As Erik Johnson walked down Front Street his eyes locked on to a group of Brown's men. He stopped and glared at them and he wanted to pull his gun in the worst way. His clenched jew ached the harder he pressed down trying not to say something that would aggravate the situation further with him and Matt.
Two of Brown's cowpunchers approached Johnson. "Got a problem?
Johnson huffed and marched off toward his outfit and the two cowboys laughed, that is until they saw their friends pointing to something behind them. That something was Marshal Dillon. "You boys having fun?" His voice boomed and was filled with anger.
"Uh...no, marshal, sir..." Skip scambled back to his friends leaving Doug Hancock standing in the marshal's shadow. Hancock felt the blood draining from his body. He swallowed deeply and his voice squeaked, "We was only funning..."
Matt's eye narrowed at the shorter man before him. "I'm in no mood for that kind of funning. Get outta town...Now!." And with that Hancock scurried back to his friends who at first were frightened but then started to laugh at the marshal. That lasted about as long as it took Matt two steps in their direction before they scattered. Matt shook his head and really wondered what kind of misfits Brown had on his payroll.
Matt turned an looked up toward Doc's office. His heart ached knowing his dearest friend lay next to death. Slowly he walked to the staircase leading up to the office. He was met by Festus who looked drained of all his emotions and energy. "Festus? How's Doc?"
The deputy's hazel eyes were moist. "He ain't good Matthew. Newly said it's all up to Doc now. Newly done everything he could..." His head lowered. He felt the reassuring hand of the marshal on his shoulder and with a gentle squeeze he knew that he didn't suffer alone. Matt removed his hand and silently he walked up the stairs. There had only been a few times that Matt could remember, that the journey to the doctor's office brought such pain and sorrow.
With a deep sigh, Matt slowly opened the door into the office. Kitty stood next to Doc who looked pale. She dabbed a wet cloth over his forehead.
Newly sat watching from Doc's desk. He looked worse than Festus. Despite having rolled up his shirt sleeves, they were covered in blood as much as the front of his shirt. only his eyes acknowledged the marshal's entrance.
"How's he doing?" Matt asked quietly.
Kitty looked up into Matt's blue eyes. Her own were red from tears. She shook her head. "He's not good Matt..." her voice was shaky. "He's so weak..." She quickly returned her attention to Doc.
Matt could hear himself swallow as you could hear a pin drop in the room. Matt was about to leave and placed his hand on the door knob. "He'll pull through with you both looking after him..." and with that he left the office.
A small crowd had gathered at the foot of the stairs. Sam was among them. "How's Doc doing?" The barkeep's voice was somewhat soothing in its baritone way.
Matt slowly descended the stairs and stopped short of Sam. His face said it all. "He's not good, Sam. Newly and Kitty are going what they can for him." Matt took the final few stairs and cut through the crowd. He was on his way to see Templeton Brown and his men.