Free Joelle's Secret by Gilbert Morris Page A

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    “You’re going to strangle. You can have all you want, but maybe not all at one time. What’s your name?”
    Owen licked his lips again and said, “Majors—Owen Majors.”
    “Well, welcome back to the land of the living. I’m Joe Jones.”
    Owen focused his eyes on the face that was very close to his. It was a youthful face with a stubborn chin and a rough-cut head of auburn hair. Emerging from the unconsciousness, he saw that the hands were brown and the skin was as smooth as a youth’s.
    “I guess I’ve been sick.”
    “I’ll say. Do you remember anything?”
    His memory was returning. “I remember walking in the snow and falling down, trying to get up and couldn’t make it.”
    “I found you out there. It’s a good thing I did. The temperature dropped to ten below that night.”
    Owen said, “Could I have some more of that water?”
    “Yes.” Owen waited until the young man called Joe Jones returned with more water. He drank it all and then said, “How’d you get me in here?”
    “A friend of mine helped carry you. The doctor came, and he said you’d either live or you’d die, but I’m glad you made it.”
    The smells of straw, horse manure, and leather were strong. He looked around and said, “I don’t guess I know where I am.”
    “This is Ben Phillips’s livery stable. I live here and take care of it for him. Are you hungry?”
    Suddenly Majors realized that he was indeed famished. “Yes,” he said, his voice almost breaking, “I am.”
    “I don’t think you’d better try to eat anything too hard. You ain’t had much to eat in four days, but I’ll get you something.”
    Owen lay his head back on a rough pillow and watched as Jones quickly moved back to the stove. He emptied the skillet into a plate, and Owen saw that he had been frying bacon. He took some eggs out of a bucket, cracked one of them, and dumped it in the bacon grease. He stirred it with a fork and then dumped it into a small bowl. He put salt and a little pepper on it and then came over and said, “Here, you start on this, and I got some biscuits I just made. You think you could eat one?”
    “I could eat anything.”
    “Don’t eat too fast,” Joelle said.
    “All right.” He ate slowly, forcing himself to chew each bite, and by the time he had finished, Joelle brought biscuits smeared with butter. “Here. Can you eat another egg?”
    “At least. Maybe two more.”
    “We’ll start out with little bits at a time. I’ll make you one more, and then maybe in an hour we’ll see.”
    Majors ate slowly, and Joelle filled a glass. “Got some fresh milk here to wash it down with.”
    “Thanks.” Owen took the glass and drank thirstily. “I’ve never been so hungry in all my life.”
    “Well, I guess not. Doc Crandell thought you were going to die.”
    “I been here four days? I don’t remember any of that.”
    “You had fever. It was pretty bad. Dr. Crandell came and looked after you some.”
    Joelle watched as he ate the last of his egg and began slowly eating on a biscuit. “You want me to put some jelly on that?”
    “Yes.”
    “I got blackberry.”
    “That sounds good.”
    She spread a layer of blackberry jelly on each biscuit. “You chew that up good now. Your stomach is probably pretty tender.”
    Majors ate slowly, and when he had finished, he drank the rest of the milk. “That was good,” he said. “I’m beholden to you.”
    “Sure.”
    Owen was thinking more clearly now, and he studied Jones carefully. “Why are you doing all this for me, Joe?”
    “Well, somebody had to do it.”
    “Not always.” He tried to get up, but Joelle pushed him back. “You’re not going anywhere. Where are you from, Owen?”
    For a moment Owen hesitated, but this young fellow deserved well of him. “Well, originally from Kentucky, but I moved away from there and went west a long time ago. Lately I’ve been a guest in the pen.”
    Owen saw Joelle’s eyes widen. “The penitentiary, you