Doc Hawthorn nods slowly, eyes focused and intent on his young guest. You can see the doctor's edge to his steady gaze: invasive; unfaltering; thorough; and deep. He's taking in every feature of 'Jay' now, for the first time, as if preparing a diagnosis.
"Reckon Samuel could do to give him some work, love," Millicent murmurs, as she starts to gather empty plates.
"Yeah," Doc agrees, scratching his cheek absently.
There's a moment's careful consideration.
"Tell you what. Good friend of mine lives up Heyser way, 'bout five miles northeasterly, outta town. Now, I don't know if he's lookin' for workers, this late in the year, but--"
He shrugs gently, leaning back in to polish off his plate before Millicent can do away with it.
"He's a good man, always has room in his bunks for good workers. Pays 'em fair, plus three square and a good clean bed. Lotta horse work, goats and pigs, some fowl. Few crops, too."
no subject
"Reckon Samuel could do to give him some work, love," Millicent murmurs, as she starts to gather empty plates.
"Yeah," Doc agrees, scratching his cheek absently.
There's a moment's careful consideration.
"Tell you what. Good friend of mine lives up Heyser way, 'bout five miles northeasterly, outta town. Now, I don't know if he's lookin' for workers, this late in the year, but--"
He shrugs gently, leaning back in to polish off his plate before Millicent can do away with it.
"He's a good man, always has room in his bunks for good workers. Pays 'em fair, plus three square and a good clean bed. Lotta horse work, goats and pigs, some fowl. Few crops, too."