Tired of Bein’ Sick
By Penski
Another story with the boys giving up on amnesty and disappearing in Jackson, California – a saga I started with an Advent story. Hannibal Heyes is now Sam Anderson and Kid Curry is Joe Barton.
Joe Barton hurried to the stable where he coughed deep, hard, and long.
Sam Anderson yelled from the cabin door. “Joe! Joe, are you out there?”
Joe wiped his mouth and took a breath. When he didn’t cough, he answered, “Be right there.” His voice more raspy than he hoped. And then the coughing started again.
Sam stood in the stable entrance, his hands on his hips. “How long have you been sick?”
“I’m…” cough, cough, cough “...okay.” A longer, deeper cough took over, stopping any further conversation.
“Sure, you are. I can hear that.” Sam took sympathy on his partner, walked over, and put a supportive hand on Joe’s back, waiting out the coughing fit.
When there was a moment of silence, Sam asked, “You okay?”
Joe just nodded, not wanting to talk and risk starting a bout of coughing again.
“Let’s get you back in the house where it’s warmer.”
After another round of coughing racked his body with pain, Joe nodded and let himself be led back into the warmth.
Sam led him to one of two chairs by the fire and threw in another log. “Need a drink?”
Warming his fingers by the fire, Joe nodded.
“Something hot? Some cool water? Whiskey?” Sam offered.
“Whiskey,” came a whisper. “Water, too.”
Sam poured a large cup of water and two smaller ones of whiskey. “Here you go.” He handed him the whiskey and put the water on a table between them.
Joe sipped and sighed.
Sam sat down and watched his partner. “So, how long have been sick?”
Joe whispered, “Few days.”
“You went into the barn to cough instead of the house.” It was a statement but still got a nod.
Sam swirled his amber liquid and took a sip. “Why didn’t you want me to know?”
Joe shrugged, then whispered, “Tired of bein’ sick this time of year.” His eyes were heavy.
Sam shook his head. “So, you risked getting sicker than letting me know.” He stood. “Let’s get you to bed. All that coughing must’ve made you tired.” He felt Joe’s forehead. “Probably just a low fever.”
Sam pulled Joe up to his feet and led the reluctant man to the bedroom. He quickly pulled back the bedding and gently pushed Joe down. Kneeling, Sam pulled off the boots and unbuttoned the shirt. “You’re gonna have to help by unbuckling your belt and unbuttoning your pants.”
When he noticed Joe’s fingers moving, Sam went to a trunk and pulled out extra pillows and quilts. He fluffed up the pillows and laid the quilt at the bottom on the bed.
Joe managed to stand long enough to remove his pants, then slumped down into the pillows so he was half-sitting up. He immediately started coughing and leaned forward with his hands crossed against his chest and stomach.
Sam hurried to get the glass of water from the other room and offered it to Joe after the coughing spell had finally subsided.
His eyes wet with tears, Joe took a small drink. “Thanks,” he managed to gasp before the hacking cough began again.
“Don’t talk,” Sam cautioned. “Just drink some water when you can.”
Joe finally stopped long enough to take the proffered water and drank a few small sips. Exhausted, he leaned back against the pillows, sighed and closed his eyes.
Sam covered him up, throwing another quilt on him. “Stubborn mule,” he muttered as he put a hand on Joe's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Sam waited until he knew Joe was sleeping. “Got just enough time to make it to town. Buddy, go lay down by Joe,” he told the dog before saddling his horse and heading into town.
He pulled up in front of Emma’s Diner and walked in, removing his hat.
Emma came out from the back when she heard the bell. “Well, howdy Sam. Are you here for dinner? Meeting Joe?”
Sam shook his head. “Joe’s sick.”
“Oh, is it that time of the year already? I can have some chicken soup ready tomorrow by noon for you to take.”
“Thanks, sweetheart. We appreciate you.” Sam put on his hat and opened the door. “See you tomorrow.”
Sam walked his horse over to the doctor’s house. He knocked on the door and the younger man opened the door. “Sam, is everything okay?”
“It’s Joe…”
“I was thinking it was about time for him to get sick again. I can almost figure out by the date on the calendar. Come in and I’ll give you some medicine.” The doctor widened the door, then started walking down the hall as Sam entered and shut the door behind him.
“Same thing, so far? How long has it been?”
“A few days. He was trying to hide it from me, Doctor Piece. Me, his partner!” Sam shook his head in disbelief. “Same deep cough and tiredness. Why does he get it every year at this time?”
“I’m not sure, Sam,” the physician shrugged. “I had a cousin who got bronchitis every year at about the same time. Some folks are just cursed with it.” Doctor Pierce pulled a few bottles out of a cabinet. “I'm sure you know the routine as well as I do, maybe even better, but let's go over it anyway. Make the poultice for his chest,” he instructed. Heat up these herbs and make him breathe in the steam. And this is for the cough. Any fever?”
“Just a low-grade one, so far.”
“Okay, as I said, you should know what to do. I’ll come by soon when I’m visiting in the area. Don’t hesitate to let me know if he gets worse.” He held out a bag.
Sam gathered all the supplies and put them in the proffered bag. “Thanks so much, Doc.”
“You’re welcome. Take care of yourself, too, Sam.”
“I will,” Sam answered as he left. He put the medicine in a saddle bag, mounted his horse and patted the animal on his neck. “One more stop before we can go home.”
Sam rode into the livery. “Harold? Fred?”
Fred came out from the tack room. “Howdy, Sam. How can I help you?”
“Have you been hearing Joe coughing the last few days?”
“Yeah, but he said it was from the dust. Why?”
“He’s sick and will be out for a while until he’s better.”
Fred scratched his head. “Wasn’t he out for a few weeks about this time last year?”
“He sure was.” Sam looked around. “Looks kinda quiet. Think you and Harold can manage?”
“Oh, sure. You take good care of Joe, and we’ll take care of this place for as long as you need. Too bad he gets sick just before Christmas.”
“Yeah, it seems like he always gets sick just before it.” Sam turned. “I need to get back. Don’t hesitate to get me, if you need something.”
“We won’t.”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
The next day, Sam woke up from a restless night of Joe coughing to silence. He glanced over to the next bed and sighed. Getting out of bed, he checked his partner’s forehead.
“Well, your fever sure spiked overnight.”
He threw logs in the fire and stove, then put on a pot of water to heat. With the rest of the cold water, he took a cloth, got it water, and wiped down Joe’s sweat-soaked body.
“Gonna be a long day!” Sam tucked in the covers around Joe and left the room long enough to make some coffee.”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
A few days later, Joe was bent over a steaming pan, coughing, a towel draped over his head.
“Breathe deeper, Joe,” Sam encouraged.
“Tryin’… can’t stop coughin’!” Joe coughed throughout the answer. “How… longer?”
“Hmmm, let me see.” Sam pulled out his pocket watch. “Five more minutes.”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
A week later, Sam brought in a tray with chicken soup and the medicine. “You awake?”
Joe opened an eye. “Yeah, but I sure am tired.”
“That don’t surprise me none. You were up half the night coughing.”
“Sorry!” Joe scooted up a little more and took the tray. “Are you goin’ to work?”
“Nope.” Sam grinned. “I’ll be right back.” He brought in a brown paper package with a red bow. “Merry Christmas!”
“Today’s Christmas?”
Sam nodded.
“How long have I been sick?”
“Over a week.”
“Here!” Joe handed Sam the tray back. “I’m gettin’ up.”
“But…” Sam protested and put out a hand to stop him.
“Sam, it’s Christmas and I ain’t spendin’ it in my drawers in bed.” A coughing spell interrupted him. “I can cough in my clothes in the other room, just as well as in here.”
“Okay.” Sam turned with the tray and gift and left the room. “Stubborn mule.”
“I heard that.” Cough…cough…cough…
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Joe and Sam sat in front of a roaring fire having their dinner and enjoying a brandy.
“Nice. Better than bed,” Joe whispered so he wouldn't cough.
Sam grinned. “Nice having you out here, too.”
“Christmas…” Joe looked downcast. “Didn’t give bonus to Fred and Harold.”
“Done.”
“And Emma, too?”
“Done.”
“You think of everything.”
“I hope so. I used to be pretty good thinking of all the small details.”
“You were and you still are.” Joe took a sip of brandy. “So, what’s with the gift? We don’t usually give each other one.”
“Oh!” Sam got up and retrieved it. He handed it to his partner. “It’s really for both of us but I had it wrapped to look more festive.”
Joe opened the gift and a huge grin lit up his face. “A few cigars and a bottler of Jameson Irish whiskey!” he exclaimed. “We’ll definitely enjoy these. Thanks!”
“You’re welcome. We’ll wait until you’re better to enjoy the cigars.”
The two men raised their glasses in a toast.
“Merry Christmas, Sam!”
“Merry Christmas, Joe!”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
“Joe!” Sam hurried into their cabin and kicked the door shut. “You better be well for New Year’s Eve.”
“I’m over here.” Joe added another piece of wood to the fire.
“You’ll never guess what the Kennedy mine owners bought – fireworks from China!”
“Fireworks? We’ve seen fireworks before on the 4th of July.”
“Yeah, but they bought what they said are some special ones to ring in the new century.” Sam joined Joe by the fire.
“New century – 1900. Imagine that! Who would’ve thought we’d still be alive?”
“True. Our old occupation sure wasn’t known for longevity.” Sam looked over at his friend. “How are you feeling?”
“Still coughin’ but not as much. Didn’t feel like I had to take a nap today.” Joe stoked the fire. “I’m tired of bein’ sick and I’m goin’ to the livery tomorrow.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure,” Joe nodded. “I can always just go for a half day if I get tired.”
“As long as you promise you won’t tire yourself out.” Sam got up. “I brought dinner from Emma’s. I'll scoop it out on a plate for us.”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Sam Anderson and Joe Barton sat in the hayloft opening of the livery with an excellent view of the party below and the fireworks above.
“These fireworks are amazin’! Joe exclaimed. “They light up the entire sky with color!”
“I told you they would be good.” Sam looked concerned. “Are you warm enough?”
“Yep.” Joe tugged the blanket closer. “Glad I was feelin’ good enough to be here for this.”
“Me, too.”
“Three, two, one – HAPPY NEW YEAR!” came the cry from the folks below.
“Happy New Year, Sam!”
“Happy 1900, Joe!”
