Cranberry Juice

The emergency room at the county hospital seemed too busy for a Tuesday morning. Tucked in every corner sat screaming babies with frantic mothers, homeless suffering from the heat, foreigners nursing hangovers, and Cindy with a gunshot in her arm.

She sat in the middle of a bed pushed into the hallway with her legs dangling over the edge. A gauze pad with a red circle of blood covered her arm. This part of the adventure she could have done without.
“All I found was cranberry juice,” Wallace said. He snuck up on Cindy as if she might hit him.

“Thanks.” Cindy refused to look at him. She put the bottle on her head and let the cold penetrate her headache. Wallace placed a towel on her neck.

Wallace felt sick. The shootout left a man dead, a hurt friend, and most of all, the end of a good place to stop for breakfast. This girl almost died. So close to the age of his youngest daughter. What a mess.

“This will be just a moment more,” a nurse said. “Can I get you anything?”

Cindy opened the bottle and took a sip. “Just let me go.”
“In due time, dear,” said the nurse.

“I just don’t understand how you could do hand the book over like that,” Cindy said. The nurse spun to answer and Wallace waved her on. “You just put the book in his hand.” Wallace nodded. He had handed over the book to Loudin’s bodyguard. After everything, the decision seemed prudent.

“You live through enough of these shootouts and you learn to live another day,” Wallace said. The answer sounded stupid and Cindy did not like it. The stranger probably would have killed her. Then again, he might have walked away. Either way, the whole mess stunk. “It’s just,” Cindy tailed off.

Her true nature showed through the facade of a strong girl. Deep down she feared the future. Her aunt in Salt Lake was all she had left. Her father shot dead. Her mother dead of a broken heart. She yearned to secure a better history. She wanted their lives to stand for something. She broke down and cried. Wallace wrapped his big hand on her good shoulder. Cindy rested on his arm.

“My dad always looked out for me.” Cindy wiped her eyes. “Even when we had nothing, he took care of me.” Cindy held back tears. Wallace patted her shoulder.

“The last thing he said was find Todd Loudin,” Cindy said. “But I was eight and my mother fell apart. She shut down. Our whole family died that day.”

The nurse rounded the corner. She stopped at Cindy’s bed and began unlocking the wheels.

“We will head over to x-ray and then a few stitches,” she said. “You can stay here. Won’t be too long.”
The nurse pointed Wallace to the waiting room. She wheeled Cindy through the doors and they disappeared around the corner.

To find Todd, Wallace did not need the book. He already knew how to call the man.

He wondered what Cindy planned to do. Was she looking for a job? If she planned to dance at the strip club, she missed that boat. The Glitter Gulch needed months of repair. Did Todd have something that belonged to her dad?

He pondered the situation. Cindy let on she needed to talk to Todd about her dad. Did she want revenge? It seemed one possibility. All together Wallace didn’t think Cindy could pull it off.

He reached into his jacket for his phone. A wad of bills, a pen, and a couple receipts fell out. He stuffed them back in his pocket. He dialed a number and waited.

“Sam, in two hours meet me at the neon boneyard,” Wallace told his associate. He snapped the phone shut as Cindy rode out into the waiting area.

“Sorry I took so long,” said the nurse. “She’s all sewed up and ready to go.” The nurse patted Cindy’s hand.  “You must rest dear.” Cindy nodded and smiled.

“Thank you for waiting,” Cindy said. “I guess you can drop me off.”
“Where will you go?”
“The bus station,” she said. “I’m off to my aunt in Utah. I don’t like it here.”
“Do you have to go right away?” Cindy wondered why Wallace wanted to keep her in Las Vegas.
“I can arrange a meeting with Mr. Loudin.”

Cindy sat in the wheelchair and cried. She then jumped out of the chair and hugged Wallace on the neck. He touched her arm and she starting to cry again. Wallace brushed away a tear as a flash of light bounced off the doorway. Cindy stared at the light as Wallace put away his handkerchief.

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Paramedics wheeled Charlie out of the club through the mess of wires, broken glass, and water. A medic taped gauze on Cindy’s arm where a bullet broke the skin leaving a bleeding gash. Cuts and scratches covered her legs. “He’s going to live,” Wallace said. “How he didn’t die is anybody’s guess.”

How they all survived, nobody could tell. A flash of gunpowder played again in Cindy’s mind as the bullet sent a cascade of water over Bill’s head. Then the bullet came toward her and she froze in fear. The bullet threw up bits of cushion and wood behind her. She thought it had missed. However, a shock wave climbed her arm, and she found the bullet had hit her.

“You’ll need stitches,” a medic said. “I still can’t believe the gunfight happened,” Cindy said. “I might have died.” Cindy smoothed out her dress and tried to cover up her scratches. “I’ll wrap those too.”

The medic squirted out some cream and moved his fingers over the cuts. His cold hands sent another shock through Cindy. She shivered. He paused. She waved him on and closed her eyes. On this trip, she planned to find the man responsible for her dad’s death, kill him, and escape the desert. Instead, she landed in a shootout and a robbery.

This pickle couldn’t taste any sourer. Cindy sighed. She had two choices; either give up or figure this out. Walking away took little effort. Staying until she finished the job meant starting over. The whole thing seemed too much to think about.

Cindy opened her eyes. The club appeared a mess. Tubes of neon glass littered the stage and a blanket lay over Bill’s body. Cindy spotted his right hand before a guy in white coveralls covered all of Bill.

A ruby ring went around Bill’s thumb. She wondered why she had not picked it out before. She then thought about the leather book and realized Wallace must have hidden the book in his jacket.

The medic finished her legs. “We should take you to the hospital,” he said. Cindy tried to stand but fell backward into the seat.

“I think I need to rest more.” Cindy felt faint. She forced a smile. The medic touched her arm. “Let me go get a wheelchair.” He rushed off leaving Cindy alone.

Wallace and another man stood in the far corner talking. The stranger was bigger than Wallace and wore a black suit that looked tailored. Cindy saw the outline of a revolver hanging beneath his jacket. He poked Wallace on the chest with a big index finger. The man glowered straight into Wallace’s face.

Wallace turned toward Cindy. He smiled and rolled his eyes. He turned back to the man and moved his arm away. The stranger stepped back waving both hands behind him. Wallace reached into his jacket and handed the man the black book. Cindy jumped forward. He was handing over the key to her world.

The stranger smiled and placed the book into his jacket. He put out his hand and Wallace gave it a firm shake. The man turned and went out the back door.

“Your traitor?” Cindy screamed.

Wallace focused on her face until the medic returned with her wheelchair. She slid into the chair and sat fuming. “That was Loudin’s bodyguard,” Wallace said. “And he wanted the book.”

Cindy knew Wallace would help her find Todd Loudin, but she said it anyway. “It doesn’t matter,” she shouted. “I will find Mr. Loudin with or without you.”

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