Free Forty-Four Caliber Justice by Donald L. Robertson Page B

colonel spoke up, “The gear and horse you had with you are gone, but if you’re talking about the two you stabled, they’re fine, and so is your gear. I sent someone to check on it with the hostler. You’re paid up for quite a while.”
    He didn’t happen to throw my books out of the saddlebags?
    “What books?” the colonel asked.
    I had three books, Clay wrote, Robinson Crusoe, Gulliver’s Travels, and Blackstone’s Commentaries.
    The colonel tossed a surprised glance at the captain, and said, “Who taught you to read such books?”
    Clay wrote , Ma, mainly, but Pa read Blackstone’s to me, when I was older.
    “You liked it?”
    Yes, sir, I did. I like the law, Clay wrote.
    “You can be proud of your parents,” the colonel said. “They were truly bringing you up right. When this is over, I hope you’re able to pursue your education.” the colonel said.
    Thank you. I am proud of my parents, he continued to write. Two more things. What about Hayes and when can I start talking?
    “Hayes is in the wind, I’m afraid,” the colonel said. “Our priority was getting you back to the infirmary as quickly as possible. We’ll keep an eye out for him, but he is gone for now. However, he is now wanted for murder of a member of the military. That will be turned over to the federal marshal, and when caught, Hayes will be tried in a federal court and hanged by a federal hangman.”
    Doctor Dixon spoke up. “Clay, you’ve had some damage to your vocal chords. I can’t tell you how long it will take to heal.”
    Clay felt panic rising in his chest. Would it be possible that he would never be able to speak? How could he go about his life without his voice? How could he communicate? How could he catch the killers? He scribbled quickly: Will my voice return?
    The doctor looked down and then up at him and hesitated. “Clay, I can’t say. There is a lot of swelling in your neck from the injury. To complicate matters, Hayes either struck you in the throat or braced his foot against your throat to pull the knife out. In doing so, he applied quite a bit of pressure to your larynx—sorry, your voice box.”
    I’m only seventeen. Clay could feel pressure building in his ears, and his breathing became rapid. He hadn’t felt this kind of fear since the steer had him cornered in the draw. If he hadn’t shot that steer, both he and Blue would be dead. But this isn’t something I can shoot or whip. This is out of my control. He felt tightness behind his eyes, and his ears started ringing. Wait. Hold on. Remember, Pa said that panic takes away your mind. His heart was beating like a Tonkawa drum.
    “With the swelling,” the doctor continued, “we won’t know anything for a while.”
    Clay scribbled, How long is a while?
    The doctor shook his head. “We just don’t know. It could take a week for your voice to return—or more.”
    I’ve got to get control of myself. Take a deep breath. Pa always said that when you were afraid, a few deep breaths would help calm you down. Clay started breathing deeply. He could feel the panic receding and control returning. The pressure in his head was decreasing.
    “Clay, you have youth going for you. What is needed now is for you to rest. Don’t try to use your voice until I give the okay.
    “Colonel, if you are through, my patient needs his rest.”
    “Yes, yes, of course, Doctor.” The colonel nodded to Clay and started to leave, then turned. “Mr. Barlow, I need that report as soon as you feel up to it.”
    Clay nodded to the colonel’s back as he strode out the door. The ringing in his ears was subsiding.
    “He’s a good man. Strict, but good, and for some reason, he’s taken an interest in you. He was a highly decorated general in the war.”
    Clay was feeling tired. The momentary panic had exhausted him. He could tell that he had little strength. His eyelids were getting heavy.
    The doctor immediately noticed. “You’re tired. Get some rest, and I’ll see you