Chapter 30

 

     Heath got to the post office long before Abraham the next morning.  In the tiny town of Heaven the postmaster also served as the telegraph operator.  It came as no surprise to Heath that this person was none other than Tess.

 

     Through convoluted channels that traveled from east, to south, to north, to west, Heath sent a wire to the head teller in Stockton.  The young woman was the bank president’s daughter and the only female he employed.  Heath had dated Laura Doyle on a number of occasions, and though both had mutually agreed a marriage between them wasn’t in their future, they remained good friends.  Heath knew he could count on the woman to keep his confidence.  When Jake Sheridan arrived to pick up the money for the quinine she wouldn’t reveal whose account it had been withdrawn from.

 

     As Tess wrote down Heath’s instructions she peered at him over the Ben Franklin glasses she had perched on the end of her nose.  “If I was a betting woman I’d say you’re not wantin’ Miss Laura Doyle to know where this wire is coming from.”

 

     “What difference does it make?”

     “None to me.  But if you want my opinion it’s a foolish waste of your money to send it to Boston, then to St. Louis, then to Houston, then to Chicago, and finally to Stockton.  Why it’s bouncin’ around more than a ping pong ball hit by Hulk Hogan.”

 

     Heath had no idea what a ping pong ball was, nor who Hulk Hogan was, but he didn’t really care either.  Just another one of Tess’s odd expressions most likely.

 

     “Didn’t ask for your opinion.  And it’s my money, I’ll spend it any way I see fit.”

 

     “Mr. Morgan Lee, you are stubborn, there’s no doubt about that.  But hiding from whatever is your trying to escape will do you no good.”

 

     “It won’t, huh?”

     “No, it won’t.  ‘Cause no matter how far you go, baby, God will always know where you’re at.”

 

     Heath made no reply the woman as he picked his hat up off the counter and walked into the morning sunshine.  Nonetheless, he couldn’t stop his thoughts.

 

     Believe me, Tess, if I’ve learned anything since coming to Heaven, it’s that there’s no hiding from God.         

    

     _________________________________________

    

    

     Burton Hughs and John McClafferty met behind the livery stable after the sun set.  The two men who had tried to prevent Heath from bringing Josie Becker into the church kept their voices low despite the fact that Heaven’s streets were deserted. 

 

     “What’d you drag me all the way out here for?”  McClafferty asked.

 

     Burton peered into the darkness.  When he could detect no movement from anywhere close by he spoke.

 

     “I heard Doc Wallace and that Lee guy talkin’.  Seems Mr. Lee is gonna be meeting a stagecoach out by Miller’s Pass Tuesday afternoon.”

 

     “So?”

     “He’s gonna be picking up a shipment of quinine.”

 

     “Thank God.  Now maybe my girls will have a chance.”

     “Yeah, maybe.  But then again, maybe not.”

 

     “Whatta ya’ mean?”

 

     “You know how Doc Wallace operates; share and share alike.  Well, if you want my opinion someone needs to change that motto of his.”

 

     “Change it?”

     “Look, Johnny, your kids are sick, right?”

 

     “Right.”

 

     “And so are mine.  Right?”

     “Right.”

     “And so are the children of a lot of other law abiding Christian citizens of this town.  But then there’s those like that Becker woman, and them Cooper kids, and the Widow Hawkins, and them Injuns out on the reservation.  You know damn good and well Wallace is gonna insist all them no-good-for-nothin’ yahoos get some of that quinine, too.  And the next thing you know, we’ll be runnin’ low on it again and good people will have died.”

 

     John nodded his head at Burton’s words.  Josie Becker had been an unwed mother at sixteen and had never corrected her sin by marrying her son’s father. Stace Cooper was a bank robber who was serving time in the state penitentiary, and who had no doubt passed his thieving ways onto his eleven children.  The Widow Hawkins wasn’t really a widow at all, but rather a forty-year old single woman who earned her living by inviting men to spend the night in her bed.  And as far as the Indians went on the Paiute Reservation, Burton was correct.  Abraham Wallace was offering them medical care during this epidemic as well.  There was no way John McClafferty was going to stand by and watch his little girls die just so some blood thirsty Injun could be saved.

 

     “So what do we do?”  John asked his friend.

 

     “We let Lee pick up that quinine, but after the stagecoach leaves we arrange a little ambush.  Once we’ve got the medicine we’ll be in charge of who gets it.”  Burton smiled.  “We might even turn ourselves a bit of a profit.”

 

     “How so?”

 

     “Well, once our families are better we can sell what’s left over to those who can pay our price.  And, Johnny old pal, our price just might be kinda high.”

 

     “But what about Doc Wallace and the sheriff?”

 

     “What are ya’, some kinda chicken?    Everyone knows Doc Wallace is as mellow as a little lamb.  The old guy don’t even own a gun.  And the sheriff...come on, Johnny, don’t tell me you’re afraid of a fat old nigger woman.”

 

     John mulled over Burton’s words, then a slow grin spread across his freckled face.  He put an arm around his buddy’s shoulders as they walked back to the church.

 

     “Burton Hughs, I like your style.  I do like your style.”

    

 

Chapter 31

 

 

     On Tuesday afternoon Heath hitched two horses to a wagon at Thurmond’s Livery Stable.  Jasper and Abraham laid a well-padded mattress in the wagon’s bed, then added three blankets.

 

     “This should make the ride less bumpy,” Abraham said. 

 

     Heath glanced into the bed and nodded his approval as he stored a rope under the wagon’s seat.  He knew the quinine bottles would arrive in wooden crates, but how well they’d be packed he couldn’t guess.  The last thing he wanted to do was arrive back in Heaven only to find spilled medicine dotting a trail behind him.

 

     The blond man climbed up on the wagon’s seat.  He’d be making this trip alone.  Abraham was needed at the church and Jasper was needed by his family, as was every able-bodied man in Heaven.  That didn’t bother Heath.  He knew where he was going and besides, Jasper was a bit too talkative for his liking, and Abraham...well Abraham seemed to know his deepest thoughts and feelings without even trying.  Better to be alone than to have the old doctor bombarding him with fatherly advice as though he had that right.

 

     Abraham and Jasper watched until Heath disappeared around the corner at the end of Main Street.  Heath was so lost in his own thoughts that he never felt the slight dip of the wagon’s bed, nor was he aware of the boy who slithered under the blankets.

               

_________________________________________

 

 

     When Heath reached Miller’s Pass he parked the wagon under two trees so the horses could get some relief from the late afternoon sun.  He retrieved a canteen from beneath the wagon’s seat and allowed the horses to drink, then took a long swallow himself.  He choked and grabbed for his gun when a blond head popped up from the bed.

 

     “Hi, Morgan!”

 

     “Randall!  Randall, what the hel...heck are you doing here?”  Heath slid his gun back in the holster and walked around to the side of the wagon.  He held out one arm and lifted the red-faced boy to the ground.

 

     “I came to help you.”

 

     Before Heath would allow the child to speak further he made him drink some water, then led him over to the shade of the trees.  He sat in the sand and pulled Randall down next to him, then made him drink again.  When Heath was satisfied the boy wasn’t overheated he said, “All right.  What’s this about you comin’ to help me?”

     “I had to, Morgan.  I just had to.”

 

     “Why?”

 

     “Because my ma needs that medicine and there’s nothing else I can do for her. Nothing.  Ma’s so sick, and Orra said all I can do now is pray, but I gotta do more than pray, Morgan.  I just got to!”

 

     Heath nodded his understanding.  He knew how helpless the child must be feeling.  And he knew from personal experience when a person felt helpless they sometimes did desperate things in order to appease their conscience whether that was justified or not.

 

     “So just how do you plan on helping me?”

     “I heard Doc Wallace and Mr. Thurmond say you have to be careful so none of the bottles of medicine get broken.  I figured if I ride in the back of the wagon and hang onto the crates we’ll get every one of them bottles back to Heaven without a drop being spilled.”

 

     Heath couldn’t argue with the boy on that point.  As a matter of fact it was good thinking on the eight year old’s part.

 

     “But what about Orra?  Won’t she be wondering where you’re at?”

 

     “Naw. She’ll just think I’m workin’ at the livery.”

 

     “Then what about Mr. Thurmond?”

 

     “Naw.  He’ll just think I’m with my ma and Orra.”

 

     Heath smiled.  “So I guess that means you’ve got it all figured out, huh?”

     “Yep.  I guess that’s what it means.  But you can whip me for this later if you want to, Morgan.  After we get back to Heaven.  If you want to tan my hide you can.”

 

     Heath thought it was strange that Randall was actually volunteering for a whipping.  And that he seemed light hearted about the subject. 

 

     “No.  I don’t plan on doing that.  If your ma thinks punishment is necessary for this stunt then she’ll have to dish it out once she’s well again.”

 

     “Okay.  But you know if you decide you need to do it in her place I understand.  ‘Cause see...” Randall leaned into Heath’s chest and played with the button on the cuff of his shirt.  “Well, it’s kinda like what a father might have to do to his son.  So it would be fine with me if you had to whip me...to teach me a lesson and all.”

 

     Heath placed two fingers under Randall’s chin and forced the boy to make eye contact with him.  Gently he said, “Randall, I’m not your father.”

 

     “I know, but--”

 

     Before the child could finish his sentence a stagecoach thundered over the horizon.  The subject of Randall’s paternity was forgotten as both man and boy jumped to their feet.

    

_________________________________________

    

 

     Heath didn’t know the stagecoach driver for which he was grateful.  And since Jarrod and Nick didn’t hop out of the stage, or come riding up behind it, he knew Laura Doyle kept his secret and hadn’t revealed to Jake who was paying for the quinine.

 

     Four wooden crates were transferred from the stagecoach to Jasper Thurmond’s wagon.  Heath placed the crates on the mattress and packed them together as tight as he could with the aid of the blankets.  He reached for the rope he’d thrown under the wagon’s seat.  When his hand encountered more rope than he thought possible he bent and took a look.  Instead of one rope, there were three. Heath thought a moment then shrugged his shoulders.  Maybe Jasper had added the additional ropes without Heath being aware of it.

 

     Better safe than sorry I guess.

 

     The cowboy took just one rope for the time being and went about securing the crates in place.  When he finished he lifted Randall into the bed.  The boy got on his knees and put his arms around the crates as though he was cradling a baby.

 

     Heath waved his thanks to the stagecoach driver then climbed onto the wagon seat.  He slapped the horses lightly with the reins.  The animals moved forward, keeping a slow and gentle pace as dictated by their driver.

 

     As he headed back toward Heaven Heath would turn around every few minutes to make certain Randall was doing all right.  The perpetual smile on the boy’s face told Heath all he needed to know.  The sun was starting to paint the western sky pale pink, and the oppressive heat of the day beginning to recede when they reached the halfway point.  Heath stopped the wagon to rest the horses and allow Randall to get out and stretch.  He lifted the boy to the ground and once again gave him water. When Randall had his fill Heath watered the horses, then took a drink himself.

 

     Heath smiled as Randall scampered for a large group of boulders far taller and wider than Heath himself with an, “I gotta pee!”  tossed over his shoulder.  The boy disappeared behind the rocks while Heath moved to the wagon’s bed.  He stored the canteen then checked his cargo.  The crates were tightly packed and the rope still secure.  The blond man nodded, satisfied that the quinine would arrive in Heaven unscathed.

 

     The pounding of horses hooves brought Heath’s head up.  He started to reach for his revolver, but stopped when he recognized the riders. 

 

     Wonder what Hughs and McClafferty are doin’ out here?  Doc Wallace must have sent them to meet me and see if I need any help.  Or maybe by now someone noticed Randall was missing and they’re out lookin’ for him.  But why would these two volunteer for the job?  They’ve made it no secret that they think Randall’s nothing but the town bastard, certainly not worth their time or effort. And they’ve hated my guts since the day I carried Josie into the church.

 

     Before Heath had time to further ponder the men’s arrival they were climbing off their horses.  The pair smiled as they approached the cowboy. 

 

     “Howdy, Morgan.”

 

     “Hey there, Mr. Lee.”

 

     “Hughs,” Heath nodded.  “McClafferty.  What brings you two out this way?”

 

     The two men exchanged smiles as Burton spoke.

 

     “Well, see here, Morgan, it’s like this.”  With that the fat man drew his gun.  His partner did the same.

 

     Burton held his left hand out.  “Give me that there fancy revolver nice and slow like.”

 

     Heath’s eyes danced from one man to the other.  Neither one of them was a match for him physically, but of course their ability with their fists made little difference when they had the advantage of holding loaded weapons in their hands.

 

     “Come on, Lee, the revolver!   Now!”

 

     Heath didn’t dare look toward the rocks no more than six feet away that concealed Randall.  He prayed the boy had the good sense to stay hidden.  As Burton jutted his gun toward Heath’s belly the blond man slowly removed from his holster the revolver Jarrod had given him as a birthday gift and handed it to the pudgy man.

 

     “Good,” Hughs praised while sticking the gun in the waistband of his pants.  “That’s real cooperative of you.”

 

     “Look, fellas, if it’s cash you’re lookin’ for you’re plumb outta luck ‘cause I’m not carrying any.”

 

     “Now that’s just too darn bad, ‘cause a little spendin’ money woulda’ sweetened this here deal, but no, Lee, it ain’t exactly cash we’re after,” Burton said.  “Or at least not yet.  Now step away from that wagon.”

 

     “What?”

     “You heard me.  Step away from that wagon.”

 

     “But--”

 

     “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, Mr. Good Samaritan.  You’ve gotta get this medicine back to Heaven.”

 

     “Then if you know that why are you trying to stop me?”

 

     Hughs looked at his accomplice.  “So, Johnny, ya’ think we should fill the man in.”

 

     “Why not?”

 

     “Okay.”  Hughs turned to Heath.  “See, Mr. Lee, it’s like this.  You’re a stranger to Heaven, and me and Johnny here just plain don’t cotton to ya’.  Ya’ don’t understand how things are done in our town and you think you can just ride in and change the rules.  Well, you can’t.  There’s folks who is deserving of this medicine, and there’s folks who ain’t.  And me and Johnny will be the ones who decide who is and who isn’t, not you.”

 

     “At what price?”

 

     “Huh?”

 

     “Price, Hughs.  I asked at what price?”

 

     The robbers exchanged looks that clearly spoke of their shock at Heath’s insight.

 

     “So that’s it?  You plan on taking whatever amount of medicine you need for your own families, then selling the rest to those who can afford to pay whatever outrageous price you set for it, while at the same time keeping it from anyone you deem unworthy of it, or from anyone who can’t afford what you’re demanding.”

 

     Burton smiled.  “I’ll give ya’ this, Mr. Lee, ya’ ain’t no dummy.  And hell, why should we hide our intentions from you anyway.  After all, this is a free country.  The United States of America.  And ‘cause we live in these here United States, The Declaration Of Independence says we can do what we want.”

 

     “I don’t recall The Declaration Of Independence stating that stealing is a legal act.”

 

     “A legal act, huh?  Gosh darn it, Mr. Lee, but don’t you sound like one of them there Boston lawyers.  Yes, sir, you surely do. But since you ain’t my lawyer I don’t give a flyin’ fig about your opinion one way or another.”  Burton waved his gun at Heath.  “Now git.  Git over there by them rocks and sit your butt down.”  Hughs didn’t take his eyes off Heath as he said to his partner, “Git the ropes outta your saddle bags, Johnny.”

 

     Heath didn’t have to be told to know he was going to be hog tied and left in the desert for whatever fates awaited him. 

 

     “You’ll never get away with this,” Heath warned as he walked toward the rocks.  “Someone’s bound to come lookin’ for me.”

 

     Hughs laughed.  “Mr. Lee, you really give yourself too much credit.  You’re a stranger in Heaven, remember?  And we’re in the middle of an epidemic.  Do you honestly think anyone’s got the time to worry about your behind?  Besides, thanks to Johnny’s quick thinkin’ we got that covered.”

 

     “How?”

     “We’re just gonna say we rode out here to meet you, ya’ know, to be helpful like, and all we found was an abandoned wagon loaded down with medicine.  How are me and Johnny supposed to know what happened to ya’?  Maybe you decided to head on back to wherever it was ya’ came from.  Or maybe the law is lookin’ for you so ya’ hightailed it while the gettin’ was good.  Or maybe you ran across some bandits who done ya’ in and hid your body.  Me and Johnny, we got lots of ideas about what might have happened to you.  By the time we finish tellin’ the folks our theories ain’t no one gonna worry about puttin’ out the effort to look for you.”

 

     “It hasn’t crossed your mind that some of your fellow town’s people, like Doctor Wallace for instance, will put two and two together and realize what you and McClafferty had planned all along when you start selling the quinine?”

 

     “I can’t say I’m frettin’ over it if that’s what you’re askin’.  What’s that old coot gonna do about it - have that fat nigger woman sheriff-housekeeper of his arrest me?”

 

     Hughs broke into hysterical laughter at that thought as McClafferty trotted over with the rope.  When the portly man regained control of himself he ordered Heath to turn around and cross his wrists behind his back.  Heath felt the rough horsehair rope against his skin, and out of the corner of his eye saw John walking toward the wagon.  If he had a chance to gain his freedom it would have to be taken now.

 

     Randall Becker’s thoughts mirrored Heath’s as he crept up the back of a boulder.  The boy had just been rebuttoning his pants when Mr. Hughs and Mr. McClafferty arrived.   Mr. Hughs was always so mean to Randall and his mother.  He’s always said nasty things to them whenever he passed them on the street, which was why Randall chose to remain behind the rocks.  He’d let Mr. Hughs and Mr. McClafferty discuss whatever business they needed to with Morgan, then come out after they rode away.  Only they didn’t ride away, and soon Randall realized they were out to cause trouble for not only Morgan, but for everyone in Heaven. 

 

     Randall’s palms were sweating so bad he was afraid he’d lose his grip.  As he stayed in a low crouch like a panther and climbed ever higher he sent up a silent prayer.

 

     Please, God, let me be brave.  Let me be brave like Morgan.

 

     When the boy got to the top of the rock he was eight feet above Burton Hughs.  He saw Mr. Hughs moving to wrap a rope around Morgan’s wrists, and saw that Mr. McClafferty’s back was to them as he walked toward the wagon.

 

     Now’s my chance!  Please, God, please.

 

     Randall let out a blood curdling war cry like he thought an Indian might do as he jumped onto Burton Hughs back.  He covered the fat man’s eyes with his hands and hung on for dear life.

 

     Heath dived for the gun Burton dropped as the man spun around in blind circles.  McClafferty swiveled and pointed his pistol at Heath’s head.  At that moment Heath thought his life was over.  He’d never get to Burton’s gun before a bullet seared a path through his brain.  He saw McClafferty squeeze the trigger, but heard no sound and felt no impact of hot lead.  McClafferty pulled the trigger again and again, but still nothing happened.

 

     Heath scrambled to his feet and rammed his right shoulder into John’s mid-section.  As Heath suspected the man was no match for him when it came to a fistfight.  Three well-placed punches had McClafferty on his knees clutching his stomach.  An upper cut to his jaw left him toppled in the sand, groaning and dazed.

 

     If Heath wasn’t so concerned for Randall’s safety he would have laughed at the spectacle going on behind him.  Burton Hughs flapped his arms in the air like a fat chicken, causing his and McClafferty’s horses to bolt in the direction of Heaven.  The big man cussed and hollered as he turned wild circles while trying to toss Randall from his back.

 

     Just as the man lost his balance Heath was at his side.  He plucked Randall from Burton’s back and set him on his feet.  Like he’d done with McClafferty, Heath quickly incapacitated the doughy Burton Hughs.

 

     Heath retrieved his revolver from Hughs’ waistband and pointed it at the fat man while keeping one eye on McClafferty.

 

     “On your feet, Hughs.  Head for the wagon and be quick about it!”

 

     Burton groaned as he staggered to his feet.  The world was still spinning in crazy circles as he weaved toward the wagon.

 

     Heath kept his attention on his captives as he said, “Randall, pick up that rope Mr. Hughs dropped, then run over to the wagon.  You’ll find more rope underneath the seat.”

 

     “Okay, Morgan!”

 

     The boy scrambled to do what Heath asked of him.  As Heath and Burton came abreast of McClafferty Heath gave him a poke in the stomach with the toe of his right boot.

 

     “Get up, John.”

 

     McClafferty rolled to his knees and cradled his stomach.  He moaned and whined, “I can’t.”

 

     Heath had no sympathy for these two.  “Then crawl,” he ordered.

 

     Randall had to bite back his laughter as he watched Mr. McClafferty crawl to the rear of the wagon.  Heath made Hughs climb in while John McClafferty collapsed face down in the sand.  The blond man took the rope from Randall while handing his gun to his young friend.

 

     “You keep that pointed at these two criminals while I tie ‘em up.  If they make one wrong move, shoot ‘em.”

 

     Randall’s mouth hung open in awe of the responsibility Heath had given him.  He straightened his shoulders and jutted his chest forward while aiming Heath’s revolver at Hughs and McClafferty.

 

     “Yes, sir!  I’ll do that, sir.”

 

     Heath hid his smile while he bound Burton’s hands and feet.  He had no concern about Randall needing to use the gun.  These two out-of-shape shopkeepers weren’t going anywhere.

 

     Once Heath had Hughs trussed up in the back of the wagon he turned his attention to McClafferty.  The man moaned and remained doubled over in the middle as Heath hauled him to his feet. In a minute’s time John was in the same hog-tied condition as his friend. 

 

     Heath dragged both men forward until their bodies rested against the crates of quinine. 

 

     “Well, gentlemen, I didn’t figure on being able to give the medicine quite this secure of a ride, but I sure do appreciate you offerin’ to help like this.”

 

     Hughs spouted a string of expletives at Heath while McClafferty simply groaned.  Heath laughed as he jumped off the back of the wagon.  He allowed Randall to keep his gun while they walked to the wagon’s seat.  He swung the boy up.

 

     “Now, Randall, you sit sideways and keep an eye on those two.  If they do anything fishy--”

 

     “I know.  Shoot ‘em.”

 

     Heath winked at the boy as he climbed up beside him.  “That’s right.  Shoot ‘em.”

 

     Heath used the reins to urge the impatient horses into motion.  With four crates of quinine, one eight-year old boy, and two bumbling robbers in tow, he headed for Heaven.

 

 

Chapter 32

    

 

     It seemed to Heath as though every healthy man, woman, and child was gathered outside Heaven’s church when he reined the horses to a halt.  Questions were shouted from all directions as one by one the citizens took notice of the trussed up Burton Hughs and John McClafferty.  Randall was quickly caught up in the town’s excitement.  Before Heath could stop him the tale of their adventure poured from the eight year old’s mouth.  Everyone listened with rapt attention as the boy told of how he snuck onto the wagon, and how he and Morgan carefully loaded the quinine, and how when they were halfway home Mr. Hughs and Mr. McClafferty showed up and tried to take the quinine for themselves.

 

     “And they were going to sell it,” Randall told his audience. “They were going to use it for their own families, and not give it to some others who need it like my ma just ‘cause they don’t like her, and then they were gonna sell what was left over to whoever could pay their price.  But I jumped on Mr. Hughs back, and Morgan fought Mr. McClafferty.  Mr. McClafferty tried to shoot Morgan, but there wasn’t no bullets in his gun.”

 

     Tess winked at Monica as they stood with Abraham on the very fringe of the crowd.  “That old ‘takin’ the bullets outta of the bad guy’s gun’ trick works every time, Angel Girl.”

 

     “And stowing the extra rope under the wagon seat wasn’t a bad idea either,” Monica said as she and Tess focused back on Randall’s words.

 

     “So Morgan rammed his shoulder into Mr. McClafferty and punched him over and over until Mr. McClafferty was rollin’ in the sand and cryin’ like a baby.  Then Morgan fought Mr. Hughs while I hung onto Mr. Hughs’ back.  By the time it was all over Morgan had both of ‘em tied up in the wagon and I rode home just like this, pointin’ Morgan’s gun right at ‘em.”

 

     With that Heath reached out and carefully slid his gun from Randall’s hands.  He holstered it as animated conversation filled the air.

 

     “Hang those two, that’s what I say!”  One man shouted.

 

     “Hanging’s too good for them!”  Another man cried.  “They were going to keep that medicine from our families!  Medicine that Doc Wallace says Mr. Lee bought with his own money for all of us to use.”

 

     “Tar and feather ‘em, then run ‘em out of town!”  Came another suggestion.

 

     “I know one thing,” a woman declared,  “no quinine should be given to the families of either one of these two scoundrels.  They were going to keep it from us, so now let’s keep it from them!”

 

     A united cry rose from the crowd as everyone shouted their agreement to the woman’s words.

 

     Before Abraham and Tess could intervene to talk sense into the enraged mob Heath rose.  He stood up on the wagon seat so his voice would carry to those surrounding him.  When the crowd quieted he spoke at the volume that was normal for him, just as if he was talking to his family in the Barkley parlor.

 

     “Though I had no intention of Doctor Wallace telling any of you I purchased the quinine, that’s a fact.  I didn’t buy it to be thanked, or to be repaid, or to be called a hero.  I bought it because you need it.  I bought it because you have sick children, husbands, wives, parents, sisters, brothers, and friends.  In order for them to have a chance at getting well quinine is a necessity.  I’m a stranger to Heaven so I don’t know you folks.  How you live, who you are, who your parents are, what good or bad any of you has done means nothing to me. Mr. Hughs and Mr. McClafferty thought they could regulate who received this medicine.  Now you all think you can do the same thing by denying their children use of it.  Well, you can’t.  At least not and live with yourselves a week or two on down the road.  Don’t punish innocent children for the sins of their fathers. Don’t punish Randall’s mother because she doesn’t have a husband.  Don’t punish anyone simply because their ways differ from yours, or because their skin color isn’t the same as yours, or because they don’t speak the same language you do.  That’s not how God wants people in a place called Heaven to conduct themselves.  I reckon since I bought this medicine it’s mine.  And if it’s mine it’s up to me to say how it’s gonna be used.  But I’m not going to do that.  I don’t need it.  I’m not sick, nor do I have a sick wife or children.  Like I said before, I’m just a stranger passin’ through.  It’s up to you folks to decide how this quinine will be distributed.   I hope, for all of your sakes, you make the right choices.”

 

     Heath wasn’t accustomed to public speaking, and as all eyes continued to gaze upon him long after he was done talking he felt his face begin to flush.  In an effort to hide the feeling of self-consciousness that threatened to overwhelm him, Heath jumped from the wagon.  That act caused the crowd to shift its focus as he hoped it would.  While two men untied Heath’s captives and led them to the jail, two others began to unload the quinine.  Heath lifted Randall to the ground.  The boy hugged Heath’s waist for a long moment, then ran into the church to check on his mother.

 

     All Heath could think of was how good it would feel to wash up with cool water, put on a clean shirt, eat whatever meal Tess had waiting for him, and then collapse into bed.  He walked away from the crowd and headed toward Doctor Wallace’s house.  He stopped and turned when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

 

     “That was quite a speech you just gave,” Abraham said.

 

     Heath shrugged.  “Just said what those people needed to hear.  What they do now is up to them.”

 

     “Oh, I have a feeling they’ll do the right thing.  Thanks to you that is.”

     “No need to thank me,” Heath replied as he resumed his journey to the house.

 

     Abraham fell in step beside him.  When they came to the front gate the old man put a hand on it and held it closed, thus preventing Heath from going any farther.

 

     “Heath, whether you think so or not, there is a need to thank you.  As you said, you’re a stranger here.  You don’t owe this town or its people anything.  Yet you spent your own money, and risked your life, to get medicine to them.”

 

     Heath started to speak but Abraham held up an age-spotted hand.  He straightened the shoulders slumped with fatigue and looked the cowboy in the eyes.

 

     “I have a strong feeling that if your father was alive he’d tell you you’re a good man, Heath Barkley.  He’d tell you he’s