General Fiction posted March 18, 2024

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Thank God for Good Samaritans

A chapter in the book Right in the Eye

Right In The Eye, ch 2

by Wayne Fowler

Ch 1B

In the last part Slim was shot off his mountainside gold mine claim, unconscious and left for dead. Ben Persons rescued him. The claim jumpers killed one another.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“What’s yer story, old man?” Ben asked as he prayed not to compound the man’s hurt. Not without great difficulty, Ben managed to get him in the saddle after a quick clean-up and check-over. The accommodating horse allowed Ben to drape him first over his neck, standing still as Ben gained the saddle and then pulling his charge up and into the saddle. Ben managed to fit himself behind the cantle. It was an awkward ordeal made possible only by the horse’s cooperation. Ben thought he’d heard a gunshot, but paid it no mind.

The reins tied to the saddle horn, Ben needed both hands to keep the old man upright, talking to him all the miles to Creede, the Colorado town he’d left just that morning. Ben directed the horse with his knees, allowing him a leisurely pace. Other than probable broken wrists, Ben found no other serious injuries, except his left eye, not sure whether the damage was caused by bullet or rock. Nothing Ben touched, or handled brought a reaction from Slim, the name Ben assigned him. He seemed to be lost to a deep unconsciousness, oblivious to pain or stimuli of any sort.

“You the shooter, or the shootee, old man?” Ben asked, continuing his banter, hoping to get as advanced notice as possible before injuring him further. A rifle’s distant echo preceded his follow-up question. “What’s yer name again? I missed it the first time. You’re a prospector, I know that much. Your knees are worn through and your calloused hands tell the story. Scoundrels wanted your claim, that it? You run from them, jump down the mountain to get away? Or something worse? Tell me your tale. What’s your name, Old Timer?”

Slim heard every word spoken, answering every question, perturbed at having to repeat himself. Pain-free, oblivious to his surroundings, he couldn’t tell whether he was horseback or in a down-filled bed. He saw nothing, and felt nothing, but heard every word spoken, even heard the horse’s snorting and his steel shoes clanking on rocks. Whoever was talking to him was good, a good man. That was the limit of his earthly concern. He felt good: protected and safe. He wished the man would keep talking, even if to repeat himself.

Ben did, arriving in Creede well after all but revelers in the various saloons called it a day and doused their lights. Knowing the town, Ben found the doctor’s house and clinic in the half-moonlight. The door opened before him, the doctor having heard Ben’s commotion.

The next morning, allowing the doctor enough time to get his rest and tend to other patients and such, Ben checked in on who he considered his ward.

“Shot right in the eye. No exit wound. Slug’s still in there. But no one I’ve ever heard of would ever go in after it. Both wrists and one ankle are broken. Some of his cuts needed attention. But he took water and even swallowed a spoon of oatmeal. Seems to be in what we call a coma – more than knocked out, but not dead ... not yet, anyway.”

Anticipating Ben’s question, the doctor continued. “All we can do for him, except for the obvious, is to keep him hydrated and fed as best we can until he comes out of it.” Again anticipating, he added, “Could be the next five minutes, could be never.”

“Could …” Ben began.

“Maybe a day, or two. But his bowels will keep working, and I just don’t have the place, or the help for all that. No, his best chance, assuming he doesn’t come around soon, is the sanitarium in Denver.” Ben was deep in thought at what the doctor offered.

“Look, you check on what the train can do to get him there, and I’ll telegraph the sanitarium. See if they’ll take him.”

Ben thanked the doctor profusely, offering to make it right with him, and then set to his task.

Chapter Two

Sitting in a chair beside Slim’s bed that next afternoon, Ben talked nearly non-stop, not school-girlishly, but fairly constant, perceiving it was a help to the old miner.

“Gonna call you Slim,” Ben said at one point, repeating himself. “No thicker’n one of my legs.”

“Got a last name for him?” the doctor asked, rounding the doorway. “That’s all he needs to get admitted. They said that they were building a new wing and wanted the patient load to justify it to the Board of Directors. They didn’t say all that in the telegram, of course, but that’s the way things work.”

Without a moment’s hesitation Ben offered Goldman as a last name.

“You’re not related. You brought him to me, and you’re going to get him to Denver yourself?”

Ben nodded.

“Well, they want a hundred-dollar deposit. I’ll wire that and we’ll forget about my charges here.”

Ben smiled, sticking out his hand. “Thank you, Doctor. And God bless you.”

“He has, Son, he has.”

+++

The entirety of the trip to Denver, Ben spoke to Slim, pausing to ask questions as if in conversation. Slim was glad for Ben’s attention and help.

“Consarnit Boy! How many times you gonna ask me? And how’d you know my name anyway? Be quiet a minute and I’ll answer you!” Slim knew that he was unconscious, but felt so engaged that he half didn’t understand why people couldn’t hear what he heard in his head – the sound of his voice.

Ben finally dozed off. Slim was as mute as the day he’d been found stuck between the rocks. But he took the opportunity to bring Ben up to date, at least in his head. “I found a little, enough to keep me interested and to have a beer or two every evenin’ at the Yellow Cactus in Cerrillos,” Slim was saying inside himself, half believing Ben might hear him. “That’s down near Mexico, New Mexico, but still in Colorado. I took the Santa Fe Trail and when most everybody else lit north, I went south. Yup. Found a little color the first year out, but just very little. Prob’ly should’ve stayed right there, but I couldn’t. Truth is, I fed myself on the turquoise I brought to town. Found a bluff wall inside a narrow canyon. I prospected for gold, but when I run outta food, well, there was the turquoise. It was on account of LouAnne that I stayed around. Naw, I never took her upstairs. Respected her too much. I really and truly liked that gal. We could talk … well, as long as I had a beer in front of me. And until some buster wanted her. I never waited for her to come down. No sir. I really liked that gal. I knew the hurt in her eyes when at first I waited for her. Only took one time. Her eyes showed her pain. Like she’d just cheated on me, and herself too.

“Yeah. Well, I just couldn’t take it no more. Had a pouch, like I said, but not nearly enough to buy LouAnne outta the Yellow Cactus. She bein’ their main attraction, an’ all. I sold my claim for enough to call myself even an’ follered the crowd north, stoppin’ every little bit to dirty my hands hard rock prospectin’.”

Ben snorted himself awake enough to see Slim as comatose as the rocks that had had him wedged. But for the steady rise and fall of his chest, he would have thought him dead.

“Thought about her every day, I did. Made me pick harder, dig deeper. I thought about the life we might’ve had. The life we’d never have. About the kids we’d never have. Oh, she was sweet. Like honey on a hot biscuit, like syrup on hot cakes, like a smile on a blistery hot day. Oh Lordy. She was my cold drink of water. I tell you, I split her stove wood, helped in her garden, I labored with her givin’ birth an’ helped in the night with our babies. Wasn’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do for her in my dreamin’.

“And I didn’t leave her in her beautiful youth, either. As pretty as she was, the desire of every man ever saw her, she aged same as me. I saw her grow older in my mind an’ dreams as I grew older myself. Still as pretty as a flower, though. As pretty as a flower. I imagined us together all the time.”

Again, Ben opened his eyes to check on Slim who hadn’t even changed the pace of his breathing, though he did swallow a sip from Ben’s canteen.

“Thankee,” Slim thought, almost believing he’d spoken.

+++

“I’ll say my good-bye now,” Ben said to Slim, patting him on the shoulder. Bound for a return trip to Creede the next day, Ben never again saw Slim, though he’d thought of, and prayed for him often.

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Concluding the first chapter in a post of the second seemed the only way to deal with a FanStory quirk regarding split chapters. Don't what I'd do of every chapter was too long for reasonable length posts.

Slim Goldman (Herschell Diddleknopper): miner who Ben Persons rescued in 1886
Ben Persons: young man with a calling from God

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Thank God for Good Samaritans

A chapter in the book Right in the Eye

Right In The Eye, ch 2

by Wayne Fowler

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