Page 32 of The Fixer and the Fugitive

“Then why was he there?” Mitch asked, pointing to Sam.

“Because I didn’t know where I was going. Nothing in this entire town is marked with an address,” Sam said.

“That’s because we don’t have them,” Mitch said.

“How does anyone get mail?” Sam asked.

“It’s addressed to Paradise and then Jody at the post office sorts it,” Caldwell explained.

“What if she doesn’t know someone in the town?” Sam asked.

“Oh, she knows everyone,” Mitch said, waving away his concern. “I’m still hung up on why you were stumbling around Edward Jonas’s property in the middle of the night. Didn’t you realize he would shoot first and ask questions later?”

“Yes, clearly I understood all the local customs and thought I’d roll the dice anyway,” Sam groused. “I was lost. It had been a long journey.”

“Why didn’t you pick him up?” Caldwell asked Celeste.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” Celeste said.

“You surprised her? That’s so romantic,” Caldwell said, reaching over to console the baby goat who had started to bleat louder and struggle in Mitch’s arms, trying to get back to her.

“And this is the thanks I get,” Sam said, pointing to his shoulder. “This woman makes nothing easy on me.”

“Sounds like she’ll fit here just fine,” Mitch said, giving Caldwell’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Let’s take a look,” Caldwell said. “Also, if you could not mention this to anybody, I’d appreciate it. Obviously I’m not licensed to work on humans.”

“Trust me when I tell you your secret is safe with us,” Celeste assured her.

“I figured. Elliot only brings me people he trusts,” Caldwell said. She led them to an office aside the barn. It looked new, with fresh white paint, a high stainless steel counter, and a couple of chairs. “Take off your shirt and have a seat, please.” Meanwhileshe washed her hands and put on a pair of gloves. She and Sam were ready at the same time. She inspected his wound a minute and stood back.

“Officially I believe you should see an actual doctor and have an x-ray to make certain there’s no fragmentation or extensive damage.”

“And unofficially?” Celeste asked.

“With some fancy stitch work, you’ll be back in fighting shape.”

“Okay,” Sam said, sounding a little uncertain. “Are you allowed to give me something for the pain?”

“A topical rub,” Caldwell said. “I don’t feel comfortable pushing the boundaries enough to give you a shot of narcotics.”

“I understand. A topical will be fine.” He turned to Celeste and held out his hand.

“What?” she asked, staring at it.

“I need you to hold my hand,” he informed her.

“Why? She’s going to be stitching your shoulder.”

He rolled his eyes. “For comfort, obviously. You are very bad at girlfriending. I’m writing a letter to the girlfriend board of commissioners. Expect comeuppance.”

She scooted closer and gripped his hand while Caldwell began setting out equipment, smiling benignly. “What sort of comeuppance?”

“You’ll be out of the running for girlfriend of the year, for certain.”

“Good. I hate awards shows.”

“Then double awards shows. And they’ll make you share your feelings about me. In public.”

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