Smoot laughed heartily. “A taxicab? Hell, I don’t think most folks around here ever even
“I have a very important appointment.”
Smoot thought for a moment, then said, “Well, the rain’s slacked off some, but there’s another storm comin’ in right behind that last one. Look, Doc wants my wife to spend the night here. If it’s real important, I’ll run you down to Brunswick.”
“Mr. Smoot, I guarantee you, it is most important.”
“Well, then, it’s done. Only take us half an hour to get down there. But findin’ a boat, I’ll have to give that some thought.”
Dr. Galloway came out of the office wiping his hands on a striped beach towel. He was a gentle man, gentle in attitude and voice.
“Well, you’re lucky, suh,” he said softly. “The clinic was closed for the holiday but Lucy Ann’s little boy couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
“Why, I’m just glad I was here, Mr. Keegan.”
“We were lucky all the way around,” Keegan said. “Truck happened to see us go down. Dryman in there, got us into a marsh, otherwise we’d have both bought the farm. How is he?”
“Broken ankle. Two broken ribs. Concussion. Ribs didn’t puncture anything. Simple fractures. We got him fixed up just fine. He’ll be a bit sore for a while.”
“Can I talk to him?”
“Yes, suh, but I gave him a sedative. He’ll be passing out soon. Better hurry on in there.”
Keegan entered the small recovery room. Dryman was stretched out under a sheet, his head bound in bandages.
“H.P., can you hear me?” Keegan said, leaning over him. Dryman’s eyes fluttered. “Huh?” he asked dreamily. “It’s me, Keegan. Can you hear me?”
“Why are you in China?”
Keegan laughed. “No,” he said. “We’re in Darien, Georgia.”
“Darien, huh. . . how far?”
“About fifteen miles from Brunswick. I’ve got a ride down there. You’re going to be okay, pal. Just take it easy. I’ll be back when I finish the job.”
Dryman’s eyes roved crazily in their sockets as he tried to focus.
“Feel great, Kee.”
“Yeah, the doctor gave you a little boost.”
“H’bout th’ plane? We lose th’ plane?”
“You did great. The plane didn’t make it.”
He grimaced. “Aw, shit . . . poor ol’ Loop
“Don’t worry about the plane, okay? We’ll get him a new plane. You just take it easy.”
Dryman closed one eye and tried to focus with the other.
“Wha’sa matter w’me?” he asked, his speech getting more slurred with each sentence.
“Broken leg, couple cracked ribs. You’ll be fine, H.P. I’ll be back before you wake up.”
“Won’t groun’ me wi’they?”
“Over my dead body.”
Dryman smiled and focused groggily on Keegan. “Do’n say that . .
They both laughed.
“I gotta go now, pal,” Keegan said. “Take a nap. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Kee
“Yeah?”
….. careful, ‘kay? Watch y’back door. .
“You bet.”
“Sorry...”
And he dozed off.
Rain began to pelt Smoot’s two-door Chevy as they reached the outskirts of Brunswick. The only light came from the headlights reflecting off the macadam pavement. Keegan checked the time. It was quarter to seven.
“The only man I know crazy enough to go over to Jekyll on a night like this is Tully Moyes,” Smoot said. “He’s a shrimper, lives out on the marsh. But the road may be underwater.”
“Get me as close as you can to his place and point me,” Keegan said. He reached in his pocket and took out a roll of bills, peeled off three hundred-dollar bills and folded them into the palm of his hand. In the blue light of the
