Page 3 of It Takes a Thief

I bawled, “Well how can I eliminate any of those?” Then I started crying again, only not as heart-rending this time.

Winston whispered, “Is it Ford?”

I knew he’d get around to that. I’d said disgruntled things about Ford in the not-so-distant past. “Maybe… Can you get my purse for me? Or have Rozelle or Tanya do it?”

“You going home? That’s a good idea. You good to drive?”

Winston finally went away as an old Chevy truck careened up to the curb. This wasn’t the ER door, but maybe the Navajos didn’t know that. I could tell they were Navajos because no other tribe drove those old clunkers with primer paint and fake tribal seat covers.

A few lithe guys leaped from the bed in fluid movements. The injured guy was in the passenger seat, and he flowed from the door like brake fluid.

As an ER nurse, I should have jumped up to help. But for some reason I was transfixed. We saw a lot of these guys, Navajo, Ute, and Hopi from Four Corners, Apache from Ft. Apache. They had their own craptastic shitholes for clinics, but it was smart of them to bring the injured here. They were always getting in drunken car wrecks, or being hit by drunken drivers. Lately, there had been problems with man-made drugs. Krokodil, meth and supermeth, MDMA, Molly, or fake stuff manufactured by a poor, broken people, dope-sick.

This patient fascinated me as his fellows carried him, dripping trails of blood from what looked like a bullet wound in his shoulder, horrifying lookers-on. He was shirtless and a fine specimen of youth—a guy I’d have been attracted to back in the day.

What wrenched me from my misery was his hand. Two fingers were fused together. I knew this to be caused by uranium poisoning on the Rez. I’d only seen it once before in a rather old lady, a sheepherder. One of our brothers in the Bent Zealots MC out of Lake Havasu had this condition. I thought his mother was a sheepherder.

While a wave of people rolled into the hospital, one lone girl walked out. Dejectedly, Rozelle twirled her mask on her fingers. She reached inside her smock for a cig, walking my way to get out of the no-smoking zone. I waved half-heartedly.

She nodded. “Guy died at ten-thirty-six,” she informed me.

Another swell of despair threatened to rupture my stomach, so I held onto it. Rozelle must’ve thought I was nauseous, so she took my purse off her shoulder. “Here. Win said you wanted it. You sick? Going home?”

I don’t like to ask myself questions. I’m afraid I won’t like the answers. But the answer to Rozelle’s unspoken question was yes. Yes, it bothers me that guy died. I’d become so immune to death over the years, and was that the goal? Shouldn’t I become more sensitive to it? Something was broken inside me. I needed to fix it. It was a good sign the annoying guy’s death had bothered me.

I called Ford’s cell, and Wolf Glaser answered. “Hey, Maddy,” said the good-natured goof. “Ford can’t talk. We’re about to go into church.”

Church. Always going into fucking church.

“Put your phone in the box!” yelled someone in the background—Duji, I think.

“Sorry, Maddy,” said Wolf. “Got to go.”

He put the phone in the box where everyone put their electronics before entering church. Only, he forgot to hit the red END button.

“That was Maddy,” I could hear Wolf explain to someone.

“Oh Jeez,” said Duji—it was definitely Duji. “Not again. How often does she call you, Ford?”

“Too often,” said Ford.

Now I hit the red END button.

Thou shalt not be overcome, was said full clearly and full mightily, for assuredness and comfort against all tribulations that may come. He said not: Thou shalt not be tempested, thou shalt not be travailed, thou shalt not be afflicted; but He said: Thou shalt not be overcome.

I suddenly knew what my friend Bee had been telling me lately.

It meant you should not expect to avoid pain, tragedy, or heartache. But you could reasonably expect to not be overwhelmed, overcome by it all.

I had just been overcome.

And I didn’t know what to do.

CHAPTER TWO

FORD

“As you all know, we lost a lot of employees on that Department of Transportation highway job because they failed piss tests.”