You’re not going to shoot off that gun.
You watch me. Get out of the way.
He walked up to the bull, shouldered the rifle and shoved the end of the barrel point-blank at the bull’s head, then pulled the trigger. The bull dropped all at once to the pavement, rolled over on its side and quivered and finally lay still, its black eyes staring at the streetlamp. The man from St. Francis stood looking down at the dead bull. He handed the rifle back to the man who owned it, then turned to the patrolman. Now go ahead and arrest me, goddamn it.
The officer looked at him sideways. I ain’t going to arrest you. How am I going to arrest you? I’d have a goddamn riot on my hands. But you never should of done that. Not in town.
What would you of done?
I don’t know. Probably the same damn thing you just did. But that don’t make it right. By God, there’s a law against shooting a gun off inside city limits.
AT THE HOSPITAL THE DOCTOR SEDATED THE OLDER GIRL and put seventeen stitches in her face while Mary Wells waited outside in the emergency room with her limp arm hanging painfully, supported in the palm of her hand. She cried quietly and wouldn’t let anyone attend to her arm until they had completed the surgery on her daughter. In the bed near the wall the younger girl was now coming awake. She had a severe headache and there were abrasions on her arm and a blue knob forming on her forehead. Though they would have to watch her through the night, it appeared she would recover well enough.
The doctor finished sewing up the older girl’s face and they wheeled her out and brought her into the emergency room. She was still asleep and her face was bruised and yellow where it wasn’t bandaged. Mary Wells stood looking down at her.
That will all heal, the doctor said. It was a clean cut. She’s fortunate it didn’t involve the eye.
Will it scar? Mary Wells said.
He looked at her. He seemed surprised. Well yes, he said. It usually does.
How much?
We can’t tell that yet. Sometimes it turns out better than we think. She’ll probably want to have a series of treatments with a cosmetic surgeon. That would take some time.
So she’ll have to go through life until then, looking like this?
Yes. The doctor looked down at the girl. I can’t predict how long that will take. She’ll have to heal completely before they can do anything more.
Oh God, what a fool I am, Mary Wells said. What a stupid little fool. She began to cry again and she took up her daughter’s hand and held it to her wet cheek.
THEY KEPT ALL THREE OF THEM IN THE HOSPITAL overnight for observation. In the evening one of the police who had been out on the highway came to the hospital and left a traffic ticket, for reckless driving and the endangerment of life, and he informed Mary Wells that her car had been towed away.
The next morning a nurse drove them home. Mary Wells’s arm was in a sling, and she and the girls each walked up to the house with great care. Inside the house it was quiet. It felt as if they had been gone for days. Will you come out to the kitchen, please? Mary Wells said. Please, both of you. I want you to help me say what we’re going to do now. I don’t know what that will be. But we have to do something.
They sat down at the table. The younger girl sat watching her mother, listening, but the older girl, Dena, sat with her head turned away. She kept touching the bandage on her face with the tips of her fingers, feeling along the edges of the tape, and she refused to look at her mother and would not say anything at all. She had formed an idea already of what was coming for herself.
37
WHEN RAYMOND AND THE BOY CAME UP TO THE HOUSE after working outside all that Saturday afternoon, Victoria said it would be a good idea if they both took a shower and cleaned up before they sat down to supper. Do we smell that bad? Raymond said.
It wouldn’t hurt you to clean up a little.