Chapter Fifty Eight:
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DAWN STILL WHISPERED along the horizon as Staten Kirkland stood staring out the window, dressed and ready to leave the hospital. He had about all he wanted of being poked and patted on. He had never been a man who gave or accepted comfort easily, and he didn’t want it now.
“If Jake doesn’t get here soon, I swear I’ll start walking,” he said more to his reflection in the glass than the nurse babysitting him.
The woman in green scrubs looked nervous. “We can’t do that, Mr. Kirkland.”
He thought of reminding her that there was no “we” in the room. She hadn’t been shot, she didn’t have a ranch to run, and he saw no point in talking to her.
“Like hell I can’t.” His boots echoed off the tiles. His spurs jingled slightly, a tiny reminder of who he was and what he nee
