Well, here we are - DAY 7. (Said in an ominous voice.) I want to thank all of you who are following this story and providing wonderful reviews and comments. It makes me want to brush up my other BZ stories and post them for your enjoyment (and mine as well).
For this particular day I'm cutting it in two because the first half is nice and quiet and the second half revs right up and should be on its own. I can already hear the groans but I think it reads better that way. After Part 2 of Day 7 is the Epilogue so, at least, you'll have another day to wait. :-D
Onward ~
Day 7 - Part 1
Chapter 8
"I handed off my ointment ta Doc Bick and ya know what he said?" Jed asked Finny's back who didn't turn from the duties of organizing his office.
"Go away you're bothering me?" Finny responded with a grin.
"No. His eyes brightened up and he done tol' me he'd try it ta see if it worked. I tol' ya he wouldn't turn me away. And you thought I shouldn't bother him," he finished turning toward the window and running a hand across his mouth at the sight before him. "Well, this here's a sight fer sore eyes."
"What?" Finny asked as he came up behind his friend to look out onto the street.
"The stage come in and they's off-loadin' supplies at Doc Bick's and, plain as day, I can see a crate with WHISKEY blazin' across the wood and Clancy's runnin' like a fool." He turned a smile toward Finny. "Well, ain't this a happy day."
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"Well, if'n that ain't a sight," Hoss muttered with a big grin hurrying out of Doc Bick's to help the stage unload the precious medical supplies. "What took ya so long?!" he yelled up to the driver.
"I hadta stop at three doctor's offices ta pick up supplies. Hurried as fast as I could. Some of our drivers won't take this route since the killins."
"Why you here then?"
"Tripled my pay and I weren't carryin' no passengers. Figured I'd make it clean."
Hoss just nodded and, picking up two crates, lumbered toward the porch almost running into Joe as he hurried out to help.
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"Well, well, look at that," Trace mumbled as he looked out the door.
"What's all the commotion out there, Marshall?" Sheriff Fletcher Pintz asked as he came around his desk.
"Stage come in. Looks like Doc got some supplies."
"See any whiskey crates?" Pintz asked coming to stand next to Trace, scratching at his thinning hair.
"Can't say as I do but that don't mean there ain't none there."
"If'n the Doc's got supplies," came from the back cell, "I need somethin' fer the pain!"
"Ya'll git what I give ya and nothin' else!" Trace yelled back. "Watch him for a spell, Sheriff, while I go see if there's anythin' else on that stage."
Pintz nodded as Trace grabbed his hat and moved out the door sauntering down the boardwalk to step into the street, waving to catch the driver's attention before he lit out of town.
"How was the trip?" he asked of the man who squinted when the sun shone off the badge.
"Hot and dusty and fast. I weren't gonna meander out there not with this gang pickin' off people like me."
Trace smiled and shook his head. "Where ya headed now?"
"Straight ta the horizon. Gotta pick up them passengers left stranded. Thrown off my schedule somethin' fierce but I'll see it through."
"Good man," Trace said. "Careful out there."
The driver patted his trusty shotgun. "Always."
"All clear, mister!" Hoss called up as the driver picked up the reins. "Good luck!"
"Hiya!" he yelled slapping the reins across sweaty rumps, the horses picking up speed as they cleared the last building leaving a dust cloud behind them.
Trace turned his attention to Hoss as he followed him back to the porch. "How's your brother?" he asked seeing a slight grin form.
"Seems a little better today," came the honest answer as they cleared the door. "Should be even better what with the morphine that jest come in."
Trace nodded then came to a stop when he spied Joe heading his way, a determined look on his face.
"Marshall," he said.
"Mr. Cartwright." Trace straightened a bit unsure what was coming.
"Adam . . ." He faltered a bit then took a breath. "Adam tells me you're a wise man."
"Oh?" Trace said with a raised brow. "Why's that?"
Joe glanced at Hoss then back to the Marshall and sighed. "Because he knows what I would've done to your prisoner if you'd of let me see him. Sometimes . . . sometimes I just need to be reminded to keep my wits about me when family's involved."
Relaxing, Trace held out his hand. "Sometimes we all need that."
Joe didn't hesitate and clasped the Marshall's hand. "Call me, Joe."
"I can do that."
"Did I just see the stage?!" came Ben's voice as he hurried through the door.
"Yeah, Pa," Hoss answered. "Doc just went in."
Hurrying past the three, Ben was met by Hop Sing at the door carrying a bowl of warm water with bandages tucked under his arm.
"Did the morphine come?" he asked peering past his friend to see the doctor setting up a tray by Adam's bed.
"It come," Hop Sing answered. "Number One son already feel betta. Soon he sleep good. We change bandages then later maybe he eat dinna. He get betta lickety split now."
Ben looked down at his cook, housekeeper, friend and laid a hand on his shoulder. Hop Sing just smiled back then continued on into the room.
"You're welcome to help, Ben," Leslie called out as he watched this father slip into the room and settle in a chair by the door.
"I think I'll just sit here."
"As you like," he answered with a smile looking toward his patient. "Adam? Adam, can you hear me?" Nothing came back to him but deep normal breaths. "He's out. Okay, Hop Sing, let's get started."
Ben tensed, waiting for the cries he'd often heard these last days when those bandages were changed and found nothing but silence. Easing himself back into the chair he closed his eyes and thanked the Lord for delivering what his son needed. Now he could see a light at the end of this dark tunnel and smiled.
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Sounds of happy people filled the night as a tinny piano plunked out tune after tune. Both saloons were filled with light and laughter. Whiskey was back in town. All was right with the world.
Now it wasn't that they were all alcoholics it's just that in Chance there wasn't much else to do except mine for gold and silver and drink when it didn't pan out (or even if it did). So as soon as the stage dropped off crate after crate of the libation word spread like wildfire and it was as if the entire town simply gravitated toward each saloon and through the swinging doors to grab a bottle or glass and slowly savor that which had been missing for what seemed like a lifetime and yet had only been a few days.
The curtains in the upstairs window that overlooked Doc Bick's house drew back. Anyone looking out would've seen five men leaving and heading toward the very saloon that housed that window. Drey grinned. That only left the Chinaman keeping watch. A hand appeared on his shoulder then moved up his neck changing that grin to a smile. The curtains fell back in place.
*The prompt for the above sections was 'Well, if that ain't a sight for sore eyes'.
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A table opened up and Joe and Hoss quickly grabbed it, making room for Ben and Leslie. Bob motioned to the bartender and returned with a full bottle and five glasses that were quickly filled. They were flush with excitement over the arrival of the morphine knowing it meant relief for Adam and would shorten their visit to this sand pit of a town. Glasses raised, Ben looked the doctor straight in the eye and smiled.
"To Dr. Leslie Bick for making sure my son survived even though he was a bit short on medicines."
"Hear, hear," came from the assembled as they all took a drink.
"And to Hop Sing," Leslie added holding up his own glass. "Without him and his concoctions these last few days, well, I don't know what we would've done."
"To Hop Sing!" was then heard as they took another drink, Ben taking his time to finish his.
Hop Sing. One of the finest men he'd ever had the privilege to know. He'd entered their lives and taken up the reins and for that he was never very far from Ben's heart. Without him they would've fallen long ago. No matter the time or place he'd always been there to buoy them with his food or company and always his love, and he'd come into their lives exactly when they'd needed him. Ben chuckled as he stared into his glass reliving all the outbursts and threats to return to China over some slight to his cooking or cleaning but never got very far. Well, except for that one time.
"What'cha thinkin', Pa?" Hoss asked drawing Ben out of his reverie.
"Hmm? Oh, I was thinking about the time you managed to keep Hop Sing from getting on that stage to San Francisco. Did you ever apologize to him?" he pointedly asked his middle son.
"Shore did," Hoss answered. "As soon as I caught up ta 'im. He wouldn't take it though 'til I did somethin' for 'im."
"What did you have to do?" Bob asked catching Joe's large grin.
"Well, I, ah, had ta take a bath," Hoss answered while clearing his throat.
"That's all?" Leslie asked before spotting a smile spreading across Ben's face.
"Go on, brother," Joe pushed. "Tell the rest or I will."
"Ya would, too," Hoss gave him then sat back. "Well, I was about eight or nine and I'd been wrestlin' with Marty Paine 'cause he wouldn't leave off talkin' bad about Adam and I come home all covered in dirt and grime, bleedin' and bruised and I jest wanted ta sit down."
"So he did," Joe added getting a look from Hoss.
"Right on the settee," Ben gave out next.
"But you were covered in dirt," Leslie said aghast at the thought.
"You don't have children, Doc, or you wouldn't even ask that question," Bob said with a snicker.
"And Hop Sing, well, he didn't take kindly ta that," Hoss continued. "He was fit ta be tied that my mama was gonna skin 'im alive for lettin' one'a us ruin her fancy seat. Not me – 'im."
"She would've, too," Ben added. "That 'fancy seat' was her pride and joy."
"All the way from New Orleans," Joe said with a nod.
"Fancy," Bob said letting out a whistle.
"I was eight. It was a place ta sit," Hoss said in defense of himself. "Anyway, Hop Sing turned beet red and headed toward his room. Jest about a second later out he come with a packed valise and charged through the front door with no goodbye or nothin'."
"He was mad," Joe whispered.
"What'd you know? You was two maybe three."
"I remember. I'd never seen him like that. Scared me."
"So what happened?" Leslie urged.
"He lit out for Virginia City. Pa was callin' after 'im, Joe was cryin' and I hadta do somethin' so's I grabbed a horse and went after 'im. Found 'im gettin' on that stage and begged 'im ta come home. That man makes the best roast pork. Couldn't have 'im high-tailin' it outta there," he gave the doctor with a nod. "Next thing I knew he was pointin' at somethin' behind me. Well, I knew what he wanted and it wasn't like I hadn't done it afore just never in front of all them people."
"What was it?" Bob asked.
"A water trough," Joe answered.
"Yep, a water trough," Hoss sighed.
"What did you do?" came Leslie's question
"The only thing I could do – I got in and went under. I weren't sure how long he wanted me ta stay under so I nearly did myself in and when I come up I'd drawn quite a crowd but all I could see was Hop Sing standin' at the end of the trough, arms crossed, a smile slowly gettin' bigger on his face." Hoss grinned to himself then. "He helped me out, waggled his finger at me and reminded me I was gonna havta tell mama what I done not 'im when we got home. And we never spoke on it again. All he'd ever havta do from then on was point ta the trough and I minded what he hadta say. I weren't gonna go through that again."
"Where was Adam through all this?" Bob asked.
Hoss's grin got bigger. "He was standin' right next ta Hop Sing when I come up for air, arms across his chest like he does, givin' me the eye. Well, I thought I was gonna get in trouble all over again. Adam can give as good a tongue lashin' as Pa," he acknowledged with a quick look at his father who merely nodded.
"What'd he do?" Joe asked not ever having heard this part before.
"Well, he waited 'til Hop Sing was done then took a step toward me, slow like he does, and ya know I was about as big as 'im at that point but I felt like I was a little fella again and didn't dare look at 'im. But he said my name and told me to and I did." Hoss stopped then and they all traded glances seeing his grin turn into a loving smile.
"Well?" Joe said. "Don't stop there."
"Come on, Hoss," Leslie urged. "Don't leave us in suspense."
"What did he do?" Bob asked as Hoss looked toward his father.
"He put a hand on my shoulder, gave it a squeeze . . . and thanked me."
"What for?" Joe asked expecting more than that.
Hoss looked over at his little brother. "He thanked me for stickin' up for 'im and beatin' the tar outta Marty Paine 'cause he'd been meanin' ta do that for a few years and he was more than willin' ta take whatever punishment mama dished out ta repay me." It was then Hoss raised his glass and looked at each of the men in turn. "So's this here drink is for my brother, Adam. I don't know what I'd do without 'im."
"Hear, hear," came from the group as Hoss tossed back the whiskey and leveled a gaze at his father.
"Hear, hear," Ben said with a smile.
*The prompt here was a water trough
Nice and light and happy. In a story that usually means something bad's coming. It's like the last 15 minutes of a TV show - everything converges in some mighty explosion with a 5 second epilogue. (That'll be Day 7, Part 2.) I hope you enjoy the calm before the storm. :-D