Percival Everett - Wounded

Howard was still silent.

“I don’t know what to say. I’ve been out searching. They found the Jeep by air. As far as I know there was no sign of anything strange or unusual. But I haven’t talked to the sheriff for a couple of hours.”

“Missing? Was there blood?” The question made sense, still it ran cold through me. “Was there any blood?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I didn’t see any. I’m so sorry, Howard.”

“What should I do?” His question hung in the wires between us. It wasn’t really directed at me, but then it was.

“I don’t know. I’m going out to search more. I don’t know where to look, but I’ll look.”

“I’ll call Sylvia,” he said.

“Okay. I’m sorry, Howard.”

“You think he’s okay?” he asked.

“I hope so. I hope so.”

“I’ll call you later.”

I hung up and blew out a long breath that shook my lower lip and realized my teeth were chattering. I placed my head down on my arms on top of my desk and soon fell asleep.

In my dream, Susie was sewing at a treadle machine, something she never did; in fact, she didn’t own one. But there she was, her booted foot marking an exact rhythm. I had been working outside. I was sweating and for some reason I had not removed my jacket or my filthy boots. She was intent on her activity and when I asked her what she was making, she said,

“It’s a patch quilt, but it has no pieces.”

“Then how can it be a patch quilt?” I asked.

She stopped sewing and glared up at me. “Why do you always have to be so critical of me?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I guess I just don’t understand.”

“There’s a lot you don’t understand.” Her foot started again and she began to push and pull the fabric beneath the needle. “You think I don’t know.”

“I think you don’t know what?”

“I see the look in your eyes,” she said.

I didn’t know what she was talking about, but I felt pressed to make her feel right. “Is the quilt a gift for someone?” I asked.

She didn’t answer me, didn’t look up, kept sewing.

“It looks like it’s going to be beautiful.”

“Do you love him?”

“Who?”

“We don’t have children, John. Have you noticed that?”

“Some people don’t have children, Susie.”

“And I suppose I’m some people.” She stopped the treadle, but kept her focus on the needle. “Am I some people, John? Am I?”

The phone jarred me awake and I realized that someone had covered me with a blanket. Morgan had answered the phone in the kitchen and was now standing in the doorway of the study.

“The sheriff’s on the phone,” she said.

I nodded and picked up. “Bucky?”

“John, I’m calling to tell you that we found nothing in or around the Jeep that might help.”

“That’s too bad,” I said.

“I’m sorry about McCormack. He’s a hardass, but I’m told he’s good.”

“I hope so.” I looked out the window to see it was late afternoon and that a few flakes of snow were starting to fall. “What now?”

The sheriff was silent for a few awkward seconds. “We’re still out there looking. We’re radiating our search out into the desert from where we found the Jeep. We’re in the air as well.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll come out there and join in.”

“Why don’t you stay clear. We’ve got the area covered.”

“Okay.” I hung up.

I walked upstairs without going into the kitchen and seeing Morgan and Gus. I stood in the shower for a long time. I tried to slow my breathing, tried to clear my mind, tried to understand what was happening. I stared through the steam at the tiles of the shower wall until they didn’t make sense, until their color seemed unreal. I turned off the water, half dried, and then sat on the edge of the tub. The window was steamed up and I couldn’t see out, but I knew it was snowing hard. I felt it.

In the kitchen I found Gus and Morgan preparing dinner. Gus was kneading bread dough at the counter. Morgan was stirring something in a pot at the stove. I kissed her on her neck and looked over her shoulder.

“Smells good,” I said.

“What now?” she asked.

I looked at Zoe and Emily sleeping in the corner. “I don’t know.” I glanced out at the snow. “How cold is it out there?”

“It’s plenty cold,” Gus said. “And it’s getting colder.” He left the dough and wiped his hands on a towel.

“I’m going out to walk the barns,” I said. “Then I’m going to go out to look for David.”

“It’s dark out,” Morgan said. “You can’t see anything. Especially in this mess. How is getting yourself killed going to help David?”

I stood there, looking stupid.

“You need rest,” Morgan said.

“I can’t rest,” I said.

“You’re going in the morning and I’m going with you,” Gus said. He eyes looked weak, but his voice was strong.

“In this weather?”

“Yep. Morgan’s better with the horses and I don’t mind the cold and you need somebody to keep you awake.”

I glanced at Morgan. I could see that the two of them had already discussed the matter and I was stuck with their decision. “Okay, okay. I’ll go out and check on everybody.”

“When you come back, you’re eating,” Morgan said.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

“Take the dogs with you,” Gus said.

I walked through the quiet of the snow and up and down the aisles of the barns a couple of times. The dogs stayed close. Zoe had always been able to tell when I was bothered by something. As we walked back to the big barn I watched the track the three-legged coyote left in the snow. Zoe made two continuous tracks, punctuated by deep impressions of her feet. The coyote left a similar pattern, but wherever she stopped, there was a place of undisturbed or barely disturbed snow under her left forepaw. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Perhaps I was trying to imagine anything to take my mind off David, but that gap, that space, that break in her track fascinated me because it was only there briefly and only while she was still there. Once she moved on, her rear foot stamped its impression where her front one had been.

I lay there that night, unable to sleep, but desperately needing rest. I was afraid to sleep, afraid to dream. I felt Morgan drift off beside me; her breathing was a restful rhythm to me. I put my hand on her hip, perhaps to be sure she was there. I watched the sky lighten. I got dressed and went downstairs. Gus was up and waiting for me, had coffee made. He looked better than I felt. He handed me a mug.

“Drink this,” he said. “I’m filling a couple of thermoses.”

“Thanks.”

“The snow has let up a lot. I’d say we got at least seven inches.”

“That’s not too bad.”

“How are you holding up?” Gus asked, studying my face.

I shrugged.

The phone rang and I jumped, answered it quickly. It was Howard.

“No, nothing,” I told him. “The sheriff and state police are out searching, dozens of them. They’ve got planes up.” There were probably not dozens of searchers, but they had had planes up. “I’m going out again myself right now.”

“Sylvia and I will be there tonight,” he said. “We’re flying into Denver and renting a car.”

“Rent something with four-wheel drive,” I said. “We’ve got snow.”

He was briefly silent, then, “Okay.”

“Call and let Morgan know when to expect you.”

I hung up. I was not happy he and his ex-wife were coming, but that was what they should do. I wrote a note for Morgan and left it on the table.

“Let’s go,” Gus said.

I pulled on my jacket, then went into my study and grabbed my rifle. We walked out through the snow to the truck. I took my fly rod from the behind the seat and tossed it into the drifted snow in the bed. I then, for the first time in my life, put a rifle in my rifle rack.