Three weeks later Elizabeth and Will drove back to Santa Maria for the weekly shopping trip. Elizabeth needed some material for a new dress and for new trousers for her boys, Enrique and Santiago, as well as a pair for her daughter, Pilar. In fact, Pilar went through her pants faster than the boys. That new colt was giving her some trouble and now there were so many patches on her pants, there was hardly any pant material left.
Will needed to drop off some work for the blacksmith, plus one other task he hadn’t told anyone about.
Elizabeth pulled the wagon up in front of the general store.
Will dropped down first, and gave Elizabeth his hand to assist her to the ground.
“I’m very capable to get off the wagon myself, you know,” she said.
Will put her hand on his arm as they strolled toward the front door.
“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t help a lady down from such a height?”
Elizabeth smiled and squeezed his arm. She could feel the muscles gaining shape under her hand. When Will had been brought to the ranch, a wound in his leg and a more significant wound in his shoulder, she wasn’t sure he was going to make it. It wasn’t that the wounds wouldn’t heal. The bullet wound in his leg was a clean shot, it hadn’t hit any bone, so it healed relatively quickly. But the shoulder wound had to be left open for the infection to ooze out. After three weeks, it had stitched up nicely, but that wasn’t Will’s problem.
Like most men, when Will realized he probably would no longer be able to use his right arm again, he had gone into a deep depression. He was a lawman and had lost his young wife just months before, shot by a Mexican gang that done the killing. He had avenged her death but it didn’t help him with her loss. Elizabeth knew revenge was not the panacea that men thought it was. Then with the disability on top of that, robbing Will of a job he loved and did so well, he didn’t see a way out and had tried to kill himself.
Elizabeth knew loss. Roberto had never left her heart, though he had been gone years now when he was killed in 1881. The land that Roberto loved had healed her, so Elizabeth used that land to help Will heal too. And now, with the help of doctors in Boston and New York, Will was starting to the get his arm function back. It was a miracle!
She turned to him before they stepped inside. “I’m proud of you, Will Austin.”
“Where did that come from?” he asked.
“You have been through so much, and you have come through a better man.”
“I hope you’re right, Elizabeth. I’ve got a ways to go, but I hope you’re right.”
He opened the door for her and the bell above the door tinkled, announcing their presence. Mrs. Clarkson stepped in from the back room, followed closely by Oscar.
“Hello, Senora Arroyo, Mr. Austin,” Beverly said with a smile.
“Please, Senora Clarkson, you must call me Elizabeth.”
“If you will call me Beverly,” Elizabeth said reaching out her hand to the woman.
“Hello, Oscar,” Will said, nodding to the young man.
Oscar nodded back, a small grin on his lips.
Will had made a point to come into the store most every time he came into town. He had slowly gotten Oscar to trust him, asking him for assistance when he really didn’t need any. It was the one time that his bum arm came in handy. He used it as an excuse to spend more time with Oscar, who as Beverly had said, was a very nice young man. He had met his step-mother as well, Rosa Ortiz. A sweet woman who treated Oscar as one of her own. But because he wouldn’t speak, he was teased by the older children in town and generally kept to himself. Will knew it would take more time for Oscar to consider him a friend. And he had to get Oscar’s complete trust or his plan wasn’t going to work.
But first, he needed to hear back from the doctor in New York.
Will turned to Elizabeth. “I’ll leave you ladies to the task at hand. You’ll help Senora Arroyo load up her purchases, Oscar?”
Oscar nodded eagerly.
“That’s my man. And next time I’m in town, I’ll teach you how to play chess, like I promised.”
Will looked at Elizabeth. “How do you say chess in Spanish?”
“Ajedrez.”
He turned back to Oscar. “Si, ajedrez.” Then he pointed to his own chest, then to Oscar’s.
A wide grin spread across Oscar’s face.
“Good day, Mrs. Clarkson. Adios, Oscar.”
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