Convalescence

‘Don’t worry about Miss Houston, she’s doing well. Another week’s rest and she’ll be as good as new.’

‘Thanks Doc, how much do I owe you?’

‘Fifty cents. A word of warning you can have for free; next time you punch someone, don’t hit them in the teeth. You’re lucky you haven’t got a serious infection in that cut.’

A good measure of stinging liniment and a clean bandage meant I came out of Doc’s place feeling a whole lot better than when I went in, and not just because my hand was pain free. Housty was improving all the time, even if she wasn’t up to visitors yet. With that in mind I shelved plans to call on her that afternoon and wandered down to The Parlor instead.

Some things have to be done the hard way or they don’t get done at all, Cordelia said, when I told her where I’d been this past week. I reckon she ought to know. Well, I ended up staying the night and most of the next day, and I only left then ‘cause I was ready for a drink. Well deserved too I reckon, after all I’ve been through lately.