Free One Fool At Least by Julia Buckley Page A

“This Jack’s a lucky guy.”
    “I’m sure I look just gorgeous.”
    “So prickly. Do you know how many swear words you used on me?”
    “You deserved them all. You—” A guitar blared in my ear; someone had popped a quarter in the jukebox and now Tim McGraw was telling me, at about twenty decibels, how a real bad boy could be a real good man.
    Ardmore stuck his face near mine and smiled. “What’s that?”
    “Does everyone listen to country music up here?”
    He shrugged, reaching out to put a lock of my hair behind my right ear. “Sure, why not?” He was giving me what seemed, in my drunkenness, to be adoring glances, apparently smitten in the way that someone tends to be with a very tiny kitten.
    I hopped off my stool, one-footed. “I’m going to wait for Jack outside.”
    “Whoa, there, watch it, you’re going to fall!” he yelled, catching me as I lost my balance. He held on to me, and I wiggled to get away.
    I turned toward the door and saw the most beautiful sight of my life: Jack Shea, rumpled and pale with worry, raking the bar with his eyes until he caught sight of me. His relief was palpable; I could feel his love from across the room. Pat stood at his side, looking almost as exhausted as Jack did. Through the window I could see the strobe effect of police lights, a comforting red and blue.
    “Jack!” I called, and he was there, and I was in his arms. He felt somehow insubstantial, thin even, after the giant Ardmore, but he felt warm and familiar. I buried my face in his shoulder. “Ardmore got me drunk,” I said. Then, to be fair, I added, “But he also rescued me.”
    Jack shook hands with Ardmore, and then Pat did. The brothers looked weary and drained. “Those men, Maddy,” Jack said.
    “Their names are Jim and Randy Bruder,” I told him promptly. Pat and Jack exchanged a stupefied glance. Like Ardmore, they seemed to recognize the names. Pat went to the door, where two armed officers were standing, and began to speak to them.
    “The Bruders,” Ardmore said almost genially, slapping Jack on the shoulder. “I thought it was a fucking joke. I thought she was playing a trick on them, you know? Crawling out of the house on her hands and knees? I mean, it seemed hilarious.”
    Jack paled even further at this image. He looked almost ready to throw up. “Maddy, I’m so sorry. Pat is beside himself about this. He said this is all their fault, although they have no idea what it’s all about.” He was talking loudly in my ear, to be heard over the music. “God, you feel good,” he said brokenly, squeezing me hard. I’d been clutching him since he arrived, and I didn’t loosen my grip.
    “I want to go now. I want to go home,” I said.
    Jack shook his head. “Sorry, babe. We’ve got to get you to a hospital. You can’t have done anything good for that foot with them dragging you all over Montana, in and out of cars, and—”
    “I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. Ardmore was still grinning at me, as though we’d all shared a day at the carnival.
    Jack looked briefly at the giant man. I don’t think he really saw him. His eyes seemed unfocused. “Let’s go,” he said.
    Ardmore clamped a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “She’s a great girl. I’m glad I could help to get her back to you.”
    “Thank you. I’ll be in touch,” Jack said, shaking Ardmore’s hand again.
    We began to walk out of the bar; for some reason I turned back, and it was then that I saw Ardmore’s grin had turned to a worried frown. What did he know? I wondered. Where had he heard my name?
    I didn’t care. Jack talked to the police, asking them to hold off until I had been to the hospital. By the time we got to the car, I was happy to be bundled up against Jack’s side. I put my arms around him. I breathed in the smell of him. I fell asleep.

Chapter Six
    When I woke, Jack was gently stroking my face and telling me it was time to see the doctor. I don’t remember much about the hospital; I