“Yes, ma’am.” The doctor nodded. “Now, let’s get a film of that head and the arm. Does anything else hurt, Miz Carson?”

“Just my pride,” Betsy answered. “I’m bigger’n Edith, so it’s not right that she’s not in this place with me.”

“I understand that Edith kicked her pretty hard on the shinbone, and that’s what made her fall,” Ginger offered.

“Then we’ll get an X-ray of that, too. Do you want to see the police to file an assault charge?” the doctor asked.

“Hell no! I hit her first,” Betsy said. “I meant to knock her dentures down her throat, but I got her on the chin instead of the mouth. Now, fix me up and send me home or else send someone to get my weed stash. I always have a little joint before I go to bed at night.”

“Jesus!” the doctor muttered.

“Hell no again. Don’t be sending Him after my weed.” Betsy groaned. “He’ll throw it all away, and this is the best I’ve ever grown. Did you already treat my sisters? Are they all right?”

“I took a look at them on the way here. They’ve got some scratches, so I prescribed an ointment,” the doctor said, departing with visible relief.

It was almost time for supper when they finally made a diagnosis and got Betsy into a room. Just a day or two for observation and to be sure that the concussion wasn’t any worse than the doctor thought—that’s what the nurse said when she told Ginger they were admitting Betsy and taking her to a private room.

When they rolled her out of the cubicle, Ginger made her way to the waiting room. Kate, Sloan, and Connie all stood up. “She’s going to be all right. Are y’all okay? The doctor said he’d looked at your scratches. Good Lord, what were all y’all thinkin’ fightin’ like that?”

“That bitch Edith was bad-mouthin’ our mama. She’s worse off than me and Connie. If Betsy hadn’t slipped and fallen, we’d be buryin’ a body right now instead of sittin’ in this hospital. Tell us more about Betsy,” Kate said.

“She’s bein’ real sassy.” Ginger couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “She’s a scrapper, and she really hopes that Edith is dead by mornin’. Y’all need some help making that happen, just let me in on the deal.”

“Does she get to go home today?” Connie asked.

Ginger shook her head. “They’re going to admit her a couple of days so they can keep a check on her. Her arm is sprained, but it’s not broken. Her shin will be bruised, but it’s not broken, either. They had to shave a patch of hair from the back of her head about the size of my palm and put ten stitches in it.”

“We’ll have to watch her,” Kate sighed, “or she’ll go after Edith for sure. Betsy’s hair is her pride and joy. When can we see her?”

“I came out here to get you. They told me what room they’re putting her in,” Ginger said. “And I promised to stay the night with her.”

Sloan slipped an arm around Ginger’s shoulders. “Let me take you somewhere and get you a burger for supper, and then I’ll take you home to get whatever you need to spend the night here.”

“That’s a good idea.” Kate nodded. “We can all stay if she wants us to. Sloan can taxi us one at a time back to the Banty House for what we need.”

Ginger was afraid to let both of them go at one time. They might stop by Edith’s and finish off the job they’d started. Was the woman batshit crazy? Ginger knew from day one that Belle was the queen of the Banty House and no one had better say a word against her. Just thinking about someone hurting her new family in any way—with words or punches—filled Ginger with anger.

“Maybe you could just pick out a pair of shorts and a top for me and bring my toothbrush when one of you go.” Ginger frowned. “I gave her my word that I wouldn’t leave the hospital until she does.”

Sloan kept his arm around her as they all went up the hall toward Betsy’s room. When they walked in, she was arguing with the nurse, saying, “I don’t give a damn what your policy is. My granddaughter is going to sleep on that bed over there tonight, or else I’m going home. Just charge it to my account and I’ll pay the damned bill, or else my sister Kate will bring you a case of her moonshine and we’ll call it even.”

“We have to keep that bed ready in case someone else needs it.” The nurse tried to reason with her. “But I can bring your granddaughter a pillow and a blanket and she can sleep in the recliner right here. It goes all the way back and makes a nice little bed.”

Ginger went right to Betsy and laid a hand on her good arm. “I really like the chair better. That one is way too high.” She leaned down and whispered, “You know I have to get up all through the night to go to the bathroom.”

“If you’re sure,” Betsy said.

“Absolutely,” Ginger reassured her. “And look who’s here to see you.”

Betsy looked right at Kate. “Did that bitch hurt you and Connie?”

“Just some scratches,” Kate answered. “We’re all right. You just need to get well. You know neither of us can cook worth a dang.”

Betsy realized that she was wearing a hospital gown and narrowed her eyes. “My head hurts. Someone stole my clothes just like they did at Woodstock. I’m not young anymore. A lady needs her bra.”

Jesus, Mary, and all the angels. Betsy must’ve been a rounder in her day. Ginger wished that she had been her daughter, or even her granddaughter.

“You need to rest,” Ginger told her. “Just lay back and be very still. Close your eyes and . . .”

Betsy shook her finger at Ginger and then waved it around to include all of them. “Don’t you let them put Edith in that other bed. I never did like that woman. She was too goody-two-shoes for me, wantin’ us to dress up like whores so she could look down on us, and then we find out she ain’t no better.” Her eyes snapped shut and she started to snore.

Ginger giggled under her breath. “I’ve heard about ladies from the South wearin’ sassy britches, but I don’t think Betsy ever takes them off.”

“You got that right. She’s always been the one with more spunk than me and Connie put together. She might sleep for a little while,” Kate whispered, glancing over toward Sloan. “If you’ll take me and Connie home, we’ll get what we need and come on back.”

“Why don’t y’all just sleep in your own beds tonight,” Ginger told them. “I promised I’d stay, and they might let her go home after twenty-four hours if her mind clears up. I promise I’ll call if she asks for you.”

“Okay,” Kate agreed. “I’m sure not lookin’ forward to sleepin’ on one of those straight-backed chairs. Just give us a call, and we’ll be here as fast as I can drive us.”

They filed out of the room, but Sloan stayed behind. “I’m going to drive them home, get my truck, and come back. What do you want me to bring you to eat?”

“Apples, peanut butter, and dill pickles,” she said.

He didn’t even blink or hesitate. “You got it. I’ll sit here with you until bedtime so you won’t be alone.”

“Thanks, Sloan.” She smiled up at him. “That is so sweet of you.”

Sloan took the ladies home and waited while they gathered up what they thought Ginger might need. Then he drove his truck down to his house, made sure Tinker had water and food, and packed a small bag for himself. No way was he letting Ginger stay by herself all night. What if Betsy got a brain bleed and died? Ginger could stress out and wind up losing the baby. He brushed away a tear. The ladies had always been a force, and he couldn’t imagine one of them gone.

“See you later,” he told Tinker as he headed outside. “Hold down the fort while I’m gone.”

Tinker hopped up on his favorite end of the sofa, curled up, and shut his eyes.

Sloan stopped by the grocery store and picked up four different kinds of apples, a jar of peanut butter and one of dill pickles. Then he went by a drive-through and got two burger baskets and a couple of milkshakes. When he reached the hospital room, Ginger had stretched out on the chair and was sound asleep. Betsy was still snoring and the other bed wasn’t being used yet. It still surprised him that Betsy hadn’t bullied the nurse into letting Ginger sleep on it.

“Are you staying for a while?” a nurse whispered from behind him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered.

“Then”—she pulled the recliner that belonged to the other bed around for him—“use this. I can’t let anyone sleep on the bed, but you can use this chair.”

“Thank you very much,” he said, repositioning the chair so he could sit right beside Ginger.

She opened her eyes. “I smell food.”

“Burgers and fries and milkshakes if you’re hungry,” he whispered.

“Starving.” She popped the chair back into a sitting position.

“Has she been awake any at all?” Sloan asked.

“Only when the nurse comes in and wakes her up. Then she cusses about Edith and goes right back to sleep,” Ginger answered. “I guess that’s normal. I’ve been too afraid to even ask.”