- START -

Eve woke up with the sun, as was her custom. She woke up in her husband's favorite chair, the one she couldn't bear to get rid of, which wasn't her custom. Standing up, feeling her age coming on her in the warming morning, she looked upon her newly aquired patient laying on the bed. A quick feel of his forehead told her he was still alive, and the fever still there, though a little less. She checked the newly done sutures on his shoulders, the even stitches holding well. There was a little weeping around the wound, but the redness that had covered over an inch of skin had lessen, the angry puffiness dying down. The same with the chin, and the color of it as well. She could even say that the palor of the man's face was starting to return to normal.

Next, the widow when from her door to the barn, where she checked upon the horse that came last night. Head against a post, the small horse showed signs of sleeping. Eve filled the trough with food and water. The horse quietly ninnied and nosed the widow's neck. Eve smiled and petted the horses' snout, as it let her scratch behind it's ears. She patted it's side and returned to the house, and built up the wood in the stove, lighting it up with the oil she carried. After a few minutes of burning the wood in the stove, she checked the hot plate, satisfied of the heat, and set upon an iron skillet, added some water and oats, with some wheat. After watching the water boil, and mixing the oats and wheat together, Eve pulled the skillet off the hot plate and set it aside to cool a little. After a minute or so, the widow spooned the food into a wooden bowl, and brought up a chair next to the bed. Taking a copper spoon and mixing the oats and wheat again, Eve sprinkled some water onto the man's face, particularly around his eyes. The man sputtered awake. Coughing, his right hand wiped the water on his face.

"Good morning, sunshine. How are we feeling?" Eve put on her insufferable routine that always worked with the sick. The man just groaned, and winced at the wound under his chin. "Well," the widow smiled, "it's eating time, mister." The gunsliner opened his mouth a little ways, as Eve shoveled some of the gruel into his mouth. He coughed, almost choking on it, and spat it out. He coughed out the rest, clutching on his neck, where the bullet wound was.

"Whoops!" Eve smiled a little at her haste. She forgotten that the wound was on both sides of his chin. The gruel was too hot! She set the porridge down, as the man became more aware of his surroundings. His eyes seemed unfocus, fever still dazing his awareness, but his attention was still good as his eyes roamed around the room, slowly passing onto her. She could see the question in his eyes.

"Hello, sir. My name is Eve. You came upon my house last night on your horse. I hope you don't mind me taking care of you." The man's granite grey eyes blinked, comprehending. He nodded, and his face focosed, concentrating on something. He mumbled something, but Eve saw pain flare up in his eyes. She understood at once. The wound prevented him from talking. Getting up, Eve grabbed an old chalkboard and chalk, handing it to the man. Gratefully, he set the small easel down on his lap, and wrote on it:

-thank you-

This response elicted a small laugh from Eve, as she looked at the easel. The gunslinger looked at her questionly. "If you had come just a few months ago, I might have not been able to understand you." Eve explained.

-why did you help me?-

"Well, for two reasons. One, I just couldn't turn a wounded man from my door. I used to be a nurse in the War between the States, and I guess good will is in good supply here. Two, I'm a good Christian woman, and wouldn't turn down what looked to be a gift from God." Eve tested the gruel again, and foud it to be much cooler. She tried a spoon in the gunslinger's mouth, and he swallowed the stuff, wincing slightly. He wrote something else on the chalk.

-what are you talking about?-

Eve fed him another spoon, which he took gratefully. He didn't wince as much, swallowing easier. That wound under his chin would probably pain him for the rest of his days, she thought. "Well, I think telling you now would be too sudden, I want you to recover first. Something that might take a few days." She saw the gunslinger wince at that. "Let us concentrate on getting better, then we'll talk, sir."

-Patrick- The gunslinger wrote. -my name is Patrick-

- END -

12/22/2003

Author's Note: Explainations: Sutures - Medical term meaning stitches. Pronounced sue-churs weeping - Pus leakage, usually indicating the color as well, in this case, clear. oil - In that date and age, most oil came from whales, which was still prosperous and legal. Distilling oil was only a new process, and octane gas hadn't been invented until the early 1900's. - ...added some water and oats, with some wheat... - Gruel, or watery, tasteless oatmeal. ...chalkboard and chalk... - During this time, writing paper was both rare and expensive, so people ovften used small square chalkboards for writing, learning, and other household things. easel - A small frame holding something, in this case, a chalkboard.

Posted on 12/23/2003
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