Will dropped the belts that needed repair at the smithy then headed for the post office. Will had expected a reply from Dr. Wilson any day now. Will had met Dr. Wilson on one of his trips to New York to visit Dr. Gabel, the man Dr. Ziroli in Boston had sent him to. Dr. Gabel had more experience with the motion recover method that Dr. Ziroli had started Will on so he had even more insight into movement techniques he was now using to regain more use of his arm. Will had just started an exercise where he used a rope draped over a beam in the horse barn. He would hold both ends of the rope, then use his good left arm to pull up on his bad right arm. As he did this, he was supposed to think purposefully about lifting the right, like he was willing it to raise in the air. He had yet to move the right shoulder on its own, but he could feel the muscles around his shoulder trying to work. He had to be patient.
But his new plan of trying to help Oscar regain his speech had been a good distraction for him, having someone else to focus on other than his own limitations. The young man had a lot of potential but he lacked confidence. Will thought that gaining at least a bit of speech back would be just the thing he needed, and Dr. Wilson was his best shot. And maybe it would even do more.
Dr. Gabel and Dr. Wilson worked together with some people that had trouble making progress with the movement techniques that Dr. Gabel used. Dr. Wilson felt that some limitations were affected by a person thoughts or emotions as much as by any physical injury. He used hypnosis on these patients, to help try and unlock any hidden feelings or trauma that might be affecting their ability to make progress.
Will thought hypnosis was just a parlor trick, but when the doctor had used it on Will, they discovered that although Will didn’t know it, he was holding himself back, thinking that his injury was a punishment for the death of his wife, Mary. Dr. Wilson had met with Will a couple times and helped him understand that sometimes bad things happen to good people. And just because he wasn’t there when the Gomez Gang came to his home, it wasn’t his fault she was dead. He had to accept the reality that she was gone and live the best life he could, for Mary’s sake and his own. Otherwise, the bandits would have taken two lives that day instead of just one.
It took a while for Will to admit the doctor was right, and since then he tried to keep looking forward, looking for ways to move on and help others. That was one of the significant things he missed about being sheriff, his ability to keep the peace, getting rid of the bad apples that always spoiled things for the many good people that were just trying to get by.
It was hard enough to scrap out a living in the West. These families didn’t need the drunks, thieves, and bandits making it any more difficult. It wasn’t any different in Mexico, either, though he had to be more careful down here. Many Mexicans didn’t trust the white man, and for good reason. Many white men thought Mexicans were inferior, just because they didn’t understand their language, even though many of the families had lived on this land for many generations, like Elizabeth’s new family.
Will had written to Dr. Wilson and asked if he’d be willing to come to Santa Maria to work with Oscar. Will told him he would pay for his passage and that he could stay at the Arroyo ranch free of charge. He hadn’t mentioned anything to Elizabeth yet. He had wanted to see if the doctor was even willing to come before he broached the subject, though he had no doubt she would have no objection.
Will stepped inside the post office and up to the counter.
“Hola, Ruez, como estas?”
“Soy bien, Senor Austin, y tu?”
“Bien, Ruez, but please, call me Will,” he said, touching his chest.
Ruez nodded in assent. “Will. Si.”
Will hesitated. He had been working on his Spanish, but it was very simple at this point. He could ask for directions, order a meal or a beer, but he had forgotten how to ask if he had any mail.
Ruez understood right away, and turned to pull a letter out of the multiple slots behind him.
“Una carta,” Ruez said, reminding him of what the Spanish word was for letter.
“Si, una carta,” Will said with a smile, picking up the letter.
“Gracias, Senor. Adios.”
“Adios…Will.”
Will nodded the touched his hat in salute.
The minute Will stepped out of the building, he ripped open the letter. He saw from the outside that it was from Dr. Wilson.
“Hot damn!” he said on reflex after reading what was inside.
The woman who was walking up to the post office stared at Will, obviously offended. Swear words were known to most in both languages.
“Lo siento, so sorry, ma’am,” Will said, doffing his hat and moving out of her way.
Will folded the letter and put it inside his vest pocket.
“Now, how to I bring this up to Elizabeth?”
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