Chapter Twelve: Waiting
"This is Humphrey," Bashir said, introducing Sisko to the huge slave who had been his driver on the day of the auction. "Humphrey, I want you to make a decent driver out of Ben here."
"Yessir, massa doctor," Humphrey said, touching his forehead in what appeared to be genuine respect.
"I'll leave you to it, then; see if you can have him ready by the end of the day."
"Yessir," Humphrey said again. "You come this way, Ben; you evuh been 'round horses before?"
"Some," Sisko said cautiously, not entirely sure long-ago pony rides at a county fair should count.
"Well, you don' hafta worry about makin' mistakes with the doctor," Humphrey assured him. "He 'spects ya ta do yer bes', mind, but he don' whup you fer what wasn't yer fault like some do."
"I know," Sisko said quietly.
Humphrey nodded, glancing toward Sisko's back. "I 'spects ya do," he agreed. "'Mazes me, the way the doctor cares fer us darkies almost 'sif we were people. Not long ago, my boy Cletus run the pitchfork through 'is foot, an' the doctor cleaned it right up., an' the doctor cleaned it right up. Mebbe even saved his life, from what 'e said."
And that explained Humphrey's devotion, Sisko realized. But he agreed there was little doubt that if one had to be a slave, there were few better masters than Dr Julian Bashir.
oOo
By the end of the day, Humphrey pronounced Sisko a sufficiently good driver to take over driving duties for the doctor. Bashir nodded his satisfaction when Humphrey told him. "I thought he'd be a quick study," was his only comment. "How's that boy of yours, Humphrey?"
"Doin' good, suh. 'Most doesn't limp at all."
"Good. Make sure to keep that foot bandaged for another week or so, and he should be fine. Ben, you go eat your supper in the boardinghouse kitchen, then come on up to my room."
"Yes, suh," Sisko replied without lifting his head.
Bashir nodded once more and turned to leave the stables without waiting to see whether Sisko followed.
"Bes' not keep 'im waitin'; I'll put things away here," Humphrey offered.
"Thanks," Sisko replied and headed across the street to the boardinghouse, careful to keep his head down. Hesitantly, he knocked on the back door the boardinghouse. "Miz Jeffries? Massa Bashir say you got supper fer me."
"Come sit down," she told him a little shortly but not unkindly. The food she set before him was obviously left over from the boarders' meal, but no less tasty and filling for that.
oOo
"I'm sure you're tired, but let's have a look at your back before bed," Bashir told him when Sisko joined him in room.
"My hands are botherin' me more, suh," Sisko said, holding out his palms.
Bashir frowned as he took Sisko's hands in his and scrutinized the deep blisters rubbed by the reins. "I can salve these tonight," he said heavily, "but to let a slave protect his hands by wrapping them…"
"I unnerstand," Sisko said quietly.
"Sit down," Bashir told him. "Let's get these cleaned up — though I warn you, the whiskey will sting."
Sisko bit his lip, wincing several times as Bashir swabbed the open sores. Then he applied the soothing salve and wrapped a bandage around each hand. "These should callous up soon," he assured Sisko, "and in the meantime I'll try to keep my rounds short. Now, take off your shirt and lie on my bed so I can check your back."
He frowned slightly as he examined the newly formed scar tissue over Sisko's wounds, but said nothing, merely spending some minutes rubbing in the salve. "That's the best I can do," he said at last. "It's early yet, but I'm sure you're tired; why don't you go on to bed now."
"Think I will," Sisko agreed, sitting up cautiously and moving to his pallet on the floor. "Good night…massa."
"Good night, Ben. Sleep well."
oOo
Despite all Bashir's care, the deepest wound in Sisko's back refused to heal completely. As Bashir had feared, there was simply too little skin left to cover it; the thin scar that had formed would dry and split open again as soon as it had seemed to heal. Often by evening Sisko would be running a low fever. Bashir found himself wondering if it was written into the program somehow that Sisko couldn't heal no matter what care he received…or was that simply an attempt to shift the blame off himself?
Not that there was anything more he could have done. He could only keep the wound clean and drained, and wait and hope for Miles' rescue.
Next chapter coming next week! …hopefully. The library is closed due to the coronavirus threat, so I'm trying posting from my phone with the wifi at work. If I end up not having access to that (I don't think they'd close grocery stores, but some people are afraid they will), posting will be delayed until the library opens again.
I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!
Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie
