Read Online Along The Fortune Trail by Harvey Goodman - Free Book Online
Authors: Harvey Goodman
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Lucky, too, ‘cause it couldn't have missed your lung by more than an inch or so. Broke a couple of ribs on the way out, though. Let me roll you up on your side and take a look at your back. You've got almost fifty stitches back there from a stab wound.”
Doc assisted as Sammy slowly rolled to his right side. “I sure am sore,” Sammy said weakly. “Feel like a bull stomped me for a week.”
“It will be a while before you get a chance to be stomped by anything else,” Doc said as he inspected the back wound. “Looks to be healing up nicely, though. Now you need to eat, drink, rest, and let nature work her magic. Ruth will be here in a moment with some food, and then we'll clean you up some and change out these bandages. Some visitors been by to see how you're doing … the Taylors, Jacqueline, a few of the boys from the T., the sheriff, and some townsfolk. I can't even remember them all now. My office has been like a stage stop. And Lundy's been here every day. Been staying in town since Saturday. He's been a downright pain in the neck,” Doc said, smiling.
Sammy smiled weakly for a moment, and then relaxed into a serious and distant gaze. “I believe I killed that man … but damn if he wasn't tryin’ to kill me.”
“The way everyone's heard it, you didn't have much of a choice. Bernie gave the whole story. A man acting like that in this country more than likely meets a bad end. Nobody knows who he was. His partner skedaddled after he yelled in my door about the fight. Folks said he hot-footed it over to Parker's, collected his rig, and lit out. Sheriff Ritter's got that new deputy, Jason, traveling to Stratford to check the territorial wanted list and see if they can shed some light on who that dead feller was. No sort of identification on him, but a whole lot of money, which has most folks speculating that he didn't come by it honestly. His horse and saddle are at Parker's. No brand on the horse, just the initials L. B. on his saddle. If he had any saddlebags, that other feller's made off with them.”
“Where's my horse?” Sammy asked, concern in his voice.
“I believe he's still down at Parker's.” Doc retrieved a bedpan from under the bed and placed it by Sammy's hip. “Use this when you need to go. Tap on the floor with this cane if you need some help,” Doc said, rattling a cane that hung from the headboard post.
The stairs groaned as the doctor's assistant, Ruth, made a careful ascent with a tray of food. A moment later, she entered the room and walked to the bed where she waited until Doc helped to prop up Sammy. She put the tray carefully on his lap. Ham, eggs, and fried potatoes overflowed the plate and gave off a wonderful aroma that made Sammy salivate.
Doc Payton's eyes widened as he looked at the enormity of the portions. “Well, give ‘er a go,” he said with some skepticism. “Looks like Missus Watson was pretty ambitious about how much your stomach could handle. I imagine it's shrunk up some after five days, so take it easy. Don't make yourself sick.”
“I sure appreciate your concern, Doc, but I believe I could eat the Irish into another potato famine and swallow the roast out of all the beef on the Chisholm Trail. And I'd sure be obliged for some more water. I'm drier ‘n a tumbleweed in a dust storm.” He looked to the table and saw only the glass. “There was a water pitcher here a minute ago.”
Ruth shot Sammy a wry look. “It had an accident,” she said flatly. “Seems as if your senses are in good working order now. You just do as the doctor says and all will be fine.”
“Oh yes, ma'am. I will,” Sammy politely said, understanding that he must have caused the pitcher's end, and feeling that he may have offended her with his witticisms. “I'll make that pitcher up, Missus Jenkins … soon as I'm able. Please thank Missus Watson for her cookin’ … and thank you too for bringin’ it and lookin’ after me.”
His sincerity melted Ruth back to a smile.
Doc assisted as Sammy slowly rolled to his right side. “I sure am sore,” Sammy said weakly. “Feel like a bull stomped me for a week.”
“It will be a while before you get a chance to be stomped by anything else,” Doc said as he inspected the back wound. “Looks to be healing up nicely, though. Now you need to eat, drink, rest, and let nature work her magic. Ruth will be here in a moment with some food, and then we'll clean you up some and change out these bandages. Some visitors been by to see how you're doing … the Taylors, Jacqueline, a few of the boys from the T., the sheriff, and some townsfolk. I can't even remember them all now. My office has been like a stage stop. And Lundy's been here every day. Been staying in town since Saturday. He's been a downright pain in the neck,” Doc said, smiling.
Sammy smiled weakly for a moment, and then relaxed into a serious and distant gaze. “I believe I killed that man … but damn if he wasn't tryin’ to kill me.”
“The way everyone's heard it, you didn't have much of a choice. Bernie gave the whole story. A man acting like that in this country more than likely meets a bad end. Nobody knows who he was. His partner skedaddled after he yelled in my door about the fight. Folks said he hot-footed it over to Parker's, collected his rig, and lit out. Sheriff Ritter's got that new deputy, Jason, traveling to Stratford to check the territorial wanted list and see if they can shed some light on who that dead feller was. No sort of identification on him, but a whole lot of money, which has most folks speculating that he didn't come by it honestly. His horse and saddle are at Parker's. No brand on the horse, just the initials L. B. on his saddle. If he had any saddlebags, that other feller's made off with them.”
“Where's my horse?” Sammy asked, concern in his voice.
“I believe he's still down at Parker's.” Doc retrieved a bedpan from under the bed and placed it by Sammy's hip. “Use this when you need to go. Tap on the floor with this cane if you need some help,” Doc said, rattling a cane that hung from the headboard post.
The stairs groaned as the doctor's assistant, Ruth, made a careful ascent with a tray of food. A moment later, she entered the room and walked to the bed where she waited until Doc helped to prop up Sammy. She put the tray carefully on his lap. Ham, eggs, and fried potatoes overflowed the plate and gave off a wonderful aroma that made Sammy salivate.
Doc Payton's eyes widened as he looked at the enormity of the portions. “Well, give ‘er a go,” he said with some skepticism. “Looks like Missus Watson was pretty ambitious about how much your stomach could handle. I imagine it's shrunk up some after five days, so take it easy. Don't make yourself sick.”
“I sure appreciate your concern, Doc, but I believe I could eat the Irish into another potato famine and swallow the roast out of all the beef on the Chisholm Trail. And I'd sure be obliged for some more water. I'm drier ‘n a tumbleweed in a dust storm.” He looked to the table and saw only the glass. “There was a water pitcher here a minute ago.”
Ruth shot Sammy a wry look. “It had an accident,” she said flatly. “Seems as if your senses are in good working order now. You just do as the doctor says and all will be fine.”
“Oh yes, ma'am. I will,” Sammy politely said, understanding that he must have caused the pitcher's end, and feeling that he may have offended her with his witticisms. “I'll make that pitcher up, Missus Jenkins … soon as I'm able. Please thank Missus Watson for her cookin’ … and thank you too for bringin’ it and lookin’ after me.”
His sincerity melted Ruth back to a smile.
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