Kid was thinking he'd have to be near death before he ever let a doctor cut him open again. He was still feeling like he'd been hit by a ton of bricks 2 days later. It was dark outside, but Ruth was already up and the room looked as if it'd been cleared of their possessions. "What's going on?"
"It's pert near sunup. If you're of a mind to, I thought we'd get an early start. You feeling up for it? I got you a place all made up to lay down in the back until your blood thickens up again, but if you don't feel like traveling yet, just let me know."
"I can travel, but why are we leaving so soon?"
"Cause I said so," she said, helping him dress even as she spoke. "There," she said, buttoning the last button. "Can you walk?"
"Of course, I can walk. Anything I can carry down?"
"Nope. I done toted everything down myself."
He hesitated down at the wagon. She was leaving early because of him. "I ain't going to go if you've got work left here to do."
She gave an irritated sigh. "Just climb in the back, will you? It's a right far ways to Mexican territory and we don't want to terry and get caught by an early snow. It'd hardly do wonders for your cough."
"But we've only been here 5 days. When's the last time you had a revival that short in a place this big? Don't slow down on account of me."
"Land sakes, get your hind-end in there and quit fooling around before I chuck you in there myself."
"You are the bossiest woman on God's green earth," he muttered even as he climbed into the back, while she stood behind him, in case he fell.
"Yeah, well, your brains are addled if you think I'm going to sacrifice your health. God is calling us to a climate where your cough will be better."
"And God told you that directly, did He?"
She'd climbed up onto the seat and picked up the reins by this point. She looked at him through the hole in the canvas. "Yep, now quit being so cantankerous before I decide to leave you here in Springfield."
sss
Kid regained his strength slowly over a couple weeks. The bloodletting hadn't worked like he hoped as he was still coughing, but he wasn't yet ready to give up. He was pursuing a quick cure as doggedly as a bloodhound trailed a raccoon.
He was through with those quacks and butchers called doctors, however. They'd probably suggest he remove a lung next. But maybe there was some medicine to be found to cure it. Certainly he'd seen many colorful arrays of bottled medicines at the stores. He was bound to find something for consumption with all the locations they traveled through.
He found what he was looking for at some little town near the border of Missouri and Arkansas Territory. It was a cure-all tonic named after some doctor something-or-other, who'd probably never even looked at a patient. But what did he stand to lose and he had a lot to gain if it worked.
He paid for it and hurried back to the wagon. The fumes that wafted out when he popped the cork certainly smelled potent. He took a drink. Just plain, old-fashioned liquor, he discovered. Still, it might have had a little something added to it, so he drank about half the bottle while Ruth was still praying down at the church. Though she hadn't held any official revivals since Springfield, it didn't slow down her prayer life any and church was one of her favorite places to pray.
He stashed the other half under his pillow for later. The tonic didn't tell a person how much to take, but he figured he should be well covered.
He tried to remain unnoticed when she came back as she started pulling out items she needed for making supper, but she did see him and she saw the telltale signs: the bloodshot, glazed eyes and his slow, clumsy movement.
The frying pan and paring knife in her hands went down on the bench in front of her and she planted her hands on her hips. "I thought I smelled alcohol on you before. Now I know I do. Why, Kid?"
He winced. She had noticed his little slip then; she just hadn't said anything. The disappointment in her voice and expression hurt worse than if she had been angry over it. "It's not like you think." He pulled out the bottle and gave it to her to read. "It's just medicine for my cough."
She opened it and smelled it. "The only thing this is going to cure is a hangover. This ought to be illegal, selling this stuff like it's some kind of miracle to sick folks."
He grunted his agreement.
"We should be in the southwest by December. Will you promise not to try anymore stupid things? At least, try to act like you got a lick or two of sense. Let's just wait and see what the change of climate does for your cough before you kill yourself, okay?"
"Okay," he agreed. Just to avoid an argument. He was beginning to think this relocation was as hopeless as the rest of these "snake oil" cures. "I just thought if I found something that worked, you could hold some revivals, instead of us being in such an all-fire hurry."
"I don't care about the revivals right now. Do you mind putting up the kitchen things I drug out or are you able?"
"I'm able. I didn't drink that much."
"I'm going to find somewhere to dump out your wonder remedy. Then we'll go eat at the restaurant they have here where you can get a ready pot of coffee."
"Yes, ma'am, boss," he teased. He sighed with relief when she left. He'd dodged that bullet. He hoped they were there by December because she wasn't an easy lady to hide things from as today had proved and he worried everyday she would learn his real diagnosis.