by Daniel Adams
He squeezed her hand.
“You had me worried when they brought you in. You’d lost a lot of blood. I had to give you a transfusion.”
“You can get blood here?”
“Not exactly. I gave you a pint of mine. It would have taken too long to get it from Jackson.”
At that moment, Mattie knew she was in love with Doctor Flint. He wasn’t the handsomest man in the world nor the most charming but he had a heart a mile wide.
“Bend down here.”
When he bent down beside her, she kissed him on the cheek.
“Thank you.”
He kissed her forehead.
“You’re welcome.”
“What happened after I passed out?”
He sat down beside the bed.
“Jenny called one of the deputies. He’d never seen so many bodies. They thought everyone was dead until you started moaning. The deputy brought you here in his squad car. It took me six hours to stabilize you and prep you for surgery. Took four hours to fix everything.”
“Is the Sheriff dead?”
“Everyone but you died. Jenny told them what happened.—real shocker to have five people killed. They called the State Police to help out. None of the deputies wanted to take the Sheriff’s place. Don’t blame them. Not much job security.”
“Rafe?”
“Jenny shot him with a shotgun. Far as I’ve heard she’s going to walk—no charges.”
“She saved my life.”
“I don’t think she aimed to. She was there to kill Rafe.”
Mattie studied Doctor Flint.
“I don’t think you should stay here. They don’t appreciate you or the sacrifices you make to practice here.”
He took her hand.
“I feel the same way. I’m packing.”
“Where are we going?” she smiled.
“Jackson—where ever you want to go. I can work in any emergency room.”
“I asked for a transfer to San Diego. That work for you?”
“Great.”
“How long till I can get on my feet?”
“Couple of days. You won’t be 100% for two months.”
“I’ll have to call the Bureau. Fill them in. They’ll probably send an agent or two to wrap up everything. The sooner we get out of here the better.”
“I’ll get back to packing.”
Three days later, with Doctor Flint’s help, Mattie walked unsteadily to his car that was parked in the driveway. After opening the car door, he helped her in. She was very careful not to hit her shoulder on anything. It burned every time she moved it. She watched as he picked up three suitcases and put them in the trunk. A moment later he jumped into the car.
“Ordinarily, I hate to leave a place,” he said. “But it feels great to leave here.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
He looked back, and then backed out of the driveway.
“Guess we can head straight out of town.”
“Do you mind stopping at one place?”
“Not at all. Just tell me where.”
The Triple K.”
She gave him credit because he didn’t ask.
Fifteen minutes later they parked in front of the Triple K. Doctor Flint started to get out to help her but she waved him off. Crawling slowly out of the car, she walked slowly inside.
A different bartender was behind the bar. Seven good old boys slouched on bar seats near the door. Several of them gave her hard looks. Taking an envelope out of her pocket, she put it on the bar in front of the bartender.
“What’s that?” he sneered.
“Something for Emil Thogan. You know him?”
“Yeah.”
“Will you make sure he gets it—and tell him thanks for me.”
“That it?”
“Yeah.”
With that, the bartender turned his back on her. The hole from her shotgun blast hadn’t been repaired. She smiled knowing it irked the good old boys.
“See ya later.”
As soon as she was out the door, the bartender ripped open the envelope. Inside was $500 in cash. He quickly counted it.
“Son of a bitch!” he exclaimed.
“What’s that matter with you?” one of the good old boys asked.
“That nigger FBI lady left this envelope for Emil.” He held up the cash. “There’s five hundred dollars here.”
“That motherfucker was her snitch,” the good old boy snarled.
“Has to be,” the bartender agreed.
“What are we gonna do?” the bartender asked.
With a quick grab, the good old boy snatched the cash out of the bartender’s hand.
“First thing we’re gonna do is split up the money.”
He quickly handed out a split of the money to each good old boy.
“Then we’re gonna give Emil something to remember us by.”
As Mattie and Doctor John headed out of town, Beau’s Camaro, loaded down with all of his earthly possessions blew by them.
“There goes Beau Flatt,” she laughed.
“Where’s he going?”
“Anywhere but here. I told him the smartest thing he could do was get as far away from his family as possible. Guess he listened to me.”
“I still can’t believe Jubal was sleeping with his son’s wife.”
“I can’t believe anyone would have sex with him. He’s totally gross. And that’s from a doctor who’s seen it all.”
“They don’t get out much,” she replied.
“Wave goodbye to Kingswood.” he said.
They put their arms out of the windows and waved.
That night, Emil parked his old truck in back of the Triple K. He did it so no cops would hassle him if he came out drunk. With his mouth ready for a shot of moonshine, he walked to the back door. He was just reaching for the door handle when a dozen men suddenly surrounded him. Before he could react they were on him, fists, feet and bats flying. Crushed by the weight of many bodies he went down. He tried to cover his head but it was no use. A bat smashed his right leg. He screamed. He felt the bone snap. A second later, his left leg snapped. Luckily for him he blacked out. He didn’t feel the merciless pounding they gave him. When they were done, they picked him up and threw him in the dumpster. Emil never raped a woman again.
THE END
