Miles found the desperado he had been chasing, or found what was left of him. He was in terrible condition and Miles knew the only hope for him was to get him back to a doctor in Durango. He also felt the pressing need of getting home to help Molly and the others in their traditional Thanksgiving feed to those down and out.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The hostler, who I learned his name was Indian Joe Larkin. He claimed to be part Ute, but I had my doubts on that, said that he had a wagon I could use. Upon being shown the wagon I reckoned it was usable, but Hawk and Two-Bits could not pull it. For one, they were unused to the harness, and second, the size and stride difference of the two animals. Hmpf, talk about unequally yoked.
When I asked Indian Joe about a team, he acquired a wide smile. “I have two mules that’ll pull that wagon easily. Cost you twenty dollars a piece for them.”
I gave him a hard look, I don’t care much for being scammed. He must have taken notice as he changed his tune quickly. “Uh, ten dollars each?” he questioned timidly.
Nodding I reached in my vest pocket for my little pouch and pulled out a single eagle for him. Maybe my conscience grabbed me, for I counted out five silver dollars to give him for the use of his wagon. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to bring it back,” I told him directly.
“Just keep it for me somewhere. I’m not expecting to need it anytime soon. Hay and feed are delivered to me.”
That was Wednesday, it’s now Friday. Indian Joe helped me throw hay into the wagon and I went to the hotel to retrieve my burden. I wrapped him in a couple of blankets and placed him as comfortably as I could in the wagon, not knowing if he would be alive when we arrived in Durango or not.
Doc Jones, who normally helps out in the feed, spent most of the day in surgery on Collins. Edith helped him with the surgery so we lost her help for much of the time. Fortunately Darnelle jumped in to help and Betty, the preacher’s wife worked hard. Mateo and his family also fell into help us. I don’t know if I was imagining, but it seemed that there were twice as many down and out miners as last year. Men who went searching for their El Dorado, who now were living in the dregs. It was late, so I knew the big mining companies already had their lay-off and kept their workers for the winter.
Emelda, with Marta’s niece Lola, kept the food coming from the kitchen. The people had their choice of either venison stew, or chili made from cows that Cecil Thompson had given for the occasion. In fact, several of his hands helped with the preparing of the beef and stayed around to eat. This year it seemed that others from the town joined us, some from the wrong side of town, and even a few from the barrio, not that we minded and it gave Rev. Chapman an opportunity to witness to them.
It was dark and we were in the process of sitting down after cleaning up. We smiled at each other, though it was a tired smile. Marta poured coffee for the Chapmans, myself, Lola, Emelda while Molly was back in the kitchen doing something. Mateo had taken his family home and was making his early rounds. I could hear Molly humming as she came back to us holding a pie in her hands. “For special people a special treat. I kept it hidden during the day.”
She stood over to cut it when Doc Jones came in. Talk about someone looking tired. The Parson jumped up to give his chair to Doc. Marta hurried to the kitchen to fetch a bowl of chili that was still on the stove while I poured him a cup of coffee.
“How is he, Doc?” Molly asked, beating me to my question.
He started shaking his head. “Bad shape…very bad. I had to take the toes off one foot and cut back the heel on the other. Two fingers were removed, and oh, the poor man, one side of his face was severely frozen.”
Taking the spoon he began to eat rapidly. After four or five spoonfuls, he looked up at us watching. “Could you fix a bowl for Edith. I left her over with the patient.”
I watched as Molly cut a big portion of the pie for Doc and Edith, then I asked, “Will he survive?”
Doc sighed heavily. “I don’t know, Miles. I tried to get all the dead flesh from him, but the gangrene was already starting to set in,” he replied wearily.
It became quiet as we watched Doc finish his chili. Marta had a bowl to take to Edith and Molly had wrapped the pie. When Doc stood, he just nodded at us, then he gave a smile, “I’m so very thankful that I have friends like the lot of you.”
Rev. Chapman got up then telling us that he was going over to see the man. He asked if I would see Betty on home.
I knew that Marta, Lola, and Emelda would be going together so I wasn’t worried about them. “Get me a bowl of chili, and wrap up my pie,” I said, looking at Molly. “We can drop them off for Lucas on the way home…