Farmer's Daughter
Chapter 4
"Hmm hmm hmm-cle be unbroken, by and by Lord, by and - Oh! Well, look who's awake!"
Lizbeth had just finished changing the dressing on the man's head wound, which had ended up being more bark than bite - needing only four stitches to close - when she looked at his face, realizing that he was looking right back.
With a smile, she pushed a lock of blonde hair from his face, grinning broadly at him. "Well, Hi! Ooh - don't try to move Sweetie," she began as the man tried to shift his position. "You've got some broken ribs and more bruises'n I can count."
"Wh- *ahem* where am I?" the man asked slowly, his voice dry and cracking. His throat felt like someone had sliced it to shreds from the inside, poured gasoline down it, and set it aflame. He'd swear that he could taste 'dirt? Is that dirt?!' he thought to himself, yet was unable to explain why her had a dirt taste in his mouth.
Lizbeth reached over, filling a glass with water; and, placing a straw in the glass, she held it to his lips so he could quench his thirst.
His sigh of sheer pleasure came out sounding like a guttural moan. He didn't care. All he knew was this water was the best damn sweetest-tasting water he'd ever had in his entire life and he couldn't get enough.
"All right Hon. I'm gonna go downstairs and get some more water for you. Okay?"
The man nodded and managed to garble out a croaky "thank you" as Lizbeth made her way out of the room.
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"Yeah, Mike, just now. I'm getting him more water. Clear broth? Nothing else? Well, ohhhh, yeah that does make sense. I can't see my Bill looking forward to helping the man to the bathroom to begin with. You're right. Ok, I'll see you when you get here. Bye now."
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A pair of perfectly round, cornflower blue eyes peeked around the door as the man looked about the room. He noticed the quaint country style, from the Shaker desk and chair, to the patchwork quilt across the bed. He noticed then how his feet dangled off the edge by a good foot-and-a-half and he figured that he was probably in a child's room. Noticing the toy rifle and army men on top of the toybox, he nodded to himself "boy's room."
It was then that he noticed he wasn't alone and a warm smile alighted his face as he made eye contact with Donna Jo.
"Hi." he warbled.
He chuckled to himself as he heard her gasp aloud and tear down the hallway and down the steps. From somewhere downstairs, he could hear a door slam.
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"He's awake?" Bill asked, as he came in from the evening chores.
"Yeah, Love. He woke up a few minutes ago."
"Well, who is he?"
"I don't rightly know yet. He just woke up."
"Did you see all those tattoos?" he asked, accusation and judgment in his voice.
"Judge not, William, lest ye be judged." Lizzie preached. Hearing Bill's sigh of resignation, she continued, "He's hurt Bill. Real bad. Let's be the good Christians the Lord wants us to be and give him whatever aid we can."
"I'll try; but, if he makes one move towards --"
"Bill. He's gonna have a hard time moving to begin with. I don't see him causing any trouble any time soon."
"Well, I'll keep my eye on him."
"I'm sure you will, Sweetheart. I'm sure you will. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to bring him up this water. He's drier than a dust storm."
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" ... and we've got over 2,000 acres and I help my Pa farm it and tend to the animals and I'm gonna be just like him when I grow up and there's me and Ma and Pa and Donna Jo and Amanda Grace."
"Billy ... enough chatter. Chores. Let this man get his rest. You can talk his ear off tomorrow."
Lizzie ruffled his hair as Billy rose to leave the room.
With a wave and a "Bye, Mister." Billy was gone ... for the time being.
"I'm sorry if he bothered you." she offered, holding another glass of water to the man's lips.
"It's ... okay ... Good ... kid." the man said in between sips. By the time he'd finished his 4th glass of water, Nature began to call and he groaned as he shifted uncomfortably in bed.
"Oh - lemme get my husband. He can take you down the hall. Bill! Oh! Never mind Bill! Hi Mike. Can you help our friend here down the hall?"
"Surely. Hi there." he said, extending his hand to the man. "I'm Mike Jenkins. You can call me Doc, Mike, whatever. Let's get you up and, if you can help it, limit your fluid intake for the first few days. We don't want you re-breaking your ribs."
They made their way to the bathroom and back without incident; although, the man grimaced with every step and breath.
Once he got back into the bed, Doc Jenkins examined him, pleased that there were no signs of infection.
"Do you remember how you ended up out in the field?"
"No." he replied, shaking his head.
"What's the last thing you DO remember?"
The man stopped for a moment, his brows furrowing in concentration. His eyes widened in fear as he turned to Doc and Lizzie to answer.
"Nothing. I don't remember anything."
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