by Sandra Brown
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."
"Please, Sabra. Let Doc explain."
The girl's eyes moved back to Doc but they regarded him warily. "I'm thinking not only of you and the baby," he said, "but of Ronnie too. The sooner he brings this to an end, the better it's going to be for him."
"My daddy will kill him."
"No he won't. Not if you and Katherine are safe."
Her eyes filled with tears. "You don't understand. He's only pretending to want us safe. Last night when we told him about the baby, he threatened to kill it. He said if he could, he would cut it out of me right then and strangle it with his bare hands. That's how much he hates Ronnie, how much he hates our being together."
Tiel gasped. She'd never heard a flattering word about Russell Dendy, but this testimony of his cruelty was shocking.
How could anyone be so heartless? Doc's lips compressed into a thin line.
"That's the kind of person my daddy is," Sabra continued.
"He hates to be crossed. He'll never forgive us for defying him. He'll have Ronnie sent to prison forever, and he'll make certain that I never see my baby again. I don't care what he does to me. If I can't be with them, it doesn't matter what happens to me."
She tilted her head down and rested her cheek against her newborn. The peach fuzz on the baby's small head blotted Sabra's tears from her cheeks. "You've both been great to me. Truly. I hate to disappoint you. But you won't change my mind about this. Until they let Ronnie and me walk out of here with Daddy's promise to leave us alone, I'm staying. Besides, Doc, I trust you more than I would any doctor at a hospital my daddy sent me to."
Doc swiped his sweating forehead with the back of his hand and sighed. He looked across at Tiel, who raised her shoulders in a defeatist's shrug.
"Okay," he said reluctantly. "I'll do my best."
"I don't doubt that." Sabra winced. "Is it really bad?"
"There's nothing I can do about the bleeding from the tear. But the vaginal bleeding… Remember earlier when I told you to rest because I might have to ask you to do something for me later?"
"Um-huh."
"Well, I'd like for you to nurse Katherine."
The girl shot Tiel a stunned glance. "The nursing will cause your uterus to contract and reduce the bleeding," she explained.
Doc smiled down at Sabra. "Ready to give it a try?"
"I guess so," she replied, although she seemed unsure and embarrassed.
"I'll help you." Tiel reached for the scissors, which had been wiped clean. "Why don't I use these to clip the shoulder seams of your dress? We can pin them back afterward, but that'll keep you from having to get undressed."
"That'd be good." She seemed relieved to give over some of the decision-making to Tiel.
"I'll let you ladies have some privacy. Uh, Ms., uh, Tiel?"
Doc motioned her to stand, and they held a brief, private consultation. "Do you know anything about this?"
"Nothing. My mother stopped breast-feeding me when I was three months old. I don't remember it."
He smiled wanly. "I meant other than being on the receiving end."
"I knew what you meant. That was a joke. But the answer is stil
l no."
"Well then, of the three of you, Katherine will be the most knowledgeable. Position her correctly and she'll act on instinct. At least I hope she will. A few minutes on each breast."
"Right," Tiel said with a brisk nod.
She knelt down beside Sabra and applied the scissors to the shoulder seams of her sundress. "From now on, I suggest you start wearing tops that button up the front. Or something loose that you can lift up and drape over Katherine. One time, on a long flight to Los Angeles, I sat next to a mother with an infant. She breast-fed the baby all the way, and no one except me knew it, and I did only because she was in the seat beside me. She was completely covered the whole time."
The chatter was intentional, meant to distract Sabra and relieve her bashfulness. When she was finished ripping out the seams, Tiel peeled down one side of her bodice. "Now lower your bra strap and pull down the cup.
Here, let me hold Katherine." Sabra looked around self-consciously "No one can see," Tiel assured her.
"I know. But it feels weird."
"I'm sure it does."
When Sabra was ready, Tiel handed Katherine back to her. The newborn had been making soft, mewling noises, but the moment she felt the fullness of Sabra's breast against her cheek, her mouth began rooting for the nipple.
She found it, tried to latch on, couldn't. After several attempts, the baby began to wail. She flailed tiny fists, and her face turned red.
"Everything okay?" Doc called.
"Fine," Tiel lied.
Sabra sobbed in frustration. "I'm not doing it right.
What am I doing wrong?"
"Nothing, sweetheart, nothing," Tiel said soothingly.
"Katherine doesn't know how to be a baby any more than you know how to be a mom. You learn your roles together.
That's what makes it so wonderful. But I've heard that a baby can sense the mother's frustration. The more relaxed you are, the easier it will be. Take a few deep breaths, then try again."
A second attempt was no more successful that the first.
"Know what? I think it's your position," Tiel observed. "It's awkward for you and for her. Maybe if you could sit up."
"I can't. My bottom hurts too bad."
"What if Doc supported your back? It would relieve the pressure down there and enable you to cradle Katherine more comfortably."
"He'll see me," she protested in a tearful whisper.
"I'll fix it so he won't. Wait here. I'll be right back."
Earlier she had noticed a rack stocked with souvenir T-shirts.
Before Ronnie could even ask what she was doing, she dashed to it and snatched one from the display. It was dusty, she noticed, but there was no help for that. Just as she was about to turn away, she yanked a second shirt from the rack.
By the time she returned with the T-shirts, Katherine was well into a wailing fit. Everyone else in the store was maintaining a respectful silence. Tiel spread one of the extra-large T-shirts over mother and baby. "There. He won't be able to see a thing. All right?"
"All right."
"Doc?"
He was there in a blink. "Yeah?"
"Could you please get behind Sabra and support her back, like I did during the birth?"
"Sure."
He knelt down behind the girl and helped ease her into a semi-sitting position. "Now, just lean back against my chest. Come on, relax, Sabra. There. Comfortable?"
"Yes, I'm okay. Thanks."
Tiel raised a corner of the T-shirt just enough to peer beneath it. Katherine had stopped crying and was once again on her instinctive search. "Help her, Sabra," Tiel instructed softly. Sabra acted on instinct too. With only a little maneuvering and finessing, a tight suction was formed between breast and baby, and she began to suck vigorously.
Sabra laughed with delight. As did Tiel. She dropped the corner of the shirt and smiled at Doc.
"I assume everything is okay."
"They're pros." Tiel's bragging brought a wide smile to Sabra's chalky lips. Tiel asked, "Had you decided ahead of time to breast-feed?"
"Truthfully, I hadn't really thought about it. I was so preoccupied with worry that somebody was going to find out about the pregnancy, I didn't have much time to think about anything else."
"You can try it, then if it doesn't work out, you can switch to bottles. There's no shame in bottle-feeding."
"But I hear that nursing is better for the baby."
"That's what I hear too."
"You don't have kids?"
"No."
"Are you married?"
It seemed that Sabra had forgotten Doc was there. Her back was to him, so to her he was like a piece of furniture.
Tiel, however, was facing him and keenly aware that he was listening to every word. "No. Single."
"Have you ever been?"
After a slight hesitation, she replied, "Years ago. For a short time."
"What happened?"
The grayish green eyes didn't waver. "We, uh, went different directions."
"Oh. Too bad."
"Yes, it was."
"How old were you?"
"Young."
"How old are you now?"
Tiel laughed nervously. "Older. Thirty-three last month."
"You'd better hurry up and find someone else. If you want to have a family, I mean."
"You sound like my mother."
"Do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Want to have another husband and kids?"
"Someday. Maybe. I've been awfully busy establishing my career."
"You could be a single mom."
"I've considered it, but I'm not sure I'd want that for my child. The jury's still out."
"I can't imagine not wanting a family," the girl said with a gentle smile for Katherine. "That's all Ronnie and I talk about. We want to have a big house out in the country.
With lots of kids. I'm an only child. He has one little stepbrother, and they're twelve years apart in age. We want a large family."
"That's an admirable ambition."
Unobtrusively, Doc signaled Tiel with his chin that it was time to switch sides. Tell assisted Sabra, and soon Katherine was happily sucking away at the other breast.
Then the girl surprised them by angling her head back and asking, "What about you, Doc?"
"What about me?"
"Are you married?"
"My wife died three years ago."
Sabra's face fell. "Oh, I'm so sorry."
"Thank you."
"How'd she die? If you don't mind me asking."
He told her about his wife's illness, making no mention of the conflict that followed her demise.
"Any kids?"
"Unfortunately no. We had just begun talking about starting our family when she got sick. Like Ms. McCoy, she had a career. She was a microbiologist."
"Wow, she must've been smart."
"Brilliant, in fact." He smiled, although Sabra couldn't see it. "Much smarter than me."
"You must've loved each other a whole lot."
His smile gradually faded. What Sabra couldn't guess, but Tiel knew, was that his marriage hadn't been flawless and trouble-free. During the investigation into the circumstances surrounding Shari Stanwick's death, it was disclosed that she had engaged in an extramarital affair.
Bradley Stanwick knew of his wife's unfaithfulness and generously assumed his share of the blame. His work schedule was demanding and often kept him out late and away from home.
But the two had loved each other and were committed to making the marriage work. They were in counseling and planning to stay together when her malignancy was diagnosed. Her illness had actually brought them closer together. At least that's what he had claimed to his accusers.
Tiel could see that, even after all this time, reminders of his wife's adultery still pained him.
When he became aware that Tiel was watching him, the wistfulness in his expression vanished. "That's enough for now," he said, speaking more brusquely than he pr
obably intended.
"She's stopped sucking anyway," Sabra said. "I think she's gone to sleep."
While Sabra was readjusting her clothing, Tiel took the baby and changed her. Doc eased the girl back into her original position, then checked the diaper he'd placed beneath her. "Better. Thank God."
Tiel cuddled the baby close and planted a soft kiss on the top of her head before returning her to her mother's arms.
The telephone rang. The hour was up.
Everybody snapped to attention. Anticipated for an hour, the ringing telephone was jarring, because it represented the course of their future. Now that it was imminent, all seemed loathe to hear Galloway's response to Ronnie's demand. Especially Ronnie, who appeared more nervous even than before.
He looked over at Sabra and tried to smile, but his lips couldn't hold the expression for long. "Are you sure, Sabra?"
"Yes, Ronnie." She spoke quietly but with resolve and dignity. "Absolutely sure."
The boy wiped his hand on his pants leg before lifting the receiver off the hook. "Mr. Galloway?" Then, after a momentary pause, he exclaimed, "Dad!"
CHAPTER 9
WHO'S THIS?"
When the latest arrival was escorted into the FBI van, Galloway had ignored Russell Dendy's rude question and instead stood up to shake the man's hand. "Mr. Davison?"
"You've got to be kidding me." Dendy had sneered with disgust. "Who invited him?"
Galloway had pretended Dendy wasn't even there. "I'm Special Agent Bill Galloway."
"Cole Davison. Wish I could say it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Galloway."
Judging by his appearance, one would guess Davison to be a rancher. He wore faded Levi's and cowboy boots. His starched white shirt had pearl snaps in lieu of buttons.
Upon entering the van, he'd politely removed a straw cowboy hat that had left a deep indentation in his hair and a pink stripe across his forehead, which was several shades paler than the lower two-thirds of his suntanned face. He had a stocky build and walked with a bowlegged gait.
He didn't ranch. He owned five fast-food franchises and lived in Hera only to escape "metropolises" like Tulia and Floydada.
Galloway had welcomed him with a "Thank you for coming so quickly, Mr. Davison."
