Emmetsburg: Forty-five

John set out one of the dining chairs beneath the willow for Louis. The air was cool and gentle there. John hooked a thumb in a belt loop of Louis' trousers. His arm was slung across John's shoulders. It proved a fair test of that hurt hand as he helped Louis downstairs and out into the yard. He could feel the bifurcated flesh moving independent of one another. John pursed his lips and felt tears fill his eyes. Didn't help that Louis' legs were about as firm as wet spaghetti. Felt like no small milestone when at last they reached the back step.

“Step down,” said John, wanting to scream from pain. Instead he clenched his teeth and gave hardly more than a stifled groan.

“Just a little farther,” he said.

John was already dreading the idea of getting Louis back up the stairs. If it was a warm enough night, he mused, he'd just as soon leave Louis under the tree. Throw a blanket over him and that would be that. Or maybe set him out on the curb with a bushel of apples that Louis could sell at 2 cents a pound to help earn his keep. The thought made John smile, tempering the pain in his hand just enough.

It was a near perfect day. There was hardly a cloud in the sky. Now and again small puffy-white clouds glided eastward, carried on a silken breeze that washed through the yard with the lemon-pepper scent of fresh cut grass somewhere. John breathed it in deeply, carried bck to his childhood for a moment, and the perfectness of rolling in freshly cut wet grass. The breeze headed off across the yard to the tree line and small creek. Beyond the line of trees a pair of burly brown horses pulled a plow across the hillside.

“Feel like an invalid,” said Louis as John deposited him in the chair.

“Far cry from last night.” There was fresh blood in the bandages. John held the hand to his chest. “Suppose you don’t recall running across the yard like your pants were on fire?”

“Not a thing.”

That so?” John gave Louis a long suspect look. “Screaming to the stars. Suppose you don’t remember none of that either?”

Louis cocked his head, as if he didn't or couldn't understand what John was saying. Just then a car pulled up out front. Three doors opened and shut quickly. On that quiet little street such a thing was enough to draw John's attention immediately.

It wasn’t a moment before George Bremer rounded the corner of the house with two young deputies in tow. Their expressions were artificially austere, as if any affront to the law was a personal assault. By contrast Old George was serious but aloof, as though this was nothing more than a task, akin to washing the dishes or tending some meddlesome repair. John stepped forward, placing himself squarely between Louis and the lawmen.