The Unionville Chronicles

Fifteenth Canto

 

It was Will Slaton who found the wounded killer,

A horseman near the end of his ride.

No discovery ever left a lively man stiller

Than of a man needing care a girl would provide.

But help to a stranger has always been a pillar

Of the code that the cowboy promised and tried.

 

Will first turned the black mare in with her kind,

Still adjusting to their new religion.

Then returned to the man still out of his mind, 

brought him water and made his decision.

He went to the door before Twyla could wake and find

The stranger with the compelling incision.

 

At the door we was met by Don De Dolor

Who still thought Will Slaton intrusive.

Together they carried the poor bandit onto the porch floor

Which they thought would be more conducive

To healing, disarming and watching this man so poor

That both faith and fear seemed in his case illusive.

 

With two guns still on his belt and a spur still on one heel,

He looked worse once the Don took off his mask.

“Do you think he’s peligroso?” Don De Dolor appealed.

Will answered “Dunno.  Why don’t you ask?

Or maybe disarm him now before he heals

Or your young daughter takes up the task.”

Upstairs at that moment, young Twyla’s laughter

Peeled as she played “The girl saint and the pope.”

Then she looked out front from her perch, up over the rafter

And came downstairs filled with pity and hope

For the desperate man hovering near the hereafter,

While Will Slaton went out for his leathers and rope.

 

Twyla’s prayers were said and hymns were sung

As she cared for the stranger with no time to lose.

Angels were called and the rosary rung,

Twyla bandaged the cut and compressed the bruise,

And placed a rag soaked with wine on his tongue.

“That’s just what he needed,” said Slaton, “A fuse.”