Read Online A Thorn in the Bush by Frank Herbert - Free Book Online Page A

maid’s face: the prophetess-of-doom expression. Serena was recalling all the omens that had warned of disaster.
    “A broken collar bone,” said Dr. Herrera.
    Mrs. Ross returned her attention to the pack of tan backs, the doctor’s squatting figure. Movement of the group opened a gap through which she saw Hoblitt’s belt, a strip of soiled white shirt.
    “He is unconscious, but he should live,” said Dr. Herrera. “Someone bring me three pieces of wood about so long, so thick.” He gestured with his hands. “I must immobilize this before he can be moved.”
    A small boy was sent running.
    Chief Beto detached himself from the group, stepped up to Mrs. Ross. He touched his mustache deferentially. “A terrible thing, this, Señora.” His shoe-button eyes pinned her.
    Mrs. Ross thought: What a hateful, stupid little man.
    “If you would be so kind,” said Beto. He cleared his throat. “How did this happen?”
    Mrs. Ross focused on a spot of egg yolk staining the man’s tan shirtfront. “I stumbled against the box on my balcony. He was standing directly beneath.”
    “What a destructive conspiracy of events.” Beto shook his head. “You stumbled. No doubt you are still weak from your recent illness.”
    “It was careless of me,” murmured Mrs. Ross. She felt bits of her courage returning.
    “But you must not blame yourself,” protested Beto. “God may use anyone as an instrument of tragedy.”
    The other policemen had turned their attention to her. “Truly spoken,” agreed one.
    “He has seen the reason of this thing,” said another.
    And Mrs. Ross thought: Yes-men are the same the world over. She was beginning to be thankful for Beto’s limited intelligence.
    Dr. Herrera straightened, brushed dirt from his hands. He glanced back at Mrs. Ross. She avoided his eyes, looked across at the Romera home where motion had caught her attention. The aunt was closing Paulita’s window. A protesting screech sounded from the frame.
    Presently, the boy returned with the three lengths of board.
    “Ah, good,” said Dr. Herrera. He pressed copper coins into the boy’s hand, took the wood. Again, he knelt beside Hoblitt. “Perhaps we can set this right here while he is unconscious. You.” He motioned to one of the police. “Hold him like this.”
    “What’re y’ doin’?” It was Hoblitt speaking in English, his voice faint and reedy. “Ooooooo!”
    Dr. Herrera said: “Mrs. Ross, would you do me the favor of telling the young man that we only desire to help him, that he must remain quiet?”
    Beto moved aside. The other police made room for her. Mrs. Ross stepped across shards of pottery, clumps of dirt, bent beside the doctor. As she moved, she made a quick search of the scene, looking for Hoblitt’s weapon. It could be anywhere in this mess, she thought.
    “You must speak loudly,” said Dr. Herrera.
    “Young man!” said Mrs. Ross. And she thought: I must be the one to find the weapon and secrete it. We must dispose of this without scandal.
    Hoblitt groaned. His eyelids flickered.
    “Young man!” repeated Mrs. Ross. “You have a broken collar bone, young man. You must remain quiet while the doctor takes care of it!”
    Hoblitt gritted his teeth. Abruptly, his eyes snapped open. He glared up at Mrs. Ross. “Well, if it isn’t Kodiak Kate!”
    Mrs. Ross shot bolt upright with shock. That hideous name! He knows!
    “You didn’t quite get me, did you?” rasped Hoblitt. He clenched his teeth as Dr. Herrera cut away the shirt, exposed a chest covered by blond hair, a muscular arm. There was a mottled blue area spreading along the corded line of his shoulder.
    Mrs. Ross put a hand to her cheek.
    “Have to give you credit for trying, though!” panted Hoblitt.
    Mrs. Ross’s lips worked, but no sound came. All she could think was: God in heaven! He knows! He knows! And then: Thank God these others speak no English. She shot a glance at the Romera house, saw its blank, sealed face.
    Hoblitt arched his