Jeff bit down on his anger. “A shotgun won't stop a bear, you know. It'll only make him mad."
"What will it do to a human being?” she demanded.
"Are you threatening me?” he asked.
"Only if you don't get out of my way!"
Jeff had no choice but to stand aside. The canines scrambled after Peggy ecstatically. Jeff followed them outside again, trailing the absurd figure Peggy made; a hot-blooded New Yorker toting a shotgun almost as big as she was. Quite the cowgirl, indeed.
He wanted to stop her, but she obviously knew enough about such weaponry to handle it correctly. She clattered down the porch steps, heading for the woods. She actually intended to spend the day sitting on a rock waiting for Charlie!
"Peggy,” Jeff called.
She disappeared into the trees and brush.
Jeff sighed. “That stupid bitch is unbelievable."
He fumed about her for half a minute, torn between reason and instinct. His brain shouted one clear message—let her do what she wanted. But his gut had a different story. Then common sense prevailed, and he followed her.
About halfway into the first bank of bushes, Jeff heard one of the dogs start to yelp. Then Peggy cried out. In fact, Peggy screamed. Jeff ran through the underbrush. Peggy screamed and screamed. Both dogs began to bark and howl. The next sound Jeff heard was the unmistakable deep growling roar of a bear.
What happened next took place in less than fifteen seconds, but all the action seemed to grind in excruciatingly slow motion. Jeff crashed through the bushes, heading for the sound of Peggy's voice. She came barreling backward with one canine underfoot, so that all three of them collided in a tangle of thorny bushes and blinding tree branches.
Jeff felt the swat of trees branches rake across his eyes, then he opened his arms and caught Peggy, her momentum driving them both into the nearest tree. Jeff managed to stand and whirl Peggy behind him. Then he turned and saw the bear.
It was a big, nasty, black, fur-covered thing, all muscle and slashing teeth, with huge, glaring soulless eyes. It reared back on its powerful legs and pawed the air with its claws, then it thundered toward one of the dogs. The canine was barking like crazy in the ferocious bear's path, willing to defend the humans to the death.
"Look out!” Peggy cried.
Jeff wasn't sure what he intended to do. He stood between Peggy and the terrible beast, but she darted sideways. In the next instant, he saw her put the shotgun unsteadily to her shoulder.
"Peggy, wait!” He stepped forward.
But she pulled the trigger at exactly the same moment that the other dog crashed against her legs. The gun exploded with an entire series of tremendous noises. Peggy tumbled backward from the tremendous recoil of the continuous setting. She had not known enough about the firing mechanism to change it to single round dispersement.
Tree branches and bushes were blown into total oblivion all around them. One of the dogs yelped, and the roaring creature froze for an excruciating second.
Jeff spun around like a top and fell. Then the pain hit him like an exploding meteor.
* * * *
As soon as she had fired the gun, Peggy knew she'd made a dreadful mistake. The bear fled as she'd planned, but the canine leapt into the air and collapsed in a writhing heap. Jeff just whirled around and dropped. Choking with fear, Peggy threw down the weapon and ran to him.
"Jeff ... I ... oh, my God!” She rocked to a stop, horrified.
Sprawled face down across the weeds and stone, Jeff looked limp, his arms and legs cast wide, his head twisted between two stones. Peggy stumbled over the brush and threw herself down by his side. He didn't move.
She hugged herself, afraid to touch him, afraid to see if he was breathing. Tears of panic clogged her throat and blinded her eyes. Though she hadn't prayed in years, Peggy began to beg God for his life.
"Please, God, oh, please,” she whispered.
At last, with hands shaking, she reached and took hold of Jeff's shoulders. Weeping, she struggled to roll him over, and then caught her breath at the sight of him. Jeff's face was pale, except for an ugly bruise on his forehead that was welling with blood. His shirt was covered with blood, too, and his right sleeve was soaked with it. Seeing the stains, Peggy gasped out a sob.
However, the sight of it jolted her into action. She leapt to her feet, suddenly terrified that the bear was on its way back. Taking Jeff by his good arm, she tried to drag him toward the cabin, but the ground was too rough. She only managed to tug him a few yards before he made a noise. Peggy threw herself down beside him and gathered him into her arms. He stirred groggily, and finally cursed.
"Dear God,” Peggy pleaded. “Please don't let him die. Oh, Jeff!"
Maybe she cradled him too hard, for Jeff groaned and woke, pushing weakly out of her embrace.
"Jeff! I'm so sorry! I only meant to frighten it away, not—"
"Take it easy.” He gingerly put his hand to his forehead.
Peggy hiccupped and cried, holding him tightly. “Tell me what to do! Oh, God. You're hurt, you're—"
"Damn,” he muttered, blinking. “What in the hell did you do that for?"
"I didn't mean to shoot you. It was the bear!"
He felt his shoulder and bit down on an exclamation. He squeezed his eyes closed, as if to hold in the pain.
"Quick.” Peggy climbed to her knees. “We've got to get you inside. The bear might come back any second."
"You scared it too badly. It won't come back.” Jeff spoke carefully, like a guy who'd had too much to drink. He blinked and tried to focus his eyes. “Wow. What a headache."
"You're bleeding ... your shoulder. What can I do?"
That woke him up. “Press something on it. Use your hand ... anything."
She obeyed. Jeff gasped again, and Peggy whimpered, hating the idea of hurting him more than he was already.
Grinding his back teeth, Jeff said, “How bad is my chest?"
With her other hand, Peggy unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it aside. Her own vision was so blurry she could hardly see.
"I-I can't tell. There's blood, but—"
"Is it flowing?"
"Not like your shoulder. Oh, Jeff—"
"Take it easy. I'm not going to die. I'm just full of pellet particles and powder residue."
Peggy choked and began to cry for real. She covered her face with her blood-smeared hand.
Jeff shuddered on a laugh. “What's this? A few minutes ago, we were talking about doing real damage to each other, and now you're squeamish!"
"Don't joke,” Peggy wept. “Not about this. I could have killed you."
"I'm not out of my misery yet. Can you help me stand up? I seem to be a little on the weak side."
Awkwardly, Peggy slid her arm beneath his back and assisted Jeff into an upright position. They tussled for a moment, but Jeff managed to sway to his feet. He nearly passed out, sweat breaking out on his face, and Peggy staggered under his weight. She knew she had to get him to shelter. Fiercely determined, she guided him down the hillside, struggling to keep him from falling on his face.
"Wait.” He stood for a second, trying to clear his head.
"Just a few more steps,” Peggy begged.
They reached the porch at last. With great difficulty, Peggy guided him into one of the chairs.
"Get me a couple of towels.” Jeff closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath. He pressed his hand against his forehead, wincing once. “And some ice. There's also some first-aid stuff in a black bag under the sink."
He looked terribly pale and sick, but Peggy had no choice but to leave him alone for a few seconds. She found everything he asked for and returned to the porch, cradling towels, the bag, and two trays of ice cubes.
But when she saw Jeff in the chair—his head thrown back loosely, his arm was dripping blood onto the porch floor—she felt every nerve in her body tighten with fear.
He opened his eyes groggily. “Steady. I'm all right."
Sh
e knelt beside him. “I thought ... oh, Jeff."
He managed a grin. “Towel, please. Let's fill it with ice.” He tried to do the job, but from weakness or shock, he was too clumsy to manage by himself.
Peggy took the towel back. “Here, let me."
She snapped some ice cubes into one of the towels and handed it to Jeff. He held the makeshift ice pack against his forehead. Then, Peggy pressed the other towel against his shoulder for a minute, not speaking.
With the back of her hand, she skimmed the tears from her eyes. “I-I shot one of the dogs too."
Jeff said, “He looks healthy enough to me."
Peggy jerked her attention to the edge of the porch where the two canines were crouched, nervously watching. The first one did indeed look alive and relatively well. Its light fur coat was dotted with the same spray of powder residue wounds that Jeff suffered from, but when the dog saw Peggy's face, it began to wag its tail.
Peggy gave a sigh of relief, and that was all the signal those animals needed. They dashed to her side and began licking her face and Jeff's.
Laughing a little, Peggy shoved them away, then steeled herself to peek under the towel. Only an ooze of fresh blood seeped up from the torn patch of flesh. She could see that one round of the ammo had penetrated the fleshy part of his upper arm. It had ripped right through, creating a larger exit wound from which most of the blood flowed.
Jeff craned his head and peered at the wound. “It may have nicked the artery. We'll know in a few minutes."
"Dear God! You might bleed to death?"
"Think positively.” Jeff looked at her from under the crude icepack. “It's the first rule of medicine."
"What should I do? If your artery is—"
"Just keep up the pressure a little longer."
She did, then unbuttoned his shirt and used the edge of the towel to sop up the worst of the blood from his muscular chest. Biting her lips, she examined the small wounds. She could see the shot particles embedded in his skin.
Jeff noticed the direction of her attention. “Think you can take those out?"
"Shouldn't we wait for someone else? Charlie, maybe?"
"Like hell! I don't want him poking around in any part of me!"
"You won't want me to do it, either."
Jeff put out his hand and slid it into her hair. “You're not such a bad nurse."
"I create my own patients!"
"Don't be so hard on yourself. It was an accident."
"It was stupid. I let myself get out of control. I'm no better than my ... than anyone."
"You were going to say your father."
Peggy couldn't meet his eyes. “I-I went a little crazy. I hate myself when I do things like that."
Jeff managed to look amused. “You shoot others often then?"
"No! But—I don't know. I get out of control sometimes."
"We all do."
"You don't."
"I didn't think I did,” he murmured. “Until I met you."
"I'm sorry,” Peggy said hastily. “I shouldn't have said the things I did earlier. I provoked you."
"You spoke the truth."
"For once."
He took a long look at her. Peggy felt herself blushing. “I'm not always honest, I know that. I'm sorry, but you made me so angry."
Jeff sighed and shifted the ice on his forehead. “It's not just anger that gets us so worked up. It's a lot of intense emotions. They just get confused, stirred up into one gigantic—"
"N-no. But my state of mental health isn't the issue.” She pulled herself together. “We'd better get you fixed up. Tell me what to do."
"Let's have a look at the arm first. Ah, see? The bleeding's stopped."
Peggy took a cautious peek at the wound. “Are you blind? It's a mess!"
"That's old stuff. No new bleeding. The artery must be intact. We'll just clean this up, bandage it, and see how things go. Right now, I'm not used to sewing myself. Unless you'd like to try?"
"Listen,” Peggy confided. “I send my clothes to the tailor if I pop a button. If you think it won't get worse, you're better off without me stabbing around with a needle."
"Your candor is appreciated,” Jeff said.
Then he asked for some water and antiseptic. With his help, Peggy managed to bandage his arm. He only winced once under her ministrations, and Peggy carefully finished taping.
"Not bad,” he said when the job was done. “Now, the tough part. Unless all that residue comes out, I'm a good candidate for a case of blood poisoning."
He was already shivering and sweating at the same time, Peggy could see, though she hadn't the faintest idea what that meant.
With one hand, he rummaged in the bag for the right equipment, and finally gave several items to Peggy. “Go put a pot of water on the stove and get it boiling. Put these forceps in and—"
"This is sounding like major surgery!"
"Don't panic. We just need to sterilize a few things."
"Maybe we'd better call a professional."
"No,” Jeff said.
"Why not? For heaven's sake, you said yourself that you could get blood poisoning! What if you pass out? I'm not a doctor! I can't possibly—"
"I'll be alright,” Jeff insisted. “I don't want to go to a hospital."
"Because you think you'll be recognized?” Peggy demanded. “Or are you worried somebody will put you into a lie detector machine and make you tell all of your secrets?"
"Of course not! I can't ... I just don't want any more strangers to know where I am, that's all. Please, Peggy.” He caught her hand with his good one and held tight. “Please. I need your help."
Peggy frowned at him, and more protests were on the tip of her tongue. But she knew that she had never heard such words from Jeff before. And it was very likely that she'd never hear them again. He didn't trust anyone lightly.
She could see how tough it was for him to ask for her help. Peggy hesitated, torn between what she knew was the wisest choice, and what her heart told her she should do.
At last, she nodded. “Okay then. Just tell me what to do."
He talked her through the whole ordeal. From boiling the forceps and picking out each particle, one by one, to daubing each little wound with an antiseptic that made him yelp a time or two. She even managed to fill a syringe for him. But she couldn't watch when Jeff injected himself in the thigh.
"You look exhausted,” she said.
He had finally relaxed into the blanket she'd wrapped around his shoulders. “I'm alright."
"You're beat,” she said. “Come on, I'll help you up to bed. Yes, dammit! Come on!"
"I don't want to climb the steps."
Peggy chewed her lower lip. He was looking very shaky. And if she dropped him going up the steps to the loft, she'd feel even more terrible.
"Okay,” she said finally. “I'll make you a place to rest by the fire. A short nap. That ought to help."
He nodded, too tired to argue any further. When Peggy finished inside, he went without protest and allowed her to tuck him into more blankets and a few pillows. He was asleep in minutes.
Peggy spent the rest of the day in turmoil. She tried to keep busy. She did her best to tend to the one dog's wounds, but soon realized she was going to need Charlie's help to finish that job properly.
She made some sandwiches, but didn't have the stomach to eat anything. From time to time, she checked on Jeff, but he slept soundly for several hours. Finally, Peggy heard the purr of a boat's engine on the lake. With relief, she ran onto the porch.
She thought she'd never be happier to see another human being, as she was when she spotted Charlie climbing out onto the dock. She ran down the path to him. He was slinging a string of fish over his shoulder when she flew into view.
"Evening, Manhattan Miss!” he called when he caught sight of Peggy. “I'm inviting myself for dinner."
"Never mind that,” Peggy said. “Jeff's hurt."
All the good cheer left his expression at once.
“What happened?"
She'd managed to hang onto her self-control all day when she was alone. But suddenly, Peggy was babbling, not making sense, powerless to stop herself.
"There was a big bear. The one you told us about. And we argued, and I told him I wasn't going to wait for—"
"You argued with a bear? Now, calm down a second, will you? Take a deep breath."
"You don't understand,” Peggy cried. “I shot him!"
"The bear?"
"No. Jeff!"
Charlie dropped his hand from around her neck. His eyes bulged. “You stupid bitch! You're crazy! By God, I never should have left him alone with you!"
"Left him alone? What about me? That monster was as big as—"
"I thought you said you didn't shoot it?"
"I was trying to scare it off, but I—well, I might have hit it, too. After all, those wacky shotgun rounds go everywhere!"
Charlie growled with frustration. “Did you shoot Jeff or not?"
"It was an accident! For God's sake, you don't think I meant to—"
"Is he ... how bad is he?"
"He's okay. He's been sleeping."
Charlie spun around and ran up the path. With Peggy right behind him, he quickly arrived at the porch and threw open the door. He was halfway across the room before Peggy caught his arm and dug in her heels. He swung around like an angry bull.
"Don't wake him,” Peggy commanded in a fierce whisper.
"I've got to make sure—"
"He's alive. You can see that from here. Calm down, will you? Come on, I've made some coffee."
Charlie shoved away her hand, and then angrily went to stand over Jeff's motionless form. He stayed quiet, though, and didn't try to rouse his friend. At last, he seemed satisfied and turned around.
He followed Peggy to the kitchen, where she poured coffee. She motioned her head toward the door, and they carried their cups onto the porch. There, they spoke in low voices as dusk began to fall. Peggy leaned against the balcony, cupping her hands around the hot imported bean drink.
"Jeff told me about the radio and your suspicions. You probably hate me right now. But I ... well, I'm glad you're here."
Charlie grunted and took a sip. “I don't hate you."
Isle of Intrigue Page 11
