Free Deep in the Valley by Robyn Carr Page A

injured and now infected foot, they appeared healthy. Perhaps not educated or medicated as well as they should be, but who was she to judge? Maybe things here were okay when Clarence wasn’t in a bad patch.
    She knelt beside Clinton. He was feverish, his cheeks pink and dry.
    “Oh Mr. Mull, what have you done?” He turned from the door and looked across the room at her. June met his gaze, but she did not see understanding. Instead she saw the paranoia in his eyes. “I told you to get Clinton to the hospital.” Clarence didn’t respond. In many ways, he was sicker than Clinton. “Okay,” she said, turning back to the boy and opening her bag. “I’ll see what I can do.”
    She pulled out a stethoscope and hooked it into her ears. Then, while she listened to Clinton’s heart, she withdrew a syringe from her bag and, with a thumb, popped the top. She had to get Clinton help soon. Very soon. She couldn’t wait for Clarence to calm down, see reason. She rose silently and prayed his overalls weren’t too stiff with dirt. She approached his back on silent feet, and when she was almost there, Jurea spoke softly.
    “Clarence is upset, is all. He just needs a little time…and for those police to get on back to their business.”
    June stopped suddenly and hid the syringe in the folds of her sleeve. She moved to sit at the table by Jurea. “Is he afraid of the police, Mrs. Mull?”
    “Not directly so, no. He thinks of them as soldiers. Left alone, Clarence does all right.”
    “You mean he doesn’t hallucinate?” June asked.
    “Not so much, no.”
    “Mrs. Mull, tell me the truth now, because you know I don’t mean you any harm. Is Clarence growing cannabis back here? Marijuana? On this land?”
    Clarence turned from the door and barked at her so loudly she jumped. “We don’t have no use for drugs in this house!”
    “The Lord frowns on weeds and hemp except for the healing,” Jurea said. “I did give Clinton some herb for the pain—got it from one of my brothers—but we don’t traffic in that. We keep to ourselves is all. We got our reasons.” She leaned closer and whispered, “You know.”
    June then noticed the large Bible by the lamp on the table.
    “Mrs. Mull,” she said softly. “I have to take Clinton out of here or he’ll die.”
    Jurea’s gaze dropped. “I don’t like to defy Clarence,” she whispered. “He’s always been so good to me. To us.”
    “Well, this isn’t good,” June said. “Clarence,” she said sharply. “Come here and listen to me. If you aren’t growing pot here, those police have no interest in you! I asked Sheriff Toopeek to find you and your boy because he needs medical attention. So do you, but that’s your business, not mine.”
    “I don’t aim to be taking drugs and shots,” he said.
    “They gave him shots when he got home and they made him sick,” Jurea said. “He just needs to be left alone. He can’t take the people.” She lowered her gaze, lowered her hideously scarred face. “We each have ourown reasons for that, do Clarence and me. That’s why we get along so nice, I reckon.”
    “But it isn’t always the best thing for the children.”
    “I see that. I do.”
    “You have to help me with this, then.”
    “What little I can do, I will.”
    “Good enough,” June said. “Clarence, I think we understand each other. I understand why you live back here and why you want to be left alone. That’s fine by me. So just let me take the boy to the hospital. You don’t have to go.”
    “Can’t let the boy go alone, Doc. He’d be afraid.”
    “No he won’t, Clarence,” Jurea stated, and she said it very strongly. “He don’t have that sickness that makes him afraid of people. It’s just you and me get like that.”
    “There you have it, Clarence. Let me take Clinton to the hospital and try to save his life. You can stay here with your wife and daughter. If you deny me this chance, he may die…and I know you don’t want