Free Stay With Me by Beverly Long Page A

night.”
    “Positive. Don’t worry about me. I can wait
with the best of them,” she said, standing on tip-toe to brush a
kiss across Fred’s cheek. “My middle name is Patience.”
    The big man looked a bit startled and then he
smiled. “I like you, Sarah,” he said. “You’re a strange one but I
like you.”
    “I like you, Fred. Thank you for knowing what
it meant when you saw his horse. Thank you for going to get him and
bringing him home. If he…” she swallowed and started over. “When he
wakes tomorrow, he’ll have you to thank for it.”
    Fred moved to stand close to the bed. He
placed his hand on John’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “I’ll see
you tomorrow, John.” He turned toward Sarah. “Good luck,” he
said.
    She needed a miracle but she wouldn’t turn
her nose up at luck.
    After Fred left, Sarah dipped enough boiling
water out of the pan to fill two bowls. Leaving them to cool, she
picked a square tin container off the shelf and opened it. She had
to look through three more before she found what looked like
barley. She dumped a generous portion into the still-boiling pot.
She didn’t intend to waste the water. He’d be hungry when he woke
up.
    She stuck a finger into one of the bowls. Too
hot still. She took the pitcher of water from the table and added
just a bit. She needed hot water to get the dried-on blood off but
she didn’t want to burn him.
    She sat next to him on the bed and set the
bowl on the night table. She examined him, wondering where she
should start. Afraid to look at his head, she concentrated on his
face. He had dirt and blood on one cheek. She dipped her cloth into
the bowl, wrung in out, and carefully dabbed at the dirt. When she
got the grime off, she could see several scratches, as if he might
have been tossed into the sagebrush.
    She dipped her cloth again and moved down to
his neck. Gently, she wiped off the blood that had dripped down the
side of his head. When she ran her cloth across the strong ridge of
his collarbone, he groaned.
    It scared her so that she jerked back,
jarring the bed. He grunted and opened his eyes.
    “Hello,” she said, feeling a bit out of
breath. “How do you feel?”
    He closed his eyes. “Fine,” he said.
    “Right. Just stay still,” she instructed.
    “Trust me on this, Sarah. I’m not going
anywhere,” he said, his voice sounding strained.
    “You’ve got a head injury,” she said.
    “Goddamn horse,” he said.
    She laughed, feeling absolute relief. If he
knew what had happened, he couldn’t be hurt too badly.
    “Did your horse throw you?”
    “Yes,” he said, like he couldn’t quite
believe it. “I haven’t been thrown off a horse since I was
fourteen.”
    “Why today?”
    “Rattler came across the path.”
    “Rattler?” She swallowed hard. “As in
rattlesnake?”
    “One and the same. We’d have been fine but he
had just shed his skin.”
    “I don’t understand,” Sarah said.
    “Rattlers are blind for about twenty-four
hours after they shed their skin. Most days they’ll see a horse or
a man and get the hell out of the way. But when they go blind,
they’ll strike at anything.”
    “Your poor horse,” Sarah said.
    John frowned at her. “It may be a couple days
before I can work up much sympathy for the animal.”
    “He came home. That’s how we knew something
was wrong.”
    “That may save him.”
    Sarah laughed. “At least Morton stayed by
your side.”
    “That’s why he gets to live in the house. By
the way, where’s Fred?” he asked.
    “I sent him home to his children. He’ll be
back in the morning.”
    “What time is it?” John opened his eyes and
tried to turn his head to the window. He groaned with the
effort.
    “It’s probably about eleven,” she said.
    “At night?”
    “Yes.”
    John scratched the sheet with his fingertips,
as if he’d suddenly realized where he was. “Just give me a minute
and I’ll go out to the barn. I just need a minute.”
    “You idiot,” she said,