“Oh, yeah, it’s in the bag.”
“Want yours? I’ll dig it out.”
“Yeah, thanks.” I jumped out and took a minute to shrug into the yellow slicker before I ran to the back door of the ambulance. The paramedic was just about to close it when I jumped in.
“What did they do to you, Marilyn? How bad are you hurt?”
“Three of them this time, Travis. They knocked me down and I hit my head on the steps. I’m not hurt badly. I’m mostly wet and dirty. Stop worrying.”
“How many horses did they take?”
“None. Charlie stopped them before they got to the barn, and he ran them off. Ask Buster. He got the tag.”
“Fantastic. I’ll come to the hospital. Don’t worry.”
It took me an hour to get all the statements, but I had the tag for the dark blue pickup and that was progress. Too bad Marilyn had to get hurt to get it. Her guys were ready, and I had to thank Wyatt Thompson for that.
Half drenched, I jumped into the squad and called Molly again and gave her the tag for the dark blue squad.
“Wonderful. We got the tag. Is Marilyn okay?”
“They knocked her down on her front steps, Molly, and she hit her head. I’m going to the hospital to check on her and I’m also going to talk to Wyatt while I’m over there in Cut Bank. Call me.”
Cut Bank Hospital.
“Did they steal more horses?” asked Harlan.
“No. Marilyn’s cowboys were ready for the fuckers to come back, and they held them off. Last time there were two and this time there were three of them.”
“Marilyn your girlfriend? You almost lost it, Travis.”
First time he called me Travis.
“Yeah. Friend. Good friend but not a girlfriend if you’re qualifyinggirlfriendby me sleeping with her—I’m not.”
Harlan smiled. “Not yet.”
I laughed. “Maybe never. Who can tell for sure?”
Cut Bank Hospital.
I parked the squad in front of the Emergency doors and left the strobes flashing. A quick visit to make sure Marilyn was okay and then we had a lot more to do.
Harlan didn’t look like he was getting out of the Bronco, so I motioned to him to come and he jumped out into the downpour, eager to see what was going on and experience something he’d only seen on TV.
“Marilyn Pellegrino?” I asked of the triage nurse.
“Treatment room four, Sheriff Frost.”
“Thanks.”
“They know you here,” said Harlan.
I laughed. “They think they do. I keep coming back.” I tapped twice on door number four, opened it, and looked inside.
A doctor in a white lab coat was bent over Marilyn looking into her eyes with one of those little flashlight things.
She turned her head when I opened the door and she started to cry. “Travis, they came back.” She reached her hand around the doctor, and I held it.