Page 43 of The Soldier and the Cowboy

Jinx returned a while later with a pill and a glass of water. Cal downed it. A few minutes later he fell gratefully asleep, pulled into blissful unconsciousness by the weight of the pill.

At last Bailey felt like she could leave him. She, Sully, and Jinx stepped back onto the lawn, keeping their distance from the box.

“What exactly is in the box?” Bailey asked. She had no desire to look, not now, not ever.

“Her head and hands,” Sully rasped. “If you didn’t look, how did you know?”

“The fluid leaking from the box. I’ve seen death before.” She hadn’t known who was in the box, of course, but she’d suspected. And the sound Cal made confirmed it. She closed her eyes, trying to push back the sound and the vision of Cal’s pain. She hoped never to see another human in that much pain again for as long as she lived.

Sully reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. At first Bailey resisted the urge to be comforted, and then she realized Sully might be seeking his own comfort. He had known Isabel a long time, had likely socialized with her, dined with her, maybe even danced with her. And now she was gone in the worst possible way. So she hugged him, and he hugged her fiercely in return, burying his face in her hair and letting a few tears fall.

“I’ve never…that was…how am I gonna…?” They hugged for a while until eventually both of them pulled themselves together and let go. “All right. I called the crime lab. They’ll be here soon. We’ll do statements and all that goes with it then. For now let’s sit and keep vigil.” They sat on the steps, looking anywhere but at the box. After a while trucks began to roll up the long lane. Sully breathed a sigh of relief. Bailey didn’t know if it was because reinforcements had arrived or because he could focus on work. While he and Jinx went to talk to the newcomers, she slipped away and went back to Cal, preferring to keep vigil with him. She sat in the chair beside the bed and watched him sleep until Sully arrived with a statement for her to fill out.

She did so, downed a bowl of cold stew, forced down a glass of water, and returned to Cal’s side. The men went away. Sully came to say goodbye. “Call if you need anything,” he whispered. “I’ll let you know what we find out.”

She nodded. “Thanks, Sully. Try to get some rest.”

“You, too. Keep me updated on Cal.”

“Will do.”

Jinx arrived next, keeping watch with her. He looked all his years then, old and tired. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he whispered after a while.

“There’s nothing that can prepare you for a day like today,but you did well, Jinx. No one could have done better.”

“I didn’t like her, but…” he trailed off.

“I know, me too.”

He sighed and the sound was exhausted. “You can go, Jinx. I’ll stay.”

“I’d argue, but I think he’d prefer you,” Jinx said.

“I don’t know about that,” Bailey replied.

“I do. Good night, Miss Bailey.”

“Good night, sir,” she said, standing to give him a hug.

After he left, she sat by the bed again, resuming watch. Cal didn’t stir. So deeply did he sleep that she checked him a few times to make sure he was still breathing. Finding that he was, she sat back down and stared, counting the hours, thinking, planning. After a while she rested her head on the bed. At some point she drifted to sleep.

Chapter 18

She woke sometime later to Cal petting her head. She sat up, blinking at him in the darkness. Did he find it odd to have her there?

“In Africa, grief isn’t solitary. It’s shared between friends,” she explained. He patted the bed beside him. She climbed over and lay down beside him. The room was dark. She couldn’t make out more than his silhouette.

“Can I bring you some food or water?” she offered.

He shook his head. His throat worked, swallowing convulsively with renewed memories.

“Can I hold you?” she whispered.

He nodded. She shifted, drawing his head onto her chest in a motherly gesture of comfort. The dam broke and he sobbed, clutching her close as he drenched her shirt with emotion. She hoped it would be enough, that it would all come spilling out and ease the ache inside him, but of course it wouldn’t. It would take time—days and weeks and months and maybe even years to purge all that was in his heart. Bailey didn’t speak a word, didn’t try to tell him everything would be okay or to let it go. She simply held on and let it happen, let the tears eke out of him little by little until he was spent and fell back asleep. And even then she didn’t let go. She held him until she fellasleep, their bodies clutched together like two halves of a whole.

In the morning when she woke, Cal was gone. She rolled out of bed and went to the kitchen where she saw him sitting at the table, staring at nothing. She made a pot of coffee and, when it was finished, poured him a generous cup and set it before him.

“Thanks,” he said on autopilot.

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