It was another chilly day out on the Kansas prairie with the dampness in the air and the fact that it had quickly clouded over was a sure sign of more snow to come. Winter had not yet conceded its icy grip to spring. That would be still several weeks away and typically there was bound to be more snow before then.
"Father, I really think we should get you to a doctor. Your cough is getting worse," Randall Clanton urged his father. But the old General was stubborn and he wanted nothing to do with any "hick-town" saw bones. He had seen what they could do to a person; during the war saw he saw too many men lose their arms, legs and life to the so-called doctors in the army tents as they feverishly attempted to save. He quietly pondered his eldest son's comment.
Despite his advancing age, the old General seemed fit. He was tough as nails and stood tall at nearly six foot one. He kept a clean appearance with his trimmed white beard and hair and he was bright; no signs of senile decay. The only thing slowing him down was his age. Seemingly every year something more was wrong. First there was the rheumatism and, this time a cough that was persistent. "You mind your own business son," the General scolded. "If I see a town that looks like it might have a good human doctor, I might have him look me over," he added as he flicked the reins of the buggy he was riding in. Randall shook his head but said nothing. Zachariah and Clement follow the buggy on their horses, behind Randall.
"It sure would be nice to find a warm room with a bed for a few nights," Zachariah finally said.
"Looks like we might be heading to Dodge this afternoon, son," the General stated. "I'm sure that there is a hotel or two there at we will find adequate."
"We're gonna stay in a hotel?" Clement asked with excitement.
"Calm yourself down, brother," Zach said as he patted his brother on the shoulder.
"I like hotels," Clement smiled and nodded. "When will we get there?"
Randall looked over his shoulder to his two brothers. It was always good that Zach watched out for Clement; the youngest son was never really right in the head. "If we go a little faster we should get there before five o'clock," Randall smiled.
"Or we could just take out time and get there before dusk," the General spoke firmly. "We're in no rush."
"You do know what this weather is telling us, don't you?" Randall challenged his father.
"I know snow is coming. I feel it. Now don't worry. Dodge will be there when we get there later today," the General smiled. He was just as anxious to get out of the buggy and stretch his back and have a drink or two.
Zachariah wet his lips, "I sure am looking forward to a drink and a hot bath. Maybe not in that order," he added with a laugh. He dare not say that he was also hoping for some feminine friendship over a few drinks. Despite being well into his thirties his father was strict as to the type of women his sons could date, with hopes of eventual marriage and families of their own. So far, none of the women met his lofty standards, for it was the Clanton name.
"Amen, brother," Randall chuckled.
"Can I have a drink or two?" Clement enthusiastically asked from his horse.
"Only some beer, son," the General stated, "and you other boys will make sure it's only beer for Clement. Understand?" he asked as if he was giving a lecture. Both Randall and Zachariah agreed at the same time much to the chagrin of Clement, "That's not fair," he protested.
For the rest of the cold journey the men remained silent until they saw the sign for Dodge City. "Looks like we were closer than we originally thought," Randall stated happily as he turned his horse toward town, followed by the General in his buggy and the two brothers.
"We'll enjoy a few days in Dodge," the General smiled. "I've never been there before," he added with a flick of the reins.
Doc sat in his office next to the wood stove with a blanket over his shoulders; regardless what he did to get warm he couldn't. The little wood stove was red hot and the room quite warm, and yet he shivered. "Dammit," he muttered as he poured himself a hot cup of coffee, trying to heat himself from the inside out. The coffee tasted bitter and the doctor was left making a face and looking for something to get the taste from his mouth. Gruffly he placed the mug down. His eyes shifted to the dresser across the room where he kept an emergency bottle of bourbon; perhaps that would do the trick.
The doctor's body ached in every joint as he lifted from the chair and ambled across the room. He had to blink to clear his eyes as he suddenly felt a little dizzy and grabbed hold of the examination table. "I knew as soon as I got some rest that I'd get a darn fool cold," he growled. "It always happened. I should sue those damn buffalo hunters," he said with a sneeze, which hurt his back; he sighed heavily as he reached out and heled on to the dresser.
Doc pulled open the top drawer and shuffled some of the contents around until he found the bottle. He lifted it and placed it on the top of the dresser, just before another dizzy spell took him; this time his knees buckled and he pitched to the floor with a thud. The doctor groaned.
Wilbur Jonas was in his store working on his books and looked up at the ceiling from where the sound came from. His eyes narrowed in suspicion that something wasn't right in the doctor's office. Thankfully there was no one in the store, so he was able to grab his coat on the way out the door to investigate the odd noise from his upstairs neighbour.
Carefully the store owner walked up the stairs and peered through the window near the top, but the curtain obstructed his view into the room. At least he didn't see any one moving around suspiciously in the doctor's office.
Jonas took the door knob and opened the door into the warm room, "Doc?" he called out, but there was no answer. The store owner eased into the room, closing the door behind him. "Doc?" he spoke this time with a little more concern in is voice. He nervously picked up the iron poker near the wood stove, holding it tight in his hands, thinking that there was someone in the back room when the doctor didn't answer.
The store owner swallowed as he made his way passed the examination table, where he then spotted the prone doctor. "Doc!" he quickly knelt down, placing the poker on the floor as he tired to help the doctor.
"Get Kitty," Doc said as he looked up at Jonas.
"What happened?" the store owner asked, looking around thinking that someone had broken in and beat him.
"I took a spill. I think I'm going to be sick," Doc gurgled as he draped his right arm across his face over his eyes to try and stop the room from spinning.
"Well, you sure look sick," Jonas replied as he quickly got to his feet. "I'll get Miss Kitty. You just relax," he said as he scurried to the door and down the steps to the Long Branch Saloon.