Three
Standing in the doorway the old doctor had watched the scene unfold. He waited until the rhythm of her breathing signaled she had obeyed Matt's command before moving to the lawman's side. He placed a caring hand to the younger man's slumped shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. "This is not totally unexpected given the force of the blow to her head and the location of her injury. I suspect there has been some damage to the optic nerve. It takes time for that kind of injury to heal. But, I have faith her eyesight will be restored."
GSGSGS
She awoke from a dreamless sleep, not sure if she had been unconscious for five minutes or five hours. In the quiet, she lay motionless, dazed and dizzy. The stinging bile of nausea welled in the back of her throat and she swallowed it down. Then, memories like shards of glass broke through the confusion. "Matt?" She wasn't sure if she'd actually said his name or it was just an echo in her mind. She strained her ears for the sound of his breathing and inhaled, longing for the scent of sage and leather. Where was he?
Each previous episode of consciousness had been met by his reassuring voice and loving hand. This time she was alone. She felt abandoned and helpless. Her heart beat faster with an ever increasing anxiety. Panic was on the verge of overwhelming her. She forced herself to take deep breaths and gain her bearings. As she lay in bed she began to form a mental picture of her surroundings. From the silence she knew it must be late. The chill in the air revised her thoughts; no it must be the early morning hours, when the fire has died out and only glowing embers are left to provide heat. She was at Doc's. The smell of carbolic disinfectant was everywhere; she detected another aroma, burned coffee. Yes, she was at Doc's. From the street below she heard the sound of a lone wagon passing. The clip-clop of a tired draft horse echoed through the night while the vehicle's squeaking wheels signaled its rotations. Some distance away, a dog was barking and an old barred owl was hooting out a warning to his next victim.
Kitty Russell had always hated the friendless night and hated more the isolating darkness. It was this reason saloon life had suited her so well. It was only after the sun had set that the Long Branch truly came to life. Though not given to introspection, she knew her fear of darkness was rooted in childhood. For the vision of her mother's lifeless body sealed from light and living in a plain pine box would return again and again to haunt memory and dreams. An eternity spent in darkness was a damnation she had always feared. Now she was living that hell.
Her body was stiff. Her cramped muscles too long in one position, cried for change. Testing hesitantly at first, she flexed the fingers of her left hand and stretched them out seeking companionship to ease the all consuming isolation. But, there was no comforting hand to offer reassurance and hope. She opened her mouth to say his name, but a moan came out instead.
She licked her cracked lips with a dry tongue. She was so thirsty. "W'ter," she whispered, though she knew there was no one to hear. In an attempt to ease her constricted muscles, she tried to roll onto her side. Like a sudden explosion the movement brought back a searing detonation of pain. Her skull was splitting in two. She screamed as the agony pulsed through nerve and fiber, twisting and turning in an effort to escape the torture, yet only intensifying the pain by her actions.
Doc Adams was at her side in seconds. Placing his hands on her shoulders he ordered, "Kitty, lie still." She was sobbing with anguish and despair, but Doc's healing hands brought balm to her frayed spirit. When at last in exhaustion she lay still, Adams released her from his grip.
"D't go .' She begged.
"I'm not leaving you Kitty. I'm going to my medicine cabinet to get you something for your pain. Be still. I'll be right back."
She fought for her sanity with shaky breaths while her hands pulled and clawed at the blankets with what little strength remained. Adams returned to the room taking his place on the chair by her bed. He poured a measure of liquid from a small brown bottle to a medicine spoon.
"Open your mouth Kitty." He directed as he held the spoon to her lips. There was an indistinct familiarity to the taste which brought sounds and smells to mind and instantly took them away again.
"Rest." Adams ordered. She remained immobile for a time after that, giving Doc's potion the opportunity to work. The old man sat beside her, holding her hand and crooning soft lulling words. Tight muscles relaxed as the drug took hold. Her limbs became heavy, pain lifted and a drowsy euphoria replaced her panic. She finally found the courage to open her eyes. A world of dark shadows met her view. She could tell the lamp was lit by the side of the bed, but could make out neither shapes nor figures. "Eyes?" she whispered.
"I know. You've experienced a serious head trauma. Matt thinks you must have hit your head on your office safe when you fell."
She ran her tongue over her lips. They were so dry. Adams saw this and offered her a spoonful of water. Her dry throat allowed for only a scratchy whisper, "w'they get b'ter?"
"Yes." He replied with more conviction than he felt. He offered her another spoonful of water. "It will take time. Do you remember what happened?"
She tried to recall but strange voices, flashing lights and strobbing colors clouded her thoughts. Doc could see the confusion written on her face. He patted her hand and reassured her, "It will take time Kitty. You sleep now."
"No ..." She moaned.
"I'll be right here." He told her. She stopped fighting the pull of the medicine he'd given her and let the narcotic finally have its way.