Doc Martin had his hands full. All his years of medical knowledge and practice were telling him that an epidemic was spreading throw Virginia City and it was going to be a bad one. So far ten farm families had been struck not to mention the ranch hands, farm hands, and butcher men who were all ill. And out of that group about eight of them had died.
What was worse for him though, was that he had no clue what this new killer was and thus had no way of stopping it. Sure he could treat the symptoms, but what good was that? All he knew for sure was that is started with a sore throat, then became a cough before graduating to flu like symptoms, and then finally, it grew into a phenomena like sickness before the victim ether recovered or died.
"What do you think Paul, should we close off the town?" Sheriff Roy Coffee asked the tired doctor as the two shared a cup of coffee in Paul's office.
"Not completely, no. It's too late to worry about the homesteads, but the stage and drifters should be turned away."
"How bad do you think it's going to be Paul?" the sheriff asked, worried. Coffee was a big, elderly man, who played Santa Clause every year and cared deeply about his city. He could handle just about anything the world could throw at him, except just watching people die.
"Don't you mean how bad is it?" Paul corrected before taking a drink, "It's pretty bad Roy. It's already killed eight people that I know off, sadly mostly children, and Lord only knows how many have it."
With a sigh, the old sheriff rose out of his seat and started to shuffle for the door, "I'll send the word around. Virginia City is closed."
With a heavy heart, Roy made his way to the telegraph office. He felt despair grip him as he looked at the almost abandoned streets of his fair city. People had taken to hiding away, hoping that whatever this was would just blow over. But that was a vain hope. The sickness was spreading faster then Paul could explain and what was worse was there was no help. All the doctor could offer was comfort and all the sheriff could do was offer order. But what order could be given to an unseen foe?
The sound of a galloping horse broke through Roy's thoughts as he neared the telegraph office. "Now who could that be?" he asked no one and raised his head to look in the direction of the sound. He was surprised to see a black and gray stallion making it's way up the road, and even more surprised to see it's rider was little Joe Cartwright. The boy was slumped over the horse's neck and barely hanging on. Even from the distance, Roy could tell the boy was sick.
"I'll be damned…" he mumbled as he went to catch the horse. The animal slowed as he neared Roy, unsure of what was going to happen. But the kindly old man whispered soothing words and offered nothing but a friendly hand, soon winning the beast over. "Hey there fella, easy there…" Roy said as he took the rains, "That's a good fella, that's a good boy. Let me see your rider."
The horse stood still as Roy gently lifted the sick boy from the saddle and took him into his arms. He was horrified by the condition that the boy was in; pale, feverish, disoriented, and barely conscious. He carried him, hurriedly, over to Paul's office, forgetting about all else.
Paul was just on his way out to make his rounds when he almost ran into Roy and Joe. He took one look at the boy and quickly stepped back into his office, not even bothering to see if the Sheriff was following. There'd be no rounds for him this evening, not with a boy that sick to tend to.
Roy had followed the doctor into his examine room and laid the boy on a table so that the doc could have a look. A soft groan escaped the small body and he started to fidget.
"Easy there son, you're alright now," Paul soothed as he began his examination. "Roy, I need some cool water and some of that fever medicine in the clear bottle."
Roy snapped to, and soon the two men were battling the fever of a twelve year. The cool water quickly served to revive the boy and he quickly started to groan.
"Papa…" he called weakly, "Papa…"
"Joe can you hear me? Paul said while trying to restrain the boy who was starting to thrash.
"Papa…"
"No Joe, it's doc Martin, you're in my office son. Where do you hurt?" Paul asked softly.
A few moment's later, Joe's fevered eyes seemed to focus briefly on the worried doctor's face. "Mr. Walter's sick…tried to help…I couldn't….told him to stay awake…." Joe coughed out weakly.
"It's alright Joe, don't you threat none. Ol' Roy here 'ill take care of Walter, you jist let the doc treat ya," Roy quickly comforted the boy.
"I want my pa…" was the last thing that Joe said before he slipped back into oblivion.