“Mort, hold up,” Chief said, pulling up and stopping Moss at the same time. “Right there.”

Moss noticed a wire running close to the ground, partially obscured with ground cover.

They had already passed two trip wires identical to the one that had injured Mike. This one made three. Chief took a stick and after standing to the side, flipped the wire, springing the traps as they went.

“You’re awfully good at this,” Moss observed.

“Fred and I were in the war together. It’s what we did.”

“I remember the photo on Sam Crebs’s mantle. Special Forces?”

Chief looked at him. “Guerrilla warfare.”

“I wasn’t aware we practiced guerrilla warfare in the big one.”

Chief looked at him and shrugged. “Exactly,” he muttered and tripped the wire. He started off in the direction they had been traveling.

“Why’d they recruit you, Bob? You don’t strike me as the type.”

“Fred’s idea. He was exactly the type and he wanted us to serve together.”

“And your expertise?”

“Marksman.”

“I see,” Moss said quietly. “Well I guess that explains it.”

“What’s that Mort?” Chief said, sounding irritated.

“That ridiculously accurate shot you made on Jonas.”

They continued through the woods following vague signs of Kelly’s passage: depressions in the ground; threads torn free from her tshirt; and broken brush, the trip wires confirming their direction.

“You saved that boy’s life,” Moss said after several yards.

“I did what I had to do.”

“His intention was to take the boy with him, an offering for the other side.”

“I know.”

“He wanted you to kill him. He just didn’t know you could place a bullet that would paralyze him the last seconds of his life.”

Chief turned on him, stopping any progress. “What’s your point, Mort?”

“No point. Let’s just say I’m beginning to understand you better.”

“Then understand this: my little girl is out there, Mort. Being hunted, for Christ’s sake, and these damn traps are costing us too much time!” Chief Broden talked as he made his way through the woods. “I’m getting tired of only being able to put out one fire at a time, Mort. Damn tired! If I get my hands on that son of a bitch….” Chief switched directions to stay with the trail left by his daughter.

They had gone another quarter of a mile when Chief pull up short.

“What is it?” Moss asked.

“Shhh-” Chief said. “Hear that?”

“Barking?”

“Yeah,” Chief said. “This way.”

Chief abandoned the trail they had adhered to since leaving the house. He took a course 30° west heading towards the barking. If Blackney was using the dog to lure Kelly, the trail would end with the dog; or, if the dog wasn’t the lure, then the dog would be with his daughter now. Chief realized he was grasping, but he made the decision to leave the trail and head towards the dog on a hunch– something Kelly would call a gut feeling.

They continued to watch for traps, as they forced their way through the brush and trees; then after several hundred yards in the new direction, Chief was rewarded with a glimpse of his daughter through the brush. He emerged from the woods just in time to witness Bob Evers pull her from a hole in the ground.

“Kelly!” he called as he broke into a run from the tree line.

“Chief!” she hollered back. She pulled free from Evers and ran to her father. They met midway, Chief scooping the child up and Kelly clinging fast.

“You okay?” Chief asked his daughter, holding her tightly.

“Yes, sir.”

He held on to her a little longer, then set her down. Retaining a hold on her shoulders, he looked her directly in the face. “I thought I told you not to leave the front porch.” His voice was stern, but not raised.

“I...” There was panic in her eyes. “Chief, Hoove run off.  I had to get him back.”

Cheif's voice remained low, and intentional. “Kelly, if that dog runs off again, let it go.”

“But Chie–”

“Do you understand me?”

“But Chief, it’ll kill Hoove!”

Chief looked at his daughter sharply. He glanced at the dog, and then returned his attention to Kelly and said deliberately, “Better the dog than you, pumpkin.”

Tears filled his daughter’s eyes. “But Ch–”

“No buts, Kelly. I mean it.” There was force behind the words, but no anger.

Kelly pulled away from her father and went to her pet. Chief watched as she took the hound tightly in her arms and hugged him. When she looked back at her father she was crying genuinely. Chief went over to her and knelt down.

“It’s all right, honey. We’ll rig something in the yard to keep him tied up, okay?”

Kelly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and nodded. But her expression of sadness did not change. Now, even her dog could not run free.

“We better get going,” Moss said. He and Evers had kept busy watching the woods for activity during the exchange between father and daughter.

Chief nodded and took his daughter’s hand as she took hold of Hoover’s collar. The group left the clearing and returned through the woods. Both Chief and Moss took extra time to search for any remaining traps. They were more than halfway back when Kelly pulled up short and screamed. Chief followed her gaze.

A tree stood to the right of their path. Stuck into its black bark halfway up from the ground was a badge soaked in blood.

“Mike!” Kelly screamed. “I saw Chief! The tiger got him!” She was shaking and sobbing hysterically.

Chief pulled her around to face him. “Shh, Kelly look at me,” he said when she wouldn’t focus. He pulled her close and looked over her head at Moss.

“Mort, take her.”

Sergeant Moss took the child in his arms as Chief  crossed to the tree and pulled the badge from the bark to examined it. The blood was fresh, not yet congealed. He wiped it on his white t-shirt and re-examined the metal. “Middleton Police Department” was written in a small decorative arc above a gold star. Below, in a second semi-circle, “Deputy” was written. Stamped below that were several serial numbers. 

Chief brought the badge back with him. Kelly’s face was buried into Moss’s collar. Moss was gently stroking her back as she gently wept. Evers stood to the side; gun in hand,  currently pointed towards the ground.

“Well?” Moss asked.

“It’s not Mike’s,” Chief answered. At that Kelly turned to face her father. Chief continued, “The serial numbers are not his. It’s the badge I gave Fred ages ago, when I deputized him when Jericho hit town again. I would have sworn he returned it.”

“You don’t always keep the office locked,” Moss said. “Maybe he went back for it recently." 

“Could be,” Chief agreed. He took his daughter from Moss. “You going to be okay, pumpkin?”

“I saw Mike get hurt,” she whispered in his ear. “In my dream Chief... a pole got him.”

Chief looked up at Moss. Their eyes locked briefly, then Chief pulled away.

“Let’s go,” he mumbled and they all started off again.

*  *  *  *  *

Mike made his way slowly back to the Broden home with his right hand clamped tightly over his wound. The blue flannel of Chief’s shirt grew steadily soggy with blood. The shirt was laden by the time Mike was halfway back. Mike became light-headed from the blood loss and picked up a stick to use as a crutch. Then proceeded on.

Both Maggy and Elly were waiting on the back porch when Mike broke from the tree line, heading into the Broden back yard.

“Mike!” Maggy called, tears filling her eyes as she propelled herself from the porch railing. “My God, what happened?”

“I’m fine, Mag. Just a nick.”

“Here,” Maggy said, positioning herself at his right, taking his arm around her shoulder. “Let me help you.”

Elly added support to the left side and together the women got him into the house and onto the sofa.

Elly immediately went to telephone the doctor from the kitchen.

“Should we get some bandages?” Maggy asked.

Mike shook his head, no. “The bleeding’s stopped for now. Let’s just wait for Doc.”

“What happened?” Maggy asked.

Mike leaned farther into the couch. His vision was blurry. His head felt hot, whereas the rest of him felt cold and numb. He closed his eyes as he answered, “Fred booby-trapped the woods.”

“Oh my!” Elly exclaimed as she returned to the den.

Mike opened his eyes to look at her. “Don’t worry, El, Chief will be all right.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Mike swallowed stiffly. His mouth was dry. “He’s an expert,” he managed to choke out, before shutting his eyes once more.

They waited, giving Mike his rest, until Doc Granger showed at the door. Without waiting for a response to his knock, he entered and crossed to the back of the house to find his patient on the sofa. Mike's eyes were closed. Both women huddled around him.“Sweet Jesus,” Doc whispered as he set his bag down. Mike opened his eyes and stared at the doctor.

“Is he going to be all right?” Maggy asked before Doc had a chance to begin his examination.

Doc glanced at her as he went about stripping off the blue flannel bandages. Doc made the necessary examination, then he quickly re-bandaged the wound and looked at Mike.

“We need to get you to the hospital, Mike.”

“Not a chance, Doc,” Mike answered, his voice distant.

“What is it about the Middleton Police and their refusal to be reasonable about their medical care?”

Mike gave him a wry smile.

“You need stitches, Mike,” Doc warned. “And I’ll wager you’re about two pints shy on blood.”

“Then stitch me up, Doc,” Mike said flatly. “I’m not leaving until they get back.”

“Who?”

Maggy briefly filled him in on the highlights of that afternoon.

“Bloody hell,” Doc whispered. “And he set traps in the woods?”

Mike nodded.

Doc looked up at Maggy. “Help me get him in the kitchen, I’ll stitch him up in there. Keep from getting this couch all bloody.”

“You’re all heart, Doc,” Mike whispered. He leaned forward and let Doc Granger and Maggy pull him to his feet.

They led him to the kitchen and lowered him into one of the wooden chairs. Doc took Mike’s arm and rested it on the table while he unwrapped the bandages once more. Then he went to work on the wound: cleaning, disinfecting and then stitching. Maggy stayed by Mike’s side the whole time, assisting the doctor whenever he called on her. Elly kept a vigil at the kitchen window, seated on the kitchen counter to the left of the sink; her attention riveted on the line of trees at the edge of the back yard.

“What could be taking them so long,” she eventually muttered.

Mike detected worry in her voice. He looked up from his arm. Elly’s face was turned slightly away, the light from the window etching out her profile. Mike noticed the crease in her brow. Her lower lip was drawn in and she was biting it nervously.

“They’re going to be all right, El,” Mike insisted. “Probably went deep in those woods.”

She turned to him. “And what if one of those traps was sprung on them?” she asked with a sharp edge to her voice.

“I told you–”

“He’s an expert,” Elly finished. She took a deep breath before returning to the window.

“There,” Doc said. He pulled the thread tight, knotted it and snipped it. “That should do it. I got both sides. The muscle should knit together, in time. But Mike,” Doc looked at his patient.

“Yeah, Doc?”

“Don’t use this arm for a while. We’ll get a sling.”

“Yes, sir.”

Doc Granger noticed the deputy’s weariness. “I’ll slap a bandage on that, then I want you to get some rest.”

Mike nodded.

Doc cut up the strips of cloth and wrapped them securely around Mike’s forearm. He had just finished tying it off when Elly shouted from the window.

“They’re here!”

Mike looked up. “All of them?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Bob, Kelly, Mort, and Bob Evers.”

“Evers?” Mike asked, but Elly had already left the window and out the back door.

Chief looked up as Elly crossed the back yard at a full run. When they were together, she wrapped her arms around him tightly. He returned the pressure.

“I was so worried,” she whispered in his ear.

“Did Mike make it back?” Chief asked.

Elly pulled free. “Yes,” she answered. “He’s in the house with Doc.”

“In the house?” Chief said and continued across the back yard, his left arm securely around Elly’s waist, and his right hand clasped firmly on his daughter’s hand. “He should be in the hospital.” He felt Kelly’s grip tighten.

“He wouldn't go until you got back.”

“Why? Didn’t he think I could handle it?”

Elly didn’t answer right away. He looked down at her.

“El?”

“Actually,” she finally said. “He was the only one who did think so.”

Chief smiled at his fiancée. “You were worried?”

“Terribly.”

They entered the house together, the others shortly after. Chief found Doc and Mike still in the kitchen.

“How is he?” Chief asked the doctor.

“He’s lost a lot of blood, Bob.”

“Any major complications?” Again Chief directed the question to the doctor, ignoring Mike in the process. “Will the arm heal okay, or will he lose the use of it?”

“Should heal fine, Chief–”

“Hey,” Mike broke in, irritated. “Do you mind? I am still in the room.”

“Where you have no business being,” Chief told him. “You should be in the hospital, Mike.”

“Too late, bossman. I’m already stitched up.”

Kelly made her way around her father and into the kitchen. Her expression was a mixture of horror and guilt. She stopped in front of Mike and tears crept into her eyes.

“Hey, Squirt,” Mike said and smiled for her.

She didn’t answer; her pallor matched Mike’s.

“Come here, Squirt,” Mike said holding out his hand to her.

Kelly didn’t budge. Then without warning, she pivoted and darted out of the kitchen. Overhead they could hear her stomping quickly up the steps.

“Excuse me,” Chief said and started after her. But Mike stopped him.

“Chief,” he said getting out of his chair. The room began to sway, but he managed to regain his balance by holding tightly to the table. “I’ll go.”

“You can barely stand upright.”

“I’m fine, really. And whatever is troubling her is between her and me. Please,” Mike emphasized, “let me go talk to her.”

Chief looked over at the doctor. Doc Granger shrugged.

“All right, Mike. Just take it easy on the stairs.”

Mike resisted Maggy’s attempts to help and eventually pulled away from the others. He made his way carefully to the stairs, and then slowly climbed up them. The extra effort and height increased his acquired vertigo. Several times he had to grasp the banister tightly before progressing further. Once up the stairs, he knocked gently on Kelly’s door.

At first there was no answer. So he knocked again.

No answer. 

“Kelly, can I come in?”

“No,” she answered this time, her voice was muffled and thick with tears.

“I’m coming in, Squirt.”

“No, Mike.” 

He gently pushed opened the door. Kelly was laying face down on her bed. Her face buried deep in her pillow. “Please go away,” she said without looking up.

Mike pulled the rocker closer to her bed and sat down. He was physically exhausted. He took a deep breath to clear his head.

“Kelly,” he said softly, “look at me.”

She shook her head in the pillow.

“I want you to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“You got hurt ‘cuz of me. I should have stayed on the porch like Chief told me to do.” Kelly spoke with her face still buried. 

“Well, if you would have done that, Squirt, you wouldn’t have gotten your dog back.”

At that she turned and looked at him. Her face was red and puffy. “It’s all my fault you got hurt, Mike. You followed me.”

“Of course I did. For the same reason you went after your dog. I love you. How could I not go? But,” Mike said, glancing at his bandaged arm, “this is not you fault. If you hadn’t warned me, I wouldn’t be here now.” Mike paused to catch his breath. The room felt stuffy to him. He went on, “Kelly, you put up with more than any kid your age should have to. You’re doing real well. You slipped up, that’s all. We all do. You had good reason. In your shoes, I’d have done the same. I’m sure even Chief realizes that.”

“He said next time Hoove runs off, I have to just let him go, Mike.”

Mike nodded. “I guess under the circumstances, that may be good idea. Don’t you?”

“It’s gonna kill ‘im Mike. I saw it ... in the dream.”

“Not if we keep an eye on him. Maybe we can tie him up, keep him from running.”

“That’s what Chief said, but...” She stopped and searched his face. New tears pulled free from her eyes. Mike reached into his back pocket and dug out his handkerchief.

“Here,” he said and handed the cloth to the girl. He watched her dry her eyes. When she didn’t continue, he said, “I’m listening, Squirt.”

“It’s just that ... Hoove won’t understand. I mean… I know why I have to stay in all the time. But he won’t know why we have to tie him down. He likes to run, Mike. He’ll think I’m punishing him. He'll think I don’t love him anymore.”

“No he won’t. He’ll love you no matter what you do to him, unconditionally. He’ll get over being tied down. Besides, it’s just for a few days.”

Kelly handed the handkerchief back to Mike. She looked into his eyes and noticed his fatigue. His face was ghostly white and he breathed through his mouth. “You don’t look so good, Mike.”

“Squirt, I don’t feel so good.”

Mike had grown increasingly tired. The long trip up the stairs and the effort of sustaining the conversation had taken a toll on him. His vision was fuzzy and he was very light-headed and experiencing hot and cold flashes.

“Maybe you should lie down, Mike.”

Mike nodded. Kelly slid off the bed and Mike stretched out.

“Just for a few minutes,” he said. “I’ll just rest my eyes for a few minutes...” 

Kelly looked back. Mike had already drifted off. She pulled the spare blanket off the foot of the bed and tenderly covered Mike with it, tucking him in securely. Then she left the room, softly closing the door behind her.

© Copyright 2025 C J Driftwood. All rights reserved.