Carry Me Home
Chapter 12 – Rusty ReduxRight before Florita put supper on the table, Bret went back up to check on Bart one more time. He found his brother awake and watching the door.
"Brother Bart! You're awake. How's the head?"
"Sore. How long was I asleep?"
"All day. It's supper time. You feel more clear-headed than Montana?"
"More clear-headed? What? Why? Do you think – "
Bret nodded as he spoke. "That you had another seizure? Yes, I do."
"But it's not – I mean I wasn't – "
"No, I don't think it was the same. But I think it was related to what happened in Montana. And I think the fall on the rock had a lot to do with it." He looked down at his brother as he said "No more leaving the cane behind. Until you can walk without it. Understood?"
Bart sighed. "Yes, Pappy." He made a face just like he did when Bret told him NOT to play in the dirt, when he was about five years old.
"Are you hungry? Supper's ready; Sam can come up with food. Or I can send Florita up."
Bart started to say 'no' and then he saw Bret's face. His brother was very determined looking about him eating. "Sure. Send Sam."
"I will if she'll come."
"She'll come."
XXXXXXXX
Florita had prepared caldo de pollo for dinner and Sam brought a steaming bowl of it on a tray up to Bart's room, along with water and coffee. She set it down on the dresser and took two of the extra pillows kept back of the bed to help Bart sit up and eat. Once she got the pillows arranged behind him she brought the food over and set the bed tray down in front of him. The first thing Bart reached for was the coffee. Sam admonished him. "No coffee until you've eaten something. Doctor Crawford's orders." He reluctantly put the coffee cup back. "Do you want me to help you eat?" she asked first."No." She watched him struggle with the soup but let him feed himself. "This is delicious."
"Everything that Florita makes is delicious. Haven't you noticed I've gained weight?"
He put the spoon down in his soup and looked at her as she stood next to the bed. She looked perfect as she had the last time he was here. "Not even a little. Sit down please."
Sam sat down on the chair next to the bed. She watched him for a few minutes as he continued his struggle with the soup but didn't interfere. This time when he reached for the coffee cup she let him have it. "Bart?"
"Hmmm?"
"Do you remember me being here earlier today?"
He shook his head 'no.' "Were you?"
"Uh-huh. You were dreaming and talking in your sleep."
"I was?"
"Uh-huh. You don't remember that?"
"No." He set the coffee cup down and picked up the soup spoon again. After dropping it twice, Sam took it from him and fed him the rest of the bowl. She was surprised when he ate the whole thing.
"Better?" she asked.
"Much. Thanks." As she set the spoon down on the tray he grabbed her hand and held it for a moment. "Thanks for this morning."
She pulled away from him gently and picked up the tray to move it. He snatched the coffee cup and kept it with him. "Can I have more?"
"Coffee? Alright, I'll bring it up after supper. Do you need anything else?"
"Any more aspirin?"
"Yes, I do have some. I'll bring one back with the coffee. Does it hurt much?" She of course was asking about the black, blue and purple lump he now had on his forehead.
"I've had worse."
"Yes, and probably will again. But not self-inflicted." She meant the act of leaving the cane in the house and trying to navigate without it. "I'll be back." She picked up the empty bed tray and hurried out of the room and down the stairs.
Bret waited at the bottom for her and took the tray. "How's our boy?"
"Feeling better. He ate the soup and wants more coffee."
Bret laughed at the coffee. "Of course he does."
"I'll take him some after supper. Another aspirin, too."
The older Maverick put out his hand. "Let me have the aspirin now. I'll take it up. You can take him coffee later."
"Alright." She retrieved an aspirin from the sideboard and gave it to Bret. "He has water upstairs."
"Fine. I'll be right back." He bounded up the stairs two at a time and was back down in just minutes.
"That was quick," Sam remarked.
"Doesn't take long to swallow a pill."
XXXXXXXX
They had supper, and coffee after as usual, relaxed and talking mainly about the ranch. Sam was going to tell Bret about her decision to sell but at the last minute decided to wait a few days and see if she changed her mind. She forgot about the request for additional coffee and for a while they sat in front of the fireplace and simply watched the flames. Florita left for the day and things were quiet and peaceful; the man upstairs was forgotten for a little while.
Until what sounded like a loud crash shattered the silence. Sam and Bret thought of Bart at the same moment and both jumped to their feet and raced upstairs to his room. The door was ajar and Bart was out of bed, collapsed on the floor like he was trying to get out. Bret rushed to get him off the floor; with some effort he picked his brother up, laying him carefully down on the bed. Bart was conscious but rambling, babbling about 'gunslingers' and 'marked decks'; and his body was soaked with sweat. "Samantha, get a wet rag." She hurried from the room.
"Bart, can you hear me?" Bret tried to reach his brother, whose words had descended into nothing more than mumbled syllables. Sam came back with the rag and Bret tenderly wiped his brother's face and neck. How many more times could he go through this? Bret's words were frightened and brusque. "Samantha, send Jess for the doctor. Hurry."
Just like Montana, with one exception – Bart wasn't shivering with cold; instead he was burning up with what felt like a raging fever. This time his face was flushed and he was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as if he'd been running. The mumbling abruptly stopped; Bart was unresponsive. Bret felt for the pulse in his neck; it was racing frantically. What happened? Less than thirty minutes ago he was fine, with the exception of the knot on his forehead. Now he was in the midst of what looked like another convulsion. Nothing had changed except the aspirin he'd taken. Bret sat on the bed and kept wiping his brother down, talking to him in a soothing tone of voice, hoping to get some kind of reaction. Samantha was gone a long time, and when she returned she looked terrified.
"Jess is on his way. He knows to hurry. Is there any change?"
"He's out," Bret informed her. 'He's burning up with fever. Help me get him out of these clothes; they're sopping wet." Samantha got his shirt unbuttoned while Bret got his pants off. Everything was soaked right through. "How long?" he asked Sam.
"An hour or more," she answered him. "That's if Doc is in town. What do we do until he gets here?"
"I don't know, Samantha. This is different. He's never had the fever before. I don't know what happened – he was fine when I brought the aspirin. Just tired – like he'd been up for days. Maybe it's got to do with cracking his thick-headed skull on the rock." Bret paused for a minute, like he was trying to remember something. "I'll tell you what the doctor told me in Montana – pray."
XXXXXXXX
It was almost two hours before Jess and Doctor Ashton got back to the Double C. By the time they arrived Bart's breathing had slowed considerably, as had his pulse. Bret was still wiping him down regularly with the wet rag but he wasn't sweating as profusely. Doc got as much of a medical history as Bret could give him and then shooed everyone out of the room. When the doctor emerged some few minutes later he was shaking his head in bewilderment. "Are you sure you told me everything, son?" he asked Bret. "Didn't leave nothin' out?"
"No, Doc, that's all of it. What's wrong?"
"That's the whole thing," Doc told him. "I can't find a dang thing wrong with him – other than that boulder he's growin' on his head. Think hard. There's gotta be somethin' I'm missin'."
Finally Sam thought of something. "We gave him an aspirin."
"When?"
"This morning and again this afternoon."
Doc Ashton stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm. That could be it."
Sam was incredulous. "The aspirin?"
"Yep," the doctor answered her carefully. "Real unusual to have that strong a reaction, but it's happened."
Bret couldn't believe it. They'd been responsible for making him this sick? "Are you sure, Doc?"
Dr. Ashton seemed to be amused by the question. "No, son, I'm not sure of anything right now. But that's as good a reason as any, and better'n most. I got no other answers."
"So what do we do now?" Sam questioned him.
"Wait." Followed by a small laugh. "And don't give him any more aspirin."
"That's all?"
"That's it. Keep him comfortable and just let him sleep. That's what he's doin' now. Beyond that – "
Bret stopped Dr. Ashton before he started down the stairs. "Could this have anything to do with the injuries in Montana?"
"Oh sure. That may have started all this. Did the doctor in Montana use aspirin much?"
Bret shook his head. "Laudanum."
"How'd he react to that?"
"Stopped the seizures."
"Hmmm. Unusual but not impossible. Might've had somethin' to do with this."
"Is this gonna continue?" Bret was hoping the doctor would have a negative answer for him, but no such luck.
"I don't know, Mr. Maverick. It's hard to say. Might not happen again with no aspirin. Then again – "
Sam assured Dr. Ashton as his voice trailed off. "We'll make sure he knows about the aspirin, Doc. Sorry for dragging you all the way out here for nothing."
"Twern't for nothin', Samantha. Not if it stops this happenin'."
Sam followed Dr. Ashton down the stairs. Bret went back into Bart's room and sat by the bed, where his brother seemed to be sleeping peacefully. He sighed as he sat down, thinking back over all the pain Bart had suffered in the last few months. Could trying to help him actually have made him worse? Bart stirred and moaned softly and his brother sighed again, wishing for all the world that this could all just be over and done with. "I hope you rot in hell, Rusty."
