Nothing funny at all by the poet

Nothing Funny at All

Chris sat at the back table nursing his drink. His right arm was in a sling and each time he moved it, the pain made him gasp in laughter at the shooting pain that went up his arm. If he kept it still the ache would lessen to a dull throb. Thankfully no one was in the bar at the time, but he knew that once one heard about the incident his reputation as gunslinger would be tarnished for good. Nathan had done a good job bandaging the arm, but explaining it without concerned looks and laughter was a different story all together. He would have rode off into the hills and hid in his shack if he could, but the injury was just to painful and Nathan had told him it would be awkward to ride for a while. At least until the swelling went down and that would take a few days at least. He hated the inactivity and he hated the stares he got when he went down the stairs of Nathan's Clinic.

Thankfully no one had the sense to follow him into the saloon where all he wanted was solitude and a bottle. God in his infinite wisdom and wonder was teaching him patience. If he had only learned it sooner. How many times had his mother said it would be his undoing? He had handled harder jobs before and he knew that he was good with a nail and a hammer. One thing however he could not handle were four legged creatures who would rub against him without notice. No good deed goes unpunished.

He had been in the outskirts of town when he heard a friend of Billy's crying while looking up a the forlorn shape of what appeared to be a kitten. They're so cute when they're little, he thought as the child wailed.

“Come on Timmy that kitten will come down on its own” Chris said as he looked into the boy's eyes.

“But she's too little to be up there and I'm not allowed to climb” the boy replied.

Between the boy's pleas and the kittens cries for help, Chris found himself in an situation that he could not get himself out of. Sure he could have gone back for Vin to climb the tree but he still had his reputation to consider and who was he to say no to a friend of Billy's? No, if he could face any number of people who would draw a gun on him than he could damn well climb a tree and rescue a kitten. Just so long as it wasn't a cat.

He took off his jacket and gun belt. He set aside his hat and remembered why he had climbed trees as a boy. One of the reasons he hated cats was because they had claws. He had picked one up when he was not more than Timmy's age when he found out the hard way that claws had a way of drawing blood. His brothers had made fun of him when he went crying to his mother about how their barn cat had cut him because he picked up a new born kitten and went off to show it to his friend Rafe. The memory of that was enough to make him hesitate. The hesitation caused the limb he was on to weaken. The branch gave way and Chris with none of the aplomb that merited such a man, gave out a wail that sent Nathan his way.

He landed on his humerus. Only there was nothing funny about it. It was so painful as to make him laugh. What was really aggravating was the kitten still sitting in the tree and the boy was oblivious to the pain Chris endured.

He looked up at the kitten in the damn tree and found a stick from the branch he had just broken. Much to the dismay of Nathan he prodded at the kitten with his good arm and heard a meowr from something that had as much lung capacity as a mouse. The kitten landed upright and Timmy held it close in his arms while the mother cat looked warily on. Hoping not to see a repeat performance of what happened to him, he took kitten out of the boys arms and placed her near her mother. She looked at him and purred while grooming the little one beside her.

“That Muzika sure is a good mama to her babies.” Nathan said with a smile as he led Chris to the clinic.

It hurt too much to say much of anything. Nathan retrieved Chris' belongings and smiled. “I got a black sling for you to wear for this occasion” he said as he placed Chris's hat on his head and started to laugh.

Chris gave him a steely eyed glare.

He was sitting in the back of the saloon when he saw Vin coming in. He gave him the same glare.

“Did I ever tell you you were my hero?” he asked with a wicked grin?

The glare remained as he took another sip of whiskey almost daring Vin to say something more. He still had one good arm left.

He then felt the head butt of a cat at his feet and shook his head in defeat. So much for a reputation and so much for a fear of cats. He was hers now and there was no two ways about it. He put his head in his hand and felt the twinge of pain that made him laugh. Damn that hurt!

Finis