Cut and Run 2 - Sticks and Stones

doctoring you think you can do?” he asked, a touch of humor in his voice. He figured the whole side of his face was one big bruise. There was nothing to be done if anything was fractured. The black eye couldn’t be helped other than to keep the swelling down so it wouldn’t swell shut. His jaw wasn’t broken, and the only thing that really needed attention was his broken nose.
    Deuce just raised one eyebrow. “I did my rounds in the ER just like everyone else,” he reminded as he glanced over at Ty and Earl, who had just finished securing the two prisoners.
    “Sure,” Zane said with a shrug after peering at Deuce for a quiet moment. “You’d probably get the nose straighter than I would.” He turned to look over at Ty and Earl. “What about them?”
    Deuce watched his father and brother for a moment. “What’s wrong with them, I can’t fix,” he finally claimed quietly. He dropped his pack from his shoulders and turned to limp toward a folding card table nearby.
    Zane let out a long breath. After a good look around from where he stood, he went digging in one of the tents and came up with a first aid kit. At least the assholes were well-provisioned. He carried it out to the table where Deuce sat, letting the other man open it and survey the contents as Zane watched Ty and Earl going through the other tents.
    “Earl’s favoring his ribs,” Zane observed.
    “I’ll wrap them,” Deuce assured him. “If he lets me,” he tacked on with a long-suffering sigh. He glanced up as Ty neared them, carrying a radio.
    “Dad’s got a broke rib,” Ty informed them.
    Deuce looked at Zane and smirked, but he nodded in response and looked up at his brother carefully. It was the first time Zane had ever seen a hint of true wariness in Deuce’s eyes when looking at his brother. But Zane was too tired to pussyfoot around his partner, especially when it came to trying to take care of him. “What about your ribs?” he asked bluntly. “You took quite a beating.”
    “I’m fine,” Ty replied immediately. He looked over Zane’s face critically. “You’re not,” he observed. “Is it broken?” he asked with a frown as he reached out to brush his fingertips across Zane’s bruised cheek.
    Zane shied away from him and hissed at him. “The nose is. Deuce is gonna set it,” he confirmed. “Not sure about the cheek. Hurts like hell, but it doesn’t feel like anything’s moving around that shouldn’t be.”
    “Don’t poke it,” Deuce told Ty sternly as he rummaged through the first aid kit.
    “I wasn’t going to,” Ty told him defensively. He placed the radio on the table and looked at Zane again.
    “Need some help?” Zane asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
    “I know how to work a radio, Garrett. You worry about your broke face,” Ty advised in annoyance.
    Zane bit back a retort, knowing that Ty would react badly. He almost didn’t care. A good fight would help relieve some of the tension bottled up inside him. Inside both of them. But Zane also knew it would just make the situation worse, so he swallowed hard on the urge to argue.
    Ty moved to sit down heavily next to Deuce and yanked the handheld radio from its cradle. Zane watched him silently as he started messing with the dials, and then he turned to submit himself to Deuce’s tender mercies. As he sat and allowed Deuce to doctor, poke, and prod at his broken nose, he could hear Ty calling out over the radio in a tight voice, repeating the same words and requests for help as he switched frequencies methodically. There was nothing but static in response each time, but he continued on doggedly, waiting a few seconds after each attempt before moving on.
    It was soon obvious that the radio would be as helpful as their cell phones. One of the storms that had passed by must have really done a job on the local towers, just like the ranger had warned them. Zane’s eyes shifted across the camp to where Earl sat going through sacks of supplies, setting out some things, throwing others to the side. Earl stood with his hands on his hips as he surveyed his finds, then began to make his way over to them. He appeared to be favoring the arm on the side of his broken rib, but otherwise he looked okay.
    Ty still sat with his head bowed, his eyes closed as he held his head in one hand and the radio in the other, calling out over the dead air for a response. “No joy with the radio?” Earl asked as he approached.
    “No, sir,” Ty answered quietly. He