GUNSMOKE
"Matt's Choice"
He watched the old man amble up Front street with detached interest. The doctor slipped through the doors of the Longbranch and disappeared. Rand had heard that the surgeon liked a good drink and for a moment he considered the obvious angle, but then shrugged; trying to get the old codger drunk and pliable in a saloon wasn't a solid plan. Men like that almost never became inebriated in public, and Rand decided that Doc Adams was far more likely to drink away his pain alone - and men like him always had deep pain. Rand lit a cigar and puffed on it. Perhaps the best way to deal with the doctor was directly. After all, Rand was a much larger man, and how much of a fight could one little old man give him?
His back smashed into the glass of the medicine cabinet as the old doctor continued to struggle against him in the dark of the office.
Rand's voice was strained with effort, "I was told not ta hurtcha none ya danged old coot, but if you keep puttin' up a fight, I'm gonna have to..."
The hand clamped tightly over his mouth kept Galen Adams from responding, so he did the only thing available to him: he elbowed the man hard in the ribs. Rand grunted in pain and instinctively reached for his midsection. Adams took advantage of the reaction and with all his might tried to rip his assailant's other hand from his mouth, but Rand quickly put his arm around Doc's throat in a stranglehold, and placed his knife at the base of the large artery there. Adams stopped moving when he felt the tiny prick of the knife point in his flesh. The outlaw leaned in close to Doc's ear.
"Now you listen to me, old man, I can take you still breathin' or I can take you dead as a skinned buffalo. At this point it'd be easier for me to just kill you and be done with it. Timmonds don't need you alive to get that Marshall to come after ya, so long's as he thinks he has a chance to save your sorry skin."
Doc's timbre was tight from the pressure at his throat, "Go ahead and gut me like a fish then... Marshall of this town don't care none."
"Lyin' don't become an old man like you..."
Adams struggled against the increasing pressure around his windpipe. "How'd you know what becomes a man anyway? You'd have to be one first."
Rand shook his head as he painfully tightened his grip around Doc's throat. "I heard you was feisty, but you're about the sourest old goat I ever come across." He began moving Adams toward the door. "Now you just come on and don't make no more fussin'..."
As they moved by the desk, Adams grabbed a book end and tried to smash Rand's head with it. The outlaw easily moved out of the way, raking the knife across Doc's throat, cutting him deeply enough to bleed heavily, but not enough to kill him. Adams leaned against his chair in pain, and Rand roughly grabbed him.
"Let's go, old man."
Adams' voice was hoarse from the stress, "You cut me deep, I gotta stop this bleedin'..."
"I mean now, Doc. I ain't puttin' up with no more of your tricks."
Slightly woozy from the immediate blood loss, Doc groaned and was slow to move. Tired of the bothersome doctor, Rand slugged him hard over the head, ending any further trouble. The outlaw heaved the smaller man over his shoulder and left the office, unaware of the trail of blood he was leaving behind.