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The Alien Sheriff -- Part 5
by James Patrick Cobb

In the previous episode, Arizona rancher Buck Turner is overwhelmed with the amount of work there is to do around the farm while rehabilitating an alien. He resents having him around. He looks forward to the time when the alien will be able to pay him back for all of their labor in his behalf.

Edith, a self-styled doctor and Buck’s wife, finds the alien heals faster than humans usually do.


I’ll admit some of the problems with caring for him were of my own creation, but who expects their wife to turn their home into a hospital?

I didn't make the kitchen large enough. Edith wasn't the only woman who complained: Mmes. Guzmán and Nuńez did as well. Even before we had the cot in there, everyone could have used a little more room to spread out into when they were finished with their meal. I was reminded of my lack of planning two or three times a day, minimum, after and during each meal. Next house I built, I'd do better.

The area seemed large enough when we were building the house. Only after we put in the table, chairs and stove did it get too small. We got used to it before the creature came. Adjusting to still less space between the cot, stove, table and chairs became impossible. Edith said the creature needed to be next to the warmth of the stove. She'd relent and then insist, relent and then insist, unable to make up her mind because she wasn't sure herself. But, despite the inconvenience, he finally stayed.

Preparing dinner took twice as long as it had before. With the cot in there, there wasn't enough room for the women to work. Caleb or Pablo Guzmán, Guzmán's son, would help the creature get up and into my favorite chair in the parlor. He then would put the cot by the stove in the front room if there was a fire burning, or by the wall closest to the kitchen if there wasn't. Sometimes the creature grew wary of sitting up and had to be laid down. If he was laid down, he had to be placed in a warm area. If Caleb or the other boy wasn't around to do this, there was a delay in starting dinner. The cot was framed of wrought iron, too heavy for Edith and Becky to move by themselves.

Edith knew better than to ask me to move it after the first time she asked. I yelled at her, told her the alien needs to be taken out behind the barn and put down like a sick horse.


"There's nothing we can do for him," I said. "This is going to go on forever. You yourself said he isn't doing anything!"

"It's not going to be like this much longer," Edith said, in his defense. "Spring is coming and it'll be warming up. It's just now he can't take coldness as well as we can."

Then it was back into the kitchen with the cot once dinner started so the creature wouldn't get a chill.

She liked to have him in there when we were eating. As the creature was unfamiliar with a lot of our foods, she thought having us eat with him laying in there would encourage him to eat more.

But eating in there was rough, an amalgamation of elbows, knees, knives, forks, chairs, food and tempers centered around one poor table. I was pinned against the wall, unable to take a full breath. It might have been good for the creature's health but it was terrible for mine.

"We need to start eating in shifts," I suggested.

"Dearest, you're complaining too much," she said sweetly.

She told me she hoped I'd enlarge the kitchen when the weather warmed up.

I laughed. I wasn't going to do it for the sake of the creature. "It was fine before, it should be fine now," I said.

"Everyone said it was too small before," she retorted.

"I just didn't build it to the size somebody could be laying in a cot while we were eating. That's all," I said, reminding her she said the kitchen's size was okay when I was building.

"I was busy with something else when you showed me - and anyway, you didn't show me how big it was going to be exactly," she said.

"Well, what's done is done," I said. "I don't have time to worry about how large the kitchen in this blasted house is," I said.

I thought about keeping both of the stoves lit so the cot could be moved out of the kitchen. Some days we did, but most days there wasn't time to get enough firewood stacked up to keep both of the stoves burning. We had to mind the amount of firewood we burned.


"Just try to see the long term. If he keeps getting better at the rate he is improving, he should be out of the cot by April, I think. We just need to keep him comfortable and keep things peaceful. If he has comfort and peace he is going to heal faster too," she said.

"That's really easy for you to say," I said.

"But look at him - he's different from anyone else. He comes from a long way away. He's hurt. We should help him get better. It's the only Christian thing to do," she said, staring at me as a dog watches an intruder.

I had a lot on my mind. I was looking for verbal fisticuffs, but yelling at someone like her, you felt worse than when you started.

"Wherever he comes from is a lot warmer than it is here. He suffers when he gets cold. We can't have him away from the fire for too long. It's part of keeping him comfortable. He's used to the heat. If he's comfortable, he'll heal sooner," she said, logically.

After a few days, Edith went back to her previous pattern of spending her time studying the creature's peculiarities. After a few days, I too went back to my pattern of resenting the creature. I couldn't help it. I needed to strike out at someone. The helpless creature was a convenient target.

I knew I should have been directing my anger at the one person who made it: Ike Renner. I knew that would only get me trouble with the law and leave me guiltily supporting his widow and brood.

When it all became too difficult for me, I'd go out and chop wood. The chore served the two needs of clearing my head and keeping the stoves warmed.

Eventually we were able to keep both stoves running and move the alien out of the kitchen during dinner. He ate after everyone else. "He'll get the idea he needs to eat Edith. If he can't do that much for himself then he's lost and there's nothing you can do for that."

In the meantime, my troubles gave Guzmán a laugh, "You got room for me too? I think I want to sleep in your parlor and be moved in and out of your cocina. You mind?"

"Ha. That's really funny," I said flatly. "You might as well bring the kids and Nuńez too."

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