Doc shook his head in dismay and at the damage the bullet had caused. He wasn't happy about the infection that was now spreading through Dutch's body either. "I'm gonna need a lot of warm hot water." He spoke to no-one in particular.
"We ain't startin' any fires. Make due with what ya got." Garrett stood and walked to the door and surveyed the empty street. "You just want someone to spot that smoke and to lead them to us. You're a crafty man, doctor."
Doc hadn't even thought about that, but he could seen Garrett's reasoning behind it. "Fine. But I still need water." He replied.
Red stood up and walked out to his horse to retrieved his canteen. "This is all ya get." He tossed the vessel toward Doc who caught it awkwardly. His eyes narrow in further distrust at the two men standing by the door.
Garrett grabbed Red's arm, stopping him from going back to see what Doc was doing. "Now that you got him here. And just supposin' he pulls Dutch out of this. What are you planning on doing with him? He thumbed toward Doc.
"I plan to leave him here. I ain't takin' him back. He can walk, can't he?" Red looked Garrett in the eyes. "By the time he gets anywhere - if he gets anywhere, we'll be long gone."
Garrett was only mildly satisfied by Red's decision.
Doc had overheard the men talking and his mind began to wander. He was trying to put a plan in place - one of escape. As he thought he actually stopped working on Dutch. It was Red that noticed and pulled himself out of Garrett's clutch. He walked forcefully toward the doctor and Dutch.
"You better be thinking on how to fix him." Red sneered at Doc.
Doc blinked his tired eyes and looked up at Red. "You can be sure of that." Doc murmured from years of experience in situations like he was in, and returned to the wounded man. Doc was certain that Dutch would die if he wasn't taken back to Dodge.
Red glared at him. "Get on with it then." he ordered.
Doc wiped a damp cloth across Dutch's forehead to ease the fever, which was very high. Doc sighed. He dropped the cloth back into the basin of water and then scratched the back of his neck. That mannerism was followed by a swipe of his moustache. A sworn oath made him care about the man on the table, even if it was against his own personal judgement.
Garrett noticed Doc and walked over to him. "Are you finished with him?"
Doc shook his head no. "If you want this man to live, I have to remove his arm and I can't do that here. He has to be taken back to Dodge." Doc didn't beat around the bush.
"If you don't take his arm?" Garrett questioned further.
Doc wiped his moustache again and he looked Garrett in the eyes. "If I don't. He'll die."
Garrett ran his tongue around inside his mouth in thought. "That so?"
Doc nodded and turned his back to find something in his medical bag to help Dutch's pain. "That's so."
With that, Garrett pulled out his gun and fired a single shot. The loud report stunned Doc and he quickly turned. The smoke from Garrett's gun cast an eerie shadow over the dead man's body. Doc swallowed hard and slowly looked up into the outlaw's face. It showed no mercy. No feeling.