Aces and Knaves

quickly and pulled it back in. He didn't fire but I could tell he had seen it by listening to the noises his feet made. What he couldn't see was the actual entrance I had used to get into my sanctuary because it was around to the side.
    I picked up a good-sized rock and crawled painfully toward that opening. I could tell by Stan's noises that he was almost to the crack. It was now or never. I stood up, suppressing my desire to cry out at the pain.
    Stan's side was toward me now and his head was partially hidden. He stuck his gun into the crack in the rocks. I drew a deep but silent breath to help me stand the pain and then took two giant steps toward Stan. I raised the rock over my head with both hands.
    My war cry was more of a scream as I launched the rock at his head. He moved slightly and it caught him mostly in the shoulder. I covered the rest of the distance between us in one painful bound.
    I managed to knock his head into the rock face, but the effort hurt so much that I lost my breath again. I sat down heavily. Stan appeared to be stunned. His eyes looked toward me, but I'm not sure he saw me.
    We sat there a few feet apart, two injured combatants, too hurt to fight. Stan slowly pulled his arm out of the crack in the rocks, not appearing to notice that he was doing it. I kept my eyes glued to it, waiting for the gun to appear. There was nothing more I could do to stop him.
    After an eternity his hand came into sight. The gun wasn't in it. He must have dropped it when I hit him. I would have breathed a sigh of relief but it hurt to breathe. The only way to retrieve the gun was to go in the entrance to my former hideaway, and neither of us could get that far. We sat for another five minutes, not speaking, hardly moving.
    A voice from below called, "Are you two all right?"
    It sounded like Jed. I said, as loudly as I could, "We're hurt. We need help."
    I turned my head and watched Jed climb up the rocks toward us. When he got to us I said, "Stan killed Ned Mackay and he tried to kill me."

    Chapter 35 JAMES
    As I lay on a gurney in the emergency room I tried to remember whether I was already covered by the Tartan medical plan or whether there was a waiting period for new employees. That's one of the things you don't usually worry about when you're young and healthy and starting a new job and I hadn't, until now. Jed had told the admissions people I was covered in order to get me admitted, but still I wondered.
    My brain had short-circuited and was running in circles, partly as a result of the painkiller the nurse had given me after it had been determined from X-rays that the only thing wrong with me was a cracked vertebra. When I wasn't trying to sort out the insurance problem I was replaying the last few minutes I had spent with Stan and wondering how I had survived.
    I should feel fortunate that I had. All I needed to do was to wear a body caste for a few weeks. It would be applied as soon as the doctor was freed up from taking care of a heart-attack victim who apparently had priority over me. Certainly, he was in worse shape than I was. With luck, I would be out of here in an hour.
    Jed had driven me all the way back to San Francisco because I had made light of my injury and said I could stand it. During the trip, when we had bounced over bumps I had rued not asking to be taken to the nearest hospital, but now I was glad I wasn't stuck in Salinas.
    The others had placed Stan under a form of house arrest and brought him back, also, after tying him up with one of the climbing ropes. It was felt that his crimes could more adequately be dealt with here in the city than out in the sticks.
    Somebody came into my room. Hoping it was the doctor, I turned my head to look. The flashy sport shirt immediately told me it wasn't and the limp looked familiar. I blinked to clear the haze from in front of my eyes and verified that it was indeed James.
    "What are you doing here?" I asked. It must be around midnight.
    "I came to make sure you weren't going to kill yourself to get out of working for me," James said, patting my shoulder. "You know, most young men would give their eye teeth to work for Tartan, but you've played hard to get. That's one reason I like you."
    "I broke my back for you."
    James looked concerned, the first time I had ever seen that look on his face since we had tried to find Ned. "They told me that you'll be fine in a few weeks."
    "I'll be fine." But not Stan. How much had the guys told him about