Never Ending Spring

by Darrell Case

  Ruth's mind refused to believe what she was seeing. Could it be true? Could he have killed Jim and Kristie and was now bludgeoning Emily to death? Running down the stairs, she shouted, "Jack! Jack! What are you doing?"

  "Ruth, stop right there!" Jack commanded, holding his hand up, his eyes still on the rug.

  Ruth's hand flew to her mouth as she stifled a scream. On the rug, its head a bloody pulp, laid a huge diamondback rattlesnake, withering in the spasms of death. Too stunned to speak, Ruth hugged Emily.

  "Is it dead?" Emily cried.

  "Yes, honey," Jack replied, opening the door and throwing both rug and snake into the snow. Pushing up Emily's gown, he examined the two puncture wounds on the outside of her thigh. The leg was already beginning to swell.

  Ruth started screaming; she tried to stop, but her body could contain it no longer.

  "Ruth, stop that right now!" Jack said firmly.

  Ruth continued to scream. Rising, Jack grabbed Ruth by the shoulders and shook her.

  "Ruth! Ruth! Listen to me. Emily needs you now. If we're going to save her, we have to act fast."

  Her voice shaking, she asked, "What can we do?"

  "Get me a belt, a knife, and some matches. Hurry, Ruth! Do it now!"

  "It'll be okay, honey," Jack said, soothing Emily's forehead as Ruth ran to get the items he had requested.

  When she returned, he tried to keep his voice calm but not quite succeeding, he said to Emily, "Listen to Gramps. I've got to work on your leg. It's going to hurt but I have to do it so you'll get all better. Can you be brave?"

  Emily nodded.

  "That's my girl."

  Then to Ruth. "Call Doc Pritchard."

  Running the belt under Emily's leg, Jack tightened it. Closing her eyes, Emily gritted her teeth against the pain. Lighting a match, Jack held it under the edge of the knife, then blowing out the match, he waved the knife in the air to cool it.

  "Doc's out somewhere on a house call. Harriet is going to try to find him," Ruth said, her voice filled with terror.

  Jack knew the operator would make every effort but it still might be too late.

  "Hold Emily," he said, grabbing a vase off the hall table and dumping the flowers and water on the floor.

  "No, her leg," he instructed as Ruth hugged Emily to her. While Ruth steadied her, Jack cut across each fang mark.

  Emily screamed in hurt and surprise.

  "Jack, what are you doing?" Ruth asked as Jack put his mouth on the wound.

  Jack spat into the vase before answering. "We've got to get the poison out."

  Five minutes later, Jack was still working on the bite when the door burst open. Snatching the piece of firewood, Jack swung it in a long low arc, then stopped when he saw Doc Pritchard.

  "What's wrong?" Doc asked, his voice both urgent and calm. "Harriet said it was a snake bite but I told her she was crazy. Snakes don't come out in this kind of weather."

  "This one did," Jack assured him. "But it won't any more." At that moment, the phone rang. Ruth was torn between staying with Emily and answering its insistent clanging. Finally she ran to it, snatching the earpiece off the wall.

  "Hello!" she said more sharply than she intended.

  "Hello, Ruth, it's Harriet. I've gotten hold of the sheriff and he'll be there in a few minutes."

  Chapter 21

  Ruth felt like her nerves would snap. Emily wasn't moving, her breath came in short ragged gasps and her leg had swollen to three times its normal size. Jack and Ruth laid Emily between them on the back seat of Curry's patrol car and covered her with a blanket.

  Doc stuck his head in the car door. "Harriet just called and I've got another emergency. I'll stop by the hospital later." He slammed the door and slapped the trunk with his hand as he would a horse.

  "Thanks, Doc," Jack called after him.

  "Hold on folks," Curry said, pressing the accelerator to the floor.

  The front of the car rose slightly as the engine responded. Bob had argued with the County Council for two years for permission to purchase a patrol car equipped with a police pursuit engine. After each meeting, he had felt like giving up, now he was glad he hadn't.

  "Dispatch, this is Sheriff Curry. Emily Johnson's been bitten by a rattlesnake and she's in pretty bad shape. Call Mary Sherman Hospital and tell them to be standing by. I'm bringing her in, ETA is 15 minutes.

  Without waiting for a reply, he jammed the mike back on its hook while with his other hand he swung the heavy police cruiser onto Route 63. With the edge of the highway rapidly covering with snow, Bob steered the car down the middle of the two-lane road. He straddled the centerline, slowing only when meeting a pickup or passing over several patches of ice.

  Emily was unconscious when the car skidded to a stop at the Emergency Room entrance. A nurse and two orderlies gently placed her on a gurney then whisked her into the hospital.

  Jack and Curry helped Ruth into the waiting room.

  "I'm sorry, I just feel so weak," Ruth said, dropping into a black vinyl chair.

  A few minutes later, Bob came in looking uncomfortable.

  "I'll have a deputy here as soon as I can. Are you folks gonna be okay?" he asked. "I just got a call on my radio. A nineteen-year-old boy wrapped his car around a tree on a county road east of here. The coroner is on his way but I need to be there too."

  Rising, Ruth took the sheriff's hand in both of hers.

  "Bob, I want you to know I thank the Lord for you. If it hadn't been for you and Jack, she wouldn't be alive now. You go; we'll be praying for you and the boy's family."

  After cautioning Jack to watch for anyone acting suspicious and promising to return if he couldn't shake someone else loose, Bob was gone. The siren drifted away to silence in the cold winter's night.

  In the waiting room, Ruth jumped at every sound; it seemed as if hours had passed. Glancing at the clock, she saw it had only been 25 minutes. Ten minutes later, a young intern walked in.

  "Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, I'm Dr. Hutson," he said, sitting down opposite them. "I'm going to be very frank with you. We could lose her tonight. Emily has a severe snakebite but her big problem is that it has affected the rest of her organs. If she can make it through the night, she'll have a chance. I've had a cot placed in her room for you, Mrs. Johnson. Mr. Johnson, I'm sorry we don't have a cot for you but you're welcome to sleep in the 2nd floor lounge. I'll have some blankets brought to you if this is agreeable."

  "No, I'll stay in the room; I can sleep in the chair."

  Ruth alternated between the chair and the bed, first holding Jack's hand and then Emily's. At three o'clock in the morning, she heard Emily cry out.

  "Mommy! Daddy! I found you." Pursing her fevered blistered lips, she said, "Are they angels, mommy? Are we going to heaven now, daddy?' Emily held her arms up as if embracing someone.

  For some reason that she could not explain, the night nurse felt an urge to make her rounds a half-hour early. Putting her stethoscope to Emily's chest, she jerked the phone from its cradle. Giving instructions, she threw the receiver down and began pumping on Emily's chest.

  Instantly the intercom came to life. Attention: Code Blue, Room 205. Attention: Code Blue, Room 205.

  Within seconds, the room filled with people in white coats. Doctor Hutson was giving orders to the team like a drill instructor as he worked frantically to save Emily.

  Jack had been walking down the corridor stretching his legs when he heard the announcement. When he rushed back to the room, grief struck Ruth like a sledgehammer, making it difficult to breathe.

  "Oh, Jack, I've lost her! The Lord's taking her home," Ruth cried. "How will I ever make it without her? I love her too much to let her go."

  With his arms around Ruth, Jack led her to the bed. By general consent, the doctors and nurses made room for them. Jack took Emily's hand as the medical team continued to work. His voice barely a whisper, he said, "Emily, its Gramps, and Gram. We love you, Emily, Please stay with us, we need you." He added, "Please
don't go... to heaven."

  The deputy that Curry had stationed outside the room watched them, the tips of his fingers playing with the handle of his holstered pistol as tears ran unheeded down his cheeks.

  Emily's ragged breathing returned to normal.

  "She's coming back!" Doctor Hutson said, his voice jubilant. "I don't believe what I'm seeing," he added, his face filled with wonder.

  "Her temperature is coming down," a nurse said.

  After the rest of the team left, Doctor Hutson motioned Jack and Ruth out into the hallway. Speaking in hushed tones, he said, "I haven't been practicing medicine too long but every time I've seen a situation such as we've had here tonight, the patient has died. What we've seen here is a miracle. We were losing her and I can honestly say it wasn't us that revived her; like I've said before, if she makes it through the night, she'll have a chance of surviving."

  The sun rose the next morning, spreading its rays across the snow-covered landscape.

  Nevertheless, to Jack and Ruth, no spring morning ever looked more beautiful than that winter day.

  ****

  Jack inserted the skeleton key into the door. Until the day Jim and Kristie were murdered, the doors were never locked. He pushed the door open and then froze. The floor was littered with books, silverware, and Emily's toys that were usually so neatly stacked in the corner.

  The roll top desk lay on its side several feet from its original position, drawers askew and its contents scattered over the living room.

  Randy Green had driven Jack home from the hospital. Now standing behind him, he gave a low whistle. "Don't touch anything," he said, backing out the door. "I'll go call the sheriff."

  "No, don't call him," Jack said wearily.

  Randy looked at him as if he had just grown horns.

  "Ruth's got enough on her mind. She doesn't need this."

  "But someone was in your house!"

  "I can see that!" Jack snapped. "Sorry, I didn't mean that."

  "It's all right," Randy said, "Let me help you clean up this mess."

  Bending over, he replaced the silverware in the buffet drawer. The upstairs was strewn with clothes from drawers and closets. When the house was done, Randy and Jack had cleaned every room. After Randy left, Jack loaded his 12 gauge and leaned it against the far wall of the hall closet. He locked the closet door, then slipping the key in his pocket, he said, "I'd like to see him try this again."

  ****

  Three days later, Emily was becoming restless and more than ready to go home.

  "I want to go home," she whined.

  "You can go home after Dr. Hutson releases you," Ruth said, spooning oatmeal into Emily's mouth.

  "I like your cooking better, Gram,"

  "I agree with her. This stuff tastes like cardboard."

  "Jack!" Ruth exclaimed in frustration. "I'm trying to get her to eat."

  "Okay, okay, but I still say it tastes like something I'd feed the chickens."

  Chapter 22

  Emily sprang out of bed before Ruth called her. Gramps was taking a load of cattle to the stockyard in Terre Haute and he had promised her she could go along.

  "If I find one that's suitable, I'll buy her a lamb." Jack said, lowering his voice.

  Shoveling cereal into her mouth, Emily stopped. Spoon in mid air, she grinned at Jack and Ruth. "A lamb? A real lamb like was in the schable when Jesus was born?"

  "There's nothing wrong with her ears," Ruth said, smiling.

  When Emily had finished her breakfast, Ruth bundled her in a second layer of clothing. Later the sun would warm to the mid 50's but the March morning still carried a chill.

  "Watch her around the animals," Ruth said. "She's awfully tiny, Jack."

  "I'll not let her out of my sight," Jack assured her.

  Picking Emily up, he threw her into the air.

  "Why, you're as light as a feather," he said, catching her.

  Emily squealed with delight.

  Ruth watched until the truck and trailer turned the corner at the end of the road. There had been another trip to the stockyard years ago, though to Ruth, it seemed like yesterday.

  Walking to the old roll top desk, she pulled open the bottom drawer. She knew exactly where to look. Carefully opening the aged envelope, she sorted through the pictures and laid them out before her. Finding the one she was looking for, she held it up.

  The black and white photograph was frayed around the edges. A young Jack stood with his right foot on the running board of the old Model A pickup. Rickie, unable to raise his leg to the height of the running board, rested his foot on the top of Jack's left shoe, striking the same pose as his father.

  There were other pictures of Rickie, most of them with Jack at his side. Pushing the pictures aside, Ruth buried her face in her hands. As careful as she was, some of her tears dropped on the pictures. Her hand dove into her apron pocket for a hankie, dabbing at the pictures before her tears could stain them.

  ****

  Emily's excitement grew as they entered the stockyard. Gramps had stopped at T.J.'s and bought her an orange soda pop. Never before was she allowed to have her own bottle! She clutched it to her.

  Turning in off 25th street, Jack backed the trailer up to the dock.

  "Gramps, look!" Emily exclaimed pointing. At an adjacent dock, a man in bib overalls was unloading a grey draft horse from an old grain truck, the color of the truck more rust than faded red.

  "Ain't he beautiful?" Emily said, her nose pressed against the glass.

  'No!' Jack thought. 'He's one of the ugliest horses I've ever seen.' Nevertheless he said, "Sure he is, honey."

  In an instant, Emily was out of the truck and had almost reached the horse when Jack came up behind her. Catching her by the shoulder, he said, "Emily, be careful, he may be mean."

  "Ole Willard would never hurt anyone! My younguns ride him all the time. Name's Paul Devers," the man unloading the horse said as he extended a weathered hand.

  "Jack Johnson. This is my granddaughter Emily," Jack said, shaking the man's hand.

  Devers was a thin man with a haggard face.

  "Say, if you're looking for a horse, I kin make you a good deal. I wouldn't sell him septen we fell on hard times and it's either him eat or us."

  His eyes took on a haunted look. Jack could imagine the scene that had transpired earlier that morning. Devers children gathered around the truck crying as they watched their old pal leave forever.

  "Please, mister, as old as he is, I'm afraid the only one'll buy him be the glue factory," he whispered, his mouth inches from Jack's ear.

  "I'll call him Gideon, cause Daddy said Gideon made the enemy flee!" Emily said, grasping the thick boards of the holding pen and pulling herself up.

  Well, he probably has plenty of fleas, Jack said to himself!

  "Wouldn't you rather have a nice, cute little lamb?" he asked. The horse seemed to grow before his eyes.

  "No, I want Gideon, Gramps! Please, he needs a friend," Emily pleaded.

  The horse blinked his left eye as if winking at them.

  Loading the horse wasn't an easy task. Gideon was cooperative but the trailer proved to be almost too small.

  "Duck your head," Emily said, bobbing her whole body.

  The horse looked intently at her then lowered his head and walked in.

  "I don't believe it," Jack said, too awestruck to close the gate.

  "Oh, he's a smart one all right; he'd take all three of my younguns for a ride but he always made sure they were back in time to eat. Never missed a meal for them or him!" Devers chuckled. "I'm awful glad he's got a good home."

  "You're welcome to come visit him any time."

  "Thank you, Mr. Johnson, thank you," Devers said, pumping Jacks hand.

  Ruth expected the trailer to be empty and Emily to come out of the cab of the truck carrying a lamb. She was shocked to see the huge horse filling its narrow confines.

  "My goodness, Jack! He's big enough to eat her," Ruth laughed when
Jack unloaded the horse and tied him to the fence. "Where are we going to keep him?"

  "There's an empty stall in the barn, I may have to enlarge it but it'll do for right now."

  "Do we have enough hay?" Ruth asked.

  "I never thought about it! I'll probably have to buy more," Jack said, running his fingers through his hair.