something to serve as a tray, but could find nothing. The kitchen was in need not only of a good cleaning,
but of decent dishes as well as cooking pots, She placed the bowl on a tin plate, handed the milk to Herb and followed him
out of the kitchen.
In the upper hall Herb stopped and spoke to Jane.
“Ma’am, I wish ya wouldn’t go in. I ain’t wantin’ ya to see Doc like this. He’s a good man. He just can’t forget ‘bout all
them arms and legs he took off during the war and all them that died ‘cause he didn’t have time to help ‘em. He ain’t never
been like this before. He’s sick, too. And scared.”
“Drink has ruined many good men.”
“But… it stinks in there.”
“No worse than what I’ve smelled before.”
Herb’s shoulders slumped in resignation and he opened the door.
Jane noticed the odor first. Her next impression was that the room was sparsely furnished: a narrow bed, a chair and a washstand.
The morning light coming in the curtainless window revealed a startling sight. A man, who appeared to be not much larger than
a child and who was spidery thin, lay on his back. A cloth rope bound his skinny ankles to the end of the wrought-iron bedstead
and a wide cloth, reaching from his knees to his chest, was stretched tightly and tucked beneath the mattress on each side
of the bed.
“What in the world!”
“I had to, ma’am. He’d get up an’ hurt hisself.”
“You sonofabitch!” The feverish sunken eyes glared up at Herb. “I despise the day I kept that outlaw from killing you.”
“Doc… it’s for yore own good—”
“If you had a ounce a gratitude for what I’ve done for you, you’d not have taken my whiskey.” The weak, raspy voice rose to
a screech. “What’s this slut doin’ here? I don’t need a whore. Get her outta here! And get me my whiskey!”
“Hush up that kind a talk, Doc.” Herb said sharply. “Miss Jane’s brought ya some breakfast.”
“My guts are on fire and you bring me a prissy-ass woman with…
breakfast!
You stupid, backwoods bastard! Get my bottle or, by holy hell, I’ll cut off your damned pecker when I get up from here!”
Herb winced. The doctor’s cruel words hurt. Jane set the bowl of gruel on the washstand and took the cup of milk from Herb’s
hand.
“Go on downstairs,” she said, ignoring the man on the bed, then added when she turned to look down at him, “I’ll see to it
that he eats.”
“You’ll do nothing, you pig-ugly old spinster!”
“Doc! For God’s sake! Ma’am, he don’t mean it.”
“I know. He’s lashing out like a spoiled little boy. Go eat your breakfast.”
“Get… her out… of here.” The doctor coughed, leaned over the edge of the bed and spit on the floor. He made no attempt to
use the can beside the bed. Jane saw flicks of blood in the spittle and on his lips.
She shoved Herb gently out the door, but left it open. Then she went to the window, raised it and propped it up with a stick
that lay on the sill.
“Herb!” The doctor tried to shout but his voice was weak. “Get back in here, you sorry piece a horseshit!”
“Phew!” Jane waved her hand before her nose. “It smells like a privy in here.”
“It is a privy, you stupid whore! Touch me and I’ll piss all over you.”
At that Jane turned on him.
“Keep a civil tongue in your head or I’ll slap you so hard your teeth will rattle.” Her face was rigid with impatience and
anger.
“You do and I’ll spit in your face.”
“You’re a poor excuse for a human being, lying there wallowing in self-pity. Look at yourself; a whiskey-soaked sot wasting
the brains and talent God gave you.”
“I don’t need a nasty-nice little heifer telling me what I am. If you’re so much why’d you have to come to this godforsaken
place to get a man? I know why T.C. sent out that bill wanting women to
work.”
“So do I… now. But bear this in mind, Doctor, I’m on my feet and you’re not.
but of decent dishes as well as cooking pots, She placed the bowl on a tin plate, handed the milk to Herb and followed him
out of the kitchen.
In the upper hall Herb stopped and spoke to Jane.
“Ma’am, I wish ya wouldn’t go in. I ain’t wantin’ ya to see Doc like this. He’s a good man. He just can’t forget ‘bout all
them arms and legs he took off during the war and all them that died ‘cause he didn’t have time to help ‘em. He ain’t never
been like this before. He’s sick, too. And scared.”
“Drink has ruined many good men.”
“But… it stinks in there.”
“No worse than what I’ve smelled before.”
Herb’s shoulders slumped in resignation and he opened the door.
Jane noticed the odor first. Her next impression was that the room was sparsely furnished: a narrow bed, a chair and a washstand.
The morning light coming in the curtainless window revealed a startling sight. A man, who appeared to be not much larger than
a child and who was spidery thin, lay on his back. A cloth rope bound his skinny ankles to the end of the wrought-iron bedstead
and a wide cloth, reaching from his knees to his chest, was stretched tightly and tucked beneath the mattress on each side
of the bed.
“What in the world!”
“I had to, ma’am. He’d get up an’ hurt hisself.”
“You sonofabitch!” The feverish sunken eyes glared up at Herb. “I despise the day I kept that outlaw from killing you.”
“Doc… it’s for yore own good—”
“If you had a ounce a gratitude for what I’ve done for you, you’d not have taken my whiskey.” The weak, raspy voice rose to
a screech. “What’s this slut doin’ here? I don’t need a whore. Get her outta here! And get me my whiskey!”
“Hush up that kind a talk, Doc.” Herb said sharply. “Miss Jane’s brought ya some breakfast.”
“My guts are on fire and you bring me a prissy-ass woman with…
breakfast!
You stupid, backwoods bastard! Get my bottle or, by holy hell, I’ll cut off your damned pecker when I get up from here!”
Herb winced. The doctor’s cruel words hurt. Jane set the bowl of gruel on the washstand and took the cup of milk from Herb’s
hand.
“Go on downstairs,” she said, ignoring the man on the bed, then added when she turned to look down at him, “I’ll see to it
that he eats.”
“You’ll do nothing, you pig-ugly old spinster!”
“Doc! For God’s sake! Ma’am, he don’t mean it.”
“I know. He’s lashing out like a spoiled little boy. Go eat your breakfast.”
“Get… her out… of here.” The doctor coughed, leaned over the edge of the bed and spit on the floor. He made no attempt to
use the can beside the bed. Jane saw flicks of blood in the spittle and on his lips.
She shoved Herb gently out the door, but left it open. Then she went to the window, raised it and propped it up with a stick
that lay on the sill.
“Herb!” The doctor tried to shout but his voice was weak. “Get back in here, you sorry piece a horseshit!”
“Phew!” Jane waved her hand before her nose. “It smells like a privy in here.”
“It is a privy, you stupid whore! Touch me and I’ll piss all over you.”
At that Jane turned on him.
“Keep a civil tongue in your head or I’ll slap you so hard your teeth will rattle.” Her face was rigid with impatience and
anger.
“You do and I’ll spit in your face.”
“You’re a poor excuse for a human being, lying there wallowing in self-pity. Look at yourself; a whiskey-soaked sot wasting
the brains and talent God gave you.”
“I don’t need a nasty-nice little heifer telling me what I am. If you’re so much why’d you have to come to this godforsaken
place to get a man? I know why T.C. sent out that bill wanting women to
work.”
“So do I… now. But bear this in mind, Doctor, I’m on my feet and you’re not.
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