“This is where the desk clerk said they’d be,” Jake murmured uncertainly as they wound their way among the animal enclosures.  “And the guy at the gate said Clay was headed in this direction.”

“Knowing Gary,” Polly sighed, “look for trouble.  He’ll be right in the middle of it.  That boy has the God-awfulest knack for gettin’ into one mess after another.”  She cocked her head to one side, listening intently.  “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Jake asked, looking around.  “This is a noisy place, Polly.  You need to be more specific.”

“I thought I heard someone in pain,” she murmured.  Turning slowly, she seemed to be focusing in on something.  Finally she stopped, eyes locked in the direction of the stable area.  “This way,” she told him.  

********************

Gary fought to retain consciousness as the horse pranced nervously around his prone form.  With what felt like superhuman effort he pushed himself to his feet, only to be knocked down again by flailing hooves.  The scent of Gary’s blood was driving the animal insane with fear!  Dazed and in pain, he tried again to rise.  A savage kick caught him squarely on the right hip, slamming him against the stable wall!  The injured man slid to the floor of the stall in a boneless heap.  Battered, bruised, hanging on to awareness by his fingernails, Gary knew only that he would not be able to dodge the fear-crazed beast much longer.   He was barely able to elude him as it was!

Staying close to the ground and pulling himself along by his elbows, Gary tried to drag himself through the muck and the mud, out of the stall.  It was slow going, as he kept slipping in and out of consciousness for brief moments.  Twice more the enraged, frightened animal struck him with steel shod hooves, once on the lower back and again on his right leg.  The next blow missed crashing down on his unprotected head by less than an inch.  

Gary kept expecting to hear the sound of bones breaking.  As he slid into darkness once more, he sent out a silent prayer that he would be in no shape to feel it when the end finally came.

**************

“You sure he’s dead?” the smaller man mumbled around a mouthful of hotdog.  “If he isn’t, Jaggs’ll want our heads next.”

The larger man finished swallowing before he spoke.  “If he ain’t,” he said, “that pony’ll finish ‘im off.  Ain’t no way he’ll survive that beating.”

“I don’t know,” the other sighed, wiping his hands on a bit of paper.  “Jaggs ain’t got a whole lot more time.  He’s runnin’ out of appeals and he’s wantin’ proof of Treyton’s death before it happens.”

The big man looked back over to the stable where they had left their victim.  “Then we’d best go get ‘im some.”

*****************

The battered, bloody figure finally managed to drag himself beneath the stall door.  It was a trek that he would recall later only in bits and pieces.  Slowly, painfully, Gary grasped the rough-hewn boards of the stall and pulled himself to his feet.  The stable door was just a few feet away.  Just beyond it was safety in the form of people and open spaces.  With his goal firmly fixed in his sight, Gary staggered forward.

One halting step at a time.  That was almost more than he could manage.  Yet, manage he did until he was halfway to the gaping set of double doors.  Gary grimly hung on to an iron hook, the kind that was used to hang tack on to be cleaned or repaired. ‘Almost there,’ he thought.  ‘Just a few more feet.  I can make it.  Just . . .’

Gary looked up as a shadow crossed the opening, blocking out his one beacon of hope.  

“Looks like you were right,” the big man chuckled.  “We’ll have to finish this job ourselves.”

*****************

“Do you even know where we’re going?” Jake Evans asked his companion.  “I mean, that noise you heard couldn’t have come from here.  We were too far away.”

Polly shook her head sadly.  Some things were so hard to explain.  She just knew Gary was in deep trouble somewhere close by!

“It wasn’t the kind of noise you hear with these,” she told him, brushing a hand over her right ear.  “You hear it up here,” she added, tapping her head with a forefinger.  “And you feel it here.”  She placed the same hand over her heart.  “It’s not something you can put into words.  Just trust me on this.  Gary’s in bad trouble and he needs us.  Now, pick up those feet and hurry!”

****************

Gary hit the ground, face down, with a thud.  The two men had been very efficient in their ‘work.’  In less than a minute, they had beaten out of him what little strength he had left.  His abdomen was one throbbing mass of pain and he had once again lost his breakfast.  They had also landed a few kicks behind his knees, effectively ‘hamstringing’ him.  Between their abuse, and the damage already done by the pony’s flashing hooves, Gary had all but lost feeling in his legs.  Dazed, bleeding and barely conscious he was unable to resist as one of the men jerked his right arm straight out from his side, holding it down with a booted foot.

“You won’t get many rides with only one good hand,” the big man told him with a sadistic chuckle.  “Not that you’ll live long enough to miss it.”

Lacking the strength to resist, Gary nevertheless tried to reclaim his already abused extremity before any further harm could be done to it.  He was rewarded with a jolt of pain as the boot ground into his elbow.  Helpless, Gary squeezed his eyes shut so he would not have to witness the destruction of his limb!

Clang!!!

The weight was suddenly gone from his arm, a feat accompanied by surprised shouts, scuffling noises, and a lot of loud cursing.  Most of the cursing seemed to be in a woman’s voice!  ‘She’s got quite a vocabulary,’ Gary thought fuzzily.  “P-Polly?”

Gentle hands began to probe his aching body, determining the extent of his injuries.  “Just lie still, sugar,” that same voice murmured softly.  “It’s okay.  You’re safe now, Gary.”

“H-how c’n . . . How do you know . . . which one . . .?” he gasped painfully.

“Well,” his friend drawled with a touch of amusement in her strong southern accent, “you always seem to be on the receivin’ end of these little shindigs.”  She very carefully helped him to turn onto his right side when he started making retching noises.  “Besides, that scar was a dead giveaway,” she added, one finger tracing the faint line on his cheek.  “Now just take it easy and wait for the medics to get here.  I’m afraid yo're in for another trip to the hospital.”

“So wh-what else . . . is new?” Gary mumbled as he drifted into darkness.

**************************

Taking a handkerchief from her pocket, Polly wet it with some bottled water she had bought at the concession stand near the entrance.  She used the dampened cloth to wipe some of the blood and grime from Gary’s poor, battered features.  In the distance, she could hear the muffled shouts and curses indicating the twins’ success in cornering Gary’s assailants.  Buddy and Clay had come wandering up with two other men just seconds after she had slammed a shovel full of manure against the larger thug’s head.  Jake had tackled the smaller man at almost the same moment, knocking him off Gary’s back.  Those two bruisers had turned tail and run as soon as the odds had turned against them.  Of course, the look on their faces when they spied Jake may have had something to do with it.  The larger man had worn such a comical look of astonishment, Polly had been tempted to see if the shovel would fit in his mouth.

As Gary’s attackers high-tailed it out of there, she had shouted for Buddy and Clay to ‘get those sons o‘ b----!’  They had shot her a startled look, then taken off after the two men, no questions asked.  The other two men with them had gone along, apparently afraid of missing out on the excitement.  She had then started a careful examination so that she could apprise the paramedics of the extent of her young friend’s injuries.  

That was when she noticed the bloody bandages now hanging loosely from his wrists.  Very gently, Polly turned one down to see the deep lacerations that appeared to completely encircle both extremities.  Her display of the English language at this discovery was nothing if not masterful and impressive.  ‘Buddy ‘n’ Clay better have a good explanation for this,’ she decided.

“The ambulance is on its way,” Jake told her as he knelt beside them.  “How is he?”

“Don’t know,” Gannon sighed, gently wiping the blood from Gary’s lip.  “He was talkin’ for a bit, then he nodded off.  Looks like those bozos worked him over pretty good, though.  Damn!” she snapped, fuming.  “I shoulda took that goon’s head off!  I’ll lay you odds they didn’t even know Gary!”

“They were too well dressed to be muggers,” Jake Evans observed dryly.  “And they didn’t need to rough him up this bad to rob him.  Loan sharks?”

“Not Gary,” Polly replied with a shake of her head.  “He’s just not that reckless.  If he was losin’, he’d stop bettin’.  If he was winnin’, he didn’t need a loan to begin with.  I don’t know who those yahoos are,” she added with a heated look toward the sounds of unarmed combat, “but I wanna be there when the police question ‘em.”

“P-Polly?”

“Right here, sweetie,” she answered in her most soothing voice, one hand automatically brushing a lock of hair off his forehead.  “Tell me where it hurts, darlin’.”

“Ever’where,” he mumbled through swollen lips.  “C-can’t . . . can’t feel . . . legs.”  Polly was sure she detected a faint note of panic in his slurred response.  “P-Polly?  Why can’t . . . f-feel . . .?”

Polly quickly, but gently, ran a hand over his lower back, cursing softly as she encountered the swelling just above his hips.  

“Jake, go to one of those concession stands and get some ice,” she instructed the banker in a near whisper.  “Lots of it in plastic bags.  And some towels if they have any.  We need to get this swelling down fast, or he could end up in a wheelchair.  Again.  Hurry!”

Evans nodded once and took off, returning within minutes with two large garbage bags half filled with ice.  Another man was just a step behind him with an armload of dishtowels.  Polly took the towels and draped two of them across Gary’s back, covering the ragged gaps in his clothing, before positioning one of the ice filled bags firmly against his spine.  She then rolled him back slightly so that he was half lying on the icepack.  Gary gave out a shuddering groan as the ice sent a chill into his battered flesh, trying to roll away from the source of so much cold.  Polly placed a gentle, but firm, hand on his shoulder, keeping him in place.

“Trust me on this, sugar,” she crooned softly.  “Just lie still ‘n’ let the ice work its magic.  You’ve got some swellin’ back there and it’s probably pressin’ on some nerves.  We want to ease that pressure as quick as we can, ya hear me?”

Gary’s head nodded once, slowly.  “C-cold,” he murmured softly.  “Sso ccold.”  

A tear trickled down Polly’s cheek as she smoothed the hair back from his forehead.  He had slipped into unconsciousness once more, so he didn’t see this tiny crack in her professional demeanor.

“Just rest, hon,” she murmured gently.  “You just rest and leave everything to ‘Aunt Polly.’”

*********************

“What the hell is this!”  the smaller thug growled as he ran for all he was worth.  “Is Treyton triplets or somethin’?”

“How the ---- should I know?” the big man huffed.  “I only knew one in the pen,” he added, looking over his shoulder at the two ‘Treytons’ leading the chase.  They were closing the gap fast.  Those boys could run!  “I thought the other two . . . with him were just . . . look-a-likes . . . or somethin’.  Didn’t . . . didn’t pay ‘em much . . . mind.”

A figure stepped from around a corner directly in front of the running men, bringing a nightstick across the shins of the lead man and tripping him into the path of his larger companion.  With an angry cry, both men jumped up to confront their attacker, only to freeze in their tracks.  There, in front of them, was another ‘Treyton!’  This made five they had seen in less than ten minutes!  He stood before them, feet spread for balance, club held out in front of him in a defensive posture.

“Just hold up, guys,” he told them.  “Sit still and we’ll have all this sorted out in no time.”

Before either of the two thugs could grate out a response, the ‘posse’ caught up with them.  All four men stopped in their tracks as they spied the man standing before their quarry.

“Oh Lord!” one of them gasped, looking from his twin to the third man, evidently as surprised as everyone else.  With a shake of his head, he turned to face the men he had been chasing.  “We can sort this out later,” he snapped.  “Right now, we want to know why you’ve been tailin’ our cousin, Gary Hobson.  And what’ve you done with ‘im?”

The other twin stepped forward to take a closer look at the larger of the two thugs.  “I remember you now,” he said.  “You were one of Jaggs’s dogs.  Sykes, isn’t?  You two weren’t followin’ Gary.  You were after me!”  Clay Treyton, the real one, grabbed Sykes by the collar of his jacket.  “Jaggs sent you bozos to kill me, didn’t he?  What’s the matter, his time almost up?  They getting’ ready to strap ‘im down and put that drug pedalin’ piece of ---- out of our misery?”

“Not yet,” Sykes snarled, squaring off in front of the cowboy.  “He wanted us to give you a message, Treyton.  We just gave it to the wrong one, is all.”  Without warning, he kicked out at the young rodeo rider.

Clay leaped back out of the way, throwing his opponent off balance.  He then jumped right back in, landing a smashing blow on the big man’s mouth.  After that, things got confusing.  It was five against two, now, but the two hardened felons were desperate to escape.  They fought ferociously, biting, stabbing, and slashing with switchblades they had whipped out, kicking their opponents wherever they could.  Finally, with the arrival of the police, the battle was put to an end.

By that time, every one of the participants was liberally covered with mud, blood, and bruises.  Some were limping, some were trying to staunch the bleeding from gaping wounds, and at least one was lying on the ground, unconscious.  The police just loaded everyone up in ambulances to be sorted out later, at the hospital.

****************

The paramedics tried to tell Polly she would not be able to ride in the ambulance with Gary.  She told them exactly where they could put that decree and how many times to fold it so it would fit.  They wisely decided not to push the issue.  Polly never left her friend’s side all through the ambulance ride, triage and clean up.  A situation, which proved beneficial, as she was able to give them an extensive medical history, saving valuable time.

Through it all, Gary drifted in and out of consciousness, sometimes asking for Polly, sometimes for his mom.  To Polly’s relief, the periods of wakefulness were growing longer and he was gradually becoming more lucid.  It was during one of these instances that he was finally able to tell her what had happened.  She kept her expression neutral with an effort, as he haltingly recited his tale of pain, horror and desperation.  She even managed a smile, as she patted his hand and told him to get some rest.  Her smile vanished the moment he closed his eyes.  

Jake found her coming out of the treatment room as Gary was being wheeled to radiology for some tests.  He started to ask how her friend was doing, but the look on her face froze the words in his mouth.  ‘This can’t be good news,’ he thought.

“H-how . . .?” he stammered hesitantly.

“They’re taking him for an MRI now,” she told him grimly.  “It’s too soon to know, yet, how much damage was done to his spine.  They’re also gonna do an ultrasound and a CT, to rule out internal injuries.  Just to be safe.  Then there‘s that right leg to worry about.”  Polly looked over to where two uniformed policemen were escorting the men who had attacked Gary into adjacent treatment rooms.  “You look around and find the twins,” she suggested.  “I’m gonna go find me a few answers.”

“Answers to what?” Jake asked suspiciously.

“To why they tried to kill Gary for one thing,” the fuming tech replied.  “For another, how long it’ll take me to rip the hide offa those yella bellied, lily livered, scum suckin’ dawgs!  That one fella was near twice his size!  It shouldn’t a took two for a fair fight!”

Jake quickly grabbed her by the arms as she tried to push past him.  “Whoa!” he cried.  “Hold up there Calamity Jane!  You do that and they’ll lock you up!  The best thing you can do is be here when they bring Gary back and let the police handle this.  Now, I’ll go find Buddy and Clay, but you’ve got to promise me you’ll be right here when I get back.  Promise me!”

Polly fixed him with a look that could have burned through the heat shield on the space shuttle.  Jake held his ground though, an unparalleled act of courage on his part, until she finally ducked her head and nodded.  He could tell she still wanted blood, and lots of it, but she had let her better judgment get the upper hand.  For now.

“Go on,” she sighed.  “See what kinda trouble the others are into.  I’m going up to radiology and see if I can’t get a little ‘professional courtesy.’  Try to talk the docs into lettin’ me sit in on his tests.”

Jake turned to do as she asked, then paused to look back at the motionless woman.  “You sure you’re okay, now?” he asked.

“I’m sure,” Polly told him impatiently.  “Now git!  Before those two get themselves thrown in jail.  I’ll be fine.”

Jake found it hard to suppress a grin at her brusque manner as he moved to obey.  This was a woman used to speaking her mind.  But, good God, what a mind!

The financial advisor headed for the front desk, thinking to inquire about other patients fitting his description in case they had been in no shape to give their names.  He was almost there when he felt a hand on his arm.  Turning, he looked into the face of a pretty nurse’s aide.

“Please, Mr. Blessing,” she said.  “You have to put the gown on and wait for the doctor to check out that wound.”

“Wh-what gown?” Jake asked, puzzled.  “And what wound?  I think you’ve got the wrong . . .”

The determined aide dragged him toward one of the treatment rooms.  “We’re all very busy tonight, Mr. Blessing,” she told her ‘patient.’  “If you don’t want your wound treated, then we have to fill out a waiver.  But I’m afraid the police will require you to have it seen to so you can press charges.”

“Now wait just a minute!” Jake protested, pulling his arm from her grasp.  “I’m not . . .”

“Oh, but you have to press charges!” she insisted, taking his arm again.  “It’s your civic duty!  Do you want those men to get away with what they did to that poor Mr. Hobson?”  All the while, she was tugging him toward the door of the treatment room.  She snatched open the door without looking inside, and thrust him into the tiny room.  “The police will be around to take pictures for their report in just a few minutes,” she added with a sweet smile.  “Please be ready.”  With that she let the door swing shut behind her.

“But I’m not Mr. Blessing!” Jake shouted at the closed door.  “I’m . . .”

“Of course you’re not,” a familiar voice said behind him, freezing him in mid shout.  “I am.”

Jake slowly turned to face the gowned man sitting on the stretcher, a thick bandage wrapping his right thigh and did a ‘double-take.’  He had a large bruise on the left side of his jaw, and a cut over his right eye.  Otherwise, he was a dead ringer for Jake.  And Gary.  And the twins.

“Oh . . . my . . . Lord!” Jake murmured softly.

**************

Clay was getting restless.  He had been waiting for almost an hour for the doctor to come and take a look at his arm.  Sykes had sliced a deep furrow in it with his switchblade, which was still oozing blood through the bandage.  Clay realized the ER was having a busy night.  Still, he wanted to get this over with so he could see how Gary and the others were doing.

Finally, the young wrangler’s patience ran out.  He slipped back into his jeans and boots, thinking to find the nurse who had stuck him in there and ask her what the hold up was.  He hadn’t gotten three steps past the door when . . .

“Mr. Blessing!” a young nurse’s aide snapped.  “What are you doing, walking around with that gash in your leg?  And why did you put those dirty clothes back on?  That suit was much nicer.  You have to stay in that room or the doctor won’t know where to find you!”  She grabbed Clay by the arm, just missing the bandaged gash by a hair, and led him to another room around the corner from the one he had just left.  Ignoring his protests, she flung the door open and pushed him inside.  “Now, please be seated!” she snapped.  “The doctor will be here in just a moment.”

Confused, Clay stood staring at the closed door, wondering what in the world that girl had been chattering on about.  There was nothing wrong with his leg!  The arm wound alone was probably enough to knock him out of the competition.  And what did she mean by that remark about a suit?

“What is this?” someone asked from behind him.  “A convention?”

Slowly, Clay turned to see a man with a thick bandage on his leg staring at him from the stretcher.  He looked almost as confused as Clay felt.  Was this the man who had been holding off Gary’s assailants?  Standing next to him was another man in a dark gray suit and tie.  The man in the suit gave him a strained smile and a two-fingered wave.

*****************

Buddy lay still with an effort as the pretty brunette finished cleaning the tiny laceration on his scalp that had bled so freely.  At least it was just inside the hairline so they didn’t have to shave too much of his hair to stitch it up.  The black eye was going to look worse in the morning.  As would the swelling on the left side of his jaw.  

The nurse applied a pressure bandage over the wound to stop the bleeding.  “There,” she said with a smile.  “That should hold it until the doctor can get in here and sew it up.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Buddy replied, flashing her a grin.  “So, you like this kinda work?”

The nurse turned away to hide her smile.  She had wondered how long it would take before this handsome young man started his ‘pick up.’

“It has its moments,” she responded evasively.  “You meet so many . . . interesting people.  Do you live around here or are you just visiting?”

“Just passin’ through,” Buddy shrugged, wincing as the motion woke up several sore spots.  “Tryin’ to help a cousin o’ mine relax.  Cousin Gary’s had a pretty rough time of it lately.  Poor guy’s wound so tight, he cain’t hardly sit still.  Then things keep happenin’ to ‘im here!  Those two bozos we was fightin’ have been dogging his footsteps since we hit town.  We all got hauled in the other night for somethin’ we didn’t do.  That got ol’ Gary so jittery he got sick and passed out.  He hasn’t slept good since we been here.  He just wanted to hang out and relax.  You know, do a little ‘no pressure’ gaming?  Then he started winnin’ big and attractin’ all kinds of attention.  Which only made ‘im even more nervous.”  Buddy shook his head sadly.  “Poor Gary just cain’t seem to catch a break.”

“Maybe he did this time,” the pretty nurse smiled.  “I don’t think anyone named Gary came in from this fight.  But I can check if you like.”

“Would you please?” Buddy asked, suddenly serious.  “He might’ve got here before us.  See, we was chasin’ these guys because they hurt someone else.  Now, I could be wrong.  They might’ve beat up on someone I never met before.  But I’ll lay you odds it was Gary Hobson lyin’ on the floor of that stable.”

A shadow flickered across the young brunette’s face at the mention of Gary’s name.  Buddy got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he saw it.   Damnation!

“It was him!” Buddy exclaimed, followed by several heartfelt curses.  “Sorry,” he murmured at the shocked look on the woman’s face.  “It’s just . . . We brought him out here to relax!  Have a little fun after all the . . . the pain he’s been put through over the last year and a half.”  Buddy jumped up off the stretcher and headed for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going” the nurse asked in a stern voice.  “Get right back up on that stretcher!  That head wound needs stitches!”

“Later!” Buddy snapped.  “I’ve got to find the others.  I need to know everyone’s alright.”  He reached for the door handle, only to have it swing inward with enough force to send him staggering back a few steps.

A pretty young thing poked her head around the door, evidently intending to say something to the nurse, when she caught site of Buddy.  Her eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open in an ‘O’ of astonishment.

***************

“This is truly weird an’ wonderful,” Clay mumbled, “but I need to know where the others are and just how bad Gary’s been hurt this time.”

“This time?” Jake asked, puzzled.  He opened his mouth as if to ask something, then closed it with a shake of his head.  “Th-that’s what Polly sent me to tell you,” he said.  “Gary . . . Gary’s getting an MRI to make sure there’s no permanent damage to his spine.  She seemed particularly worried about that.”

“She should be,” Clay shuddered.  “The man spent from June to May learnin‘ to walk again, from what his dad tol’ us.  Has he been able to tell you what happened?  Why Sykes and his crony jumped ‘im?”

“Not where I could hear,” Jake replied with a shake of his head.  “But whatever he told Ms. Gannon has her ready to take both of them on barehanded.  And my money’s on her!”

“Ms. Gannon?” Peter asked from his seat on the stretcher.  “Who’s that?  And who’s this Gary you guys keep talking about?”

Clay and Jake exchanged glances, then both shook their heads.  This was going to take some tall explaining.

****************

“Have you seen the patient from bed six?” the blonde nurse was asking the young aide.  “Mr. . . . Treyton?” she added, checking the chart in her hand.  “I went to find a suture kit and when I came back, he was gone but some of his clothes are still here.”

“M-Mr. Treyton?” the aide repeated uncertainly.  “C-could you describe him?”

“Sure,” the nurse smiled.  “About six feet tall, slender.  He has dark brown hair and the dreamiest, um, I mean greenish-brown, heavy-lidded eyes.  A face like ‘the boy next door.’  Have you seen anyone like that?”

“That sounds just like the m-man I keep putting back in bed two,” the young aide stammered.  She seemed shaken for some reason.  “Mr. Blessing.  And like the man I just saw in bed nine.  Mr. Jackson.”

“Well, trust me,” the blonde nurse smiled.  “There can’t be two guys who look like this one.  Not this side of heaven,” she added with a wink as she turned to continue her search.

“Wanna make a bet on that?” the young aide mumbled under her breath.  She finally spotted an intern headed her way and breathed a sigh of relief.  At last she could get this patient seen to and get him on his way.

“Excuse me.”

The young woman turned to see a middle-aged woman with dark blonde hair and a stocky build looking at her expectantly.

“Have you seen my friend, Jake Evans?” she asked.  “I sent him to find out about a coupla other friends who may’ve been brought in here.  Clay Treyton and Buddy Jackson.  Have you seen him?”

“Perhaps,” the aide replied hopefully, glad for any distraction at this point.

“About six feet, slender,” the woman replied.  “Dark brown hair, kinda ‘All American’ good looks, in his thirties.  Real nice lookin’ fellas.”

‘Fellas?’ the nurses aide thought, puzzled.  ‘She only described . . .’  “Which one were you describing?  Mr. Treyton, Mr. Jackson, or Mr. Evans?”  There!  She’d gotten all three names right!

“That’s right,” the woman replied with a nod.  “Mr. Evans, Mr. Treyton, and Mr. Jackson.  Have you seen them?”

Confused, the younger woman simply pointed to the door of room nine.  “There’s a Mr. Jackson getting a few stitches put into a cut on his head,” she replied uncertainly.  “And another man in two who fits that description, but his name is Blessing.  He’s about to get a leg wound sewn up.  So, if you’ll please describe the other two, I’ll . . .”

“Never mind, hon,” the woman interrupted her with a disarming smile.  “Just tell Mr. Jackson, or one of the others if you see them, that Ms. Gannon will be in Radiology for the next couple of hours.  Then she’ll be with Gary Hobson in room 216.  You got all that?”

“Um, yes,” the aide nodded uncertainly.  “R-radiology, then room 216.  Got it.”

“Good girl,” the woman, who she assumed was Ms. Gannon, nodded before turning on her heel and heading for the elevators.  “Don’t forget, now.”

“This night is getting so weird,” the young aide murmured to herself.  “Dr. Bishop!  This way,” she said to the approaching intern.  “Bed two has a deep laceration to the mid-thigh muscle.  He also has contusions to the left side of his face and a swelling over his left eye.”

“Hi, Sarah.  Another one of our brawlers?” the bookish young man asked with a tired smile.  “I just got through with one of the rodeo hands involved in that.  He said Clay Treyton was involved, too.  Something about an assault on his cousin?”

“They must mean Mr. Hobson,” Sarah replied with a shudder.  “That poor man!  I saw him when he was brought in.  Those men worked him over good!  Both eyes were swollen shut, his lips were split, and he was just barely conscious.  He looked awful.”

As she spoke, she was pushing open the door to exam room two.  Sarah was looking at the young intern, so she was first aware of the stunned look that crossed his face as the door swung open.  Puzzled, she turned to see what he found so startling.

There before her were three identical men, two of whom were dressed in gowns, the third in a dark charcoal suit.  The two in gowns could only be told apart by the nature of their injuries.

“Mr. Blessing?” she asked in a small voice.

The man seated on the table, a thick bandage covering his wounded leg, raised his hand.  “That would be me,” he said calmly.  “Can we get this sown up so I can go?  I have to be in LA by morning.”

“M-Mr. Treyton?” Sarah murmured hesitantly.  

“Yo,” the man with jeans under his gown spoke up.  “If we can get on with this, we need to find the rest of our group.”

Feeling a little light headed, the young aide turned to the third man.  “M-Mr. Jackson?”

“Jake Evans,” he spoke up with a shake of his head, simultaneously flashing her an apologetic smile.  “But we’re friends of Mr. Jackson.  Look, if we can save the explanations for later, I’ll go find the others.”

“A, ahm, Ms. Gannon said sh-she was going to be in Radiology for a few hours,” the girl stammered as she stepped aside to let the doctor reach his patient.  “Th-then she’ll be in room 216.  You could wait for her there, if you like.”

“Thanks,” Jake smiled as he headed for the door.  “I’ll find my own way.”

“Mr. Treyton,” she said in a tiny voice, “if you’ll come with me, please?   I’ll take you back to your things and, um, get your wound seen to.”  ‘Then I’m going to go home and have a nervous breakdown,’ she silently added to herself.  

“Thank you, miss. I’d appreciate that,” the rodeo star nodded, smiling.  He could see she was shaken up enough.  Getting upset with her would only make things worse.  “You were talking about someone lookin’ awful?” he added as he followed her back to room six.  “Would that be my cousin, Gary Hobson, by any chance?”

“I can’t discuss our other patients,” Sarah replied with a hesitant smile, feeling on more familiar ground.  

Clay nodded, acknowledging her reply.  As soon as his arm was taken care of, he would join Jake in the room he was sure would be Gary’s. Then he would see for himself just how much harm he had brought down on his cousin’s head.  

***************

Polly was allowed to stay by Gary’s side through most of his tests.  For some reason her presence seemed to comfort him, making him easier to work with.  The only time she could not be in direct contact with him was during the MRI.  She stayed close by, though, speaking to him softly from the mouth of the tunnel.  By the time they were finished, her voice was hoarse from over two hours of continuous use.  On the plus side, she was made privy to the results almost immediately.  Not all of it had been good.

When Gary was finally taken to a room later that evening, he had regained his senses enough to feel the myriad aches and pains resulting from his injuries.  He was also coherent enough to know that none of them felt life threatening.  They just felt as if he had been run over by a fleet of trucks.  Just one couldn’t have done that much damage.

The orderlies transferred him to the bed with smooth efficiency, making him as comfortable as possible.  Gary finally opened his eyes to see Polly and the twins huddled in the corner by the door.  Bits and pieces of their conversation drifted his way, none of it making much sense.  No need to tell him what?  Had the tests shown something?  Something serious?  No, that couldn’t be it.  Polly would never hide something like that from him.  So, what was it they felt he didn’t need to know?  

“Polly?” he murmured in a husky croak.  Gary licked dry, swollen lips and tried again.  “P-Polly?  Wha’s wrong?”

“Nothing, hon,” his friend replied in a voice almost as husky as his.  “You’ve got some broken ribs and a mild concussion.  Also, the wounds on your wrists had reopened.  They applied an ‘artificial skin’ over them.  It’ll reduce the scarring dramatically.”  She turned a baleful eye toward the twins, who stood near the door, fidgeting like naughty school boys.  “You will get around to explaining that.  Right?”  Polly faced her injured friend once more, smiling gently.  “The doctor wants to keep you here a few days for observation.  Just a precaution, sugar,” she assured him.  “That was one heck of a beating you took.  Did they say what they were after?”

“Jus’ kep’ callin’ me C-Clay,” Gary stammered thickly.  “E’erbody thin’s ‘m Clay.  You go’ some . . . strange frien’s,” he told his cousin.  “Don’ you know a-anyone doesn’ w-wanna . . . hur’ you?”

“There’s one or two out there,” Clay replied with a sad smile.  “I’m real sorry about this, Gary.  Those two goons were after me.”  He looked sheepishly at the other three gathered around the bed.  “I told ya’ll I spent a year in the State Pen,” he explained.  “Somethin’ I didn’t tell you is that . . . I got crosswise with a drug dealer while I was there.  He forced me to help him smuggle the stuff in a coupla times.  The first time, I did what I was told ‘cause he threatened my life.  Made me feel like a traitor ‘cause he was usin’ the prison ranch as a drop-off.  So, the next time I hid the stuff and tried to use it as a lever to make ‘im back off.  Only it kinda backfired.”

“What happened?” Polly asked encouragingly.

“They threatened to kill the guy who got me hooked up with Jaggs,” Clay murmured, “and the man who ran the ranch.  I stuck to my guns, though.  Told them I had to have their word this was the last time afore I’d give ‘em even half the shipment.  He agreed, we arranged to meet, and I left to get the first half.  As soon as I left . . . he stabbed my friend.  Then he sent his goons to work me over.  Make me tell where the rest of the stuff was hid.  Littrel, my friend, lived long enough to get help.  Jaggs was caught with the stuff in his pocket, and Littrel’s deathbed statement got him a cell on death row.  He swore I’d die afore he did.”  He shot Gary an apologetic look.  “I guess he’s running out of time.”

Gary nodded slowly, closing his eyes as a wave of dizziness swept over him.  It made sense.  In the same situation, he probably would’ve made the same choices.  It was just his bad luck to bear such a resemblance to the man those thugs were after.

“S’okay” he murmured.  “You were . . . were jus’ tryin’ . . . do righ’ thin’.”  His face scrunched thoughtfully as he recalled their muted conference.  “Wh-wha’ were y’all whisperin’ ‘bout?”

“Whispering?” Jake asked uncomfortably.  “We, um . . .”

“It’s nothin’ that cain’t wait ‘til morning,” Polly assured him.  “How bad are you hurtin’, son?”

“No’ so bad,” Gary mumbled thickly.  “Jus’ a li’l tired.  An’ I’m too ol’ t’be your son, Polly.”

“Not where I’m from, you’re not,” she replied with a grin.  “I’m gonna get you somethin’ for the pain yo're ‘not’ havin’ so you can get some rest.  We can fill in all the gaps in the mornin’.”

As she reached for the call button, a uniformed cop poked his head around the door.   “Mr. Hobson?” he asked hesitantly.  When he saw that he had everyone’s attention, the big cop stepped the rest of the way into the room.  He looked at the three men gathered around the bed, half concealing it from his view. “You may remember me.  We, um . . . ”

“I remember,” Buddy grumbled.  “You were the guy who refused to take the damned cuffs offa Gary.  Wouldn’t even loosen ‘em up a little when he tol’ you he couldn’t feel his hands!”

That got Polly’s attention!  “Pardon me,” she drawled in her most disarming tone.  “Would either of ya’ll care to elaborate on this new development?  Jake and I just flew into town today and walked into the middle of this mess.  I would truly appreciate someone tellin’ me why you felt the need to put my friend in steel restraints to begin with!”  Her voice had taken on an icy tone, near the end, that made the hair stand up on the back of every neck in the room.  Even Gary’s.

Buddy and Clay were quick, real quick, to explain about the misunderstanding that had landed the three of them in jail.  They went on to describe the state of near panic Gary was in by the time they had arrived at the station, and how he had rubbed his wrists raw on the steel cuffs.

“We could hear him practically beggin’ this . . . officer . . . to just loosen the damned things a little,” Clay grumbled, shooting the cop a heated look.  “He didn’t even bother to check to see if Gary was puttin’ on or was really in pain.”

The shame-faced cop just bit his lip and nodded.  “That’s true,” he admitted.  “And I’ll be payin’ for that mistake for a long time.”

“So what can we do for you, officer,” Jake asked quickly, before the fire behind Polly’s eyes erupted into a minor holocaust.  

Lou winced as he noticed the woman glaring as if she had just caught him drowning kittens.  “I-I need to get a statement from you, Mr. Hobson,” he stammered nervously, looking toward the man in the dark gray suit.  “You’re the only one we haven’t spoken with yet.”

“He’s in no shape for this,” Polly stated in a flat, emotionless voice.  “Come back in the morning.”

Puzzled, Lou looked at the unmarked man he had assumed was Gary Hobson.  Looking closer, he noticed that the man wore no bandages on his wrists, either.  

“Y-you’re not . . .?”

“I’m Jake Evans,” the man replied.  He then stepped aside so that Lou could see the figure on the bed.  “This is Mr. Hobson.”

“Dear Lord!” Lou whispered.  “Just how many of you guys are there?  I mean, I do remember you guys from last night.  Who could forget hauling in triplets.  Then there’s that Blessing guy I just talked with downstairs, too.  Now . . .”  He waved a hand at Jake, suddenly at a loss for words.

“Last night?” Polly asked, shooting the twins a ‘raised eyebrow’ look.  “The injuries to his wrists were last night?  Not the night before?”

“Um, yeah,” Clay replied, squirming under her scrutiny.  What was it about her that reduced grown men to feeling like errant school children?  “W-we told ya about that.  When they hauled us in by mistake.”

“I see,” the stony-faced woman replied. Turning to the cop, she added, “As I told you, Gary’s in no shape to be questioned right now.  This will have to wait ‘til morning.”

“I’d like to, ma’am,” Lou replied, squirming under that steady gaze.  “Trouble is, we need to get a handle on where they might be as quickly as possible.”

The heat in those dark gray eyes went up a couple of notches.  “Last I saw,” she said in a voice that dripped icicles, “they were bein’ taken into treatment rooms four and five down in the ER.”

“Yes, well, there was a bus accident and, in the confusion, they . . . slipped away,” he admitted.  “Thanks to Mr. Treyton, we know who they are, and we’ve learned they escaped from the Texas State Penitentiary three weeks ago.  Y’all also said that Mr. Hobson noticed ‘em followin’ him at one of the casinos.  We, um, we need to get a line on their movements.  M-maybe backtrack to where they’re hid out.”

“It can wait ‘til morning,” Polly repeated in a no-nonsense tone.  “He needs his rest.  I’ll call you when he can talk.”

Lou got the distinct impression that he would be wise not to press the issue.  Gary, evidently, was made of sterner stuff.  He fumbled with the bed controls until he had raised his head enough to meet the big cop’s eyes with his own swollen, discolored visage.  

“M’okay,” he mumbled thickly, ignoring his friend’s protests.  “Firs’ saw’m . . .Caesar’s Palace.  Don’ know . . .” He paused as a grimace of pain crossed his battered features.  “Don’ know how long they watched me ‘fore that.  Wasn’ ‘spectin’ trouble. We-we‘re jus‘ here to . . . to relax.”

Keeping one eye on the woman standing protectively by the man he was questioning, Lou led Gary over every time he had seen the two thugs.  He had the injured man repeat as much of what the two men had said to him as he could recall.  Less than thirty minutes later, Hobson’s voice had grown even more slurred and tired.  More important, the woman looked as if she would dearly love to rip Lou’s head off.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” Lou said with a nervous smile, closing his notebook.  “We’ll check out the dealers and staff at these places and see if they remember anything.  Thank you for your co-operation, Mr. Hobson.”  He started to turn for the door.

“Officer,” the woman, Ms. Gannon, spoke up.  “These men are considered ‘armed and dangerous,’ correct?”

“Pretty much, ma’am,” the cop replied cautiously.  “Why?”

“So breakin’ every bone in their bodies with a ball bat could be considered self-defense?”

“Depends on who strikes the first blow,” he answered, wondering what she was planning.  “Why?”

“Just checking,” she replied in a lazy drawl.  “Wouldn’t want to go around breakin’ any laws,” she added, her lips turning up in a smile that stopped way short of her eyes.

As he finally left the room, Lou had a feeling they needed to find those fugitives in a hurry.  If not for Hobson’s sake, then for theirs.

***************

Polly lowered the head of the bed until Gary was lying almost flat.  In spite of the doctor’s hopeful prognosis, she worried about what a beating like this could do to his spirit.  Not to mention that he had to have been aware of what that one man was about to do with that up-raised knife.  Even from her standpoint, Polly just knew that slime ball had intended to mutilate her young friend.  

“You haven’t asked about your legs,” she murmured, gently brushing the hair back from his forehead.  “Can you feel ‘em yet?”

“Oh, yeah,” Gary replied drowsily, nodding once.  “In spades.  Feel ever’thin’.”  He licked dry, painfully swollen lips before continuing.  “Wh-wha’ zit . . . you don’ wan’ me t’know?”

Polly settled herself a little more comfortably in her chair.  The nurse had brought the pain medication while the officer had been questioning Gary, injecting it directly into the IV port.  She had hoped it would have knocked him out by now.  But her young friend was nothing if not stubborn.  She quietly debated whether to tell him about Peter Blessing.  It wasn’t as if the two of them were likely to meet anytime soon.  Peter had left directly for his hotel when he had been released from the ER, planning to pack and catch the ‘red-eye’ to LA later that night.  Exchanging questioning glances with the twins and Jake, she decided it wouldn’t be right to keep secrets from him.  Besides, it might keep him from worrying about his injuries.

“There’s another double out there,” she told him.  “His name is Peter Blessing and he’s an independent security consultant working’ out of LA.  We don’t know much else about ‘im, but he seems troubled.  I don’t think life’s been too kind to ‘im.”

“He’s also the reason we were all hauled in the other night,” Buddy told him.  “Seems he saw this guy slappin’ his date around and stepped in to put a stop to it.  The other guy swung first, but Blessing decked him.  The woman turns out to be the bully-boy’s wife, an’ she starts screamin’ for the cops.  Blessing just throws up his hands and walks out.  When he heard that the police were lookin’ for ‘im, he went to the cops himself.  So did half a dozen witnesses.  All charges were dropped this morning.”

“Hard to faul’ a guy tryin’ t’do righ’ thin’,” Gary mumbled sleepily.  His puffy eyes were already closing as he drifted towards a drug-induced slumber.  “Pro’ly nice guy.  Jus’ had . . . hard life.”

Gary gave a deep sigh as his head slowly turned to the side.  A moment later his deep, rhythmic breathing let them know he was sound asleep.  Finally.

“That went better than we’d hoped,” Jake commented dryly.

“Only because he was drugged,” Buddy assured him.  “Trust me, the way things ‘ve been goin’ for ‘im lately, he would’ve freaked.”

“Now,” Polly said, taking each twin by an arm and leading them to the other side of the room, “I want answers, you two, and I want them now.  You are going to tell me, in as few words as possible,  how Gary happened to get so badly mistreated on two separate occasions in less than twenty-four hours!  Were ya‘ll supposed to be watching him?”

Buddy and Clay exchanged nervous glances over the head of their interrogator.  This was not going to be pretty.

**************

Gary was still sound asleep an hour or so later, when Polly heard a tentative knock on the door.  She looked up from the recliner where she had settled in for her vigil to see an all too familiar face peeking around the door.  She knew instantly that he wasn’t Jake or one of the twins.  They had finally been convinced to return to the Excalibur for a good night’s sleep.  

“Mr. Blessing, I presume,” she murmured drowsily, without attempting to rise.

“Peter,” he acknowledged with a hesitant smile.  Nodding toward the figure on the bed, he limped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him.  “How is he?”

“Sore, tired,” Polly shrugged.  Holding out a hand, she introduced herself.  “Polly Gannon.”

“Nice to meet you,” Peter smiled, shifting his crutches in order to shake her hand.  Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to find she had a firm grip.  “I came to apologize for last night.  I had no idea that anyone else looked enough like me to get in trouble because of anything I did.”

“No way you could,” the tired looking woman replied, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Gary.  “You do that a lot?” she asked.  “Rescue strange women?”

“No,” Peter admitted, glancing down at his feet in embarrassment.  “Just . . . My wife left me a few years ago, after I did something she . . . she couldn’t forgive.  That woman the other night reminded me of her, I guess.  When he started slapping her around . . . It just didn’t set well with me.  It was stupid.  I should’ve minded my own business.”

“What you did was right,” Polly told him with a gentle smile.  “Your motives were pure.  What’s to feel guilty about?”

Peter nodded his head toward the sleeping figure on the bed.  “Him,” he murmured.  “What I did to . . . The thing I did that caused my wife to leave me, it was wrong.  Very wrong.  It cost me her, my job . . . my child.  Everything.  Turned my whole life upside down and shook it clear down to the roots.  I made myself a promise never to hurt anyone like that again.  Now look what I’ve done,” he added in a tone that clearly said, ‘Screwed up again.’

“You can’t blame yourself for anything that’s happened to Gary,” Polly told him with a shake of her head.  “You had no idea he even existed.  This,” she added, waving a hand at the sleeping man, “wasn’t even because he looked like you.  They were after his cousin, another look-alike.  You guys could start a club, there’s gettin’ to be so many of you.”

Settling gingerly into the other chair, Peter looked from the bed, to her, and then back again.  He seemed puzzled, uncertain exactly what questions to ask.

“Just, um, just how many . . . ?”

“Counting you?  Six now, that we know of. Still livin’, that is.”

Peter’s jaw dropped in astonishment.  “Six?  Are you . . . ?  You’re serious!  Six!”  He sat back in the chair, his face a study in awe and amazement.  “I knew I bore a strong resemblance to an actor named Chandler, but . . .”

“Not just a resemblance,” Polly corrected him.  “You could be twins.  Right down to that itty-bitty birthmark.”

One hand automatically went to the tiny mark just below his right sideburn as Peter digested what she was telling him.  “How can something like this be possible?”

“In the case of Clay and Buddy,” Polly shrugged, “they really are twins.  Buddy was stolen by a baby broker the day he was born.  Gary, it turns out, is a second cousin to them.  Where you, Jake Evans, and Mr. Chandler figure in, I have no idea.  Yet.  We’ve just been rolling with the flow, hoping things will make sense . . . eventually.”

“But you’re not betting that it will,” Peter commented, a tentative smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Not in my lifetime,” the older woman agreed.  “Now, don’t you have a plane to catch?”

“Not for a couple of hours,” he shrugged.  “I’d still like to talk to Mr. Hobson.  Apologize for him getting arrested.  I guess . . . It would make me feel a little better about it if I were able to at least let him know how sorry I was that he was hurt because of what I did.”

“No pro’lem,” a slurred voice murmured from the bed.  “All forgi’en.  Now, go ‘way.  Le’ a fella ge’ some sleep.”

Polly chuckled quietly as she rose to pull the covers up to Gary’s chin.  “Faker,” she accused softly.  “You were listening, weren’t you?”

“Um,” he nodded sleepily, swollen eyes still closed.  “Har’ no’ to.  Tell  Pe’er, no har’ feelin’s.  ‘Kay?”

With an amused grin, Polly glanced over at the timidly smiling young man.  “No problem,” she murmured.  “I think he heard you loud ‘n’ clear, darlin’.”

**********************

Back at the Excalibur, Clay, Buddy, and Jake were holding an impromptu ‘war counsel.’  The twins were arguing as to whether or not they could possibly take Gary back home in the shape he was in.  With Thanksgiving still more than two weeks away, there was hope, Buddy argued, that he would be completely healed by then.  Or that most of the bruises would fade, at least.  All they had to do was keep Lois from seeing the shape he was in now!

“You want to lie to his mother?” Jake asked in puzzled amazement.  “Doesn’t she have a right to know what’s happened to him?”

“Normally,” Buddy drawled, “I’d say ‘yes, of course.’  But you’ve only met her the one time.  We’ve gotten to know her a bit better.  She will skin us alive for letting Gary get into this bad of a shape.”

“He ain’t kiddin’, either,” Clay spoke up from where he lay sprawled on the sofa.  “That woman could give a she-bear lessons on protectin’ her cubs.  She’s seen him go through Hell ‘n’ back over the past year an’ a half an’ I guess it’s took it’s toll on all of ‘em.”

“That’s another thing,” Jake said.  “You guys keep referring to ‘what he went through last year.’  Now, and please forgive my ignorance here, just exactly what was it that happened to him last year?”

Clay looked up at his twin, who returned the gaze with a shrug.  “I’m afraid we don’t know all the particulars,” he said.  “But, somewhere along the line, he ended up in a wheelchair for a while, died a few times, near drowned, froze, and I think that was about the time when he got snake bit.  Got shot a few times, and almost had his hand taken off at the wrist when some yahoo broke into his home.  He also saved a few lives here ‘n’ there, and got drove outta his hometown.  At Christmas time, no less, .  Then we come along after he’d locked horns with some Chinese gangster, and was still out-runnin’ hit-men.”

“That’s when he wasn’t runnin’ into us, gettin’ possessed by this Tony character, who also looked like us, and startin’ a new singin’ career,” Buddy added with a mischievous smile.  “Not to mention gettin’ shot at on stage an’ then bein’ pistol-whipped by one of the top ten assassins in the world.  Who, by the way, was the same lady that shot the guy he was bein’ possessed by, who wasn’t really dead.  He was just in a coma.”  

“Then the other guy dies,” Clay said, taking up the tale, “almost takin’ Gary with ‘im.  Only then somethin’ happens.  We don’t know what, an’ Gary won’t talk about it, but this Tony guy, who was in the coma, wakes up long enough to say goodbye to his momma, tell her how much he loves her, thank Gary for lettin’ ‘im hitch a ride, then dies.  At least that’s what Lois said.  We weren’t in on that part.”

“It was after he got out of the hospital, again, that my ol’ boss, Dusty Wyatt, told us about this cousin he wanted us to meet,” Buddy added.  He shook his head ruefully.  “I still think ol’ Dusty pulled a fast one on us.  I’m bettin’ he knew just how much that cousin of his, Kyle Chandler, looks like the rest of us.  Then you come along.  Is it any wonder poor ol’ Gary’s nerves are wound so tight?”

Jake listened to their summation with interest at first, them growing skepticism.  Nobody could go through that much in just a little over a year and a half and stay sane!  Did they really expect him to buy into that cockamamie story?

“Y-you guys are pulling my leg,” he accused, chuckling nervously.  “Gary didn’t . . . and you don’t really expect me to . . . possessed?  Come on!”  He looked from one twin to the other.  Neither man was smiling now.  “You’re serious?  Like right out of the ‘Twilight Zone’ kinda stuff?”

“Next time you get a chance,” Clay told him without a trace of humor in his voice,  “ask him about that watch of his.  Read the inscription, then ask him to tell you what it means.  Then ask Ms. Polly for the rest of the story.  She was there when most of this was goin’ on.”  Placing his hands behind his head, Clay stretched out full length on the sofa.  “Gary’s been through Hell just since we’ve known ‘im.  I don’t doubt the rest of it a bit.”

“Anyway,” Buddy said, “we’ve got to come up with an excuse for not goin’ back to Chicago just yet.  ‘Cause, whether you believe us or not, Jake, his mother is a force to be reckoned with.  Even worse than Ms. Polly, if you can believe that.  She will not take kindly to any harm comin’ to her one and only child.”

“Hey!” Clay cried, swinging his feet onto the floor and sitting bolt upright.  He gave Buddy and Jake a look full of excitement.  “What if we went after the two that hurt him?” he asked.  His two look-alikes stared at him as if he had lost his mind.  “No!  Think about it!  Those two won’t be that hard to find.  I’m pretty sure they ain’t leavin’ town ‘til they can prove to Jaggs that I’m dead.  All we have to do is keep showin’ ourselves, one in the open and the other two close by, ‘til they take the bait. Then we beat the crap outta them and turn ‘em in.”

“I got a better idea,” Buddy chuckled.  “Let’s get Ms. Polly that ball bat and let her beat the crap out of ‘em.  Right now, she’s mad enough to take on a whole herd o’ grizzlies!”

“I thought you wanted to take them in alive,” Jake snorted.  

A knock on the door caused all three men to jump.  Exchanging a shaky grin with the twins, Jake got up to answer.  

Even though he wasn’t a country/western fan, Jake instantly recognized the man standing in the hall from his posters that had been all over Chicago recently.  

“You don’t look near as bad as I expected,” Dusty Wyatt grinned as he looked Jake up and down.  “I heard you got beat up pretty bad.”  His grin widened at the other man’s stunned expression.  “You gonna ask me in or leave me standin’ out here in the hall, Gary?”

“Hunh?  Oh, sorry.”  Jake swung the door open wider.  “Come on in, Mr. Chandler.  I’m not Gary, though.  I’m Jake.  Jake Evans.  Sorry I can’t say I’m a fan, but a friend took me to your last benefit.”  The younger man suddenly snapped his fingers.  “That’s where I heard that name before!”

Dusty had given him a startled look when Jake introduced himself, then waved at the twins as he stepped into the room.  “Which name?” he asked.

“Hobson!” Jake replied with a shake of his head.  “I was there when all hell broke loose that night.  Barely got my friend out in time.  So, um, what can we do for you, Mr. Chandler?”

“Just stopped by to see how you guys were doin‘,” the entertainer shrugged.  He had a disarming, easy-going manner that reminded Jake of Clay in some respects.  “And to see if Gary had changed his mind about the concert tomorrow night.”

“We’re okay,” Buddy told his old boss.  “A little sore, and a few more scars, but okay.  Gary was worked over pretty bad, though.  He’s gonna be in the hospital a coupla more days.  ‘Fraid he’s gonna miss the concert.”  He fidgeted nervously.  “So they liked my song, huh?”

“Yeah,” Dusty murmured distractedly.  “Got three producers wantin’ Gary to do a video and sign a record deal.  The boy has talent.  Too bad he’s so scared of publicity.”  He turned back to Jake, who had not moved from the door.  “This is . . . I’ve had pups from the same litter that didn’t look so much alike!  How are you related to these two?”

“So far as we know,” Jake replied with a hesitant smile, “I’m not.  We’re looking into it, though.  Um, can we get you anything?  A drink or something?”

“Coffee?  It‘s a might chilly out there.”  He smiled as Clay quickly produced a steaming cup.  “Thanks.”  He took a sip of the near-scalding liquid, sighing in appreciation.  A moment later, after filling Dusty in on the day’s events, all four men were seated in the ‘living room’ area, each with his own cup.  “So, how bad was he hurt this time?”

“Not as bad as he looks,” Clay shrugged.  “But bad enough.”  He ran through a list of injuries that sounded like a medical school entrance exam.  “Ms. Gannon didn’t let on to Gary just how much all those tests showed,” he concluded.  “They found a few things goin’ on that, well, he ain’t out o’ the woods yet.”

Dusty shook his head sadly.  “I don’t think I’ve ever met a more trouble prone fella in my life,” he sighed.  “Well, that explains all the security in the lobby.  Still, you’d think they’d put an officer or two outside your door.”

“Why?” Clay snorted derisively.  “Those two are probably half way to Mexico by now.”

“Don’t bet on it,” the entertainer cautioned him.  “You, of all people, should know how single minded guys like that can be.  An’ they didn’t go to prison for bein’ model citizens.”

“Or get there by bein’ smart,” Buddy added, shooting his brother a worried look.  “They may just be stupid enough to hang around, waitin’ to get the right one this time.”

Clay sat back, digesting their advice.  “You’re right,” he admitted.  “Those two never were the sharpest tools in the shed.  Sykes ‘specially needed Jaggs to tell him how to think.  I’ll bet he ain’t got more ‘n two gray cells to rub together.  That other one, Hicks, was probably sent along to keep Sykes in line.”

“Hicks and Sykes,” Dusty murmured softly.  “Sounds like a country duo.”

“The duet from Hell,” Clay grinned.  “I’ve heard those two tryin’ to sing.  A cat fight sounds pretty good next to them.”  The young rodeo star jumped up and started pacing the room, his left hand scratching absently at the bandages on his right arm.

“Would ya quit that?” Jake snapped.  “Do you wanna bust those stitches?”

With a guilty start, Clay jerked his hand away from his wound. “Sorry,” he mumbled.  “Itches.”  He continued to pace as the others tried to come up with an explanation that would keep them off Lois Hobson’s ‘hit-list.’  “One thing’s for sure,” he grumbled.  “We gotta get Cousin Gary outta this town.  It’s only been three days and look what’s already happened to ‘im.  By the end of the week, he’ll be in a body cast!”

“We could take ‘im on down to meet the folks,” Buddy suggested.  “My mom an’ dad’ll be glad for the company.  I’m a little anxious to meet your family, too.  Where did you say ya’ll lived?”

“We moved to Uvalde when I was fourteen,” Clay shrugged.  

“Uvalde!” Buddy sputtered, almost burning himself with spilled coffee.  “That’s about as far from nowhere as you can get without leavin’ the planet!”

“That’s pretty much what my folks had in mind, I think,” Clay replied with a wry grin.  “Less chance for me to get into trouble.  I just saw it as a challenge.  I never was much good at a lot of things,” he added with a shake of his head, “but I was a world class pain in the . . .”

“I think we get the picture,” Jake hurried to say.  “So what’s the plan?  Do we fly down to Uvalde?  Can you fly to Uvalde?”

“You can,” Clay told his friends with a shudder.  “I wouldn’t recommend it, though.  Last time I was there, we had to go out twice a week to chase cattle off the runway.”

“What about an RV?  An RV sounds good,” Jake said, looking quickly to Buddy and Dusty.  “Doesn’t an RV sound like the way to go?  Nice leisurely drive of about a week or so, a bed in the back for Gary to rest on, stop whenever, and wherever you want?  We might even do some camping.  What do you say?”

Buddy snatched the phonebook off the coffee table and began leafing through the yellow pages.  “Some of these dealers open early,” he told them as he scanned the pages.  “Gary’s not gonna be let out for a coupla days, at least.  That gives us just enough time to find what we need.”

“And, if his mom calls,” Clay told Jake, “you can pretend to be Gary.  Yo're accent is close enough to his to fool ‘er over the phone.”

“No,” Jake replied, shaking his head vigorously.  “Uh-unh!  I am not lying to Mrs. Hobson!  She deserves to know what’s going on.  If she calls,” he added with a wry grin.

*******************

Gary awoke when a thin band of sunlight fell across his eyes.  Blinking, he turned his head to escape the blinding ray.  On the opposite side of the bed he saw Polly stretched out in a recliner, apparently sleeping.  As he watched, wondering what she was still dong there, she stretched both arms out in front of her in a lazy gesture that reminded him of the cat for some reason.

“G’mornin’,” she yawned, eyes still closed.  “Finally decided to wake up?”

“Mmm,” Gary murmured drowsily.  He rubbed one hand over some of the tender spots on his abdomen, frowning as he felt something under his hospital gown.  Curious, he carefully pulled the gown up until he had uncovered three widely spaced bandages.  He gave Polly a puzzled look.  “I don’ ‘member bein’ stabbed,” he told her.

“You weren’t, darlin’,” the tech replied in a sleep thickened voice.  “They had to go in an’ repair a few veins ‘n’ arteries.  Do a little patch job on your spleen, that sorta thing.  The docs opted to do it by laparoscope so you could get back on your feet quicker.  A coupla days instead of weeks.  Want me to ‘splain the procedure to ya?”

“No!” Gary replied hurriedly.  “N-no, tha’s okay.  I, um, don’ really need t’know.  Do I?”

“Not really,” Polly chuckled.  “How d’ya feel?  Still sore?”

Gary just nodded by way of reply as he tucked his gown back beneath the covers.  He kept finding sore spots where a fist, a foot, or a hoof had left its mark.  Somehow, this vacation wasn’t turning out at all like they had planned.  So why was he not surprised?

“Couple days, hunh?” he murmured.  “C’n we g’home when I ge’ out?”

“Not if the twins have their way,” his friend told him.  “They’re out right now trying to get a good deal on an RV.  A rental, if they can manage it.  It not, they’re lookin’ to buy.  They thought it might be easier on you than sittin’ up in a car or a plane.  Buddy’s still hopin’ to take ya’ll to meet his adopted family.  I think Clay’s havin’ second thoughts about us meeting his folks, though.  He’s startin’ to squirm every time we bring the subject up.”

“I ‘member him sayin’ sumpin’ ‘bout bein’ the ‘black sheep,’” Gary mumbled.  “Maybe he’s ‘fraid they won’ . . . won’ let ‘im g’ home.”

“You mean slam the door in his face?”  Polly fell silent as she considered his theory.  “You could be right,” she finally said.  “He’s a quiet one now, but folks I’ve talked to that ‘knew him when’ say he used to be more talkative.  Positively gabby, they say.  And wild as they come.  I wonder what it was that changed him so much.”

“Prison?” Gary speculated.  

Polly shook her head sadly.  “In spite of what the politicians say,” she told him, “very few are actually reformed in prison.  He had to‘ve been a pretty decent guy before he went in.  He just didn‘t know it.  Now, I think . . . I think he’s ashamed of how he used to be.  He’s embarrassed and he’s afraid.  Maybe we can draw him out on the long drive south.”

“Need t’work on Bu’y,” Gary added with a tired nod.  “He’s li’l edgy, too.”

“I know,” Polly grinned.  “He’s scared o’ yo're mom.”  She laughed outright at the startled look on her young friend’s face.  “Didn’t you know that?  That woman put the fear of God into both of ‘em.  I don’t know how or when, but she did.  He’s absolutely trembling at the thought of what she’ll do if she sees you like this!”

“You’re kiddin’ me,” Gary accused her.  “You’re not kiddin’!  Hunh!”  He lay back, staring at the ceiling as he considered her words.  A slow grin spread across his battered features.  He could see some definite possibilities there.  ‘You two better behave or I’ll tell Mom!’

“They were up brainstormin’ all night,” Polly told him.  Plannin’ where t’go first, how much time they needed for you to heal and how to keep yo're momma from findin’ out.  So far, Jake is refusin’ to try and pass himself off as you.  I’m waitin’ to see how long before he caves.  Oh!  Almost forgot.  Dusty Wyatt came by earlier to see how you were doin’.  He said to tell you to get well fast.  There’s some record producers wantin’ to sign you into a deal.  Or at least get the rights to that song.”

Gary shifted uncomfortably on the hospital bed.  “Tell ‘em ta talk to Buddy,” he finally murmured.  “It’s his song, no’ mine.  I jus’ sang it tha’ one time ta catch those two ‘ssassins.  No more. Ne’er.”

“Never say never, darlin’,” Polly advised him with a sad little smile.  “You don’t know what you may be called upon to do in the future.”

Gary mumbled something too low for Polly to make out with any certainty as he rolled onto his side and drifted back to sleep.  She wasn’t sure, but it had sounded something like ‘Don’t bet on that.’

**************

Two days later, Gary was pronounced well enough to be released from the hospital.  His friends arrived early the next morning to pack his few toiletries and get him signed out.  He was cautioned to take it easy for the next couple of weeks and to work at regaining his strength gradually.  The doctor also told him to watch his diet.  He could have solid foods, but he would have to cut his meat into small bites to accommodate his sore jaw.

“You’ve been through a very traumatic experience, Mr. Hobson,” his doctor reminded him.  “Not just physically, but psychologically as well.  I’d recommend counseling as soon as possible.”

“I know the drill, Doc,” Gary replied with a tired grin.  “This isn’t my first ‘traumatic experience.’  I’ve been this route more than once.”  Leaning heavily on a wooden cane to take some of the weight off his injured leg, he carefully levered himself up from the bed.  He tried to wave away the wheelchair a nurse was holding as unnecessary, but one look from Polly changed his mind.  He settled into the conveyance with a sigh.  “Right,” he grumbled.  “Don’t over do it.”

“The twins got a pretty good deal on a new Winnebago,” his friend informed him as they headed for the entrance.  “A Brave 36M.  Amazing what you can accomplish with enough cash.”

“Whoa!  That money was supposed to go to the foundation!” Gary protested.  “A new Winnebago ain’t cheap!”

“Don’t worry,” Polly assured him.  “We took a couple of thousand to the roulette wheel yesterday afternoon and cleaned up.  Jake did pretty good at the craps table, too.  Added to what the boys won on the ponies, we had more than enough.”

Gary gingerly twisted around to look at his friend, favoring his left ribs.  “Wh . . . what if you’d lost?”

For the first time since he had known her, Polly looked uncertain.  “I honestly don’t think we could have,” she told him.  “It was weird.  I hadn’t even planned on gambling, but something . . . I get these hunches once in awhile and they’re usually pretty much on track.  Yesterday, I just felt like we needed to go to this one casino and bet our shirts.  So we did.  We sent another half-a-million back to the foundation and bought the RV.  Buddy thinks we should give it to your folks once we get back home.”

Turning forward once more, Gary failed to suppress a chuckle.  “Dad would be in hog heaven,” he agreed, “but do you guys really intend to drive all over Texas and then back to Chicago?  I promised Mom I’d be back in time for Christmas.”

“We’re still a bit shy of Thanksgiving,” Polly grinned.  “I think we can make it.  The twins got everything packed and loaded last night, so we can hit the road anytime you say.”

“Why is it up to me?” Gary asked.  “I’m just along for the ride.”

“Well, this was supposed to be your vacation,” she reminded him.  “Where do you want to go from here?”

Gary leaned back in the chair as he considered that question.  There was one place where he felt he absolutely had to go before they left Las Vegas.  Somehow, he felt the doctor would approve.

****************

Gary leaned heavily on his cane as he stared down at the bench where his ordeal had started.  For just a moment, his mind flashed back to that day.  His body ached from the impact of Sykes fist on his stomach, his ribs.  He still felt the agony of having his already injured wrists twisted up between his shoulders.  With a shake of his head, Gary snapped himself back to the present.

“Are you okay?” Clay asked his cousin.  “You looked kinda . . . spooked for a second or two.”

“S’alright,” Gary murmured.  “All part of the ‘treatment.”  Resolutely, he turned his face toward the stables where Polly and Jake had beaten off his attackers.  “Let’s get this over with.”  

Moving painfully at his halting pace, his left arm wrapped protectively across his ribs, Gary led the way to the building where he had been so brutally beaten.  The fairground was packed with people there to attend the last few days of the charity event.  His vision seemed to close in around the edges as he bulled his way awkwardly through the crowd.  In spite of being out in the open, Gary was feeling ’hemmed in.’  Focusing his attention on the open barn, he tried to shut out the noisy, jostling crowd.  By the time he reached his goal, Gary was bathed in a fine sheen of cold sweat and his heart was racing madly.  He recognized the symptoms from bitter experience.  He was on the verge of a panic attack.  Giving himself a mental shake, Gary limped as boldly as he could into the cavernous structure.  ‘This part is never easy,’ he reminded himself.

Gary paused at the metal hook that he had clutched so desperately that day, remembering the feelings of pain, fear and desperation.  He vividly recalled the instant when his hopes of salvation were dashed by the shadows that had fallen across the open doorway as he clung to this slender support.

Next, he moved to the enclosure where he had been pummeled so unmercifully by both man and beast.  He had asked that the same horse be waiting there, and it was.  He was a handsome bay with a white blaze running from a point just under his forelock, widening until it spanned his muzzle.  The horse snorted nervously, prancing irritably around the stall as the party neared.

“Be careful,” Lundy cautioned them as Gary stepped up to the fidgety animal.  “He’s been edgy ever since it happened.  Won’t let anyone but his regular handler touch him.”

Gary limped closer and carefully leaned his arms atop the lower half of the door.  He pulled a couple of sugar cubes from his pocket and held them out to the nervous animal.  “He was just as spooked about what happened as I was,” he murmured softly.  “C’mon, fella,” he crooned, fighting back his own discomfort.  “It’s okay.  We both got pretty shook up, didn’t we, boy?”  He continued talking in a soothing, even tone despite the cowpony’s obvious agitation.

“You might oughta come away from there,” Lundy warned him.  “He’s lookin’ a little wall-eyed.”

“He’s still smelling the blood,” Gary replied, never raising his voice.  “It frightened you, didn’t it fella?  Me, too.  Those guys scared the crap outta both of us.  We can get through this, though.  You ‘n’ me, big guy.  We just have to take that next step.”  

The bay eyed him suspiciously, shaking his head vigorously and stomping the paddock floor with his forelegs.  

“They tell me you were a good cowpony before this happened,” Gary murmured softly.  “One of the best.  Now you’re afraid.  You smell man and all you remember is the blood.  Forget the blood, big guy.  Remember what you are, who you are.  You’re the best.  Now, come on.  It’s yours for the taking.  Just remember what it means to trust.”

Hesitantly, the horse slowed it’s pacing, eyeing this strange human cautiously.  Something about his scent was familiar, frightening.  It reminded him of another smell.  The smell of blood . . . of death.  He feared death.  Death was darkness.  Death was . . . death was . . . What was that in his hand?  Triangular ears pricked forward one at a time as curiosity nudged at the edges of his fear.  His nervous prancing slowed to a steady pace as he kept his eyes glued to that outstretched palm.

Gary allowed a tiny smile to tug at the corners of his mouth as the horse slowed its nervous pacing.  He knew his words meant nothing to the big animal.  Only his tone mattered.  His tone and the treats.  “You want this, don’t you, fella?” he crooned.  “You want it?  It’s yours.  Aaalll you gotta do is come get it.”  He reached into a plastic bag hidden within his coat pocket, pulling out a few apple slices.  The aroma of the fresh fruit was evident even to the humans.  It was almost overpowering to their equine patient.  “Nice, sweet, Golden Delicious apples.  They tell me that’s your favorite.  You want more?  I‘ve got plenty to spare.”  Gary pulled out two more slices, upping the ante.  “There you go.  Ready to . . .?”

The aroma was overpowering to the horse’s sensitive nostrils.  Hesitantly, he craned his head forward, deep brown eyes starting to soften as he sniffed delicately at the fragrant morsels in Gary’s hand.  Everything seemed safe, and the fruit smelled so tempting!  Taking a cautious step forward, the cowpony’s upper lip seemed to tremble as it nudged the top slice toward the end of Gary’s fingers.  The sliver of fruit quickly disappeared as the large, even teeth snatched it off of Gary’s outstretched palm.  Another soon followed the first, and the battle was won.

“Good, boy,“ Gary murmured, rubbing the white blaze gently as the horse gobbled up the tasty morsels then nudged his hand, looking for more.  With a low, throaty chuckle Gary dug out the bag of apple slices and began feeding them to the now docile animal, one at a time.

“Now that was something to see,” Lundy murmured.  “Where did you learn to do that?”

“Nowhere,” Gary replied in the same crooning tones as he rubbed the velvet soft muzzle.  His eyes never left the horse.  “This was as much for me as for him.  He was here when it happened.  A . . . a witness, sorta.  It left both of us scarred emotionally.  I had to get past his fear before I could get to the root of my own.”

“Just exactly how many times have you been through this?” Jake asked.

“Too many,” was Gary’s terse response.  He gently nudged the whuffling snout aside as he opened the gate, easing himself into the stall.  The horse sniffed at him suspiciously as he limped deeper into the enclosure.  “This . . . this is where they left me,” he told them, pointing to the back corner of the paddock.  “The horse,” he added, giving the animal a gentle pat on the withers,  “was . . . alarmed by the smell of blood.  They slapped him to . . . to get him even more . . .”

Gary paused, standing stock still as the memories washed over him.  The others waited patiently, letting him work through it on his own.  He closed his eyes, fighting to remain calm.  That was another reason Gary had insisted on the animal’s presence, to force himself to maintain his composure.  He did not want his fear to escalate into panic.  The horse served as an excellent barometer of his own inner turmoil.  When it began to whicker nervously, he was snapped out of his fear induced trance.  

“Um, he, um, panicked,” Gary went on hesitantly.  “Began kicking a-and stomping.  I-I managed to crawl out . . . somehow.  The details are a little . . . fuzzy, but . . .”  Still favoring his sore ribs, he turned and left the stall, carefully fastening the gate behind him as he giave the soft muzzle another rub.  “Um, I made it as far as . . . as this thing here,” he added, placing a hand on the hook, “before they . . . they came back.”  He lowered his gaze to the straw covered floor, staring at nothing.  “I, um, I don’t . . . don’t remember much . . . after that.”

They all stood there, Gary, Polly, Jake and the twins, as well as Lundy and a few others who had been there that day, looking down at the spot where he had lain until the ambulance had arrived.  All traces of his blood had been eliminated to keep from disturbing the other horses stabled in the building, but Gary knew the exact spot.  In his mind, he could still hear the glee in Syke’s voice as he prepared to amputate Gary’s hand.  A shiver surged through him as he pictured what could, no, would have happened if Polly and Jake hadn’t arrived at that precise moment.

“Why put yourself through this now?” Lundy asked sympathetically.  “Why not wait ‘til yo’re feelin’ better?”

“How does that old saying go?  ‘If you fall off a horse, get right back on?’  Because, if I don’t face it,” Gary told him grimly, “it’ll eat at me until I can’t function.  I don’t live here, and I don’t know when, or if, I’ll ever be back.  So I had to do this now.  It’s the only chance I’ll have.”  He took one last look around, knowing he would see a distorted version of this place in his nightmares for a long, long time to come, then led the way toward the door.  “It’s not much,” he sighed, “but it’s a start.”

“It’s a hell of a big start,” Polly told him gently.  “Now, let’s get you settled in and hit the road.”

****************

Continue to Installment 3

Email the author: Polgana54@cs.com
 

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