Free Deep in the Valley by Robyn Carr Page B

that.”
    “He’s taking the medicine,” Clarence argued.
    “It’s not enough. Now, do you want to carry him to my car, or should I have Tom Toopeek come in here?”
    “That Tom fellow there. He’s Vietnamese, ain’t he?”
    “Tom?” She almost laughed, but quickly cleared her throat. “Um, no. Tom is Cherokee. His family moved here from Oklahoma when he was five. I grew up with him. He’s my best friend.”
    “He looks Vietnamese from here,” Clarence snorted.
    Everyone probably looks Vietnamese, June thought. “He’s Native American. Indian. My best friend. Would you like to have him carry Clinton?”
    Tom, Elmer, Stan, Bob and a Forestry Service officer named Warren all waited tensely by their vehicles. The door to the shack opened and June came out carrying her bag and Clarence’s rifle. Behind her was Clarence, huge and heavily tattooed, who wore only a vest on his naked chest, despite the harsh chill in the forest. He carried in his arms his barely conscious son, a lad of substantial size.
    “Give the boy to Tom,” June instructed him.
    Without hesitation, Clarence transferred the boy, then June handed Clarence back his rifle.
    “I’ll see that everything possible is done for him, Clarence. And I’ll send someone out here to bring you news of his condition. Tomorrow, or maybe the next day.”
    Clarence took his rifle and looked into Tom’s black eyes. They were both large men, over six feet tall. They both wore ponytails and had faces chiseled out of brown granite. “Cherokee, huh?” Clarence asked.
    “Yep.”
    “I was in country with a Navajo.”
    “My wife’s people.”
    “All right then. Keep them other Vietnamese away from here,” he said, indicating the other police with his eyes.
    Tom gave a brief nod and turned, taking the boy to his car. “Go to the hospital in Rockport, it’s closer. I’ll follow,” June said. Then she turned back to Clarence. “Do you know Charlie McNeil? From the VA hospital?”
    “I thought I told you!” Clarence barked. “I ain’t going to that hospital!”
    “I understand that, but if Charlie came out here to see if there was anything you needed, would that be all right?”
    “Is he Indian? Like that guy?”
    “No. I think he’s Irish. Short fellow with red hair. Very nice man. Can he come?”
    Clarence thought about this for a moment. Finally he said, “If he brings some books and magazines for Jurea.”

Seven
    M yrna Hudson Claypool’s dinner parties were legendary. Not for the food served, which, in fact, was often disastrous, but for the unique atmosphere, both planned and spontaneous.
    When Myrna learned that June was inviting John Stone to join the clinic, she had the perfect excuse to have a party—to welcome him. She’d invite those who would be working with him. That would be Elmer, June, Charlotte and Jessica. Charlotte’s husband, Bud, was invited, but he was on a fishing trip. In fact, he was always fishing when Myrna had one of her dinner parties. Then there was the Stone family—John, his wife and their six-year-old daughter were the guests of honor. And to keep things interesting she would add her poker table—Sam Cussler, Judge Forrest and his wife, Birdie, Burt Crandall and his wife, Syl. Thirteen, all told. By Grace Valley standards, a bash.
    Myrna would be the chef and would have both Miss Barstows to help, serve and clean up. Amelia and Endeara, the sixty-two-year-old spinster twins whohadn’t said a kind word to each other in as many years, usually job-shared cleaning and cooking duties at Hudson House. To have them both on duty was rare and probably dangerous, but it underscored Myrna’s desire that the evening be special.
    Myrna used her new color printer to make up fancy invitations. She made a little menu insert to put inside that read:
     
    clam petit four appetizers
shrimp salad du bois
potato leek soup
rolled candied lamb with mint
cucumber stuffing with walnuts
asparagus à la crème
devil’s torte