The pounding on his door roused him from a troubled sleep at his desk. Doc shook his head to clear it, and whomever it was pounded yet again.
"I'm comin', hold on to your horses..."
He opened the door to find Ruth Bradley standing there, practically in tears.
"Doctor Adams, please, my father's very sick. Can you come?"
Doc swallowed down the bile that quickly filled his throat, and after a long moment's hesitation nodded. "I'll just grab my bag..."
Adams threw on his coat and hat, and picked up his bag, following Ruth Bradley out the door.
Doc entered number nine at the Dodge House to find Aaron Bradley standing there pointing a gun at him. He turned to Ruth.
"He don't look too sick to me..."
She looked away, unable to hold his gaze. "I'm sorry, doctor, he's my father and no matter what, I love him."
Doc frowned at the comment, wondering exactly what she meant, but Bradley interrupted the train of thought.
The old man waved the gun at Adams, his voice slurring from alcohol. "You just come in here and sit down. We have old times to discuss."
Doc's voice rose in anger, "I hope you're ready to use that gun now that you've got it pointing at me..."
Bradley laughed. "You're a doctor in a one-horse town in Kansas. No one would ever believe anything you say about me. I have standing in the community in the east..."
"Standing in saloons, maybe, but not much else."
Bradley cocked the hammer on the pistol. "How dare you judge me. You have no right--"
"--I have every right." Doc took a few menacing steps toward the man, but stopped when the gun was pointed at his head. "Well if you're gonna pull that trigger, then do it. Otherwise I'm going to rip you apart with my bare hands."
And Bradley fired.
Howie heard the gunshot and knew it had come from room nine, and he ran. He ran as fast as he could to the Marshall's Office, busting through the door breathless.
"Marshall Dillon! Marshall Dillon! You gotta come quick!"
Matt jolted awake. "What?"
"The Dodge House, Marshall. Doc Adams just went up to Doc Bradley's room, and I heard a gunshot! I wondered what he was doin' goin' up there after what happened at Delmonico's tonight but--"
"--Shut up, Howie." Matt jumped off his bunk, grabbed his pistol out of its holster on the wall, and ran for the Dodge House.
In his drunkenness, Bradley missed entirely, and Doc lunged for the gun. The two men grappled for it, and Doc strong-armed it away. He pointed it at Bradley's head, and Ruth screamed in horror. Doc's hand began to shake with emotion.
"I ought to just kill you, Bradley, and rid the world of someone who's just takin' up space."
Bradley laughed. "You don't have the nerve to do it."
Doc cocked the hammer back, and Ruth began to cry. "Please Dr. Adams...please don't kill him." Her voice grew soft and fearful, "Please don't take my father away from me."
Doc's eyes filled with tears and he carefully released the hammer, lowering the pistol's barrel to the floor. Without a word he picked up his bag from the floor where he dropped it, turned and walked out of the room.
Adams had just stepped onto the top landing of the stairs when Bradley shoved him from behind, sending him face first into the wall. Doc dropped his bag, and once again, the two men struggled for the gun. Adams was surprised at the old man's strength, but in the end, knew he would overpower him. Ruth followed them onto the landing and watched in terror as the the two men fought. Doc pushed away from the wall, and Bradley tottered on the edge of the main stairs as they pushed and pulled for control of the direction of the gun barrel.
Adams growled as they stood close, "You took everything from me."
"So now you want to take everything from me?"
"You deserve to die!"
They each tried to rip the gun from the other's hand, and suddenly the gun went off. Ruth stared at the two men, and for a long moment, she couldn't tell who had been hit, but then her father crumpled, and tumbled down the main stairs just as Marshall Dillon rushed into the lobby. He looked up as the body came crashing down toward him, and saw Doc Adams standing there, smoke rising from the barrel of the gun in his hand. And Matt Dillon felt sick.