Deep in the Valley (20 page)

O
nly in Grace Valley’s worst nightmare could it happen. Judge Forrest was at home recuperating from the car accident when Gus Craven’s public defender took a petition for early release to the court. Gus had been good, he said. Had served a third of his sentence without getting into any trouble and should be released on his own recognizance. Besides, the jail was crowded.

The sitting judge obliged, with a stern warning that if Gus appeared again, he would go to the state penitentiary for a minimum of five years. Gus was released from jail.

“What?!” Tom Toopeek shouted into the phone when the director of corrections called to warn him. The bad news was repeated. “Well, for God’s sake, don’t let him leave till I get there!”

Tom called three people before he jumped in his Rover and sped to the County Corrections Facility. He called Corsica Rios and told her to get to Leah and the boys at once to warn them, then he called Judge to
relate what had happened in his absence from the bench, and asked him, if he was up to it, to provide Leah with a little legal paperwork to help her protect herself. Finally he called Ursula and told her to keep an eye on Tanya, then he went to pick up Gus.

He parked outside the double-gated fence and leaned against his car, waiting. When Gus exited the facility, Tom was the first thing he saw.

“Sheesh! Just what I need! Goddamned Indian cop!”

“How about a ride, Gus?” Tom asked.

“How about you shove it where the sun don’t shine. I’ll call Leah from the next phone.”

“I heard Leah isn’t taking calls. Besides, how you going to get to the next phone, Gus?”

“My thumb!”

“Get in the Rover,” Tom said, his patience waning.

“Anything say I have to?”

“No. It’s only me inviting you, so we can have an important little talk about what you do next. But if you continue to decline the offer, I’m sure the nice guards in the patrol towers will be happy to look the other way while I help you into the car.”

“Police brutality!” Gus yelled, then looked around. He hadn’t roused anyone’s attention. “Police brutality,” he screamed again.

Wet brain,
Tom thought forlornly. It just didn’t seem possible one man could be so ignorant. He must have lost too many brain cells in the years he’d stayed pickled. “Come on, Gus. I’m getting bored with this.”

Gus got a little red in the face, but he knew it was hopeless. He let himself in the passenger side with
jerking, furious moves. He huffed onto the seat, crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. Tom had to reach all the way across the console to fasten his seat belt for him. Then they were underway.

“I’ll be honest with you, Gus,” Tom said. “I tried to convince Leah to file for divorce, but she hasn’t gotten around to it yet. You getting out right now, well, it’s a surprise and inconvenience to everyone. Especially Judge Forrest.”

“That woman ain’t getting no divorce! We’re married till the death!”

“It isn’t going to work out that way. I’m going to drive you to the farm so she can tell you herself, and then I’ll help you find a place to stay.”

Gus started to laugh, it was a mean and mocking laugh. “’At’s my farm, Chief, and no Injun cop is gonna take it away from me.”

“This has nothing to do with me. While you and I drive out there, Leah’s getting herself a separation agreement that allows her to stay on the farm and take care of the boys until a divorce agreement can be reached. That’s when you’ll have your property settlement. And at the same time, we’re getting her a protection order. In case you don’t understand, Gus, it means that if you go near her or the boys, I get to arrest you again, and Judge gets to put you in jail again. And next time it will be on a more permanent basis.”

Gus continued to laugh through Tom’s explanation of legal procedure. He seemed to be shrinking into the seat as he curled forward in hilarity that was wholly contrived. But when Tom was done speaking, Gus stopped laughing and stared at him with squinty, mean,
pinpoint eyes. He bared his rotting, yellowed teeth when he spoke. “Ain’t gonna be no agreements and no orders. ‘At’s my farm, my wife, my young. ‘At’s where I’m going and ‘at’s where I’m staying.” Then for emphasis, he socked his balled fist into the palm of his other hand.

Tom hit the brakes and put the Rover into a hard spin. When they stopped, Gus’s eyes had opened up considerably and he was hanging on to the door and the dash to steady himself. The Rover rocked to a stop sideways in the road, blocking any oncoming traffic. There didn’t seem to be any, but the road curved around and over hills, and the shoulders were thick with trees and brush. At any moment a semi could round the curve and plaster them.

Tom leaned toward Gus. “Listen to me, you insufferable little jackass. Things are different at the farm now. The house is fixed and it’s clean and the field is planted and your family is safe and happy. Leah’s got a job, she’s going to keep that job, she’s paying her own bills, and she looks good for the first time since she met you.”

Gus was shaking his head to and fro, craning his neck to see out the sides of the Rover. “Get out of the goddamned road, you ignorant Injun!”

“Look at me, Gus,” Tom said slowly. “You hear what I’m telling you? With you gone that family of yours can live a decent life at long last, and I am not going to let you go back there and destroy that again. Look at me!” Tom shouted.

Gus stopped swiveling his head and looked at Tom. Tom glowered as only Tom could, and Gus’s voice got
a bit smaller. “You’re gonna get us kilt, you goddamned fool,” he said, but he looked at Tom as he was told to.

“You’re going to stay away from Leah and the boys. I don’t care what you do or where you do it, but you stay away from that farm, Gus.”

“Just pull off the road, Injun,” Gus begged nervously. “Could be a car or truck coming any second. Pull off the road, say whatever you want. I’ll even go a few rounds with you if that’s what you’re looking for.”

A slow smile spread across Tom’s handsome face. “I don’t think you understand, Gus. If I were to lay my hands on you, you’d never stand up again.”

“You threatening my life, Chief?” he asked skittishly. “’Cause if you—”

“Don’t ever make me come after you, Gus. You wouldn’t live to tell about it.”

“That’s what I thought I heard. I heard you saying—”

“Get out of the car,” Tom said.

“You got it, you crazy son of a bitch!”

Gus opened the door and virtually leaped from the front seat of the Rover.

Tom slowly turned the car around and drove down the road. Just as he started off a large produce truck came barreling over the hill and passed him going the other direction. In his rearview mirror he could see Gus standing in the middle of the road, jumping up and down, shaking his fist at him.

Tom didn’t get much satisfaction out of the whole event. He was pretty sure Gus was too damn stupid to take any of his advice seriously.

When Tom got out to the Craven farm he felt a swell of pride just driving up to the house. It had gone from a hovel to a pretty little farmhouse. Someone had taken the time to plant flowers all along the front walk and hang a couple of baskets of geraniums from the porch roof. Since the last time he’d been out there a rocking chair had been added.

Leah must have heard him drive up, for she stepped out onto the porch, drying a bowl with a dish towel. She had probably just gotten home from the café. Even after a long day of being on her feet, she still looked better than Tom had ever seen her while Gus was around. But there was no mistaking the worried look she wore. Behind her a couple of the boys peeked out of the door.

“Tom,” she said when he approached the porch.

“Hi there, Leah. I just left Gus, not far outside the jail. He’s on foot. Looking for a phone, I suppose.”

“I think maybe he found one. It’s been ringing, but we’re not answering.”

“Just as well. Did you hear from Corsica Rios?”

“Yes, she was here. Brought me a restraining order.” She laughed. “Maybe I should try waving it in his face as he’s pummeling me and the boys.”

“Here’s what you do. You lock everything up tight and you keep a real close eye on the road. And the very second you see him or hear him, you call me, because once he violates that order of protection, I’m taking him away. Next time it will be longer. I gave him a warning. As powerful a warning as I’m able.”

“What if I don’t see him coming?” she asked.

“He’s a pompous little bully, Leah. If I know Gus, he’ll be shouting and swearing from the road.”

That brought a smile to her lips, but it was wan.

Frank stepped out onto the porch behind his mother. Unlike his father, Frank was going to be a big man. He was already over six feet, and once he filled out a little, he would be a powerful figure of a man. Tom almost smiled.

“Frank.”

“Chief.”

“You heard the advice I gave your mother?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. I have some more. I think for the time being you shouldn’t leave the younger boys out here alone when you go to work. Take ’em someplace. Take ’em with you to the café if you need to—George would put ’em up in a booth with some coloring books or puzzles. Just till we get the lay of the land.”

“You mean just till the sorry old bastard shows his face and gets himself carted away again?” Frank asked.

“Pretty much. And just so you know, I’m going to insist that Tanya keep a distance for now. Till things settle down again.”

Frank made a sound of disgust and looked away. Leah tried to quiet him with a pleading look and a touch on his arm.

“If you care anything about Tanya, you don’t want her in the middle of this,” Tom said. “Am I at least right about that?”

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to Tan,” Frank said, but he said it with sarcasm and a measure of disrespect.

Tom had nothing more to say on that subject. He fairly dreaded the conversation he was obligated to have with Tanya about it. “Lock up,” he said. “And call
me at once if you see him. Lee, Ricky and I will take turns driving by the farm through the next few days, but we can’t keep you covered all the time.”

“Tom, when you talked to Gus, how’d he take it?” Leah asked.

Tom tapped his foot in the dirt and ground his teeth a little. It wasn’t like him to squirm at a question. He finally muttered, “Just how you’d expect.”

John still wore his scrubs as he wrote in the patient’s chart. He looked at his watch—10:30 a.m. He’d have time to go back to Grace Valley, see a few patients and still get back by early afternoon when Justine would be resting in her room.

June came into the recovery area, pulled off her surgical cap and hovered near John’s chair. “How did you know?” she asked in a whisper.

“Instincts. Good guess. Family history. I don’t know.”

“Family…? Justine’s mother died of cancer, but an entirely unrelated type.”

“You’d be amazed how often we see a reproductive cancer pop up when the only family history is cancer of another type.”

“You probably saved her life,” June said.

John sat still as a rock, deep in thought. They had found a malignant tumor, found it in just the beginning stages, and they would soon know whether or not it had spread anywhere in the pelvic cavity. But it had been an ovarian malignancy—the most dangerous of all reproductive cancers. The conservative response was a total hysterectomy. But because Justine was only
twenty-six, he had left her the other ovary, fallopian tube and uterus.

“I’m not sure we did the best thing,” he told June.

“It’s not up to us,” she said.

John turned and looked at her for the first time. “Then you agree with me?”

“If it were me, I’d say pull it all,” June said.

“Yeah, but that’s different. You’re different. Your age, for one thing. And your particular disposition toward childbirth.”

She was quiet a long moment. A lot of people just assumed she didn’t want children because she didn’t have any. Finally she said, “We’re not that different.” John thought about that, but didn’t reply. “Do you want me to talk to her about it?”

“Yes. No. What I mean is, I’d like you to say something to her about the surgery, about it going well, and tell her whatever you want about the cancer. Tell her I’m going to be around to have a longer conversation with her about her treatment and prognosis later, when she’s wide awake and more alert. When she can take it all in.”

“Have you told her anything yet?”

“Just that we took one ovary and left the other.”

June clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Good job, John.”

It was four in the afternoon before John could make his way back to Rockport, to Valley Hospital. Justine was sitting up, and beside her, also sitting on the bed, facing her and holding both her hands, was Sam. John gave a couple of polite taps on the open door. Sam edged off the bed and stood at her bedside.

“How are you feeling?” John asked.

“All right. Considering.”

“We have to talk about your treatment. About this disease.”

She gasped at the word and looked up at Sam.

“It’s a curable disease, Justine,” John said. “And we caught it early, which means your odds of beating it are even better. First of all, there’s no reason to be afraid.” He paused, then asked cautiously, “Do you want to have this conversation together? Or shall we talk and fill Sam in later?”

“I want Sam to stay,” she said.

“Ah, tell you what, Justine, let me run downstairs for a cup of coffee while you talk to Doc Stone. I won’t be gone too long,” Sam said.

“Please, Sam, come right back,” she begged.

“I will, I promise.”

He kissed her forehead and she grasped his hand, letting go of him reluctantly. The minute he was out of the room, large tears gathered in her eyes and spilled over. John sat where Sam had been on the bed and handed her tissues from the bedside table.

“I can’t believe I was never going to have a baby,” she said. “I was angry about it, then happy about it, then it was over!” She gripped the tissue and turned watering eyes up at John. “I was happy for such a short time! It’s not fair! I just want to die again!”