“Don’t show them that you’re scared,” Marisa replied.      ‘

“If you wanted a performance like that you should have sent me to acting school,” Tracy responded darkly.

They marched, side by side like soldiers, across the street and into the crowd, which parted for them like the Red Sea. Marisa looked straight ahead as they walked up the courthouse steps, so she didn’t see the arm emerging from the mob, the arm holding the gun.

What happened next was a blur. She heard Tracy scream and saw Jackson Bluewolf appear before her like a genie out of a bottle. He grabbed her upper arms and thrust her aside so powerfully that she fell. At the same instant she heard the crack of a gunshot and Jack tumbled to the steps nearly on top of her, his shoulder smudged dark with a powder burn and then blossoming red.

The scene was chaos. Marisa struggled to her knees, stunned, as people began running to and fro yelling, “He’s hit!” and “Get an ambulance!” Policemen she hadn’t seen previously materialized as if from nowhere and subdued the assailant, who was sobbing, “I didn’t mean Jack, I didn’t mean to shoot Jack!” And Bluewolf was crumpled like a discarded doll on the courthouse steps, his eyes closed, blood staining his jacket and running down his hand.

Marisa crawled over to him and yanked on his tie, loosening his collar. His eyes fluttered open and for a second she was sure he knew her. Then someone appeared at her side saying, “I’m a doctor,” and she was pulled away as all attention was directed to the wounded man.

Marisa didn’t realize she was crying until Tracy sat down next to her on the steps, oblivious to the crowd milling around them, and handed her a tissue. The clicking and whirring of cameras formed an incessant backdrop to the other noises surrounding them.

“That bullet was meant for me,” Marisa gasped.

“I know,” Tracy said, not meeting her eyes. “The shooter was the dead boy’s brother. I heard somebody talking about it.”

They both watched as Jack was loaded onto a stretcher and carried down the steps into a waiting ambulance.

“You don’t have to say it,” Marisa added dully. “I know it’s all my fault.”

Tracy just shook her head.

“I want to go after the ambulance to the hospital,” Marisa said quickly, rising.

“I doubt if they’ll let you in to see him.”

“I have to try.”

Tracy stood also. “At any rate, we’d better get out of here. Once the excitement dies down we might become very unpopular. Let’s go.”

They went back to the hotel, where Marisa called the hospital. Bluewolf was listed as stable, whatever that meant, but was allowed no visitors.

“Tracy, you’d better stay here,” Marisa said. “See if you can get through to Judge Lasky’s chambers, and then get in touch with the firm. Take messages for any calls that come through here.”

Tracy stared at her.

“Don’t look at me that way.”

“You’ll just be mobbed at the hospital,” Tracy said.

Marisa went there anyway.

The lobby was full of reporters and police. The NFN lawyer, Ben Brady, spotted Marisa and scuttled to her side, grabbing her shoulder and steering her into an adjacent hallway.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he said, looking past her at the room they’d just left.

“Same thing you are,” Marisa responded, yanking her arm from his grasp. “I want to make sure Bluewolf is all right.”

“If you go back out there the press will eat you alive. It’s common knowledge already that the kid was aiming at you.”

“And did you aid in disseminating that knowledge?” Marisa inquired coldly.

“Hey, don’t blame me for your screwup. If you had asked for the continuance this might not have happened.”

“You had the same opportunity to do so that I did! Bluewolf told me he wanted you to talk to Lasky and you refused.”

“When did he tell you that?” Brady asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Never mind, it’s not important now. Can you get me upstairs to see him or not?”

“Why should I do that?” Brady countered.

“Because he was hurt trying to protect me. A decent person would let me satisfy my conscience that he’s all right,” Marisa said evenly.

Brady studied her in silence.

“Or am I making an incorrect assumption that you’re a decent person?”

Brady shrugged. “I can take you up to his room, but my guess is that’s as far as you’ll get.”

“I’ll take that chance.”

Brady turned around and guided her through the crowd, shoving off aggressive reporters and ignoring the shrill cries which surrounded them. They were almost running when they reached the elevator. Brady punched the button with the flat of his hand and they fell against the inside walls of the cage as the doors closed and it ascended.

“Nice group, eh? ” he said sarcastically.

When they got to the third floor the atmosphere was much calmer, brisk and efficient. Brady introduced Marisa to the attending doctor at the nurse’s station.

“How is Mr. Bluewolf?” Marisa said anxiously.

“You’re not a relative, right?”

“No, I’m...”

“The target of the gunman,” Brady finished for her when she hesitated.

“Ah, I see,” the doctor said, nodding. “Well, he’s lost a lot of blood, but we’re transfusing him and he’s young and healthy. We’ll be operating soon to remove the bullet. Unless he throws a clot or something else extraordinary happens, he should recover from the wound all right.”

Marisa closed her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Why did that guy take the bullet for you?” the doctor asked her curiously.

“He didn’t mean to, it was an accident. He was trying to shove me out of the way,” Marisa said.

“Haven’t you heard, Doctor?” Brady said lightly. “Chivalry is not dead.”

Marisa silenced him with a look.

“May I see him?” she asked the doctor.

The doctor shook his head. “Not until after the surgery. His sister and mother are on their way from Oklahoma. Once they get here they can determine the visiting list.”

“May I wait around until the operation’s over?”

He gestured toward a small waiting room at the end of the corridor. “You can sit in there if you want. It will be a while.” He hurried off to waylay a passing nurse.

“Are you going to hang around here?” Brady asked Marisa.

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you go back to your hotel? I’ll call you.”

Marisa shook her head. “I’ll wait.”

“Feeling responsible?” he said baitingly.

“Goodbye,” Marisa said, turning her back. She walked to the waiting room and sat down in one of the plastic chairs.

It was a very long day. She talked to Tracy on the phone a couple of times, watched a soap opera on the lounge television and then fell asleep. When she woke up it was dark and a nurse was shaking her.

“Aren’t you waiting on the Bluewolf case?” she asked.

“Yes,” Marisa replied worriedly, sitting up quickly.

“He’s out of recovery and back in his room. He’ll be fine.”

Marisa nodded wordlessly and pressed the nurse’s hand.

“Why don’t you go home?” the nurse suggested kindly.

Marisa stood stiffly and headed for the hall.

It was stretching a point to call a hotel “home.”

* * *

“You’re not going back to the hospital?” Tracy said in an exasperated tone the next morning. They were in the hotel coffee shop.

“There might have been a change overnight.”

“And what if the relatives are there? Do you think they’re going to fall on your neck in welcome?”

“I’ll deal with them.”

“Charlie is supposed to call this morning. The detective from the local police is coming back. He wants you to fill out an incident report on the shooting. And that guy, Block, from the Bureau of Indian Affairs will be here this afternoon. He’ll want to see you, not me.”

“I’ll be back by four,” Marisa replied, picking up her purse. “I’ll check in with you in a couple of hours. Lasky may make a decision today about when to resume the hearing.”