Another Pink Book!

Chapter 4

Friday 10:21 am

I came to when someone poured a bottle of water over my face. I gasped; the water went up my nose. I choked and attempted to rise in order to clear my airways. There was a circle of men around me, but only one of them had enough sense to lift me. His hands grabbed at me and pulled; I slapped and floundered wildly. The portion of my anatomy the friendly hands had grabbed was not—that is, the expediency of my predicament demanded an action that led my helper to—that is, I hadn't been groped THERE since...

The hands, of course, belonged to Toby. I'm sure it was an accident, but his hands were quite prominently on my...er...I couldn't get my breath. The choking became serious. One hand released THAT portion of my anatomy and grabbed my—uhm...well, it had been a while since that part had been groped as well. I was rolled onto my side where I threw up all over Deputy Bristol's shoes.

I heard noises in the background, but was quite busy with my task and couldn't afford the leisure of looking for the cause of the disturbance. It seemed to be thundering and a dog barked menacingly. The deputy jumped back, slipped and landed in a skidding fashion. His uniform was a mess. He got a good look at my convulsing, heaving face. The hands that had half-supported, half-caressed me disappeared; I was on my own.

My hair flopped around my face; one of my combs was missing and the loose hair brushed the detritus of the event, thus demonstrating a very practical reason why long hair could be a bad idea. It was a bad moment. At last, I was able to inhale. The evidence of my misfortunes was all over my shirt and in my hair. I felt terrible: my head pounded, my stomach rolled and my mind reeled. I felt confused and disoriented. I heard sounds of panic around me: there was yelling and a snarling, bestial sound. Footsteps ran past me in disorganized patterns. Something warm, furry and a little bit smelly pushed beside me. Someone offered me a warm, wet cloth and began to wipe my face.

It wasn't a cloth, though: it was a tongue. A big, wet tongue as rough as sandpaper. It was covered in drool and smelled like liver.

"Sam?" I questioned.

In answer, Sam pushed me to my side and tried to crawl into my lap, a habit of his when he was upset. Unfortunately, I was still rather off-balance. He pushed me over into the evidence of my illness. I ended by being stretched out in my humiliation beside Deputy Bristol, Sam lying across me.

I lay there and stared up at the thin October sunshine. The sky was so very blue that day. I tried to gather my wits. Sam was here. I was just outside Lynchburg, near Katie Lee's house. How had he...wait. Ben was supposed to take Sam to the vet. Katie Lee had made some calls. Had she called Ben? I remembered the thundering sound. I heard someone cursing. I turned toward the disturbance.

All the men were perched on the hoods of the pickup trucks or had climbed into the cabs. I remembered the commotion—some of it had been Sam trying to get to his Mama. If anyone had stood in his way, it would have behooved them to move out of his path. I noted several torn shirts and ripped trousers that had not been evident previously. That made sense. But what didn't make sense was the tableau in the middle of the country road.

Toby and Ben were in a fight. It wasn't the first time it had happened. Ben was quite upset and reverted to some of the language he picked up while in the Marines. I gathered that he was upset that he arrived at the scene just as Toby was, rather clumsily, attempting to help me while I was choking.

Each man gave as good as he got. I could have enjoyed the spectacle of two burly men pounding each other with fists if I had been in a more comfortable position. I tried to gain a mental picture of myself, viewing the spectacle of me laying in the road as I must appear to the gathered assembly. I wasn't young—heck, I wasn't even middle-aged anymore. I had wrinkles and gray hair and acted like the tomboy I had been as a kid. I usually had dog or cat fur all over me and rarely bothered with make-up. I was short, I struggled with my weight and could be petty and stubborn. Right now, I was covered in vomit and a large, whimpering dog. What could any man ever see in me?