Free Poacher by Leon Mare

sedated Joao was being
wheeled in, he approached the orderly at reception, requesting the
use of a telephone. The orderly regarded the man in front of him
suspiciously. What he saw was a dirty, unshaven guy in rumpled
khakis, carrying an R1 rifle. In a holster on his hip was the
biggest revolver the orderly had ever seen, and there was a trail
of dusty boot prints leading up to the counter.
    Not man to argue with, the orderly decided.
He pushed the phone towards Louis. ‘There you are, sir.’
    ‘The number of the cop shop?’
    ‘I beg your pardon?’
    ‘The police, my man. I want to phone the
cops.’
    ‘Oh, sorry. One moment, please. I’ll get them
on the line for you.’
    Louis organised a 24-hour guard for Joao, who
was officially under arrest for murdering a policeman, poaching as
well as attempted murder, illegal possession of a firearm and a
long list of other offences. Judging by the massive swelling Louis
doubted whether Joao could open his eyes far enough to see light,
never mind escape. Nevertheless, he wanted this man under constant
guard every moment, and he made that very clear to the
constable.
    ‘Right,’ Louis picked up his kit bag and his
rifle. ‘Sam Jenkins, which room?’
    ‘Oh, the guy with the bullet wound. Ward
nine, private room B. That’s on the third floor, sir.’ The orderly
decided to leave the explanations about visiting hours etc. to the
ward sister. It was her ward, after all.
    As Louis pressed the button for the elevator,
the foyer doors burst open and Estelle came rushing in, followed by
Sam’s parents. She saw Louis and ran to him. Even with her swollen
eyes and tears streaking through what was left of her make-up, her
sheer beauty and her radiating innocence took his breath away. She
stopped a yard from him, both hands clenched in front of her. In
one hand she clutched a tiny, wet hanky. ‘How is he?’
    ‘Fine, last I heard.’ He shook hands with
Sam’s parents and kissed Estelle lightly on a tear-streaked cheek.
‘Let’s go and see him.’
    Upon entering ward nine, they were accosted
by the formidable fat sister. After a brief explanation, however,
she led them to Sam’s room. ‘He is doing very well. The surgery
went well, but we will be keeping him here for quite a while. There
is always the very real danger of peritonitis developing in cases
where the bowel has been ruptured, you know.’
    Estelle didn’t know what peritonitis was, but
it sounded bad enough for her to start crying again softly. Louis
put his arm around her comfortingly. ‘It’s all right, old girl,
your man is as tough as a honey badger. He’ll be walking out of
here in a couple of days.
    She leant forward and cradled Sam’s head in
her arms, kissing him lightly on the forehead. As her warm tears
ran down his face, he mumbled restlessly in his sleep.
    ‘Let him rest, Estelle,’ Sam’s mother said,
touching her shoulder.
    ‘I love you. Heal quickly,’ her breath was in
his ear, and his subconscious registered her presence. Her image
crowded everything else from his dreams and soothed this troubled
mind. Everything was going to be all right, Estelle was here.
Deeper down in his subconscious an alarm bell was clanging, but he
suppressed it. Sighing contentedly he drifted into a deeper plane
of sleep.
    With an intuition peculiar to women in love,
she straightened, drying her tears. ‘He will be all right,’ she
said to everyone in general, smiling for the first time.
    Sam’s father put his arm around her. ‘We had
better go and find ourselves a place to sleep. Have you got a place
to stay, Louis?’
    ‘Haven’t had time to organise anything yet,
Mr Jenkins.’
    ‘Good, join us. I think we can all do with
some rest.’
    Reclining in the leather upholstery of the
Jenkins’s Mercedes, Louis recounted the story briefly, omitting the
threats Joao had made.
    ‘How seriously is this Joao injured?’ Sam’s
father wanted to know.
    ‘The doctor says both upper and lower jaws as
well as some