The Lone Texan. Lass Small

apparently been through a tough time, and you’re not yet ready to do much. This is the perfect place to be—to recover. When you’re up and around, you could come to the clinic. It’s not far, a couple of blocks, and we’ll see what kind of vitamins you might need—or if you need any at all.”

      “I’ll probably go home.”

      Dr. Wilkins said, “Not right away.” And she smiled. “Mina Keeper said if your momma heard of that, she might be upset.”

      The mouth on the white face on the bed smiled just a tad.

      “You are all right as far as I can see now. Are there any reasons you might be fragile?”

      “I...lost a baby.”

      “That takes some getting over. Relax. Sleep. Contact us at the clinic if you need anything at all. Believe me when I tell you, you could not be in a better place, right now. Come to see us in two days, or I can come back then. We’ll be in touch.”

      A big tear leaked out of the side of Ellen’s eye.

      Dr. Jane blotted Ellen’s temple gently. “You’re okay. Call anytime. We’re here for you, too. Of course, we also take care of the horses and cattle and what the dickens else is around and ailing. Once it was a buzzard. I’ve never cottoned to buzzards. Fortunately, one of the male doctors was fascinated. Males are odd. But we do the dogs and cats. We’re stretched. We won’t actually put a human in one of the animal restraints.”

      Ellen’s eyes were filled with unshed tears but she did smile.

      Softly, Dr. Wilkins said, “You are okay.”

      “Thank you.”

      “Sleep for two hours. That’s the limit. Then you’ll sleep tonight—like a log—and tomorrow will be easier. We’ll keep the bottle here until it’s empty. The Keepers can handle intravenous tubes. No problem.” Dr. Wilkins smiled. “I’ll check you later. Rest.”

      Ellen almost smiled. Another tear slid out of the side of her eye.

      The doctor said, “Hah! The intravenous must be filling you up. You’re overflowing!”

      She made Ellen smile but Ellen leaked another tear.

      “No more tears,” the doctor ordered. “Tears upset us.”

      That made Ellen grin widely, but another tear slid out.

      Blotting that casually, the doctor said, “I’ll be back to release you from that gadget. Behave. No dancing. No arguing with these stubborn people around here. Be logical and quiet. I’ll be back.”

      Now...how many times had the doctor said she’d be back? What a pushover she was. She washed her hands, snapped her case together and grinned at her patient as she left.

      One of the male hands sat with Ellen. Drowsily, she wondered what she’d do if she needed to go to the bathroom. She watched the slow drip of the water down the tube and she slowly slid into sleep.

      

      Ellen woke again some two hours later. A woman was standing above her bed. She had on plastic gloves and was removing the almost empty jar that had held the dripping fluid.

      Somewhat wobbly, Ellen asked, “Are you a doctor, too?”

      “Naw. But don’t get scared. We all get training in helping each other out here. The doctors over at the clinic give us lessons so we can help one another if we’re out and about and they can’t get to us right away.”

      “Oh.”

      The woman laughed softly but with a great deal of humor. She asked, “Having a clown treat you’s a shock, huh?”

      That did make Ellen smile. “Yes.”

      “Don’t fret a-tall. We know what we’re doing. We have directions. We are all very careful—because somebody just might have to do the same thing to us, and we want them to be careful! What goes around, comes around. So you might need to help me some time, and I wanna be damned sure I’ve done you just right!” She laughed.

      Even that made Ellen smile.

      How long had it been since she’d smiled? And in this strange day now, she’d smiled several times. Would she come to the time when she could be—normal again? And just thinking that she might, another big tear of emotion slid from the side of her eye.

      “Now, honey, what the hell’s the matter? Did I do something wrong? I’ve—”

      “No, no. I haven’t—laughed—in some time. You see—Well—Things have been—” And she stopped.

      “Never you mind. Everybody has troubles. All we gotta do is look on beyond our own selves. It ain’t easy, but if you can, you can see who all needs help. Then you know no matter what all happens, if you can breathe and eat and eject, you ain’t bad off a-tall.”

      How strange such words sunk into Ellen’s understanding. She had heard variations of such many times, but it was this woman, whom she did not know, who said what Ellen needed to hear and she’d assimilated the words.

      It was only then that Ellen considered herself. She was not healed, as yet, but she was on a better track than that in which she’d been trapped.

      How strange.

      But she lay there wondering why she was still on earth, and her baby was not.

      That caused the tears to leak out again.

      The woman said, “No matter what all’s happened to you, you’re okay. Praise the Lord and accept your role in life.”

      That set Ellen back a notch. She was not a believer at all, and she didn’t like being told that she should accept anything! Her bitterness returned, and she was again hostile to any assistance.

      The woman sighed. “I’ve probably upset you. Everybody tells me to be quiet. I just go right on and talk every damned time, and I always mess it up. I am sorry if I’ve upset you—”

      “You’ve been very kind. Don’t fret.”

      The woman accepted that with a big smile. “You’ll be okay. Everything has its—My God, I’m talking again and I ought to just shut up.”

      “Are you married?”

      “Naw, but I’m susceptible, and I got three kids. Nice kids. They’re independent and sassy and we argue most of the time.”

      “I’d bet they’re darling.”

      “Mostly—strange. A couple of them, I don’t know for sure who’s their daddies.”

      Plural? Daddies? That woman? She must be a very willing—partner.

      Ellen considered the woman. She was so open and easy. But then Ellen considered herself, and her foolish acceptance of a man who really hadn’t wanted her—permanently. He’d only wanted to taste her. No. To use her.

      There was no difference between herself and this woman who was so kindly helping her. As Kipling wrote, “For the Colonel’s Lady an’ Judy O’Grady are sisters under their skins.” Women are women. There is no difference.

      

      With a token tap on the door frame, Mrs. Keeper came into the room. She helped the other woman remove the needle in Ellen’s arm. Mina Keeper smiled and said to Ellen, “You get ice cream. Which kind do you prefer?”

      “I don’t believe I care for any right now.”

      The brawn-armed woman put in, “You get a spoonful You can handle that.”

      Ellen discarded doing anything as she said, “I’ll see.”

      The woman whose name Ellen did not know put in cheerfully to Mrs. Keeper, “That sounds like she’s considering.”

      Mina Keeper told that person, “Well, Ciggie, we’ll