“Well, I could’ve told you it would be like that.”

* * *

Maggie was waiting outside the hospital’s front entrance for Enid when who should pull up in a banged-up old red pickup truck but Frank. Maggie sighed. Just what I need—two hours held captive by Frank.

All the way back to Sullivan’s Crossing, Frank droned on and on about the evils of government in every conspiracy theory ever imagined, including his belief that commercial jetliners were spraying the atmosphere with enhanced jet stream in an effort to lower the temperature of the earth to combat global warming. “Of which there ain’t no damn such thing anyhow.”

By the time they got back to the crossing, she was exhausted all over again. “I can’t believe you did that to me,” she said to Enid.

“You find him a little talkative, Maggie?” she asked with a teasing smile. “He got there, didn’t he? We’re a little short-handed around here, you know.”

Maggie hurried to gather up what she needed and asked Enid to make her a sandwich.

“Already done, cupcake. Turkey and swiss on whole grain. And I packed up a box of cookies and muffins for Sully.”

“I’m afraid his cookie and muffin days are over for now. Listen, Enid, we can put a sign on the door. Close up for a while. You and Frank just can’t handle the whole place on your own.”

“We’re getting by all right, honey. People understand about stuff like this. Tom’s been here with his boy. That camper with the pop-up trailer has even been pitching in. Nice fella, Cal.”

“Oh, Enid, he’ll probably steal the silver! If we had any.”

“Nah, he’s a good enough fella. He’s got that spot and asked for a weekly rate. I offered him the house for his shower but he said he’s doing just fine.”

“He’s probably homeless,” Maggie said. “You know we don’t really know these people.”

“Tom offered to try to spend some nights around here, but we don’t hardly have anybody in the park anyhow. And besides, we got Cal here if there’s trouble, which there ain’t likely to be. Cal’s got a cell phone.”

“He’ll probably break into the store and clean us out the first night and—”

“Maggie, the first night’s come and gone and he’s still here, helping out. You’ve been in the city too long. That isn’t gonna happen, honey. And for sure not in March! No one’s passing through in this muck and mess.”

But there had been times when the police or sheriff or ranger had to be called, when a few campers had a little too much fun, too much to drink, got aggressive. Sully had a baseball bat he took with him if he went out to see what was going on late at night. There was a domestic once when Maggie was young—some man knocking around his woman and Sully just couldn’t resist. He decked him, knocked him out. Maggie had been stunned, not just that her dad would do that but that he was that strong. Plus, even though she’d always been told, we never hit, no matter what, she had adored him for it.

It was true the crossing was mostly peaceful. But they were isolated, especially from November to March, and from time to time had a little trouble. They didn’t have any paid security like some of the bigger or state-operated campgrounds. Just Sully. Maggie could count on one hand the number of nights Sully had spent away from the campground. Her graduations, her wedding.

“Was it awful?” Enid asked of Sully’s heart attack.

“I was terrified,” Maggie whispered back.

* * *

Maggie went back to Denver, to a hospital she knew well, and commenced what would become three of the longest weeks of her life. Sully was healing nicely and making great progress...and he was incorrigible. He sulked, he didn’t follow explicit instructions, he got very constipated and it riled him beyond measure. He began speaking abusively to the nursing staff. He went from stonily silent to loud and abrasive; he wouldn’t eat his food and he was moved to a private room because Maggie couldn’t bear the effect he had on his roommate.