“Oh my.” Mrs. Rucker pushed past Clark to stand at the property line. “What a bad little doggie you are.”
Laylea sat at her feet on the Rick’s side of the line. The old lady bent and waggled a finger in her face. Her other hand dropped a piece of cheese in the grass.
“Oh dear. Oops. Just can’t get these old hands to grip no more.” She turned and hung on to Clark’s arm. “Help me back up to my door, Clark. Spring is supposed to be warmer than this. It certainly was down home.”
Clark escorted the OLR up her three steps to the front door. “Letitia, I hate to deprive you, but I’m going on a hike today. Would it be okay if I invited Davis and Parker along?”
“Take em.” She waved a hand over her shoulder. “Get em out of my hair.”
“Can we go, Mr. Clark?” Davis scooped Laylea up into his arms without asking permission. “Can we go with you?”
“Of course. You have good walking shoes?”
Both boys automatically looked at the ground.
Davis smelled concerned. “These are the only ones I brought besides my church shoes.”
“Then those’ll do fine.” Clark slid the collar over Laylea’s head. “We’re gonna finish our walk and get breakfast. Can you be ready to go in a half an hour?”
“Sure, sir. But we have to be back in time to clean out the shed before dark.” Davis gestured with the football in one hand. He dropped it.
“We’ll get you back. Bring water, okay?” Clark took Laylea from Davis and set her on the ground. “And hats.”
He led her past the Rick’s house to do a circle of their street. The new renters at the end of the cul-de-sac were on their enclosed porch, drinking coffee and ignoring each other through newspapers. The wife waved at Clark. The husband ruffled his paper and muttered something unintelligible.
Clark waved and then bent to pick up what Laylea laid down.
“Just dump it right there in our trash,” the woman called out. “It’s no problem.”
“Marjory.” The man scolded her from behind his paper.
She didn’t even glance his way. “Really. No problem at all.”
Clark and Laylea moved along after he secured the lid of their bin. People could be very sensitive about poop. Bailey had a book all about how everybody poops. But he still made faces sometimes when he picked up after the dogs.
Laylea veered over to walk on the curb by the ghost house. An unhappy German Shepard lived behind the fence and Laylea wanted to be far away when the wood splintered against his weight. She wasn’t allowed to walk in the street so the curb was as far away as she could get without breaking any rules. Her trick left hip gave way though and she fell into the gutter.
Quick as she was, jumping back onto the curb, Clark noticed. “Hey, are you up for a hike? Is your hip giving you trouble?”
Her hip had troubles on cold mornings and if she were tired. But most of the time it didn’t bother her. Whenever it did, Bailey would notice. He’d haul out his old children’s books and read to her. He lay beside her and put the book down on the bed so she could see the pictures like when they did homework together. Sometimes she pretended her hip hurt just so that Bailey would stop running around and read with her.
But there was no way she was going to let that stupid old injury slow her down. She bounded away into their own yard and rolled over in the grass before pulling Clark up the porch stairs.
“Okay. Okay. I get it. You’re fine.” He hopped up the stairs after her, sitting on the top step to let her climb into his lap. “Come here. I’m so glad you stayed with us, Laylea.” He kissed her head and unclipped the leash. “There, if I leave your collar on, will you believe you’re coming with? Because this hike is for you, Adoptionversary girl.”
Laylea barked. The bells jangled.
“Dad!” Bailey banged out onto the porch.
Clark herded him back in the house. “Inside with your big news, Bails. Old Lady Rucker doesn’t want to hear it.”
“Dad, she always wants to hear.”
Sher rushed over and kissed Clark on the cheek as she grabbed her riding jacket. “So sorry about this. We’ll think of something special for dinner.” She tossed Bailey his riding jacket and scooted up the stairs. “Meet you in the garage.”
Clark and Laylea watched her.
“Bailey?”
Bailey zipped his jacket and pulled gloves, a bandanna, sunglasses, and ear warmers from the pockets. He explained as he wrapped himself up against the cold, “Thomas Bevery from school rescued a great dane named Mitzi. She was malnourished and pregnant and she just went into labor and his mom is really worried and so she called Chris from the clinic cuz he’s a friend of theirs and Chris called mom and she invited me to go help.”
Sher hustled back down the stairs, the medical pouch from her go bag in hand. Clark took it from her so she could pull gloves and all from her pockets and dress against the weather. They went through the kitchen to the garage.
“The batter’s all made if you still want to have shmancakes.” Sher grabbed her messenger bag from its hook as Bailey dragged open the door.
“No.” Clark helped her fit the medical kit in the bag. “We’ll have them for dinner. The celebration wouldn’t be the same without all of us. You go help Mitzi.”
“Mitzi?” Sher stopped.
“Dad, they renamed her.”
“Okay, well then you guys go help?”
“Chewbacca.”
“Right.” Clark kissed both of them. Bailey kissed Laylea. “You’re friends with Thomas?”
Bailey threw a leg over his bike. “Not yet.”
The pair took off and Clark shut the garage door.
“How do you feel about a scrambled egg, jerky, and kibble casserole for breakfast?”
Laylea sang.
Chapter Eighteen
Clark and Bailey often went on long hikes into the mountains. If they were jogging, they left the dogs behind on Sher’s orders. She worried that the walking hikes were even too strenuous for Laylea and Woodford’s short legs. Laylea tried not to let it show when her paws got sore.
Davis noticed. Although Laylea wondered if maybe Davis called her out because he wanted to turn back, she couldn’t be sure. In any case, they did turn back after only a few hours. And Clark was carrying her when he tripped over a protruding root and nearly face-planted on top of her in the dirt.
Clark worried over Laylea while the grandsons and Woodford worried over Clark.
“Mr. Clark, your shinbone is sticking out of your leg.” Davis smelled like Laylea felt on bumpy flights.
Parker hit him. “Shut up. You can’t tell a guy that.”
“It’s bleeding really bad, Parker.” Davis managed to keep his breakfast down but it was a near thing.
Woodford howled.
Laylea contorted herself in Clark’s arms to lick the dad’s nose. She was shaken up but that was all. He needed to take care of himself.
“You’re sure?” he asked her.
She barked as fiercely as she ever had and wriggled out of his grasp. The leg was bleeding all over the pretty rocks that had spilled from Davis’ bag. They’d all had their eyes peeled to collect for Bailey since he couldn’t come. Laylea ran around the boys and sat her butt beside Woodford. Finally Clark focused on himself.
“Whoa.” Clark reached out and held onto Parker’s shoulder when he got a look at the broken shin. “That’s not good.” He breathed deeply and Laylea could just hear the rhythm of the song in his exhale.
Parker laughed and stopped himself, blushing. “Sorry.”
“No. Laughter is good. Could you boys look around and see if you can find a solid stick or something we could use as a splint?”
“Sure thing, Mr. Clark.” Davis turned away from the leg with superhuman speed.
“Shouldn’t we tie off the artery first, sir?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Clark held himself up with one hand while the other untied the paisley bandanna from around his neck. “Aren’t you
a teenager, Parker? Why are you so polite?”
The lanky kid took the ratty old bandanna when Clark started trying to tie it one-handed around his own thigh. “Down here, Mr. Clark, just above the knee is better.”
He pulled the tourniquet tight but didn’t complete the knot. “If Grandma asks, I’m polite because she taught me so, sir.” He placed a stick against the rope and completed the knot around it. “But really I’m polite because,” he turned the stick, pulling the bandanna tighter until the blood flow slowed. “I’m polite because my moms wasn’t.” Parker tucked the stick under the edge of the bandanna and stood. “Sir.”
As soon as Parker turned his back, Clark lifted the leg. His gasp of pain was covered by Woodford’s impressive howl. He grasped his knee in one hand and the ankle in the other. Laylea could barely hear him chanting.
“I will not kill another soul today. I will not kill another soul today.”
He pulled. Laylea smelled pain rolling off him in the sweat pouring down his face and staining his armpits and groin. The hand on his knee slid down and pushed the protruding bone back into place. When he released the ankle, several wrinkles smoothed from his face. Clark lay back into the dirt and rocks and leaves and breathed. Woodford stopped howling. He stepped forward into the puddle of blood and sniffed up and down the gash. When he found what he was looking for, he pointed his nose at the break and planted himself in place.
Laylea whimpered. She stood on Clark’s shoulder to lick his salty face.
Clark didn’t open his eyes. “Yeah. It’s better.”
Laylea cleaned his entire face. She turned her back on the scary, coppery leg and licked every inch of skin she could reach. By the time the boys returned with the perfect splints and a thin log to use as a crutch, Laylea had climbed to Clark’s chest and was watching his twitching eyes.
At Clark’s direction, the boys cut up the dogs’ leashes to tie the splints against his leg. They had to physically shove Woodford out of the way to do it with Clark crooning to him the whole time just to keep him from snapping at the well-meaning boys. Laylea chewed on Clark’s orange rope bracelet while the boys destroyed her leash.
The walk home was easy compared to getting Clark on his feet. Once they let Clark use the makeshift crutch on the side of the bad leg and supported him under his opposite arm, they were able to ignore Woodford keeping pace more with the wound than with the group. Laylea trotted in front of the parade while Parker and Davis explained football to Clark.
Davis thought he was putting them on, that he was pretending not to understand to keep them from worrying about him. But Parker told him that Mr. Clark wasn’t that kind of an adult.
“It’s you teach me football or I teach you the math that makes me so good with my slingshot.”
As they struggled over the uneven forest floor, Davis eventually got into the subject. They had begun explaining how specific football games that had changed the rules over the years by the time they reached the rental’s back yard.
It was hard to tell where the forest ended and the yard began. A chair missing much of its caning sat in the middle of the weeds. The heavyset woman named Marjory rocked in another chair. Wavy brown hair hung loose to her waist, held away from her face by a hot pink headband. She had her head down, focused on the bar of soap she was carving with a dull pocket knife. Both fell to the ground when she spotted the trio hobbling out of the trees.
When her screams had finished echoing through the forest, the woman scrambled to her feet. “Oh dear god. Come here and sit. Have you called an ambulance?”
“Thank you, Ma’am.” Clark grinned at Parker on the ma’am. “I’m fine. I’m just gonna get home.” Clark felt the boys’ reactions to this and added, “and drive to the hospital.”
The renter trotted alongside them as they made their way step by step across her yard. Laylea had to dance lively to stay out from under her feet. Woodford ignored her as he did everyone else. “Did a bear get you? Or a lion?”
“We don’t have lions in these mountains. Ma’am,” Davis pointed out.
"Mountain lions." Parker corrected his brother. He took Clark’s weight as they turned to go single file through the short stone walls that led out to the street.
Davis rolled his eyes at his brother. “Those are cougars.”
“No, my sister-in-law is a cougar.” Marjory snorted.
Clark smiled, “I just fell. I’ve done worse to myself.”
“Oh, I used to see all kinds of strange injuries at my job. Strange animals too.” Marjory finally noticed Laylea running alongside them all. “Well, you look just like a dog we used to see running around the grounds.” She bent to look more closely. “Smaller, but Rhea had that same color fur and those floppy ears. Why your leg doesn’t have any blood on it at all. Your pants are a mess but your leg is—“
Clark swung the ripped ends of the pant leg aside to show her the gash. She stopped talking for a good minute.
“We washed the wound.”
Parker glanced at Clark’s water bottle. The boys hadn’t brought enough and he’d given them the last of his shortly before his fall. Laylea jumped out onto the curb when they reached the ghost house. The fence shuddered from the shepherd’s paws before the dog even started barking. Marjory the renter didn’t even flinch.
“Yes, yes. I would offer you a ride to the hospital but my husband has the car. He’s fishing. I can’t bear it. I will never hurt another animal as long as I live.”
“Thank you so much for offering, Marjory.”
Her head jerked so hard Laylea thought she could hear the vertebrae crack. “How do you know my name?”
Davis tripped on the curb. Clark reached a hand out and caught him by his shirtfront before he fell. He never took his eyes from Marjory’s suddenly cold face. Before he could judge the reason for her fear, Parker spoke up.
“Your husband yells your name, Ma’am. Everyone in the neighborhood knows you’re Marjory. But we can keep it our secret, if you want.”
The chubby cheeks reddened and puffed up as the smile popped back onto her face. “Oh my goodness. You mean you can hear it when we’re—“
“When we walk by, Marjory,” Clark interrupted. “He gets your attention by yelling your name when you’re talking to us.”
“Oh, of course he does. I never listen. I just haven’t been the same since they closed the lab and I lost my job.” Marjory seemed to forget they were there. She stopped walking after a few words but kept talking, heedless of the vicious barking on the far side of the fence. “I was a supervisor too, in the Therian Division. Making very good money. But the things I heard and worse, the sounds I saw, I am glad they shut the whole project down. Paid me enough to send the kids off to school and we go to a different little town every summer.”
Clark and the kids kept moving towards the house. Laylea watched Marjory, more concerned about the woman than about her arch enemy the shepherd. Eventually Marjory turned and, still talking, returned to her own back yard. “All this moving about though. I just don’t. . .”
When Marjory was out of sight, Laylea caught up to the boys.
Parker had an arm around the dad but he wasn’t really helping him very much. “Mr. Clark, sir, you’re walking pretty good for a guy with a broken leg.”
Clark leaned on him a little more. “I can take a lot of pain.”
“Sure.” Parker helped him limp along a few more steps. “But won’t it heal better if you give the leg a rest? I mean, sure we’re just kids, but we can help you.”
Davis threw a rock into the street. “We can’t help Marjory.”
“Yeah, she’s scary,” Parker agreed.
Clark stopped. “Guys, I was just trying to give you a rest for a little while.”
“Sure you weren’t trying to get away from Marjory?” Davis asked.
Clark pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow at the kid. Davis giggled.
“What do we need a rest for?” Parker asked. “We’re here.”
Layl
ea hopped up the six steps to the porch.
“Now we need to get me up those steps and onto a couch.”
“Oh.”
“No problem, Mr. C,” Davis squeaked. “Grandma’s coming over to help.”
With Old Lady Rucker’s invaluable supervising, the boys got Clark into the house. While the OLR settled him on the couch with pillows and the phone nearby, Laylea and Woodford led the boys to the kitchen. They rinsed the blood off the dogs’ feet and their butts where they’d sat in the puddle. Woodford emptied the water bowl as they cleaned him. They refilled it and Clark’s canteen and fetched several ice packs from the freezer.
“You call me if you need anything at all and I’ll send the boys back over. Should we lock the door or leave it open?”
“Lock it. Thank you Letitia. Thank you Parker and Davis.” Now that he was safe at home, Clark let a little pain show on his face. “Sher will take care of everything when she gets home.”
Laylea walked the family to the front door. Woodford stayed glued to Clark’s side.
Parker was uncertain about leaving. “Grandma, his bone was sticking out.”
“Now it’s . . .” Davis stopped at a look from his grandmother. “Shouldn’t we make sure he gets to the hospital?”
“You are very thoughtful. But in this neighborhood we mind our business. If the man wants our help, he knows perfectly well how to ask. Now git. I’ve a big pot of soup needs eating.”
Old Lady Rucker shooed the boys out of the house. She made Parker check the lock and the bells rang as they jiggled the handle again from the outside. When Laylea got back to the family room, Clark had passed out cold.
Chapter Nineteen
Clark slept for the rest of the afternoon. Sher and Bailey came home from a successful day birthing eight Great Dane and possibly Irish Setter mixes. Bailey cuddled Laylea and Woodford and reviewed absolutely everything he had learned. He described for his dad, in excruciating detail how they had to gain Chewbacca’s confidence and help her get the pups out.
When he started explaining a board game Thomas taught him, Sher hustled him into the kitchen to help her finally make their special pancakes for Laylea’s adoptionversary. Laylea and Woodford stayed in the family room with Clark. The dad dropped back into a doze the instant the kitchen doors swung shut behind his son. In all the excitement, nobody ever moved the afghan off of Clark’s legs. Nobody noticed he was still wearing his hiking clothes. Nobody told his doctor wife that his shin bone had been sticking out of his body earlier that day.
WereHuman - The Witch's Daughter: Consortium Battle book 1 (Wyrdos) Page 13