Ace swung into the lot next to Drury’s Hardware.  He’d promised to check in, and there were only forty lonely dollars left in his wallet.

“I told you. You’re gonna be right popular,” Drury said before he was all the way through the door. 
           
“Is this the fella?”  A plump gray haired woman in a blue flowered dress looked from Ace back to Drury.
           
“Yes, Myrtle.”  Drury’s tone was patient, almost condescending.  Ace guessed Myrtle might be a pill. 
           
She turned back to Ace.  “Can you fix my dishwasher?”
           
“I don’t know.  What’s wrong with it?”  Ace caught Drury smirking, out of sight of Miss Myrtle.
           
“It won’t drain!  And it’s starting to smell to high heaven.  Art said there was a new fella in town could fix anything.  Cheap too!”  Myrtle hooked Ace’s arm.  “I just live three blocks down.  Well?”  She tugged at Ace’s arm and let out an ‘Oooo’ when she felt the corded muscle.  “I’ll fix you some sweet tea.

*

Forty-five minutes later Ace walked back through the door to Drury’s Hardware with ninety new bucks in his wallet and an antique Philco radio on the passenger seat of the pickup, a dusty cast off from Myrtle’s basement, and partial payment.
           
“Beer’s on you at the roadhouse tonight, Art.  We’re still on, right?”
           
Drury laughed.  “My pleasure.  Let me guess, Myrt was the nicest little old lady in the world until you told her how much it would cost, right?”  Ace nodded.  “And then she turned into a bigger haggler than a Saigon street merchant.”  Ace nodded again.  “Not everyone in town’s like that, trust me.”
           
“I don’t mind.”  Ace shrugged.  “I’ve dealt with tougher ones.”
           
Art shuffled some note papers.  “Earl Siloam can’t get his lawnmower back together for the life of him, and Doris Lancaster’s computer won’t start up.”  He handed the notes to Ace.  “The phone numbers are on there.  Just so you know…your competition, such as it is, takes days to get back to people.  You don’t have to rush.”
           
Ace winced.  “I’m gonna need a phone.  I hate to use Annie’s for this stuff.”
           
“You’re welcome to use mine for now.  I’ve got one in the back and a small desk.  And don’t even think about using a cell phone in Ferris’ Bluff.  The mountains make for big dead spots all over hell and gone.”
           
“Appreciate it.”  Ace said.  He hadn’t planned on getting a cell phone anyway, at least not one that he’d use more than once.  A year ago it was a cell phone that got him in all kinds of trouble with some bad people from Tokyo that had long memories.
           
“How’s Tubbs?”  Drury asked.  “Damn, but I ought to get out there to see him.”
           
“Are you on the list?” Ace asked.  
           
“What list?”
           
“Apparently if you’re not on this list you can’t get in to see him except during regular visiting hours.  I don’t know if that goes for everyone or just Tubbs.”
           
“Never heard of such a thing and my Aunt Gerda is out there.  Hell, they love it when anyone visits.”
           
“Maybe it’s just for the Critical Care Ward.  Tubbs is in a pretty bad way.”
           
Drury was about to say something when a young man in a blue business suit came through the door. “Can I use your phone, Dru?”
           
“Sure, Tom.  Anything wrong?”
           
“Damned car died right out front.  Guess I gotta call Pink for a tow see if Sue can come get me.”
           
“Out front?”
           
“Middle a’ the damn street.”
           
“Tom Simone, I’d like you to meet Ace Evans.”
           
“Sure.”  Tom gave a quick handshake, looking over his shoulder out at the street.  “Nice to meetcha’ Ace, but I gotta call Pink.”
           
Drury was having some fun.  “Now Ace here, he’s a master mechanic.  New in town.  Why don’t you let him have a look ‘fore you call Pink.”
           
“Who’s Pink?”  Ace asked.
           
“Local mechanic.  Only game in town and he knows it.  How about it, Tom?”
           
“Please.  C’mon.”  And for the second time in just over an hour Ace was dragged out of Drury’s Hardware on a mission of mercy. 
           
Five minutes later he was back, this time heading into the aisles, asking over his shoulder, “Automotive?”
           
Drury shouted directions. A minute later Ace tossed a carton on the counter on his way back out the door.  Fifteen minutes after that Ace was settling up with Drury for some fuses and a can of injector cleaner with another fifty bucks in his wallet.

*

Mae made Ace go through the whole routine with the license and signing the card again before she called Security to escort him back to the Critical Care Ward for afternoon visiting hours.
           
“You gonna’ be the whole time again?”  Security asked at the door.  Ace nodded.  “Well I got some things to do.  You want to leave early you have Frenchy call the front an’ they page me.  Don’t be wanderin’ round back here, understand?”
           
“No problem.  See you at three-thirty.”
           
Frenchy Pritchard was still in her chair, still reading about Brad and Angelina, but this time Ace got a smile when he came in.  Tremont was nowhere in sight.

*

Ace looked down at his old friend.  Granville Tubbs had always been a big man.  Now it seemed as if someone had let the air out of him.  Ace pulled the smock aside and frowned at the sight of sagging flesh on Tubbs’ arms.  He rubbed the old man’s smooth wrinkled hands feeling for the rock-hard calluses that had always been there.  Always.
           
He knelt down and carefully lifted Tubbs, half-rolled him to the side and wasn’t surprised by what he saw.  Bedsores.  Not bad yet, but it wouldn’t be long. 
           
“What have they done to you, Granny?  Took all the fight out of you?  You got to shake this thing, Granny.  You hear me?  This is Ace talkin’, old man.”
           
Frenchy heard him shift the old man and came over, a concerned look on her face.  Ace was flexing one of Tubbs’ legs at the knee, bending it up and back in a steady rhythm and talking softly while he did. 
           
“You knowin’ Mister Tubbs a long time?”  Frenchy gnawed a painted thumbnail.
           
“He changed my diapers, Frenchy.  Well…once.  Remember that Granny?  The way Ray told the story you two were half-lit and for some reason Ma left me with you two.  I needed changin’ and you slapped Ray out of the way with the back of your hand and said you’d do it, show him how do it up right.  Remember that, Granny?  And then Ray told me you shucked the diaper off and got a good whiff and sprayed used beer all over me and the changing table and the clean diapers and everything.  Ma got home and you guys had me trussed up with electrical tape and a dishtowel, one of her good ones.  Remember that Tubbs?”
           
Frenchy laughed and Ace shifted over to work on the other leg.  Up and down.  Back and forth.  Twist at the hip.
           
“Yeah, I’ve known this old fart all my life.  See, whenever he and my old man were in port old Tubbs would rent some cheap-ass fleabag to sleep in and stay at our house the whole time.  Ma put up with him but she whined the whole time.  I’m a handy guy, you know, real handy, and this old fart taught me everything there is to know about how shit works.  That’s what he always said when he’d show me how to do something.  Arly, watch now, this is how shit works.  Remember that, Granny?”
           
“Thought you name was Ace?”  Frenchy cocked her head to one side.
           
Ace winced.  He’d just screwed up big time.  “Granny here, he used to call me Arly sometimes.  Called me other stuff too, didn’t you big guy?  Called me stupid and clumsy and dick head, and things I can’t even say in mixed company.  You called me all kinds of things, didn’t you, Granny?”
           
Ace gently laid Tubbs’ leg down and started working on his arm, flexing it at the elbow and briskly rubbing at the sagging muscles in his forearm and bicep.  Brisk, like he was trying to start a fire by spinning a stick between his palms.  He was trying to start a fire all right, trying to get some response from the old guy.  Something.  Anything.
           
“So why don’t you do this with these fellas here, Frenchy?  Get a little circulation going and move ‘em around some.”
           
“What you mean?” She crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at Ace.  “Ain’t my job, an’ besides, they told me not to touch these mens.  I’m only a nurse assistant trainee.  I’m supposed t’ be in here mostly fo’ visitin hours an’ call if one a’ the monitors goes off.”
           
“Don’t get your back up.  If it isn’t your job, it isn’t your job.”  Ace moved to the other arm, the one with the IV in it.  He was a lot more careful with that one.  “This assistant nurse trainee job, it pay pretty good?”
           
Frenchy snorted.  “Minimum wage.  No ova’ time and no benefits.  But I ain’t complainin’.”
           
“Tough to get work around here?”  Ace moved up to Tubbs’ head, mindful of the thing in his nose, oxygen he guessed, and gently moved the big man’s head from side to side.
           
“It’s Arkansas, mister.”  She said, as if that explained it.
           
Ace checked his watch.  Security would be there any minute.  “You’ve been watching what I’ve been doing, right?  Flexing his legs and arms.  Rubbing his skin.  Kneading his hands.  I’m not going to be able to make it here one of these mornings or afternoons.  I’ll be here tomorrow for sure.  I want to catch up with that Hot Springs doctor, but if I’m not here at visiting hours if you’ll do what I’ve been doing I’ll pay you twenty dollars a time.  Deal?”
           
Frenchy made a face, scrunched her eyes almost shut and wrapped her arms around herself.  “I don’ know, Mister Ace.”
           
“It’ll help him, Frenchy.  And tell you what.”  Ace dug in his jeans pocket and pulled out two of Myrtle’s twenties.  “You hang onto this on account.  But don’t let Tremont see you doing it, okay?”
           
Frenchy eyed the twenties.  “Jes’ bend his legs and rub him like you was doin’?”
           
“That’s it.  It’s called therapy.  It’s like real nursing.”
           
“An’ you comin’ tomorrow for sure so I can watch how you do it again?”
           
“Absolutely.”
           
“Then I do it.”  The two twenties disappeared in a flicker.
           
Security stuck his head in the door just then and announced, “Time’s up!”  Ace took one last look at Tubbs and said, “See you tomorrow, Master Chief.”

*

Frenchy looked down at Granny Tubbs.  She’d known him almost all her own life too and he’d never had anything but a kind word and a helpin’ hand for her and her moms.  He’d even helped her uncle Rueben with the still, but she wasn’t supposed to be knowin’ about that.  She could bend his arms and rub on him, no problem.  And Mister Ace, he sure seemed like a nice fella.  Paid cash money up front, too.
           
She dug a business card out of her tight pants pocket and thought for a minute.  The fella gave her this card wasn’t near as nice as Mister Ace and had only promised her some money if she’d call.  A hundred bucks.  Big whoop.
           
And Mister Ace said Granny Tubbs called him lots of things, not just Arly.  She dropped the card in the trash.

*

Annie looked disappointed when Ace told her he wouldn’t be there for supper.  He eyed the mound of raw ground beef sitting in the baking dish and said, “Big favor?  If there’s any of that meatloaf left in the fridge, would it be okay to make a sandwich when I get in?  I won’t be too late.”
           
She showed him where she kept the bread, checked that there was plenty of mayo and gave him a key to the back door.
           
“Did you get that prescription filled today?”
           
“No.  But I had to fix Myrtle’s dishwasher and some guy named Tom’s car.  I’ll be better tonight.  It doesn’t happen all the time.”
           
Ace veered over to tousle Val’s hair on his way out the door, earning a small growl, and headed out.  It was the busiest day he could remember having for a long time.  It felt good.

*

Doc Thicksten looked every bit the small town country doctor.  Tall, thin, slightly stooped with oval wire rimmed glasses.  Ace caught up with him just as he was locking his office door and introduced himself.
           
“So you’re in town to see Granville Tubbs?” Doc Thicksten looked away.  “Don’t hold out too much hope, son.”
           
“He’s a tough old bastard.  I looked at his chart but I didn’t understand all of it.  I was the back-up medico in my unit but if it isn’t a cut or a bullet wound I’m pretty lost.”
           
“Granville suffered a series of small strokes. We’re not sure just how many he’s had or how long it’s been going on.”
           
Ace cocked his head. “So he’s a vegetable?”
           
“No.  He feels.  His pupils react to light.  He reacts to pain stimuli.  I think he’s resting.”
           
“A coma?”
           
Doc Thicksten shrugged.  “Some would call it that, but he’s not as deep asleep as a coma.  My opinion anyway.”
           
“Should he be in a hospital?” Ace asked.
           
“Probably, but Tremont won’t spring for a hospital.”
           
Ace scrunched up his face in confusion. “What the hell does Tremont have to do with it?”
           
Doc Thicksten cleared his throat, looked uneasy.  “Granville doesn’t have any insurance.  Any.  Tremont is footing the bill at Shady Oaks.  It has to do with Granville’s estate as I understand it, and I don’t know any more than that.  You’ll have to take that up with Harlan Tremont.”
           
“That might be tough,” Ace confessed.  “I sorta pissed him off this morning.”
           
“Harlan Tremont’s not someone you want to fool with in this town, Mr. Evans.”
           
“Message received, Doc. One last thing.”  Ace dug out his wallet and extracted a dog eared note.  “I’ve got this prescription for some sleeping pills.  Got it a while back and I’m out.  Any chance you could write me a new one?”  If saying ‘please, pretty please’ would have worked, or even begging on his knees, Ace would have done it.
           
Doc Thicksten’s bushy brows arched when he read the scrip.  “Not a chance in hell, Mr. Evans.  Not without a complete physical and maybe even some tests for this one.  This is a powerful drug.  Addictive too.”
           
“I understand.”  Ace looked at the ground, defeated.  He and Thicksten shared a tense uneasy moment.
           
Doc Thicksten cleared his throat again. “Nightmares?”  
           
“Bad ones.  And sweats.  And lashing out sometimes.  I can usually feel them coming on.”  Ace felt like he was begging, making excuses.  He hoped it would work.
           
“Flashbacks?”  Doc Thicksten was looking concernedly over his wire rims.  Ace nodded, still looking down.  “This drug in this strength is usually administered in a hospital for PTSD.  Is that what you’re suffering from?  We’re under a doctor-patient privilege of confidentiality now, Mr. Evans.”
           
“Doc, I’m not a junkie.  I’ve heard PTSD, post traumatic stress and all that, time and time again.  All I know is that these pills help me get a full night’s sleep.  I don’t need them every night, but I need them.  I don’t drink myself unconscious every night, but I could.  It’s not your problem.  I’ll figure something out.”
           
“When was the last time you had this prescription filled?”
           
“Three, almost four months ago.”  The scrip was for thirty pills.
           
Doc Thicksten turned back to his office door with a key in hand.  “Come with me.”  He snatched a prescription pad from his desk and started scribbling.  “Against my better judgment this is for six pills. Six.  And they aren’t as strong as the other scrip.  Maybe you don’t need such a high dose any longer.”
           
“Thanks, Doc.”
           
Thicksten eyed Ace, head cocked, like he was trying to figure something out.
           
“You’re Arly, aren’t you?  Ray’s kid?” 
           
Ace’s ears started roaring.  A gallon of adrenalin jetted into his bloodstream.  What the hell?
           
“You look just like him.” If  Doc Thicksten noticed Ace’s anxiety he kept it to himself.  “I met your father a couple of times.  Spittin’ image, as they say.”  He placed a reassuring hand on Ace’s shoulder.  “I’ve been keeping Granville Tubbs as healthy as I can for twenty years, since he moved back here.  He was born in Ferris’ Bluff, you know.”
           
“Matter of fact I do.”
           
“He talked about you like you were his son.”
           
“In a way I guess I was.”
           
“Well Mr. Evans, see if these pills work and promise you’ll stop in for a once over.  We can do it after hours if you’re more comfortable with that.  Granville talked about you often.  What am I saying?  He talks about you often.  He’s a tough old bird, all right.  Maybe he’ll get past this one too.”
           
“Doc, there’s one thing you need to do.  It’s important, life and death important.”  Ace gripped Thicksten’s arm and squeezed hard.  “Forget you ever heard the name Arly.  Forget you ever heard of Ray Evenson.  And for God’s sake don’t mention it to a soul.  Not a soul.”