Free Tainted Trail by Wen Spencer Page B

Ukiah? Ukiah?”
    â€œIt’s, um,” he closed his eyes, fighting to ignore the pain to focus on his body. He could sense the mice on his chest, but where was the one in his stomach? “Low, to my right, deep.”
    Max probed the side gently. “Tell me if I’m getting close.”
    â€œLower. Lower. To the right a little. There. Deep in.”
    Max held a finger on the point. “Ukiah, I’m going to have to make another cut.”
    â€œOh, please, just do it quick.”
    â€œHold still, son.”
    He managed not to scream, but then Max was mercifully quick. The sharp thin cut was followed immediately with fingers slipping into the new opening. A decisive thrust in to catch hold of the struggling mouse. A quick jerk to get the mouse out before it could slip away. It joined the others on his chest.
    Someone crashed through the woods to stand nearly over Ukiah. “What the hell are you doing to him?”
    â€œEmergency surgery,” Max answered.
    The man was a tall, solidly built policeman. His dusky skin, short, dark hair, broad face, high cheeks, and sharp nose marked him as a Native American. He held a service pistol in hand, pointed skyward. Eyes as dark and rich brown as chocolate gazed down at Ukiah in concerned confusion.
    â€œMax?” Ukiah winced as he discovered his right arm was broken. He motioned to the newcomer with his left instead. “Who’s this?”
    The man’s black eyebrows leaped upward as the officer noted the collection of bloody mice. “What the hell?”
    â€œThis is Sheriff Jared Kicking Deer.” Max snatched up the mice, stuffing them into vest pockets. He produced bandages out of his other vest pockets. “We’re done, Kraynak.”
    Kraynak released Ukiah and fled the fresh blood, gagging. Max applied pressure to the two incisions. Ukiah lay with eyes closed as Max bandaged him, but opened them again as Max pressed fingertips to his pulse point. Concern and doubt showed clear on Max’s face.
    â€œHow do you feel?” his partner asked.
    â€œThat was not fun.”
    â€œDo you think you’re going to be okay?”
    â€œHunky-dory,” he murmured and discovered that over Max’s shoulder loomed a cliff. “I fell off that?”
    â€œActually someone shot you and then you fell,” Max stated.
    â€œI hate when that happens.” A noise made him glance over and rediscover the sheriff. At some point the policeman had put away the pistol and watched Max and him with dark, unreadable eyes. Ukiah returned the gaze, wondering why a stranger would seem so familiar.
    â€œDo you think I’m going to buy this act?” the sheriff asked, breaking the silence.
    â€œWhat?” Max asked.
    â€œThis pulling-mice-out-of-the-stomach routine.” The sheriff shook his head. “I’ve arrested faith healers for performing similar slight-of-hand surgery, pulling tumors out of people, only it’s calves liver that they have palmed. All you’ve done is make shallow cuts and rolled the mice in the blood. If you think I’m going to fall for this, you’re mistaken.”
    Max looked startled, torn between relief that the sheriff wasn’t jumping to the “he’s an alien” conclusion and annoyance that the lawman thought him a fraud. “Whatever.”
    â€œPlease save me a lot of grief and tell me this whole shooting was scripted.”
    Max snarled a curse. “I don’t know what you’re using as brains, but this wasn’t staged for you. Some lunatic is out there with a high-powered rifle. He shot my partner! That body armor is the only reason Ukiah is still alive. In Pittsburgh we call that attempted murder, and we don’t go hassling the victim when they haven’t even been seen by the EMS.”
    â€œI’ve got a girl that may or may not be missing. A shooting that could have been staged. And some weirdness out of The Outer Limits.