A wise person is stronger than the ten leading citizens of a town!” –Ecclesiastes 7:19 (NLT)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
(I noticed that spellcheck changed the name of Billy Blackhand to Billy Blanchard. Sorry for not noticing it until now.)
Doc took a sip of coffee, then began shaking his head. “That young man must of been a quite a bit of pain. I can’t imagine it, why to think of that bone protruding…my, my, my.”
“I did the best I could, Doc. I didn’t put pressure on it, but covered it; that’s the reason for the tourniquet. I couldn’t figure out another way to stop the bleedin’.”
“You did right, Miles. I’m not questioning that. I just sorta feel sorry for the young man going through all that pain. How’s the other man doing?”
“Shame of it, Doc, most likely they’ll get off,” I replied. “So much anger in both of them.” Then I gave a little shrug. “Blackhand, it’s like he’s two different people. One time I see him he’s very morose and angry, the next time he seems interested in what I’m tellin’ him.”
Molly walked up on our discussion. She keeps saying that she is not going to do much work at the diner, but here she is, almost every day doing something. I stood up to pull out a chair for her, then grabbed a cup and poured it about half full of coffee. “What are you two looking so downcast for?” she asked, then thanked me for the coffee and took a sip. A grimace appeared on her face. “I can see why if it’s about the coffee.”
“Did I hear you say, they might get off? Didn’t they kill those sheepherders?” she asked, trying another sip.
“I talked with Luther yesterday.” Luther was our district attorney. “He said that if there were no one willing to testify that he really couldn’t charge them with anything. I told him that I doubted that I could get the wives to come to Durango to testify, and that Charlie Two-Face really didn’t see the crime.”
“Well, I hate to see boys that young hang,” Molly replied, “but on the other hand I feel bad for the widows and their children.” She glanced at me, then turned to Doc. “Why is it that justice is sometimes hard?”
He scratched at his eyebrow, then the side of his face. “I wonder sometimes the same thing in the medical field.”
“Billy seems interested, at times, and I emphasize that, about Christ. Then he’ll get angry and curse. I did take the Parson to see him, and he threw his supper at him. Wouldn’t talk to him at all. Not thirty minutes after he left, he told me to tell the man of the cloth that he was sorry.”
Molly took a deep breath. “Sounds like something right out of the Bible. You know Miles, that the Spirit of God will either convict a person or enrage him. Sounds like both of these things are happening to this young man.”
“Do you think they’ll go back to Coloraw, if they’re released?” questioned Doc.
Clearing my throat, I answered, “I think that’s part of the problem. I think he kicked them out. I don’t think they measured up to his standards as a warrior.”
“Because they’re half-breeds?” Doc remarked with a puzzled look on his face.
I shook my head, “I think it goes deeper than that. When I confronted them at times, they seemed to cower away, and then put up a front that they were great warriors. No, something happened within the tribe for Coloraw to expel them.”
“Well, you be careful,” urged Molly to which Doc agreed.
Smiling I replied, “I’m always careful, but with that type more so.”
I looked up, to just see out the window a palomino go by. Jumping up I ran to the doorway…