Miguel, having nothing but bruises, ran to get the mat that the stranger laid on yesterday and brought it back around the house. They rolled him onto it and dragged him back to the spot beside the fire where he spent most of yesterday. After checking over her son to make sure he was ok, and him responding by fidgeting her away, Teresa went about making breakfast. She needed to get food into Victor as soon as he woke up so she reheated a filled tortilla from the night before that she had made for him, but he never ate. While she was preparing her and her son's breakfast Victor stirred.
Jorge had found only four of his remaining men. And there were no new recruits to be found. His disposition was turning more sour by the hour. He and his small band tried to steal an army truck full of weapons and failed miserably. They were lucky that they all escaped with their lives. The five of them were about a day away from San Pablo, when they hit a mine and the jeep they were riding in lost a whole wheel. They now had the choice of walking all the way back or finding another vehicle to steal. They opted for the latter.
Victor woke up and immediately remembered what had happened. "Sorry about that, I guess that was a little bit too much too soon," he said to Teresa and slowly sat up on the mat.
"Are you hungry? You should eat, Victor. That is probably why you collapsed" she said, immediately followed by Miguel asking, "You remember? Your name is Victor?"
"Well actually, no. I don't remember, but I think my name began with a V and your mom suggested either Vincent or Victor, and though neither one of them really rings a bell as far as being my name, Victor just seemed to fit a little better than Vincent. So, I am going by that name, at least for now." Victor said with a smile. Then turning to Teresa, "Yes, I am hungry." He paused then added, "And thirsty."
Miguel looked at Victor and said, "I lost the water bucket when I fell in." Victor noticed that he wanted to add to that but didn't say anything more. Victor said, "Then why don't we go get it. He remembered the hoe head inside the house and asked Miguel to go get it. While Miguel went inside, Victor got up and using the handle, hobbled to the back of the house where the well was. He gathered the rope that he had used to pull Miguel out of the well and waited for him to show. Miguel came trotting around the corner of the house and handed Victor the hoe head. Victor tied the rope around the neck of the hoe and leaning on the well wall, lowered the hoe towards the bucket. It was floating on it's side, so it took a little fishing to get it turned just right so as to snag the handle. But within 5 minutes, they were hauling up a full bucket of water. Miguel brought the bucket back to his mother since Victor needed his hands to hold onto his makeshift crutch as he gimped back to the fire and sat down on the mat. She dipped a cup into the bucket and handed it to Victor. He drank it dry and asked for more. With two full cups of water inside him, he took the tortilla that was offered him by Teresa. Although he was now feeling very hungry, he ate slowly. He knew from what he had been told so far that he hadn't eaten in days. He didn't want his stomach to react negatively to the food. His stomach did rebel slightly at the intrusion, but not enough to cause an upset. He was able to finish the tortilla.
Teresa, who had her mind set at sending the injured man back to the village, quickly changed her mind when he so readily, in his weakened condition, rescued Miguel. She still didn't know what to do about Jorge, but at the moment she wasn't going to send the man away. She also knew that somewhere, someone was missing him and probably looking for him. She would need to find out who those other Americans were in the blue uniforms. But she figured she still had a day or two before she needed to worry, and that time would be used in letting the stranger heal. Maybe even well enough so that he will drive Jorge away. But she let that thought quickly slip away. Jorge was not Victor's problem. She wasn't going to ask him to get rid of Jorge. That would not be right.
When breakfast was over, Teresa made Victor take his top off and unwrap the mummy like bandages. With the wrap off, he looked like a patchwork quilt with all the white pieces of cloth covering his wounds. He cautiously lay face down on the straw mat so that she could examine the wounds on his back. She pulled the large white cloth carefully off his back. He flinched ever so slightly as she separated the stuck on cloth from each wound. Unfortunately that did start several of the larger ones bleeding again. She did not like the looks of two of them, and asked Miguel to get the alcohol. "Victor, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you aren't going to like this. Please hold still. It will take but a minute." She said and poured the alcohol onto his wounds. Victor's hands clenched and his whole body tensed up, but he made not a sound. "Please stay as you are, Victor. I do not have another clean cloth and need to launder this one. It will be good to let your wounds dry in the air, then they won't stick to the bandage. She poured some of the hot water, always by the fire, into a bowl and quickly cleaned the cloth. After she had cleaned it, she poured some of the alcohol over it. While the cloth was sitting in the alcohol, she went and got her 'dryer' from the barn. She didn't use it often, it was more for stretching wet garments while they dried than to actually dry them. But she knew she could set the frame over the fire and put the cloth on it to let it dry much faster.
Victor in the mean time had gingerly rolled straight from laying face down into a sitting position so not to have his back touch anything. This was when he felt for the first time a deep pain in his side. With his shirt off, he was finally able to see what he looked like. He was loaded with cuts, abrasions and bruises. The large coloring over his ribs added with the gentle prodding of his fingers, told him he had some damage. But he couldn't tell if they were broken, cracked or just bruised. While he was sitting, Teresa came over and examined his chest wounds. They looked better than the ones on his back, but then they weren't as deep. "I think we can keep the bandages off your front wounds and just keep it on your back." He looked up at her and said, "You're the doctor." She looked at him puzzled, "No I am not a doctor. I learned this from my mother years ago. We have to take care of ourselves because we do not have a doctor around." Blushing slightly that she didn't get the joke, he simply said, "You're doing a very good job."
"Please lay down on your front again." She commanded. He did as he was asked, careful to use the expelled cloths from his front wounds, between his skin and the straw mat. When he relaxed into the position, she pulled at his pants. Although she did this yesterday, he was unconscious at the time. He was fully awake and reacted quickly to the intrusion of his privacy. Unfortunately, it was onto his back that his quick reaction took him. Sitting up rapidly he let out with a muffled scream. Startled by his reaction, Teresa fell back. "Senor, I was only checking on the rest of your wounds. I have already seen all there is to see, you need not react so. Now what have you done to your back?"
Realizing his mistake, he slowly laid down on his front again. Teresa saw that he had gotten dirt into some of his wounds. This angered her. She went back to cleaning his back with hot water, then the alcohol again, knowing that it hurt. Because she was angered at his reaction, she was a little more aggressive with the cleaning and scolded, "I don't know why you had to do that. I do not like inflicting pain on such damaged skin such is your back. I know this hurts you. Who do you think dressed the wounds to your buttocks and legs yesterday? Now are you going to let me look at your other wounds?"
Victor just lifted his head and nodded 'yes', then rested it on the mat again. As Teresa began to pull the pants down, she could feel him tense up. But there was no more reaction than that. She took the cloth off the worst of the wounds on his butt. Then went onto examine the leg wounds. Even from the back she could see that the right knee was still very swollen. "Victor, I'm sorry, but I do need to pour more alcohol on some of these wounds as well." He just lay quietly and nodded 'yes' again. Clenching his hands and gritting his teeth, he waited for that ordeal to be over. She was able to put fresh bandages on his lower body since they were smaller and she still had several clean ones left.
The bandages were homemade and did not come with adhesives. The only way they stayed on was to wrap a roll of cloth around his body. As she reached underneath him below the hips to wrap the butt wound, he tensed up considerably. He almost lost it, but he forced himself to keep control. He was not comfortable at all with having a strange woman place her hands a little too close to a part of his body that he preferred to save for intimate settings. It got even more unsettling when she wrapped one of his leg wounds and had to place one of her hands in between his legs. If the boy wasn't there watching his mother work, Victor would have leapt right up onto his feet pulling his pants on in mid flight. But as it stood, he remained quiet in the prone and oh so vulnerable position. Quiet, but TENSE.
Sensing that he was feeling very compromised, she quickly pulled his pants back up and helped tie them around his waist. Then as he got up, using the up on all fours method so as not to hit his back again, but before settling into the seated position, she playfully slapped him on his undamaged cheek. "Relax Victor, I am only concerned about your wounds, nothing else," But she had lied, for she could not help but notice the beautifully chiseled body that this stranger had.
Victor sat up straight for if he began to slouch, the drying wounds would pull and hurt. Getting tire from sitting so straight on the ground, he stood up with the help of the handle. Holding the handle he thought back to the morning's adventures. He then remembered that there is a pump inside the house. He turned to Teresa, "Do you mind if I take a look at the pump inside the house?" She replied, "Go right ahead, you can't break it any worse than it already is."
Miguel followed Victor into the house. Victor turned to Miguel, "Do you have any tools? Something that I can take the pump head off with?" Miguel nodded 'yes' and disappeared outside. When Miguel came back into the house, he saw Victor bent over intently studying the pump. He looked at the tools that Miguel had, grabbed a wrench and proceeded to remove the bolts holding the pump together. Miguel watched him as he dismantled the pump with ease. With several pieces lying around, Victor asked, "Do you have a piece of rubber? Like an inner tube?"
Miguel sat there for a while trying to think if they had a piece of rubber anywhere. Then his eyes lit up. "I will be right back, I know where I could find a piece." And he ran out the door.
Victor hobbled to the door and looked out waiting for Miguel to return. His knee was hurting too much to go far, so he just stood there watching Teresa working on various chores around the yard. Periodically she checked the cloth on the drying rack to see if it was ready to put on his back. After watching her he turned back into the house and went back to the pump. He started to pry off the useless gasket at the base of the pump when Miguel came back into the house huffing and puffing. He held in his hand a bicycle inner tube. "Will this do, Senor?" Victor's eyes lit up. "Yes indeed it will. It is perfect. Where did you get it?" There is a rusty part of a bicycle down by the stream. There was still one wheel left on it and I opened it up and found that." He said proudly. Victor proceeded to cut it up to fit where the old gasket was on the pump. "Do you have any grease?" he asked. Miguel answered, "Would pig fat work?" Victor thought for a moment. He was thinking more along the lines of axle grease, but for this purpose, pork fat would work. "Sure, go get it for me."
Dipping his hands into the grease Victor worked at creating a smooth surface with the new rubber gasket. He put the pump back together, and bolted it back on. "Ok," he said, "Keep your fingers crossed." And he slowly started to pump the handle up and down. One, two, three, four pumps and still no water. Five, six, and Miguel's hope at having water coming into the house was fading. Suddenly a spurt of rusty water sputtered out of the faucet. A few more pumps and the water was flowing nicely, and clearing up. "Momma, momma, come see this!" exclaimed Miguel as he ran towards the door.
Teresa, hearing a very excited son calling her, ran to the house. She came through the door just as Victor pumped the handle the last time. She covered her mouth with her hands and just stood there in awe. "How did you do that?"
Victor replied nonchalantly, "It simply needed a new seal. There was no vacuum being created with the old gasket."
In both Miguel's and Teresa's eyes, this man that has found his way into their home was a miracle. God has sent him to them in answer to many of their prayers.