“Where’s the woman who was drivin’ this car?” He asked with great trepidation.
“She’s gone.”
“Gone?! Ya mean she’s dead?!” Trent exclaimed.
“No! she’s on the way to the hospital, but she’s not in good shape. She was out cold when they loaded ’er. Who’re you anyway?” The officer asked, looking at Trent quizzically.
“Mah name’s Willobee, and me and her’s gonna git married. She was comin’ to pick me up in Kingman. Where’d they take her?”
“Valley View Medical Center was the closest place, so that’s where they went,” the officer said, “you gotta a way to get there?”
“I guess I could git mah friend to take me in his semi.”
“I’m about finished here, and I have to ask her some questions when she’s awake. Ya might wanna ride with me, ’cause I can get us there faster,” he said.
“Hell, yeah, I do.”
Trent went over to Serile, told him about his plans, and Serile said he would show up at the hospital as soon as he could get there. Trent explained how to find it, and the state trooper waved for Trent to climb into his cruiser. So, they left for Valley View with lights flashing and siren blaring.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
After they arrived, they went straight to the emergency room. The attending physician, Dr. Roxalte, explained Haylee was still not conscious and they were running a battery of tests which included X-rays, CT scan, and MRI. The trooper pressed him about the state of her condition, and Dr. Roxalte explained that, if she had just suffered a concussion, she might be coming around at any time; otherwise, it could be more serious. He told Trent and the trooper to give them a little more time before an educated diagnosis and potential prognosis could be determined. During this time, the trooper was busy on his shoulder mic monitoring and responding to his status. After about 20 minutes, he had to leave on another call, but he assured Trent that a detective would be joining him soon to wait out Haylee’s situation. As Trent sat fidgeting in the waiting area, he wanted to call Kit and let her know about Haylee, but he was hesitant and perplexed, because he didn’t have enough information. He checked the wall clock and decided to wait an hour before he called her mother. About 45 minutes passed, and a nurse came out to speak with Trent.
“You a relative?” She asked.
“Well, no, but I plan ta be her husband soon’s she’s able.”
“Sir, I’m not supposed to share information about a patient to anyone but a family member,” she said.
“Her momma’s not in good shape. I can go git her in Oatman, but I shor need ta know what ta tell ’er. Please, gimme somethin’ ta say. Haylee’s gonna be okay, right?”
“There’re laws which protect the rights of patients,” the nurse explained, “HIPPA for example.”
“Ma’am, I know yor doin’ yor job, but there’s a lotta laws that don’t make no sense no more. This here country’s got too many laws for us ta be people anymore,” Trent said.
“See, I don’t even know your name,” she said in an exasperated tone.
“Mah name’s Trent Willobee,” he said, extending his hand.
“Mister Willobee, if I tell you about…Miss Harper…will you promise me you’ll never tell anyone other than her mother?” She asked, shaking his hand.
“Ya got mah word on it,” he said, making eye contact.
“You seem to be a man of honor, so this is the situation. Miss Harper has still not gained consciousness yet, but test results are inconclusive. From what little we know; her head injury might be more than a concussion. We’ll know a lot more in the next twenty-four-hours.”
“Thank ya, ma’am, thank ya.”
“Mister Willobee, my name’s Nancy.”
“Nancy, you’ve been a big help.”
Trent sat back down in the waiting room, thinking about how to broach this with Kit, because he really didn’t want to tell her on the phone. Then, Serile came walking up.
“How’s she?”
“Not great, and I’ve gotta tell ’er mother,” he said, fidgeting.
“Tell ya what, why don’t we go get ’er? I can leave my trailer out in the parkin’ lot, and we can take the tractor.”
“Ya really wanna do that?” Trent asked.
“She lives in Oatman, right? I just came through the place. We can be there and back in forty-five minutes.”
“Okay, but I need ta tell nurse Nancy, first.”
When Trent returned, they left for Oatman to pick up Kit. Serile was interested in who this woman was.
“Trent, ya think her momma can handle this. I mean, ya think she can deal with this kinda news ’bout her daughter?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t wanna try ta explain stuff on the phone. Anyways, a lot’s still up in the air.”
When they arrived, Trent went to the door and knocked, and Kit immediately answered.
“Trent, where’s Haylee? Where is she? I’ve been awake for over an hour and haven’t heard from ’er,” she said frantically, looking past him.
“Kit, now let me help ya to ya chair, and I tell ya what I know,” he said with assurance.
“Dear Lord, tell me she’s alright,” she said as tears began to flow.
“Haylee-Girl had an accident when she was comin’ ta git me. Right now, she’s in Valley View, and I need ta git ya to the hospital, ’cause they can’t tell me stuff by law.”
“How fast can ya get me there?” Kit asked.
“Right quick like. Mah friend Serile’s gotta good truck out front.”
“Let me get dressed, won’t take five minutes,” she said, struggling to get out of her chair.
She was ready to go in even less time, “I’m ready.”
“Kit, ya hand ya cane to Serile there, ’cause I’m gonna pick ya up and take ya to the truck,” he said, lifting her in the air like a feather.
Trent put her in the cab between the two of them, and they headed down Boundary Cone Road toward Valley View Hospital. Once outside the city limits of Oatman, it was a straight downhill run to U.S. 95 north to the Medical Center. They were in the waiting room in less than 20 minutes. Trent was impatient, unsettled, and annoying to the staff, because he insisted on an immediate accounting of Haylee’s status.
“What’s the problem? If ya can’t tell me, tell ’er mother, she’s here, not in good shape, and waitin’.”
“Mr. Willobee, you’ll know when we know,” the nurse said firmly.
“Damn! Damn!” he said, flopping down next to Kit, and she reached over and held his hand and said, “I’m just as much a wreck as can be, but we gotta let these people do what they do best. My life’s over without Hay.”
“Kit, long’s I’m on this planet yor life’ll never be over,” he said, looking at her with tears in his eyes.
“Thank ya, son, we have to pray that all’ll be well,” she said, squeezing his hand.
They sat anxiously in the waiting room watching news comparing the presidential debate to the vice-presidential debate. Kit and Trent tried to listen to the mindless musings of network hosts who were just distant voices coming from a dark abyss, but it was a puerile distraction they both needed. Seconds seemed like minutes and minutes like hours. Finally, the nurse, Nancy, appeared.
“Okay, you two, you can relax a little, those beautiful blue eyes of hers just popped open, but she’s still very confused,” she said with a smile, “you’ll be able to see her in a little while.”
“Don’t think I ever heard better news in mah life!” Trent said, leaping to his feet.
“Thank you Dear Lord!” Kit exclaimed.
“Glad I gotta chance to hear this,” Serile said, with a big smile as he congratulated Kit and Trent.
They were so relieved by the news neither of them even noticed a tall heavy-set man approaching.
“Folks, I guess you
’re here because of the Harper accident.”
“Who’re you, and whadaya want?” Trent asked.
“Sorry, I’m detective Costa, and I’ve been investigatin’ the case. I need to talk with…uh, Haylee Harper,” he said, glancing up from his notes.
“From what the nurse just told us, right now she ain’t in no condition to be bothered,” Trent said as Kit nodded.
“I only have a question or two ’bout what happened. I’ll hang around for a few minutes in case she’s able,” Detective Costa said, “our preliminary findings indicate that the left rear tire might’ve hit a rock or somethin’ and blew out. As best we can determine, we don’t think she was traveling at an unsafe speed. I’d like to confirm it, that’s all.”
“Well, sir, you’ll have ta wait ’long with the rest of us,” Trent said as he sat back down.
About 30 minutes later the nurse came out to give them an update. Of course, they were eager to get some more good news.
“The doctor thinks it’ll be best if only one at a time visits with her, but no more than five minutes, okay? He wants her to get some rest,” she said.
“That’s good,” Kit replied.
“Mrs. Harper, hold on just a minute, and I’ll get you a wheelchair.”
Nurse Nancy went down the corridor a little way, found one, and immediately returned. Trent helped her into it, and the nurse and Kit departed. Trent looked over at Detective Costa.
“I know ya gotta job ta do, so when Kit gits back, you go ahead.”
“Thanks, I’d like to get back home. I’ve been rousted outta bed three times already this week,” he said, glancing at his watch.
When kit returned, she was smiling. “Trent, she’s banged up a bit, but I think she’s gonna be okay. She wants to see ya.”
Trent motioned for Costa to go. “Kit, the detective needs ta ask her a coupla questions, then I git ta see Haylee-Girl,” he said with a smile and a wink.
To Trent, that seemed to be the longest five minutes he could remember. He impatiently and eagerly waited for Detective Costa to emerge from her room, and when he did, with notepad in hand, he approached Trent and told him what he’d concluded.
“It’s pretty much what I thought. She said she might’ve been going forty, but heck the speed limit’s thirty-five—no big deal. She also said she thought she heard a pop, that was probably the blowout. I’m not an insurance adjuster, but the car looks totaled to me. It’s a wonder that thing didn’t fall into the ravine. Have a good night. Back to the house,” he said with a quick wave.
As Trent approached the door, he began feeling very guilty about the accident and Haylee being injured. He thought it was all his fault.
“Haylee-Girl, shor ya wanna see me?” He asked sheepishly, kneeling down by her bed.
“I’ve been waitin’ for ya all my life, and you better give me a kiss right now, but just take it easy,” she said with a crooked smile.
Trent gave her a tender kiss on the lips, then her forehead, “How’s that?”
“That was very nice. The next time ya kiss me in a hospital, I want it ta be in the maternity ward,” she said, groggily.
One Week Later
Haylee was back home and nearly ready to return to work. Most of her cuts and bruises had practically dissipated. She, Kit, and Trent began working on plans for the wedding, but before they got too far along, Trent interrupted so that he could provide at least a summary explanation about what had happened to him and why it took him so long to make it back home. By the time he was finished, both of them sat there with a look of astonishment on their faces. They were worried about where he had been shot and the possible damage done. He pulled up his shirt and showed them where the bullets had entered and exited.
“Trent, I don’t know how ya survived. If those guys hadn’t found ya out in the desert, well, I guess we wouldn’t be takin’ bout, it,” Kit said as her voice fell silent.
“This is really upsetting, I almost lost you,” Haylee said she said as her eyes filled with tears.
“Now, Haylee-Girl, the point is everything’s okay, I’m here, and this stuff’s behind me. Remind me ta never tell ya ’bout my time in the military, and no I ain’t gonna show ya them scars, now can we git back to this here weddin’?” He asked, giving her a hug and peck on the cheek.
When they were deciding who to invite, Trent really didn’t have much to add. He thought maybe his old friend Luke and his girlfriend Cir, maybe two or three of his fellow truckers, but that was about it. Kit and Haylee were concerned about the budget, but Trent assured them to not worry.
“Since I ain’t gonna marry nobody agin, do it right!” He laughed.
After an hour or so, Trent had to excuse himself, because he had some things to take care of back at his trailer.
“Oh, Trent, would ya stop by the restaurant and tell ’em I plan to be back to work tomorrow?”
“Shor, sweetheart, not a problem,” Trent said.
He climbed on his Harley and within five minutes was at the restaurant. Since it was still lunchtime, he thought he’d get something to eat.
“Let me have one a them buffalo burgers with some burro ears and a cold Miller,” he said to the owner of the Oatman Restaurant, Iris Cartier, who was filling in for Haylee, “by the way, Haylee told me ta tell ya she’s comin’ back to work tomorra,” Trent said.
“Halleluiah, am I glad to year that! With her and Tyree off at the same time, I can’t get my job done. I gotta by the way for you. Two fellas came in lookin’ for ya this mornin’.”
“Ya know ’em?” Trent asked.
“Nope, never seen ’em before.”
“What’d they look like?”
“Young, sorta cocky types. Not very friendly,” she said.
“Anybody mention a name?”
“Only yours,” Iris said.
“Did they say what they wanted?” Trent asked.
“Yeah, they wanted to know where ya lived.”
“Did ya tell ’em?”
“I certainly did, I told ’em you lived in your trailer up the hill behind the restaurant. That was okay, wasn’t it?”
“Iris, put a hold on mah order, I’ll be back in ’bout fifteen minutes,” he said, rushing out the door.
Trent scrambled up the hill on foot. If these were not friendlies, he didn’t want anyone to know he was coming. He thought about what he’d been taught in the military. Never telegraph anything to the enemy, and the element of surprise is everything. When his trailer came into clear view, he quickly surveyed the surroundings. He saw nothing out of place, but he approached cautiously. He walked around the property to make sure a window had not been broken or breached. Then, he decided to go inside. He chambered a round in his Glock, and slowly opened the door. When inside, everything seemed to be fine, so he went back down the hill to have lunch, returning to the counter, where Iris came over.
“Everything alright?” She asked.
“Yep, all’s well for now,” he replied with a smile, “Iris, would ya let me look at that newspaper ya got back there,” he said, pointing behind her.
“Sure…here ya go,” she said, placing it by his plate.
After lunch and pouring over the paper, Trent returned home disappointed that he was not able to find a single prospect for another truck. He knew the rig he had would be nearly impossible to duplicate. The thoughts of having to work for some trucking outfit again was depressing. He reluctantly took care of his chores and then called Haylee. She and Kit wanted him to come over and have dinner with them around six o’clock.
“Ta save ya from cookin’, maybe I could bring us over some pizza,” Trent suggested.
“Just a sec…Ma…Trent wants to bring us pizza for dinner. That okay?” Haylee called out to Kit.
“Not a bad idea, ’cause we can have some pizza while we watch the second presidential de
bate. It oughtta be good ’cause it’s gonna be three against one. Mr. Trump’s gonna take on the moderators and Hillary!” She yelled back.
“Sounds good, Trent, momma likes it ’cause there’s a presidential debate on tonight.”
“That means we’re gonna have a presidential political pizza party!” Trent guffawed.
“Ya know how momma is ’bout this political crap.”
“Oh, now, sweetheart, don’t be so hard on Miss Kitty, this’s gonna be fun,” he chuckled, “and ya better not tell ’er I called her that.”
Trent emptied out the saddle bags of Rocket One and appeared at their door with two large pizzas in one hand and a six-pack in the other in plenty of time to watch the debate. They both were happy to see him, especially Haylee.
“Thought maybe ya’d drink a little beer with the pizza. Can’t fancy eatin’ pizza without beer,” he said with a smile.
“Don’t drink much beer, but it does go good with pizza,” Kit said, “but we need to get movin’ ’cause the debate’s ’bout ta start.”
“Ma, you’re not gonna miss a minute of it, ’cause I got it recorded,” Haylee said.
“Good, but ya didn’t tell me that before,” Kit quipped.
“I wasn’t about to have ya miss a minute of your precious debate,” Haylee replied.
“Can I help git things set up?” Trent asked.
“Sure, sweetheart, get those two little folding tables over there, and we can set the pizza on them,” Haylee said, pointing to the corner of the room.
“Kit, ya seem to follow this political stuff purdy close, so what ya ’spect them ta talk ’bout?” Trent asked while situating the tables.
“Whole lotta things. I know that vile Hillary and them biased moderators are gonna hammer Mr. Trump ’bout that eleven-year-old video tape where he used really rough language ’bout some woman, women, whatever. Ta begin with, Donald Trump’s not runnin’ for pope! That stuff’s not important. The man’s tryin’ ta save the country,” she replied.
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