Doc rode quietly along with Bert Miller, as if he had much choice otherwise. As the two rode further from Dodge, the doctor felt that his wrist was not only bruised but cut - the sharp wooden edge of the desk drawer must have cut him enough bleed. With his medical bag lashed to the saddle horn, Doc was able to pull his bandana from his back pocket and wrapped it around his right wrist which stung; he grit his teeth as the pressure on the swelling bruise cause added pain.

They continued to ride along through the muddy fields and the night seemed to get darker. As they rode, Doc tried to fit the pieces together of what had just happened and then it dawned on him - the man that the guard said he'd shot was in a bad way and this yahoo that pulled him away from Kitty was one of the gang. Doc's thoughts started to get jumbled as he was trying to think of a way of letting Matt know where he was and who he was with. He decided to find out where the gang was hidden first, then he would work on a plan.

The trip seemed endless and Doc couldn't wait any more - he had to find a way to alert Matt of his whereabouts. The two men continued along a rocky road and Doc untied the bandana from his wrist and as they passed a grove of trees he quickly draped it over a branch. His only hope was for Matt of Festus to spot it to get them on the right trail.

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Matt stood quietly in the doctor's office as his brain was spinning while trying to decide the best course of action. First and utmost was Kitty as he slowly turned to her as she lay silently on the examination table at the centre of the doctor's office. She was alarmingly motionless as Matt moved to her and lowered his head to Kitty's and listened as she breathed slowly in and out. He drew a deep breath in relief and caught the faint flower of her perfume and a very faint smile curled his mouth.

The marshal stood straight and sighed deeply as he now was tasked to not only find the gunman who shot Kitty, but Doctor Adams while also finding someone that could care for Kitty while he was looking for the gang and Doc. Matt carefully and tenderly adjusted the blanket that covered Kitty before he left the office to find someone to sit with her for the night.

Festus left the jail and was just starting his nightly rounds when he saw Matt standing on the boardwalk at the foot of Doc's stairs. The deputy crossed the street, "Matthew, how's Miss Kitty doing?"

Matt's demeanor was again quite tense, "She seems fine for now, Festus, but I'm now worried about Doc..."

Festus tried to comprehend what Matt had just said before he asked, "Doc? Why? Is he not feeling so good?" Matt shook his head, "I don't know how he is...he's not in his office and it looks like there was some sort of struggle. I found his desk drawer half open and his old Navy Colt out of the sack he keeps it in and it looks like he was ready to use it on someone. Not only that, it looks like he might have been cut or something because there was some blood on the drawer."

Festus' thoughts soured as he tried not to think of anything happening to his older friend, "Where do you think he's gone, Matthew?"

Matt made a face while hooking his thumbs into his belt and looking up the street, "My guess would be that someone came and got Doc. And I think that the "someone" was also involved in the stage coach hold up this afternoon."

Festus pursed his lips as he eyes narrowed as he started to the livery stable, "I'll saddle the horses..." Festus' walk was filled with defiance. Matt watched as the hill man disappeared into the shadows along the lamp lit street. Matt turned his attention to the Long Branch and walked toward the saloon. His only hope was to have Sam close the saloon for the night and watch over Kitty.

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Bert Miller and Doc cantered their horses up to the tree in front of the little shed, "Get down." Miller again waved his gun at Doc who glared at him. "Put that damn thing away. You think that I'm going to run off on you in the middle of nowhere?" Doc barked as he slowly climbed down off the tall horse and removed his medical bag. Miller reluctantly stuffed his six shooter back into his holster and then walked to Doc pushing the smaller man to the door of the cabin.

Lute, Bo and Chuck were inside hiding in the dankness as Doc and Bert entered. Doc stood in the doorway, "Very funny. How am I supposed to help a wounded man with no light and no hot water?" Doc asked sarcastically.

Lute stood up and walked toward the doctor, "So you're the town pill pusher."

Doc's eyes narrow and he was too tired to be harassed, "No, I'm the town doctor." Doic's voice was filled with irritability.

Lute laughed before he sent his left hand back across Doc's face causing Doc to loose his balance and fall back into Bert who held him tight. "I hate funny fellas," Lute sneered, "Now, old man, you fix up Chuck over there real quick."

Doc moved his right hand to the corner of his mouth and wiped the blood away, "I need light and hot water. If you want to hit me again, do it..." he challenged Lute.

Lute's eyes narrowed and then he ticked his head to Bo and Bert to get the little wood stove started. "You're a gutsy one, doctor, I'll give you that."

Doc continued to glare at the leader of the gang as he moved into the room and found an oil lamp and matches. With a quick swipe across the rough table top, Doc lifted the glass globe and inserted the match catching the wick. The little cabin room seemed to be warmer by just the light. Doc picked up the lamp and walked to the bunk where Chuck lay groaning. Doc sat the lamp down on a small twig table and pulled back the blanket and shook his head, "He's in pretty bad shape..."

"Well you're the doctor. You make him good enough to ride by tomorrow..." Lute sneered again.

Doc knew it was almost impossible, but he wasn't ready to tell Lute and his men that just yet. Instead he hunkered down and began to clean each wound with cotton swabs and rubbing alcohol.