Chapter 22
A few weeks later, the designer had finished setting up all twelve apartments, and the contractor turned over the keys of the building to Gunner, who immediately handed them to Holly.
“We did it!” she said.
He shook his head. “You did it. And FYI… The deed to the property is in your name.”
“I won’t mess up,” she said. “I know how this business works.”
“I know you do. I’ve seen you in action,” he said. “Give me the tour.”
So, she did, talking about rental prices as they went.
“This is all free and clear of debt, and our intent was not to make a big profit, but rather furnish the opportunity for housing, and enough for taxes, insurance, repairs, and upkeep. I know the median monthly income around here, and this has to rent accordingly. Seven hundred a month for eight hundred and fifty square feet, we furnish all of the appliances, and they pay utilities.”
“It’s a go for me,” he said.
“Open house is Saturday, and if it suits her, I already have my first renter. Wendy Jennings, the young nurse who caught the bouquet at our wedding,” she said.
“That’s amazing,” Gunner said. “And you know how that goes. The first one is the seed that starts the garden growing. I predict you’ll have it fully rented within months. Will they have restrictions to agree with?”
She nodded. “The usual. No drugs. No pets. Consideration toward your neighbors next door. Rent will come out with automatic withdrawal like the rest of the world. If they don’t have a job and a bank account, then they need a motel, not an apartment.”
* * *
By Saturday, the town was buzzing about the open house at Hollyberry Apartments.
Wendy Jennings was waiting for the doors to open and was the first one through the door. Gunner volunteered to handle security and was a silent presence as people walked inside. Holly was on the ground floor leading tours, and Trudy Dillon was on the top floor doing the same.
The moment Wendy learned the rent was within her budget, she chose the downstairs apartment at the south end of the building, facing east. She picked up an application and went home to fill it out.
There was no required deposit, which was huge.
Now she had to wait and see if her application was accepted.
By the time the event was over, five other people had asked for applications.
It was a huge success.
Holly Kingston was in business.
Gunner was proud of her but was beginning to feel at loose ends. He was going to have to come up with some other projects just to stay busy.
* * *
There were business owners in Crossroads who had another plan in mind for Gunner. The problem was going to be convincing him. Most of them were doubtful, considering he had no need to work, but others disagreed.
They had everything figured out, and what they could contribute to the project to make it happen.
There was nothing left to do but confront him, but finding the opportune time wasn’t as simple as it seemed.
They all wanted to be present when they asked him, and their own jobs and free time were out of sync with the plan.
* * *
Every day, Gunner went to the Tumbleweed to help his dad get ready to open, while Holly was in her office checking out credit scores and references for potential renters.
It was nearing noon. The last customer in the bar had gone home only a few minutes earlier, and Gunner was getting ready to get his dad’s lunch when he heard a dog bark.
Stray dogs in Crossroads weren’t a thing.
Dogs were either in someone’s backyard or were little house dogs that got carried everywhere.
He turned around toward the front entrance and saw a big yellow dog at the door and a little boy covered in blood standing beside him.
“Dad! What the hell?” he said and bolted toward the door with Jacob at his heels.
The moment he stepped out on the porch, he could see the child was in shock. He touched the dog to make sure he’d let him close, and when the dog accepted his presence, he knelt in front of the boy.
“Hey, buddy, is this your dog?”
He nodded. “Buster.”
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Sam.”
“Sam, there’s a lot of blood on you. Where are you hurt?” Gunner asked.
“Mommy’s hurt. Her’s a’bleedin’,” Sam said.
“A wreck. It must be close by,” Jacob said. “I’ll take the boy and call Reddick.”
Gunner picked up the little boy. “Hey, Sam, this is my daddy. His name is Jacob. I’m going to look for your mommy. Can you show me where to go look?”
The little boy pointed east, which explained why they’d stopped here. The bar was the first building at the edge of town.
“Tell Reddick,” Gunner said and handed him to Jacob. “I’m about to see if Buster has any bloodhound in him.”
Jacob went back inside with the child as Gunner walked off the porch.
He knew within reason that the wreck had to be close, or another driver would have surely seen them walking. He looked down. The dog was right beside him, looking up.
“Okay, Buster. Where is Sam’s mommy? Show me! Show me!”
The dog took off running due east with Gunner right beside him, and it didn’t take long to find what he went looking for. About a hundred yards down from where he was running, he saw a big white truck in a ditch on the wrong side of the road, lying driver’s side down.
Buster kicked into high gear and took off running and was waiting beside the truck when Gunner caught up. He could see a woman behind the wheel, bloody and motionless.
“Good boy, Buster. Good boy,” he said and patted the dog on the head, then stepped into the ditch and looked down into the open window on the passenger side—the one the boy and the dog had obviously crawled out of.
He made a quick call to the sheriff’s office to give the location, then leaned back into the open window.
He couldn’t reach her without crawling in, and without knowing what injuries she had, moving her could be fatal.
“Lady! Lady! Can you hear me? Help is coming. Sam is safe. Buster is safe. Can you hear me?”
She hadn’t moved, but blood was still running. That had to mean her heart was still pumping. Didn’t it? It had to.
Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead. Please, God, don’t take Sam’s mommy, too.
* * *
Holly was in the kitchen, expecting Gunner to be home at any minute when her phone rang. One frantic phone call from Jacob, and she was driving down the road to the bar. She parked and got out running.
The little boy was sitting on the bar without a shirt, and Jacob was wiping the blood off his little face and arms with bar towels.
Before she could ask a question, Jacob’s phone rang. “Holly, it’s Gunner. Get that for me.”
She answered. “Gunner, I’m here with Jacob. I’m going to put this on Speaker for him.”
“Dad, can Sam hear us?” Gunner asked.
“Yes,” Jacob said.
“Okay… Sam, this is Gunner. Buster took me straight to your mommy. The police are coming to help, and there is an ambulance coming with doctors. She’s not by herself. Buster is here. I’m here. Okay?”
Sam nodded, then collapsed against Jacob’s shoulder.
“He heard you, Gunner.”
“And…here comes the cavalry,” Gunner said. “Cops, ambulance, and all.” He hung up.
Holly ran down the hall and into the house, grabbed the blanket from the foot of Gunner’s old bed, and ran back into the bar.
Sam was somewhat clean, but he was shivering uncontrollably.
“Shock,” Jacob said and picked up the bloody towels.
“I’ve got him,” Holly said. “Hey, Sam, my name is Holly. Let’s get you wrapped up so you can get warm, okay?
” She wrapped the blanket around him, then carried him down the hall and into the family living room and sat down in the rocker-recliner, cradling him against her as she started rocking.
“You’re safe, Sammy, you’re safe,” she kept saying.
When she felt him relaxing, she looked down.
Emotionally and physically exhausted, between shock and self-preservation, he had fallen asleep.
Worried about a concussion, she combed her fingers through his hair, carefully feeling for bumps or indentations, but it seemed fine. It was just a little boy’s head, slightly sweaty with dust and grass in his hair.
* * *
The rescue truck from the Silverton Fire Department arrived with a Texas Highway patrol car and, right behind them, a tow truck and two cars from the sheriff’s department.
They put Buster in the back seat of a patrol car to make sure he didn’t run away, then used the tow truck to pull the truck upright and out of the ditch before they could get to the driver.
She was still breathing, but getting her immobilized enough to make it safe to move her took time they didn’t have.
Gunner stayed back, watching the emergency workers moving in tandem, knowing what they needed to do to get their victim stabilized and ready to move. Then finally, as they were loading her up, one of the deputies from the sheriff’s office came looking for him.
“Hey, Gunner, is that boy who was in the wreck still with your dad?”
“Yes, at the Tumbleweed.”
“Give Jacob a call and tell him that the ambulance driver is going to stop at the Weed and pick up the boy. He’s a wreck victim, too, and needs to be examined.”
“On it,” Gunner said and made the call. When Jacob picked up, Gunner started talking. “Dad… They have Sam’s mother ready to go. They’re going to pick up the boy on their way. Get Sam and be ready to meet them.”
“Consider it done,” Jacob said. He ran into their house and saw Holly holding the sleeping child in her arms.
“I wrapped him in the blanket at the foot of Gunner’s bed,” she said.
“It’s fine. Leave him in it. It’s old, and he needs it. The ambulance is coming to pick him up. I have to take him out to meet them.”
Holly handed him over and followed their exit, watching as Jacob hastily carried the sleeping child beyond the parked cars to the highway beyond.
The scream of ambulance sirens announced their arrival as they came to a stop.
The back doors flew open.
Jacob handed off the child, and then they were gone.