If Catfish Had Nine Lives(25)

            I nodded and he pulled back the flap.

            “Teddy!” I exclaimed when I saw him. Any irritation I felt was replaced with fear and concern. I knew the man in the tent was my brother, despite the fact that he didn’t much look like him at the moment.

            “Betts, thanks for coming out here,” he said.

            He was sitting on the ground against one of the back tent poles. I couldn’t tell exactly where he was injured, but he was covered in blood. Red and brown camouflaged most of what was supposed to be a white T-shirt. His jeans weren’t as bloody, but they looked too dirty and were ripped in the wrong places. He was holding a small slab of meat over half of his face; the other half was swollen and misshapen. His nose was huge, and his eye sagged. When he pulled away the meat, I saw that the other eye was swollen completely shut.

            “What the hell happened, Teddy?” I said as I went down on my knees next to him.

            “Don’t remember, but I think I got into a fight.”

            “You don’t remember?”

            “We found him,” Orly said. He nodded toward the woods that were across the trail and behind the station. “He was unconscious.”

            I swallowed a sudden surge of anger—why did no one think to call an ambulance or get Teddy some quick medical attention?

            “Okay, I’ll get the full story later, but right now I need to get you to a doctor,” I said.

            “No, Betts, not yet,” Teddy said.

            “What?”

            “I wanted to take him to a doctor,” Orly said, “but he wouldn’t let me.”

            “I don’t understand.”

            “We found him earlier and got him awake quickly. Just like now, he didn’t remember much, but one of our cowgirls did—the cowgirl that found him in the woods, in fact. She said she’d seen him late yesterday evening in an argument with someone who’d been hanging around us and asking us all kinds of writing questions. I put all the pieces together and realized that the person your brother was arguing with was Norman Bytheway.”

            “Oh . . . he was the one who was . . .” I said.

            “Yes, ma’am, he was the one killed this morning. When your brother and I got to talking, I thought maybe I should do as he asked and bring you out here before we did anything else.”

            I nodded at Orly and then squinted at my beaten brother. My anger and fear weren’t mellowing, exactly, but I knew I needed to get a clear head, and quick.

            “Oh, Teddy,” I said.

            “I know—what the hell happened?” he said, quoting the words I’d spoken only moments ago, and a million times before.





Chapter 8




            “I was just hanging out, Betts, I promise,” Teddy said as I inspected his face.

            I looked at Orly; he shrugged. “Dunno. I didn’t see him and Norman arguing. I don’t know if anyone other than the cowgirl saw them. I can try to round up some people if you’d like me to, but I didn’t want anyone to feel compelled to come forward, or worry that they should run to the police too quickly.”

            “Were you arguing with Norman Bytheway?” I asked Teddy.

            “I don’t know,” he said, with hesitation. “I remember him, but I don’t remember arguing.”

            “You said you don’t remember everything clearly,” Orly said.

            Teddy looked at me through his one barely open eye. “That’s true.”