For anyone following this story I apologize if you're feeling confused or annoyed. Although I am updating daily, some days, for reasons unknown to me, the site is accepting the new chapter but not indicating that there's been an update. So, it may appear that two new chapters are posted the same day. The first time this happened, I contacted the site's help desk but have yet to receive a response. I've tried deleting the chapter and reloading which corrected the problem a couple of times, but no longer seems to make any difference. All I can suggest is that you open the story each day to see if there is a new chapter posted. If anyone else has encountered this issue and has a solution I would be grateful if you'd share with me.

Chapter 26

Jarrod was on his feet and moving the moment he realized the blond was staggering towards the open doorway. He reached him just in time to ease his final descent towards the floor. Then, in a most uncharacteristic manner, he felt himself panic. He didn't want to shout and risk drawing unwanted attention, and he didn't want to leave Heath lying there alone while he went for help. At the very moment he realized he had no choice but to do one or the other, blessed help arrived.

Victoria Barkley took in the sight and assumed control, not without first giving unwarranted thanks that it was Jarrod by the downed man and not Nick, and chastising herself accordingly. Other than their brief conversation, she had seen little of Heath as he had come and gone but she had gotten the distinct impression that Nick was impressed enough with the young man that he'd do whatever he deemed necessary to bring help immediately.

"Jarrod, stay with him while I get help. We'll move him into the room at the end of the hall and send someone for Howard."

She didn't have to ask … something was definitely wrong. She knew this was not a person who would collapse within their house … not if it could be avoided.

"Mother, he's burning hot. I didn't realize—" He stopped himself from continuing. There would be time later for self-recrimination.

She nodded, to let him know she'd heard, as she hurried away.

In very short order Heath, oblivious, was stretch out on a bed, with his boots removed and a cold cloth on his head. Victoria was worried. Jarrod was right, he was decidedly feverish, his skin hot and dry … and pale beyond belief.

Nick looked at him and was intensely relieved to discover that the thought that had galloped through his mind, hadn't made its way through the open gate of his mouth.

So Jarrod, you've finally talked someone to death!

It was obvious to all that Jarrod was just as upset about the young man's condition as anyone. Knowing him like he did, Nick surmised that he was already building a case against himself, somehow finding himself at fault. What mattered right now … all that mattered … was to find out what was wrong with his new hired hand and fix it.

Why are doctors only swift in coming when you don't really want them?

Several hours later, and after what seemed an interminable time, they heard voices coming from downstairs and moments later the trusted physician found himself gratefully welcomed.

His initial perusal assured him that Nick and Jarrod did not seem to be the subject of concern. Who then? "So, what have we here? Your messenger was in quite the panic for me to come instantly?"

"I wish we knew, Howard. Mr. Thomson was up here speaking with Jarrod and collapsed without warning. He's running a very high fever, and shivering, at the same time."

Doctor Merar moved closer to the bed and a better view of the young man he saw there. "Has he complained of feeling unwell?"

They all looked at each other, no one sure of how to respond.

Nick started the explanation. "He was out with McColl today … came in a short while ago to fill me in, and meet with Jarrod. I'm sure if he said anything, or if Mac had suspected something, he'd have let me know. Did he say anything to you Jarrod?"

The lawyer looked at his younger brother as he thought back over the conversation with the blond. "He did not. However, he seemed to look tired … or something … not necessarily unwell. I wasn't really concerned. I was certainly more than a little surprised when he collapsed."

He stopped to look around at the assembled group before adding, "I'm not sure he's the type to say anything … no matter how poorly he may be feeling."

Nick nodded. "I think you're right."

Merar decided to take control. "Tell me what you do know. How long has he been here? Did he seem to have any difficulty doing a full day's work?"

While he waited for their answers, he started his examination of his patient. Between the two of them, Nick and Jarrod filled him in with what they knew.

However, it was Victoria that provided the piece they seemed to have forgotten. "He was shot a few weeks ago. It seems he got good care at the time, and had recovered enough within a few days to finish the journey here … on horseback. He never mentioned it again. I, and I'm sure the boys, figured he was fully recovered. Maybe we were wrong…."

Howard looked puzzled. "I don't recall treating him, or any gunshot wound in the last few weeks."

Jarrod clarified. "Happened on his way here from Modesto."

"I see. And where was he shot?"

Nick and Jarrod looked at each other, before Nick replied. "I don't recall him saying."

Well he certainly is running a high fever and heart's beating a bit fast … although that could be in response to the fever.

"Nick, Jarrod, please give me a hand getting him out of these clothes. I want to see if there's something obvious that would explain his symptoms."

He started to unbutton the blue shirt, as Nick moved in, ready to do the physician's bidding.

"Victoria, will you ask Silas to bring up more cold water … ice if he has it. And, get some water boiling … we'll need it if I find anything."

As she left the room, he turned back to Nick and Jarrod. "Let's finish undressing him, and get him into this bed."

As the shirt was removed they were all startled by what they saw on his back. Thinking back to what Heath had shared hours earlier, Jarrod offered assurances. "I think I may be able to explain that … later. I don't guess it's the immediate concern."

Nick held his gaze for a moment, then nodded, and turned back to the task at hand.

They soon had the patient stripped and covered, from the waist down, with a sheet and light blanket.

Having found nothing of importance in his examination, Howard returned his attention to the site of the recent wound. "This looks like the bullet wound, and it appears to have healed well. I wonder …." He broke off as he began to palpate the area, pressing ever deeper into the area around and under the fresh scar. Some low moans arose from the man on the receiving end of his efforts.

He could feel the resistant mass that ought not to have been there, and continued probing until it suddenly disappeared. Almost as quickly a large, angry swelling materialized immediately around and beneath the visible wound site.

"The bullet must have gone deep. The surface has healed, but an infection built at the base of the wound, and appears to have been walled off until my probing broke it open. This will need to be opened, drained, and thoroughly cleaned."

He turned to open his case and remove some instruments, which he handed to Victoria, who had returned in time to hear his assessment. "I need these boiled. I'll be needing that hot water, as well as some clean cloths, and a couple of towels."

When Silas appeared, a short time later, with the instruments in a basin of previously boiling water, Merar again took charge. Handing Silas a bottle of carbolic acid he instructed the man to add some to the basin. Taking the pitcher of hot water that Victoria had brought, he poured some into the basin on the dresser, adding more carbolic to that, before washing his hands in the same. He directed her to place one of the small towels on the bed, slightly under the side needing his ministrations.

Aware of what was likely ahead of them, he hesitated a moment before continuing. "Nick, Jarrod, I'll need you to help hold him still. He may be somewhat unresponsive at the moment, but I'm betting he's going to react when I cut into that—"

He was cut off by Jarrod's question. "Aren't you going to give him something before you do that, Howard? I'm sure we can rouse him enough to get some laudanum down him."

"Wish I could. I'm sorry, but I have nothing to give him. My delay in getting here was due to a train derailing, yesterday, between here and Lathrop … dozens injured. Some killed. They requested help from every doctor who could get there. Pretty well depleted every doctor's supplies … pain medication included. I'll send an order for more tomorrow, but it will be at least two days before I can expect any."

He glanced back at his patient. "He can't wait that long."

The rancher and the lawyer looked at each other, then nodded.

"Where do you want us, Doc?" He told them, and they positioned themselves.

Merar asked Victoria for one of the clean cloths she had brought along and holding it in one hand, withdrew the scalpel from the basin. Holding the cloth along the mass, he poised the sharp instrument before issuing final instructions.

"Okay, boys, bear down. I'm guessing he's going to buck at this and I need him as still as possible." He lowered the blade.

The part-human, part-animal, all-agony sound that accompanied the scalpel slicing into the hot, swollen flesh distressed the witnesses no less than the sight of the putrid green and yellow substance that pushed its way through the newly created opening.

The scream subsided to half-suppressed moans, as Howard continued the debridement of the wound. He had been right. It was all the two men could do to hold the blond. He may have been ill, but he wasn't weak.

Now that the wound was free of any sign of infection, Nick questioned what he perceived as the doctor's continued torturing of the man. "How long you going to continue poking at him, Doc? Don't you think he's suffered enough?"

Howard smiled, inwardly. He was quite accustomed to dealing with this particular Barkley. He also well was aware that Nick seldom intended to be offensive. He most obviously was concerned about the young man's suffering. He, therefore, sought to put the rancher's concerns to rest. "Nick. Something caused this infection in the first place. That something must still be in there, because I have not seen any sign of it. If I don't remove whatever it is, he's going to be back in this same place in a matter of weeks."

He procured a new cotton swab with his forceps and proceeded to scour the walls of the now-opened wound, before uttering a quiet, "Yes."

Looking up at the attentive group, he smiled. "Got it. Looks to be a tiny piece of mostly-disintegrated cloth. I'm guessing it's a piece of shirt that the bullet picked up on its way into his body. It then adhered to the flesh when the bullet was removed and the wound initially cleaned."

A short while later, the wound flushed with carbolic, and a clean dressing held firmly in place, everyone breathed a sigh of relief … Nick and Jarrod especially. Little did they know that the relief would be fleeting.

Merar expressed a guarded optimism for a full recovery, explaining that his patient's survival would now depend on his ability to defeat any infection that had invaded his system and the concomitant fever. All they could do was continue the efforts to reduce the fever, and attempt to replenish the fluids that same fever was devouring. He expected it would take a few days to realize any noticeable change.

His assessment proved correct.

It was Victoria, the morning of the second day, who noticed what, until then, they all had missed. She'd shooed Nick to bed several hours earlier and as Silas entered with a pitcher of fresh, cold water and a cup of coffee for her, she asked him to stay a moment with the young hand. She wanted only a few minutes to freshen up and check on the family.

When she returned the blond had quieted again. Most of the time he was … agitated. Then, inexplicably, he would calm and the agitation would dissipate for a time … sometimes a few brief moments, sometimes longer. While they all longed for the quiet times to last, they were at a loss to identify what brought them on … or took them away.

Here he was calm, once again.

"Has he been like this for long, Silas?"

Receiving no response, she was about to repeat her question when she saw the trusted man was ministering to their now-quiet patient, and softly singing what might be a … hymn. Just not one familiar to her. He obviously had not heard her.

Silas often hummed, or sang lowly, as he worked about the house. As she cast her thoughts back over the last day she quickly realized he'd done just that when he'd been in this room—delivering or removing items, straightening or dusting—doing whatever was needed or helpful. When he sang Heath quieted. So simple … so easily missed.

She wondered what the young man heard ... or whom. In any event, she'd try to free Silas from his other tasks so he could spend as much time as possible in this room … as much time as possible bringing soothing, healing calm to the distressed, feverish form in the bed.

While Jarrod had apprised the doctor and Nick, about Carterson, as a likely explanation for the scars they'd seen, his possession of significantly more information about the man's history rendered him able to make far greater sense, than could the others, of the sometimes-mumbled, sometimes-shouted words. His level of dismay accordingly was greater. His previous conclusion that his client had had a hard life, now appeared less than adequate. His resolve, to do whatever it took to get the requested justice, grew exponentially.