Summary: Roy Coffee, faced with losing a job he loves, must learn to prepare for the future with Joe Cartwright’s help. References to the episodes “The Stillness Within” and “No Less a Man.”
Rating:  G   2,970 words

Written for the 2024 Bonanza Brand Advent Calendar

Bonanza
~*~*~ Advent Calendar ~*~*~
* Day 14 *

Hope in a Dimming World

Roy Coffee squinted at the eye chart on the wall on the other side of the room. Despite the blurriness, he could make out some of the curved letters but most of the others looked to be jagged lines.  He pressed his lips together, tilted his head back a mite, and squinted further so his eyelids were nearly shut.

“Can you make out any of the letters?” asked Dr. Martin.

“A few, I reckon,” said Roy. “Can’t tell for sure if that’s a G or an O but I’m gonna say it’s a G.”

The doctor scribbled down a couple of notes before placing the clipboard and pencil on the nearby desk. “Sit down and let me take a look at your eyes.”

Roy did as told and clasped his hands together in his lap, rubbing one thumb over the rough skin on the back of the other hand. He sat ramrod straight as the doctor looked at each eye with a magnifying lens.

Dr. Martin set the lens down and picked up the pencil. “Follow this with your eyes,” he said. “Don’t move your head.”

The sheriff tracked it until it was out of sight.

Dr. Martin jotted again then said, “Your peripheral vision is nearly gone. Tell me honest, can you see the letters on the chart?”

Roy looked down at his hands, as if ashamed to answer the question. One corner of his mustache tugged down with his upper lip as he screwed up the courage to reply.  “Seems like there’s a black spot in front of me all the time. It ain’t that big but it sure makes reading hard. Sometimes I don’t see someone comin’ up beside me on the sidewalk and I get caught by surprise. My hearing’s good enough but I don’t recognize everyone’s footsteps.”

“How do you do your job? Right now, I mean,” said the doctor.

“Well, I rely a whole lot more on Clem.” Roy snorted and said, “I let on sometimes that my aches and pains are too much so Clem can do the rounds for me.”

The doctor tapped the pencil against the clipboard a couple of times before setting both on the desk. “I’ve read about an eye condition in which drusen form on the eye’s retina. What’s known of it comes from dissections of eyes from various animals as well as cadavers at medical colleges in Europe.”  He paused for a moment before adding, “I’m sorry – there’s no treatment or reversal.”

Roy’s mustache twitched along with his mouth. He broke the moment of silence with, “I’d always heard the old go blind but I didn’t think it’d be me. If I can’t see I can’t go on with sheriffing. If folks think I’m losing my sight they’re not gonna trust me with protecting them or this town.”  He forced himself to stop rubbing his hands together then asked, “How long have I got?”

“I don’t know,” said Dr. Martin. “It progresses differently for reasons we don’t understand but the end result is the same for all.  Blindness.” He leaned forward and squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear but you’ve got to start planning now, for when you can’t see.”

Roy merely nodded his head in response.

The doctor pushed back from his friend, making room for his patient to stand. “I’m sorry to give you this bad news so close to Christmas.”

The sheriff had no reply. heaved himself out of the chair and stood as if the weight of the world rested upon his drooping shoulders. He set his hat upon his head as he shuffled to the door and exited the office. It seemed as if the sky were no longer as blue, as if the sunlit streets were no longer as bright.

“Afternoon, Roy,” said Joe Cartwright as he passed the sheriff on the sidewalk.

Roy grunted a reply without caring how it would be interpreted.

He stepped into the office, hoping to find refuge in work. His hope was dashed by Clem.

“Did you see this?” Clem asked as he waved a letter.

“What?” asked Roy.

“The governor thinks two lawmen is one too many for Virginia City. I guess we’re not thought of as a wild town anymore. What am I supposed to do?” The question came out as a whine.

Roy took the letter from Clem. The older man put on his spectacles and cocked his head to better focus on the writing, but it didn’t help. He picked up the envelope and saw his name in large script.

“Why are you opening my mail?” Roy asked.

Clem shrugged.  “We’re both the law. I figured it might be important enough to open now rather than when you got back.”

That got Roy’s dander up. “I ain’t so old you gotta fear me getting lost. I wasn’t gone so long you might’ve thought me dead!”

The deputy slashed the air with his arms. “For all I know, you put a bee in the governor’s ear to get rid of me.”

Roy pointed at the younger man. “Don’t you go makin’ accusations you can’t back up.”  He took a breath, planning to count to ten, but only got to two. “Maybe you planted the seed that I’m too old to be sheriff of this town.”

Clem’s eyebrows drew together and he glared at the sheriff. “I’m not trying to push you out.”

“So you admit you wrote the governor?”

The deputy’s mouth dropped open and hurt reflected in his eyes. “I did no such thing!” He sputtered, trying to find words to prove the sheriff wrong, but none came to mind. Clem stalked to the door then slammed it behind him.

Roy crumpled up the piece of paper then threw it at Clem’s desk. He paced the length of the for several minutes as his temper cooled, regretting the outburst. “Clem shouldn’t have opened the letter,” he muttered. “Figures the governor didn’t send glad tidings of joy.”

He returned to his desk, removing his spectacles before sitting down. Feeling a headache coming on, he rubbed his temples in hopes of easing the dull, throbbing pain.

The staccato rhythm of boots on the boardwalk caught his ear and he knew who was coming before the door opened. That boy walks as if he’s the mayor of this town.

The door opened and Roy said, “I could tell it was you, Little Joe. Your boots always give you away.”

Joe stood before the desk, arms crossed over his chest. “I was at the Silver Dollar. Clem came in lookin’ like someone shot his dog. He said you’d told him to get.”

“That ain’t true,” said Roy.

“Sure seems true enough,” said Joe, “the way you’re sitting here in misery.”

Roy took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through pursed lips. He grabbed up a pencil to keep his hands busy as he leaned back in his chair. “Doc told me I’m going blind.”

“That’s not the end of the world,” said Joe.

Roy felt as if he were looking down on himself as his temper exploded. “It is for me!  If I can’t read wanted posters, I can’t protect this town. If I can’t see, someone might get the drop on me and then what? Prove to folks who already think me too old for the job they’re better off without me stumblin’ into things or arresting the wrong person for a theft? How am I gonna pass the time in the evenings – imagine the flames dancing in the fireplace?”

Lost in his own anger, Roy didn’t notice the rising color in Joe’s face or the younger man’s clenching fists. Roy drew back from the finger pointed in his face as Joe spat words at him.

“The world went dark for me after that nitro explosion but you’re talking as if you’re blind right now. I learned to eat, dress myself, walk into a room without bumping into everything. So can you. Feeling sorry for yourself won’t change anything. Meanwhile, you still have your sight so do your job.”

Roy flinched at the door’s slam. He leaned back in his chair and puffed his cheeks as he blew out a breath. He feared the permanent night of blindness yet he knew Joe was right.

Life couldn’t just stop.

The chair creaked as he shifted his weight to stand. At least my hearing ain’t going, too.  He walked over to the window and pulled the curtain aside. People went about their everyday business, walking along the boardwalk or riding horseback on the street.

The sheriff exited his office and headed over to the mercantile for sweets. He figured a penny’s worth of candy would lighten his mood. Folks greeted him in passing and Roy responded with a touch of a finger to the brim of his hat.

“What can I do for you?” asked Mr. Anderson as the bell jingled over the mercantile doorway that was decorated with streamers and pine garland.

Roy reached into his vest pocket and felt several coins. He judged their heft to determine if he could pick out the penny without looking. Disappointment rose like bile in his throat at the dime between his fingers.

“How about you pick me out some sweets?” asked Roy as he pulled money out of his pocket to find the penny.

“A dime’s worth?” asked Mr. Anderson.

“No, just a penny.”

“What are you in the mood for?” the storekeeper asked.

“Anything but licorice,” said Roy.

Anderson chuckled and pulled a paper sack from underneath the counter. “Little Joe was in here not five minutes ago, asking if I could order some braille books. You figure he’s planning to donate them to the orphanage?”

“I dunno,” mumbled Roy.

“I told him I wouldn’t know where to begin. It’s not as if they’re in one of the catalogs.”

“Hmmm,” Roy answered.

“Well here you go,” Mr. Anderson said as he handed the sheriff the filled bag.

“Thank you,” Roy said as he handed over the penny.

The bell jingled as he left the mercantile. He popped a sweet into his mouth – a licorice drop – and frowned as he headed back to his office.  A man on horseback, in a hurry, got his attention.

“Clem!”

With his deputy gone, Roy sat down hard on the bench in front of his office. After a quick look up and down the street, he spat the piece of candy into the dirt.

“Tsk, sheriff!” said Mrs. Woodhull as she approached on the boardwalk, making her way to the seamstress.  “You’re setting a bad example for children.”

“I don’t see no children,” said Roy in a testy tone.

Mrs. Woodhull harrumphed as she continued up the boardwalk.

He plopped down on the bench and chose another piece of candy from the bag. His lips puckered at the sourness of a lemon drop.

*

After finishing his evening rounds, Roy dimmed the lantern on his desk. Might as well get used to the idea. He shut his eyes tight and set off for the empty cells, one arm outstretched to feel for the doorframe. This was a path he’d walked day in and day out for years, so familiar he was sure he could navigate it with his eyes closed.

“Ow!”

His thigh caught the corner of Clem’s desk. He used his fingers to trace the edge of the desk to avoid bumping into it again. Positive his path was clear, he took five steps. His boot hooked the mop leaning against the wall near the doorframe and he stumbled forward, opening his eyes to see what he could grab onto nearby.

Roy clutched the bars of a cell door, which swung with his weight. He lost his balance, and his dignity, as he slipped to the floor.

“Reckon only thing hurt is my pride,” he mumbled.

He leveraged the cell door to pull himself up and took stock of the aches and pains. Just the usual, he thought.

Feeling defeated, he returned to his desk and the lantern. He turned up the light then shuffled off to his room at the back of the office.

*

In the morning, Roy sipped a cup of coffee as he shuffled papers around on his desk. Times like this he missed Adam’s house-keeping skills.

At the sound of familiar bootsteps, the sheriff braced himself for another talking to. He raised the cup of coffee to his lips as the door opened.

“Roy, I want to help,” said Joe.

“Hmph,” was the sheriff’s reply.

Joe placed a thick paper on the desk and leaned over, resting his palms on either side of the paper. “I borrowed this from the orphanage. When I lost my sight, Pa hired a teacher to show me how to fend for myself. She taught me how to read using my fingers. Let this be my Christmas gift to you – I can teach you, if you’ll let me.”

Roy cocked his head but couldn’t make out letters with any clarity.  He reached out with his free hand and ran his forefinger across the paper, surprised at the raised dots.

“These dots represent letters of the alphabet and numbers. Once you know each letter by feel, you start putting them together to make words. When you can make words, you can read a book.”

“Is this that Braille printing? Mr. Anderson told me yesterday that you’d asked about ordering books.”

Joe went over to Clem’s desk then wheeled the deputy’s chair over to Roy’s desk. He tapped the sheet and said, “You won’t be cut off from the world once your sight is gone or relying on someone to read to you. While you get to know Braille letters, I’ll write Adam to ask him to send some books with raised printing. Those books are like any others but you can feel the letters on the page. That’ll help you practice reading with your fingers.”

Roy set his cup down and felt the raised dots with both hands. “Little Joe, I never thought I’d hear you eager to teach, unless it had to do with impressing a gal.”

Joe laughed and gave a friendly slap to the older man’s back.

*

After lunch at the International House with Joe, Roy returned to his office to study over the Braille sheet. He looked up at the sound of the opening door and slipped the paper into his desk drawer as Clem stepped inside.

It was as if the two lawmen hadn’t ever exchanged heated words. The younger man hung his hat on a peg and went over to his own desk but paused as if he wasn’t sure whether to take a seat or pack up the few personal belongings.

Roy leaned back in his chair, his sigh nowhere near loud enough to cover the squeaking of the spring.

“Just have a seat,” Roy said. “You’re makin’ me nervous you’ll do something we’ll both regret.”

Clem did as told and leaned on the desk as if bracing himself for coming bad news.

“I’ve been givin’ that letter from the governor some thought. Perhaps this town only needs one lawman after all.” Roy raised his hand to prevent Clem interrupting.  “I’ve been sheriff here since, well, since Virginia City nearly began. I wasn’t exactly a spring chicken then. This town ain’t as wild nowadays even though the miners can stir up a ruckus with cowboys and tear up a saloon on a Saturday night.”

The deputy’s badge hit the desk with a clink. “I suppose this is the nicest speech a man can have when getting fired.”

“Now hold on a minute,” said Roy. “I never said nothing about you losin’ your job. I figure it’s gettin’ time for me to think about retiring and leaving the hard work to someone younger.”

Roy stifled a chuckle at Clem’s raised eyebrows and open mouth. It wasn’t often he surprised a person and it gave Roy a warm feeling in his chest knowing this was a gift Clem truly appreciated.

“But you were just re-elected last year,” said Clem.  “You still got a year to go.”

“Consider this my Christmas gift to you. I’ll stay on for another six months and I’ll start gettin’ folks used to the idea of a new sheriff. This way, I can teach you most of what I know and you’ll get experience in the job before the next election.”

Clem walked over to the sheriff’s desk, his arm extended to shake the other man’s hand. Roy smiled and firmly clasped his deputy’s hand.

Roy swept up loose papers on his desk and shuffled them into a neat stack. He handed them to Clem. “You can get started by sortin’ through all these wanted posters. Toss out the ones for those who’ve been caught and tack up the ones we need to keep an eye out for.”

Clem smiled and nodded before heading to his desk.

Roy cracked open his desk drawer and slid a couple of fingers inside to run them across the Braille letters. He’d been a lawman for most of his life, the majority of his time in Virginia City. His duty was to serve and protect the people of Virginia City but those same people had become his family and some, like the Cartwrights and Dr. Martin, had become close friends.  His world was going to dim, in months or maybe years, but friends wouldn’t let him flounder in the darkness.

The End

Prompt: Braille printing, 1829
Character: Roy Coffee

Link to Day 15 of the Bonanza Brand Advent Calendar – The Stamp Effect by Cheaux