“I do,” he said.

There was a long pause. Jessie squeezed his hand again and tears began to well up in her eyes. “Why did he do this, Henry?”

“I don’t know why people like him do the things they do, Jess.” He squeezed her hand lightly. “What I do know is, he won’t ever be doin’ it again.”

Concerned, Jessie looked up and wiped a tear off her cheek. “Henry, what did you do?”

Henry smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry about that now. He’s still alive, and so are you. That’s all that matters.” He placed his other hand on hers. “He won’t be botherin’ you again. That much I know.” Normally stoic, Jessie broke down and started sobbing.

Except for taking time to do chores, Henry stayed with her the rest of that day and through the night. He heated up a can of chicken noodle soup in the afternoon that he patiently fed her with a spoon. That evening he read to her from one of her favorite books, The Sacketts, by Louis L’Amour, until she drifted off to sleep. As soon as she did, he gently pulled the blanket up to cover her exposed arms, settled into the chair by the bed and fell into a restless sleep until morning.

Henry rushed through his morning chores, gulped down the breakfast of ham and eggs Mrs. Rodriguez made for him, and was back by Jessie’s side before she woke. He spent the day with her, helping with meals, walking her to the bathroom and back, and reading to her at the end of the day. That night after she fell asleep, Henry once more spent the night in the chair next to her bed.

On the third morning, Henry awoke to see Jessie smiling at him from her bed. “Good morning, Henry,” she said quietly.

“Mornin’ Jess.” Henry squinted at the sunlight, and pushed himself to a more upright posture in the chair. “How are you feelin’ today? Can I get you anything?”

“No, Henry.” There was a thankfulness to her voice. “You’re going to need to get back to work today.”

“I’ve been keepin’ up with everything, Jess. You don’t need to worry about that. So, if it’s all the same to you, I guess I’d rather be right here until you’re feelin’ a little better.”

“I appreciate that, Henry. I really do.” Jessie painfully scooted herself into a sitting position. Henry rose from his chair and gently propped one of the pillows up behind her. “But that gray colt isn’t going to train himself.”

“The gray?” Henry seemed surprised. “Boy, you don’t want me messin’ with that colt, Jess. I don’t start ‘em like you do. Chances are better’n average I’d ruin all that you’ve done with him.” He paused, giving it some thought. “No, I think maybe he should wait till you’re feelin’ better.”

“He can’t wait, Henry.” Jessie winced as she repositioned herself. “He needs handling every day. He’s a good boy, and if we keep up with him, he’s going to let us ride him before long.” She stopped to catch her breath, something that seemed terribly difficult for her. “Can you do this for me, Henry…please?”