On Channel 12

"Then please hang up and call Sophia Coutre and she'll meet you down at the courthouse; Why? What's up?" John asked.

Linda told him and John shook his head in disbelief. She had told him about her earlier conversations with Cheryl and John had agreed; for the most part, they would stay out of it. Except when it came to the girls. Even if he couldn't remember who was Summer and who was Sierra; he was pretty sure that the youngest one was Skye; John did genuinely care for the girls.

"Okay, enough about me; how are you doing?" Linda finally ran out of steam.

"I'm good; we're setting up for the noon broadcast; Chelsea's got a piece; that school play that all the Atheists are protesting," John said.

"If they don't like it, they don't have to go see it," Linda snapped.

"And if you notice? None of those protesters live here; they're all from Texas," John agreed. "Austin, I think. ""

"Linda ate lunch, then at five minutes to one, stomped next door to fetch Cheryl.

"We're going to be late," Cheryl complained.

"And couldn't be bothered to get off your ass and walk next door?" Linda snarled and stomped back across the lawns to get to her car.

Nicole ushered the two women into her small office and asked pertinent questions of Cheryl. After just a few minutes, Nicole determined that Cheryl Duhon was very ill-prepared and would be her own worst enemy in these proceedings.

"So, you've been married to him for sixteen, almost seventeen years," Nicole scribbled on a pad.

She tried to remain professional; she was busting her ass to become an Associate in the firm.

"And you say you've already let Mr. Milton..." Nicole asked, and then froze for a millisecond.

She wanted to ask, "Milt Duhon? The Cast Iron Stomach guy? I love him."

"...Duhon know, he is aware that none of the three children are in fact his?" Nicole continued.

"Yeah, see, he just got this contract do a cookbook; probably make about a hundred thousand and so Stan and me thought..." Cheryl said, feeling confident again.

This young lady seemed to understand, seemed to sympathize with her position. Cheryl knew Linda was not very sympathetic, actually seemed to be quite judgmental of her.

"Any possibility that Milt Duhon could actually be the father of one or more of the minor children?" Nicole pressed.

Finally, the young attorney seemed to have enough information and sat back.

"Ms. Duhon, honestly? We'll petition the court for six hundred a month child support for each of the three minors; Milt Duhon's name is on their birth certificates, right? You did..." Nicole asked and smiled tightly as Cheryl nodded her head in agreement.

Nicole continued laying out their battle plan and Cheryl's face fell as Nicole outlined a 'worst case scenario' for her.

"They're not his children, you had knowledge of that but did not inform him of that," Nicole ticked off on her fingers. "You have no income, have, by your own admission, contributed nothing to the household..."

"But you see what you can do, right?" Cheryl asked after Nicole had laid it all out; they didn't have very much to work with. Especially since Milt had already filed an action against the actual father of the three children.

Nicole's face was unreadable when the three credit cards in Cheryl's wallet were declined. She likewise refused to accept Cheryl's check; citing office policy as her reason.

Linda pulled out her credit card and Nicole thanked her and then ushered the two women out.

"Mom, the electricity ain't working," Sierra greeted their mother when Cheryl entered the house.

"No kidding? That why it's so dark in here?" Cheryl screamed back.

"I don't like it all dark," Skye whined.

"Well I don't either," Cheryl snarled.

"Don't yell at her; it's not her fault the electricity's off," Sierra snarled at her mother.

"How'm I supposed do my homework?" Summer asked.

"Get your books; come on," Sierra said and the three girls went out onto the deck to do their homework in the afternoon sun.

By the time they were finished, the three girls were actually laughing about having to do their homework 'like they did in the old days.'

"You didn't get dinner?" Sierra asked their mother.

"How, Sierra? The electricity's off, Sierra. Am I supposed to cook it by magic?" Cheryl barked.

"God and you're the parent?" Sierra scoffed as she grabbed the peanut butter out of the pantry. "Skye, you want apple or strawberry jelly?"

"Um, strawberry," Skye decided.

"All right; need get out of them school clothes," Sierra ordered. "You'll just get jelly all over them."

"Nuh uh," Skye argued.

"Summer, go with her," Sierra said, figuring part of the reason Skye didn't want to change was because it was dark going up the stairs.

"I want apple," Summer said as she grabbed Sky's hand.

"No kidding, really?" Sierra asked sarcastically.

Next door, Chelsea listened as her mother recounted the labors of her day.

"As many times we eat over there, you didn't invite them over here?" she finally interrupted her step-mother.

"Chelsea, Honey, we're trying to stay out of it," John gently told his daughter.

"I'm going over there," she declared, flinging her long brown hair back.

Cheryl lumbered to the door, nudging Mr. Bill out of the way.

"Hi, Miss Cheryl; we're fixing eat; we got beef stew," Chelsea said cheerfully.

"But there's none for yapping little hounds, no there's not," she teased Mr. Bill who was now whining for Chelsea's attention.

"Oh well, thank you but..." Cheryl said, now feeling a little embarrassed.

"You don't got to eat it; I am," Sierra declared, pushing her mother aside. "Summer, Skye, come on! We going next door yeah!"

Skye and Summer came down the stairs and greeted Chelsea.

In front of their neighbors, Sierra was polite, curbed her anger toward their mother. Summer made John laugh when she managed to eat three plates of the stew, along with four pieces of buttered bread.

"You were right," Linda told Chelsea as the four Duhon women left their house. "You were right to invite them over."

"Can you believe how much that girl ate?" John laughed again. "Like she hadn't eaten in days!"

"Maybe she hadn't," Chelsea said and John immediately lost his laughter.

Next door again, Sierra screamed and shivered her way through a cold shower.

"Thanks a lot Mom, love cold showers," she screamed hatefully.

"I don't want to take a cold bath!" Skye cried.

"Come on; we'll make it quick as we can," Summer cajoled.

Summer got into the bathtub with Skye, shivering as they bathed and rinsed each other.

"Oh, that's so cold, oh God," Skye whined

Even though it was only ten after eight in the evening, Sierra, Summer, and Skye all went to bed; there was nothing else to do.

Cheryl used the bathroom and realized; the roll on the spindle was the last roll of toilet paper they had. There was no more in the cabinet. The downstairs bathroom may have an extra roll, but that two would not last very long, not with four women.

After making Mr. Bill go outside to do his business, Cheryl too went to bed.

Sleep would only come in short spurts, though. Without the air conditioning running, without the ceiling fans circulating the air, the house was warm, stuffy.

And someone had used the last of the toilet paper in the middle of the night. There was a box of tissue on the back of the toilet so Cheryl used that.

Cheryl's head hurt from the stuffy warmth, from the hunger in her belly. She'd not eaten as much as she'd wanted to and actually felt a wave of anger toward her middle child for gorging herself on the beef stew and rice.

And Cheryl knew, in just a few minutes, her oldest child would be up, and spewing anger and bitterness. As if their precious Daddy abandoning them was Cheryl's fault. As if the electricity being cut off was her fault. As if the shortage of toilet paper was her fault.

Cheryl's head throbbed as she went back into her bedroom, and she stepped in a pile of Mr. Bill's shit.

Cheryl kicked at the whining, whimpering beast, and then used a wadded sock to clean her foot off.

She yanked open her nightstand drawer, looking for her extra-strength pain relievers; the headache was getting worse. The drawer fell out of the nightstand and Cheryl gasped in pain as the drawer fell onto her foot.

And there was only one pill left in the bottle. Milt had obviously neglected to buy her another bottle.

There were no pill bottles in Milt's nightstand drawer.

But Cheryl took Milt's .357 magnum revolver out. The gun had been Howard's and Milt kept gun and holster well maintained. A whole new wave of resentment and bitterness toward Milt washed over Cheryl again.

There were six bullets in the gun itself and there was a box with twenty four more bullets.

Sierra was groggy from the warmth and stuffiness in the house. She looked through bleary eyes at her clock, and then remembered, there was no electricity. No electricity meant her digital clock would not be working.

Mr. Bill's whining woke Sierra a little more; she always kept her door closed to keep the ill-behaved animal out of her bedroom.

And then Sierra saw her mother leaning over the bed.

Summer jerked awake when she heard the loud 'Bang!' She got out of her bed and stepped into the hall. Her beautiful blue eyes widened as she saw her mother coming out of Sierra's room, pistol in her hand.

Summer gave her mother a block any Saints' Offensive Lineman would have been proud to deliver. Cheryl grunted in shock as she collapsed to the floor and the gun went flying out of her hand.

Summer ran into Skye's bedroom and grabbed her baby sister.

"What?" Skye complained, groggy from the heat and stuffiness.

Summer ran to the stairs, still carrying a complaining Skye, past their mother, who was on her hands and knees trying to find the revolver.

Summer barreled out of the front door, still carrying Skye.

The first shot slammed into Summer's hip and Skye screamed, seeing their mother in the doorway, a gun in her hand.

"Oomph!" Summer grunted and staggered.

The second shot slammed into her shoulder and took the ninety one pound child to her knees.

"Run, Skye!" Summer screamed as she released her sister. "Run! Go get Daddy!"

Skye didn't think about the fact that she didn't know where Daddy was; she just took off running down the street.

Across the street, their neighbor, Ray Betton had just stepped outside, leaving for another shift on at King Disposal; he was one of Mr. King's tugboat operators. He looked up when he heard the front door of the Duhons' house open. He looked, puzzled as Summer, still in nightgown, came running out, carrying Skye, still in her nightgown.

Then to his utter horror, he saw Cheryl Duhon step outside and fire a revolver at her daughter. Her own daughter.

Before Ray could react, the woman fired a second shot at the girl and Summer fell to her knees on the concrete driveway.

"Run, Skye," he heard Summer scream. "Run! Go get Daddy!"

Ray scrambled back into his house and grabbed his twelve gauge shotgun out of the cabinet.

He pumped a shell into it and ran back outside.

Summer was trying to crawl, trying to get to her feet, trying to get away from the next bullet that was sure to come.

Cheryl raised the revolver and took careful aim, aiming for the back of Summer's head.

Ray squeezed the trigger and a large red splotch appeared in Cheryl's chest. The woman turned and looked at Ray with surprise, then rocked slightly then fell backward onto the driveway.

"Mr. Betton, I need help yeah," Summer said, still trying desperately to crawl away.

"Calm down baby, just calm down; it's going be all right," Ray said as he punched 911 into his cell phone.

Chapter 11

Two police cruisers searched for Skye; Ray only had a general direction in which the child had run when Summer put her down.

They found the girl on Highway 19, nearly three miles from her home. The girl was running as quickly as she could on her bloodied feet. Still, Georgie Sanders had to run after the child and physically pick her up to stop her.

"No, no, Summer needs help!" the girl screamed, terrified. "Let me go! I need find my daddy!"

"Shh, shh, Summer at the hospital yeah, she going be fine," Georgie lied, holding the child firmly.

Georgie knew that an ambulance had been dispatched but had no idea if Summer would be fine or not.

"I need find my Daddy!" Skye sobbed, and then fell unconscious from her exertion.

Chris Dumas immediately sent a chopper out to the rig Milt was working on. When the supervisor told Milt what was going on, Milt fainted.

"This can't be true no, this ain't happening no," Milt mumbled over and over as the helicopter raced across the waters.

Two policemen waited by Milt's truck when the helicopter lighted down.

"Got him; on our way," one of the officers said into his shoulder mounted radio.

"Don't stop for nothing," one of the police officers ordered. "You stay on your ass until we get to St. Elizabeth Trauma Center, you hear?"

Milt was too worried about his girls, too worried to be afraid as they blazed the nearly fifty five miles from the Industrial Canal to St. Elizabeth Trauma Center.

Summer sobbed, clutching onto her father with her one good arm.

"I couldn't save Sierra, Daddy," she sobbed, broken hearted. "I couldn't save her. Believe me I tried yeah."

Skye also clung to her father, sobbing.

"I ran looking for you, yeah I did," Skye sobbed.

Finally, Molly Dunham, the head nurse took Milt across the room to see Sierra.

Sierra had no brain activity and a machine was doing her breathing and heart activity for her.

"Go ahead," Milt tried to speak, but could only mouth the words.

Milt held the girl's hand and sobbed as they unplugged the machine. His sobs turned to wails when the soft 'beep' turned into a steady whine.

He gave his baby girl one last kiss on her forehead, right next to the gauze bandage and then stepped back so that they could harvest her organs.

"Thank you, Mr. Duhon," Dr. Lyndon Vickers said. "I am truly sorry for your loss, but there are several families that will be grateful for your gift of your child's organs."

Chelsea Guidry covered the story for the Performance 12 News. Many viewers complained that she made them cry as she reported about the horrific tragedy that had befallen a neighboring family.

Cheryl would have been bitterly angered; she was given no funeral. She was simply buried in a grave next to her parents. The only act of compassion Milt afforded Cheryl was in arranging for Father Sam of St. Richard's to say a prayer as they lowered the casket into the ground.

Sierra, however, was given a beautiful funeral and nearly all of Cabrini High School showed up for the popular girl's funeral. Summer was able to walk, albeit with a pronounced lurch to her gait and her left arm was still in a sling. Skye's feet were encased in large slippers to accommodate the bandages around her feet.

Chelsea Guidry covered the funeral for Performance 12 News.

"The pall bearers, as you can see, are bringing the casket out of the church. The young lady that's in front on the left is Summer Duhon, the middle sister of Sierra," Chelsea whispered into her microphone. "The girl holding onto her right hand is Skye Duhon, the baby of the family. They say Summer Duhon saved her baby sister's life that horrible morning..."

Sierra was laid to rest next to Gladys and Howard Duhon, her grandparents. As the crowd paid their respects to the sweet, out-going, athletic school girl, no one bothered to go two rows south, three plots east to pay any respects to Cheryl Duhon.

At the Duhon home, there were a few police officers from the DeGarde Police Department that came in to offer their condolences to Milt, to Summer and Skye.

"Got to tell you," Ritchie Himmer laughed quietly to Milt. "I really didn't think your truck would make it; you know we were doing a hundred and fourteen down I-10?"

"Man thought we was moving way too slow too, you hear?" Milt smiled tightly.

"You, young lady," Georgie said to Skye. "You know I almost had to tackle you?"

"My sister said go get Daddy and I was going get Daddy," Skye responded.

Summer squeezed Skye's hand proudly.

"She was three miles away and would have still been running we hadn't found her," Georgie Sanders said to Milt.

Milt was grateful to see that one police officer had not bothered to attend and that was Stanley Monroe.

Chris Dumas, Milt's boss, refused to accept Milt's resignation but instead placed Milt on a Leave of Absence.

"That way, the girls ever drive you crazy, just come on in and I'll get you out on the next bout out, all right?" Chris said and shook Milt's hand.

The first few might's were horrible; Summer would wake up screaming, hip and shoulder burning from the bullets entering her.

She wouldn't be able to run, though. She would try to run, would try to save Skye, but the bullets were too powerful, too fast.

Skye would wake up screaming, seeing her mother in the doorway of the home, shooting Summer.

So Milt put both girls into the big bed he used to share with Cheryl.

And he got them appointments with Dr. Melanie Leblanc, a child psychologist.

A few months passed, Skye and Summer were doing better and were finally able to sleep in their own beds again.

"Hey, Milt," Chelsea smiled as she cut across their lawns one morning to where Milt was trying to start a sluggish lawnmower.

"No, no, Chelsea, I don't care how much you beg; I ain't letting you cut this grass no," Milt smiled.

"You so funny," Chelsea laughed. "No, no, I'm covering the motocross race out in Jack's Creek tomorrow was wondering if you think Summer and Skye would want to go to that? There's this girl? Jacy Kay? Supposed be real good."

"You can ask them," Milt shrugged.

"And they go real fast?" Skye asked blue eyes wide with excitement.

Summer agreed with a half-hearted shrug. Lately, she had found little joy in anything, except for her sister's happiness. If Skye wanted to go to some loud, dusty, hot motorcycle race, they would go.

Both girls and Chelsea returned late Sunday afternoon, hot, thirsty, sunburned, and bubbling with excitement.

"Daddy I want do that yeah," Summer begged.

So, of course, Skye wanted to do it too.

So Milt bought an XR 125 and he and Summer tore it down and cleaned it up and refitted everything they could with lighter, stronger material. He was able to find an older YZ 80 for Skye and made Skye sit with him while he did most of the work on her bike, letting her help where she could.

. And he took Summer and Skye out to Jack's Creek, along the dried creek bed for them to practice.

Summer scared him. She seemed to have only one speed and that was full throttle. She had absolutely no fear as she took the whining bike over bumps and became airborne. Skye chased after her sister and begged her father to get her a 125 as well; the 80 cc motor simply unable to catch Summer.

Then the day of a race in Pinoaks, Louisiana came and Milt loaded the bikes onto the trailer and Chelsea joined them as they drove to the Pinoaks race track.

As Milt signed the girls up, the man turned to Summer and said, "You need a number for your bike, Honey,"

"Name's not Honey, Dude," Summer snapped. "And my number's point three fifty seven."

"Mine too," Skye insisted, not understanding the significance of the number.

Skye came in third on the first heat of her race and was genuinely upset that she had not come in first place.

The 100 cc class ran their first heat, and then the 125 class lined up.

Some of the boys smirked when they lined up for the first heat and saw that .357 had a long thick blonde braid sticking out of the back of her helmet.

"Oh my God!' Chelsea screamed as she watched Summer's aggressive, fearless maneuvers around the track.