Free Bohanin's Last Days by Randy D. Smith Page A

softly as he straightened himself.
    â€œI’m full of arthritis. That liniment is about the only thing that will get me moving in the mornings, especially when I’ve slept on the ground.”
    â€œBut, horse liniment? Surely you could find something better than that.”
    Bohanin poured a cup of hot coffee into a tin cup and brought it to her.
    â€œThat’s what Doc Whitehead says. But no matter what he suggests, none of his cures work half as well.” Bohanin fetched his own cup and took a sip by the fire.
    â€œThat is unless you consider this potion.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” Millie asked.
    â€œPure D, plain old Kentucky bust head,” Bohanin said before taking another swallow. “Eight-year-old Kentucky Bourbon. Believe me, it’s better stuff than he normally prescribed in his office.”
    â€œIt’s certainly better than horse liniment,” she said examining the bottle.
    â€œActually, no. One doesn’t seem to really work very well without the other. If there was a way I could patent the combination, I believe I would have found my fortune.”
    â€œI believe I’ll stick to coffee.”
    â€œYou do that, little lady. But thirty years from now, you remember this cure. It may come in handy when your joints are stiff and sore and I’m a resting in my grave.”
    â€œI don’t like the thought of that much. You in your grave.”
    â€œMy, we’re serious this time of the morning. The only thing worse than dying old, is dying young. Take that pan of water over there by the buggy and go off to do your morning chores. When you return, I’ll have some fresh fried bacon ready for you to start the day.”
    â€œCaptain Bohanin. You’re embarrassing me,” Millie said.
    â€œDon’t be. We’ll be together for at least three more days. False modesty and fear of improprieties will only cause you discomfort. I ain’t going to worry about telling you when I need some privacy and I don’t want you concerning yourself about it either.”
    After their breakfast, they gathered up camp and hitched the mare. Within a mile they had fully resumed their conversation, laughing and joking, telling stories, and sharing the scenery.
    Starbuck had given up on Nobel. It was just as well. Doing the job himself suited him just fine. He wanted to take his time with the woman. Nobel would only cause problems.
    Starbuck kept his horse near the arroyos and gullies a mile behind the buggy. Bohanin and the woman were easy enough to track.
    They made good progress. It was cool and the mare seemed in excellent form. A two hour rest at noon went smoothly and, toward evening, Bohanin reckoned that they had made over twenty miles. They camped in the breaks of an old river wash with rock ledges on three sides of them. It was much more pleasant than the open plains. Millie grew quiet as evening neared. During their meal she hardly spoke at all.
    â€œSomething troubling you?” Bohanin asked.
    â€œIt’s nothing really, Captain. Probably just a change in chemistry. You know, from the baby and all,” she said.
    â€œNo, I guess I wouldn’t. I’ve little experience in such doings. Is there anything that I can do?”
    â€œYes there is. Would you mind very much just holding me, in your arms.”
    Bohanin was surprised.
    â€œOh heavens, Captain. You’re the perfect gentleman. I hardly think that I’m in any danger. It would be nice, especially tonight.”
    Bohanin placed his arm about her shoulder.
    Millie sobbed as she placed her head upon his shoulder.
    â€œI’ve made such a mess of things. First, I get involved with Logan Bochart and now you. Captain Bohanin, you are the kindest man I’ve ever known. You worry about my comfort, cook my food, tell me stories, haul me across Colorado, and even have a pan of water prepared for me in the morning. I’ve never met another man quite like you.