister Alex to join me, if you’re willing,”

  “I smoke a little when I’m tense,” she said. “But not like you do. You live with one in your mouth.”

  “Yes, I do,” Ace replied, as he broke out his pack and let both women take a cigarette. He struck a match and lit all three cigarettes, then immediately started coughing. No one said anything. When his coughing fit had passed, Ace spoke again. “I will say, Madam, that you have a way with words. In fact, you’re a spellbinder. I won’t comment on the Holy Ghost, but you sure made those people believe. I think you and I both know that people can be worked into a state where they believe they see things or experience things that, well, just aren’t so. Mr. Roosevelt has that same talent. All that rubbish about us having to fear only fear itself—sounds like the same crap the Christian Science people are always preaching. Are you into that, too, Sister Maybelle?”

  “Well, I’m not a Christian Scientist,” she answered, “but you’re a fool if you believe God is useless. I’ve seen crippled people throw away crutches. I’ve felt a child’s fever go away, too, brought down by prayer and the laying on of hands. I truly believe that there is a Holy Ghost we join into. I do, indeed, Mr. Kelly. God has infinite power.”

  “Well, that may be,” Ace answered. “The universe is certainly infinite. Anyone who looks up at the Milky Way and sees all those stars has to realize there’s a maker. But if a person’s got a brain, he has to conclude that with all that to look after, God hasn’t got time to worry about this one little planet, much less one li
ttle person.”

  “Well, if that’s what you believe, that’s what you believe,” she answered. “I don’t have to agree with you.”

  Ace took out his cigarettes again. He extended the pack toward the ladies after taking one for himself. “Go ahead and take another,” he said to Sister Maybelle. “There’s nothing wrong with it. God won’t be mad at you.”

  She looked embarrassed, then accepted one. So did Sister Alex. Then Ace struck a wooden match and reached over to light them.

  “That’s better,” he said. “Now I can take you more seriously since I know you ain’t hypocrites.” When he started coughing again, both of them gave him a concerned look. Kelly got up and fetched him a drink of water. After a while, he was himself again and ready to go on with the arguing. Only before he could start, Sister Maybelle cut him off.

  “Mr. Kelly, I believe you’re purposely killing yourself by smoking these things,” she said. “I smoke one, maybe two a day, but you never stop. I think you’ve got something in your past you can’t forgive yourself for.”

  “That’s none of your business what’s in my past,” Ace said, getting a little red in the face. “I’ve done some things to be ashamed of all right, I’ll admit that. But that don’t make me smoke. There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Sister.”

  “Well,” she replied, “I can deduce you’ve attained some education despite your bad grammar. You just speak that way for effect. I believe you’ve been somebody with position in the past, and you’re bitter for some reason. I also think you could give up cigarettes just like you gave up liquor.”