Free Deep in the Valley by Robyn Carr

gun,” she said impatiently. “He had one this morning at my house. Everyone who lives back here has a gun. Just about everyone in the valley has a gun, for that matter. But he isn’t going to shoot me. He might shoot you, however, if he’s delusional.”
    Elmer entered the conversation. “I’ll go in. I’m not the police.”
    “Oh hell, Elmer, he doesn’t know that,” June said. “But he does know I’m not the police. The poor man needs to be on medication.”
    “Then I’ll at least go with you,” Elmer said.
    “That wouldn’t work any better.” She looked at Tom. “He’s a huge man, Tom. And strong as an ox. Hisboy is about six feet tall and he carried him out of my house this morning like he was a toddler. I have some Haldol and Thorazine already drawn.”
    “Would that calm him down enough for us to go in there and get his boy?” Tom asked.
    “It would drop him like a stone. I’d hate to resort to that, but if I have to, I could give him a shot. The most important thing to me is getting Clinton out of there and on his way to a hospital. Excuse me a moment.”
    Having said that, she simply walked around Tom and headed straight for the house at a nice brisk pace. For a second everyone thought she was simply moving in for a closer look, but she kept going. She did it so quickly and unobtrusively, she made a clean break. Tom made a grab for her and yelled, “June!” But she was already past him.
    “Goddamn it!” Elmer ground out. “I hate it when she does that!”
    June knocked on the door of the shack, while Tom, and Elmer and the others held a collective breath. “Mr. Mull? Clarence? It’s Dr. Hudson. Let me come inside and look at Clinton’s foot.”
    The door opened a crack and two dark, beady eyes peered out. She could tell right away that he was on another planet. Then the door swung open and she was admitted to the dark room lit by only the faintest glow. When the door closed behind her, the light came up, brightening the room.
    There were four pallets, a table with two chairs, and animal skins lined the walls. There were open shelves for the dishes and pots, blankets strung up as room dividers, and to June’s astonishment, several largestacks of books, magazines and newspapers against the wall. Clarence positioned himself by the front door and peeked through a skin-covered slit, his rifle at the ready. Jurea Mull sat at the table and operated the light, probably at Clarence’s command. She nodded at June and almost smiled, but not quite. Wanda crouched in a corner, hugging her knees, and Clinton lay on the bed very still, perhaps even unconscious. A sound from the other side of the room caused June to turn and see that the jenny actually shared the house with them, right on the other side of a waist-high partition. The donkey chewed and smacked, leaning her snout over the partition and drooling onto their packed-dirt living room floor. The family was not dressed in their best today; their clothing was old and threadbare.
    There was nothing about the poverty of the room that alarmed June. Having grown up the best friend of Tom Toopeek, she had learned that abundance is a state of mind. Tom was one of seven children who had spent the greater part of their childhood living in a two-room cabin with a dirt floor while their father, Lincoln, slowly and laboriously built their home one log at a time. Yet they were a happy, healthy family, generous and welcoming. June had loved staying with them. Rather than thinking they had very little, she remembered thinking they owned the entire forest.
    In the Mulls’ cottage, June realized, there could be that same sense of family, unity and abundance in better times, but at this moment there was only foreboding. Jurea seemed nervous and pale. Wanda was afraid; there were tearstains on her cheeks. And Clarence stood at the door with a gun, paranoid, peeking out at police.
    But yet…they seemed to be well fed and, with the exception of Clinton’s