Collins held Matt's wrist while looking at his watch, and he could feel Kitty's eyes on him. He closed the watch, gently set the marshal's hand down, and met her expectant stare.
"It's a little weaker than it was a few hours ago."
Kitty wasn't surprised, but even so, it hurt to hear it spoken. "What are his chances now?"
Collins shook his head. "I'm not sure, Kitty. At this point, I'd have to say they're pretty slim. But then, most ordinary men wouldn't have survived this long." He looked at his watch again. "Festus has been gone about five and half hours now, so if he found Doc Adams, they should be on their way in from Cimarron right now."
Kitty closed her eyes for a moment, then looked down at Dillon, brushing his cheek with her hand. "Even if Doc gets here, it'd take a miracle, wouldn't it?"
He debated internally for a moment, then decided she deserved the truth. He squeezed her shoulder softly. "I'm afraid that it would, yes."
Kitty couldn't keep the tears from quietly rolling down her face as she stared at the man who was unquestionably the love of her life. She couldn't imagine life in Dodge without Matt in it, and she didn't want to. It had been hard enough losing Doc; and she wasn't in love with him. She gently gripped Dillon's hand in her own, willing her own stalwart strength into his failing body. She continued stroking his hair with her other hand, and leaned into his ear.
"Please Matt, hang on a little bit longer. Doc's on his way, and you know how he is...if you're not here when he arrives, he'll strut around like a banty rooster, screamin' about how no one appreciates his efforts." She kissed Dillon's forehead softly. "Stay with me, cowboy."
Festus had never felt so exhausted, and he was pretty damned sure that Ruth wasn't far behind him, but still he pushed the trail. He looked back and realized that Doc was dragging more and more. Haggen pulled up on his reins, and waited for the old man to catch up.
"Doc? You need to take a little rest, do ya?"
Adams shook his head. "No, let's keep going, Festus."
Haggen stared the old doctor down a bit. "You're lookin' mighty peaky, Doc; that feller Asa Potter done said you wuz terrible sick." His voice grew quiet, "He said ya almost died."
"I'm fine, and we don't have the time to spare," Adams growled.
Haggen knew that was the truth, but he also couldn't deny that Doc's condition had deteriorated with each mile since they left Cimarron; however, it was clear that the ol' scudder wasn't about to give in to it without one hell of a fight. Silently, Festus spurred Ruth into motion, once again heading toward Dodge. He just prayed they would make it in time, and that Doc wouldn't be so worn out himself, that he'd be unable to help Matt.
The people of Dodge sat all along Front Street, waiting. Some of them weren't sure exactly what it was they were waiting for: Dillon to die, or Doc to arrive. But wait they did. Sam Noonan kept the pots of coffee rolling from the Longbranch, and Barney would occasionally wander over and report that there had been no telegram regarding Doc or Festus. Burke paced in front of the jail, Halligan and Louie sitting in the chairs outside. Agnes Oxmoor stood with her arms folded in front of her, hovering near the general store.
There had been no word. None from the doctor's office, and none from Cimarron. They were without information, and with each passing hour, diminishing hope.
About an hour out of Dodge, Festus looked back behind him, and started: he saw Doc's horse, but Adams was no longer seated on it. He pulled Ruth up, turned, and raced the distance to the abandoned gelding...
