Dutch sat up high in the saddle. The doctor behind him as they rode to town. "I apologize for the blindfold Dr Koch. But we don't want you telling people where we are after you're released." he steered the count behind a particularly dense growth of bushes.
"tho I detest it, I do understand it's necessity. Your Mr Smith just used a sack of corn feed they picked up at a farm. So this at least smells better."
Dutch laughed at that. He directed the Count up a small hill before turning under the lip of a rock that ran parallel to the railroad tracks. Valentine was almost in sight. "It should be fine to take it off now, if you'd like." he joked.
"Gladly." the doctor huffed. He looked around squinting till his eyes adjusted to the morning light.
They followed the tracks up to the post office and Dutch hitched the horse before giving a quiet, stern warning to the Doctor. "Remember why we are here."
"yes, yes." The Doctor agreed nonchalantly looking around till his eyes fell on an old blind man holding a cup not far from them.
"A penny for your fortune?" he asked.
"Is that, a real fortune teller?" he approached the man curiously. As tho it was some rare specimen to be examined, not some poor wondering vagabond.
"A penny for your fortune." he asked again, his withered voice directed at Dr. Koch.
"I'm afraid I don't have any money." The German said padding his pockets.
Dutch scoffed. "It's little more than a parlor trick. He knows nothing."
"A penny to see the paths before you?" he asked turning now to face Dutch.
It must truely be a novel experience for the high-society Doctor, since he began turning out his pockets looking for loose change. "Alright fine," Dutch relented. He pulled out a coin and dropped it into the metal cup with a clang. "Now tell him his future."
"It is you who gave the coin, it is you whos future I will see." The blind man explained. "You will soon be tested. Death will bring Death and a most unexpected reunion will bring another."
"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Dutch gestured to the blind man.
"I see nothing else for you."
"See, I told you it was nothing but hocus-pocus nonsense."
Dutch ushered the doctor towards the post office before he could be suckered into giving away any more money.
"That was fascinating." The doctor said, a schoolboy skip in his step. "I've heard of such people but to find-."
"Hey, I know you!" A stranger said coming up behind them, abruptly halting the doctor's enthusiasm. Dutch froze and he fought back the instinct to pull out his revolver. "You're that doctor from Saint-Denis."
He relaxed enough to turn around and face the man who pointed angerly at Dr. Koch. "The one who did that demonstration. All those people died! You killed them. The authorities are looking for you." He accused, sidestepping around the Doctor like he was contagious.
"I did not kill them. They knew the risks." The doctor defended. Hands held up in surrender as more people in the post office turned to look.
"You said it was a cure." Dutch challenged, his hand itching back to his weapon.
"If they had survived the side effects it would have cured them." He explained, trembling with rising anger of his own.
Dutch slowly unholstered his gun. "My SON took that medicine!" He yelled back. An all-consuming ravenous fury, narrowed his vision. His lips peeled back revealing a toothy Cheshire grin. Tho his gun was held steady with practiced ease, his empty hand clenched and unclenched to the rhythm of his breath.
"It works!" The doctor shouted without turning towards him. The people in the postoffice glancing nervously to each other at his outburst. "I'm telling the truth! It's my life's work. It isn't my fault!" his voice rose loud and frantic. Desperation and madness showed as he looked from face to face trying to convince them he was right. "They all called me a fraud, that I LIED about my work. BUT NO, I am the greatest of my generation! I would have cured ANTHRAX if that French bastard hadn't beaten me to it! AND he did so using MY WORK, he didn't even cite ME! IT should have been ME!" he pounded his own chest to illustrate his point.
Dutch took a half step back, hesitant, as he watched the educated man steadily unravel. The Doctors tone was strong but pitched in hysterics at certain words as he rambled on. "It should have been MY institute, MY NOBLE PEACE PRIZE! I've dedicated my life! And for what? To be chased out of Europe? Have my awards retracted? They took away my life!"
"And what did you take from them?" Dutch questioned. When the Doctor finally turned, he startled at noticing the gun in his face. A bit of sanity came back into his countenance as he stared frightfully down the barrel of the weapon.
"I, I took nothing. All I have ever done is for the benefit of humanity... It, it should have worked." he pleaded. Tho Dutch got the distinct impression it was more to convince himself than anyone else.
"Will it kill my son?" he asked before he could stop himself, realizing he didn't want to face that possible truth so soon.
"I, I'm a doctor, I don't KILL people... but I'm not sure." He looked glassy-eyed and lost without the anger from before. The fight was gone and what remained was the hollow shell of a man who had every reason to achieve greatness and failed. Someone desperate to make right what he had set wrong. He wasn't a con, or perhaps he had just cond himself?
Dutch pushed back a twinge of sympathy for the man as he backed out the door.
He holstered his weapon. A growing sense of dread sat heavy in his chest like pneumonia. Arthur could be dying.
He swiftly passed the blind man as he dashed to his horse.
"Death for death a life for a life." he reminded as Dutch kicked The Count into a high gallop and flew across the countryside at a breakneck pace.
After a few minutes of riding, Dutch became aware of a second thundering beat of horse hooves just behind him. Another rider pursuing him with the same reckless abandonment he was demanding of his horse. He urged The Count on as the rider began to overtake him.
Dutch turned, surprised to find he recognized the two twin scars across the riders cheek. "John!"