Gone South (52 page)

Dan had stared at Flint Murtaugh, across the distance.

Nothing had remained to be said. They’d still been cautious around each other during the last three days, both of them knowing how much he was worth as a wanted fugitive. Dan figured the idea of all that money still chewed at Murtaugh, but the fact that Dan had gone after them when he could have cut and run was worth much, much more.

Then Murtaugh had turned away and stepped onto the ferryboat. Sister Caroline had waved to them as the boat’s lines were cast off. Dan had watched the boat get smaller and smaller as it carried Eisley and Murtaugh onward to the rest of their lives. He wished them well.

“Hey, ol’ dinosaur, you. Mind if I plop?”

“Go ahead.”

Train had walked out onto the porch. He drew a wicker chair up beside Dan and eased himself into it. He was still wearing a green hospital gown, much to his displeasure. His bullet wound —  a grazed gash and a broken rib — was healing, but Dr. Walcott had insisted he stay for a while. It had been two days since Dan had seen Arden, whom he’d caught a glimpse of from the window beside his bed, walking around the grounds with Sister Caroline. Arden hadn’t been at lunch in the hospital’s small cafeteria, either. So something was definitely going on, and he didn’t know if she’d found her Bright Girl or not. One thing was for sure: she still wore her birthmark.

“How the leg feel?”

“It’s gettin’ along. Dr. Felicien says I almost snapped my ankle.”

“Hell, you coulda done worse, ay?”

“That’s right.” Dan had to laugh, though he would see Gault’s mottled face in his nightmares for a long time to come.

“Yeah. You done good, leatherneck. I won’t never say no more bad tings ’bout marines.”

“I didn’t know you ever said anything bad about marines.”

“Well,” Train said, “I was gettin’ to it.”

Dan folded his hands across his chest and watched the waves rolling in and out. When the breeze blew past, he saw some paint flake off the sun-warped railing. This was a peaceful place, and its quiet soothed his soul. There were no televisions, but there was a small library down on the first floor. He felt rested and renewed, though he couldn’t help but notice there was a lot of carpentry work needed on the aging structure. “How long have you known about this place?”

“Years and years. I bring ’em cat and turtle. Who you tink carted the goats here from Goat Island?”

“Did you tell ’em about me?” he had to ask.

“Sure I did!” Train said. “I told ’em you was a fine ol’ fella.”

Dan turned his head and looked into Train’s face.

“Ain’t it true?” Train asked.

“I’m still a wanted killer. They’re still lookin’ for me.”

“I know two men who ain’t. They just got on the boat and gone.”

Dan leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands. “I don’t know what to do, Train. I don’t know where to go.”

“I could put you up for a while.”

“In that houseboat? You need space just like I do. That wouldn’t work.”

“Maybe no.” Both of them watched a freighter in the shimmering distance. It was heading south. Train said, “The steamers and workboats, they come in, unload, and load again at Port Sulphur. Ain’t too very far ways from here. Some of them boats lookin’ for crew. You up to workin’?”

“I think I could handle some jobs, if they weren’t too tough.”

“I tink you could, too. Maybe you take some time, decide for y’self. Couple a’ day, I’m goin’ back home. Maybe you stick ’round here week, two week, we gonna go do us some fishin’, little dinosaur-talkin’, ay?”

“Yeah,” Dan said, and he smiled again. “That’d be great.”

“I take you to a lake, fulla cat — huuuuwheeee! — big like you never did saw!”

“Dan?”

They looked to their left, toward the voice. Arden had come out on the porch. Her wavy blond hair shone in the late sunlight, and she was wearing a clean pair of khakis and a green-striped blouse. “Can I talk to you for a few minutes? Alone?”

“Oh, well, I gotta shake a tail feather anyhow.” Train stood up. “I’ll talk at you later,
bon ami.”

“See you, Train,” Dan said, and the Cajun walked back through a slatted door into the hospital. Arden took his chair. “What’ve you been up to?” Dan asked her. He saw she no longer carried her pink drawstring bag. “I haven’t seen you for a while.”

“I’ve been busy,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“I believe I am.”

She nodded. “It’s a beautiful place, don’t you think? A beautiful island. Of course … that’s not sayin’ it doesn’t need work.” She reached out to the railing and picked off some of the cracking paint. “Look there. The wood underneath that doesn’t look too good either, does it?”

“No. That whole railin’ oughta be replaced. I don’t know who’s in charge of the maintenance around here, but they’re slippin’. Well” — he shrugged —” they’re all old buildin’s, I guess they’re doin’ the best they can.”

“They could do better,” Arden said, looking into his eyes.

He had to bring this up. Maybe he’d regret it, but he had to. “Tell me,” he said, “did you ever find out who the Bright Girl is?”

“Yes,” she answered, “I sure did.”

Arden began to tell him the whole story. Dan listened, and as he listened he could not help but think back to his meeting with the Reverend Gwinn, and the man giving him the gift of time and saying
God can take a man along many roads and through many mansions. It’s not where you are that’s important; it’s where you’re goin’ that counts. Hear what I’m sayin’?

Dan thought he did. At last, he thought he did.

It occurred to him, as Arden told him her intention to stay on the island, that Jupiter had been right. He had a lot to think about in the time ahead, but it seemed that he had indeed been the man God had sent to take Arden to the Bright Girl. Maybe this whole thing had been about her and this hospital from the beginning, and he and Blanchard, Eisley and Murtaugh, Train and the drug runners, and all the rest of it had been cogs in a machine designed to draw Arden to this island for the work that had to be done.

Maybe. He could never know for sure. But she had found her Bright Girl and her purpose, and it seemed also that he had found his own refuge if he wanted it.

He could never go back. He didn’t want to. There was nothing behind him now. There was only tomorrow and the day after that, and he would deal with them when they came.

Dan reached out and took Arden’s hand.

Out in the distance, on the shining blue Gulf, there was a sailboat moving toward the far horizon. Its white sails filled with the winds of freedom, and it ventured off for a port unknown.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

copyright © 1991 by McCammon Corporation

cover design by Thomas Ng

978-1-4532-3157-9

This edition published in 2011 by Open Road Integrated Media

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