Dearly Beloved

Chapter 14

The trip in the wagon was taking longer than John anticipated. He rode ahead, agitated that the doctor could not keep up with his horse when the terrain grew rougher.

"We hafta hurry," he said for at least the tenth time.

Adam geed up the horses again but he couldn't travel very fast in a wagon. He gritted his teeth as the wheels hit a rock and jolted him in his seat.

"What did you say happened to your brother?" he asked, hoping to distract John as well as learning a little about the situation before they reached the injured man.

"I didn't," John replied abruptly. After a raised eyebrow from Adam he hastily continued, "He was plowin' the fields. It was an accident."

"How far do we have to go?"

"Not long." John rode ahead, deciding further conversation would only waste time.

True to his word, twenty minutes later they arrived at a run down cabin. The surrounding land was overgrown and it had clearly been some time since it had been a working farm. Three saddled horses were tethered outside but there were no other signs of life.

John waited impatiently, nervously even, as Adam drew the wagon to a stop and gathered up his bag.

"He's in here."

John stood back and let him enter the cabin first. Adam took the lead and pushed open the door that was barely on its hinges. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloomy interior, but when they did he saw another man lying on an old cot. His upper leg was tied with a bloodied rag, and he was obviously in pain.

Adam was about to step towards him when he heard a gun being cocked. He stopped, his breath catching in his throat, before he turned his head slightly to see two more men just inside the door, one of them aiming a gun at his head.

"'Bout time you got here," the wounded man groaned angrily.

John pushed past Adam. "Got him here as fast as I could. He brung a wagon."

"We don't need no wagon, just a doc." The man looked at Adam who still hadn't moved. "What are you waitin' fer? Come fix this here leg."

The gunman poked the weapon roughly into Adam's shoulder, pushing him forward. Adam tried to remain calm, quickly glancing at his surroundings as he approached the cot. His hands were trembling slightly as he placed his bag down, but he forced them to be still as he started to unpack it. Without having to look twice he could see the injury was a bullet wound. The man's trousers were soaked with blood despite the rag that had been tied tightly over it, causing the sweaty face and grey pallor which he wore.

"What happened here?" Adam asked evenly.

The man fixed him with an amused if feverish look. "What's it look like? Had myself an accident on the way to church."

The other two men chuckled but John had not lost his concerned expression. "Fix him up, doc, come on."

Adam removed the rag and set about inspecting the wound. The bullet was still in the leg. After informing the patient of this fact he was ordered to remove it.

"I can't do it here, you'll have to come back to town."

"I told you, Tucker," John said in exasperation. "I told you we shoulda just gone there in the first place."

Adam's expression did not falter when he heard the name, but he knew the man must be Tucker Boyd and he knew what line of work he and his men were in. The wanted signs tacked up around Sweetwater listed just some of their crimes. And Boyd knew that he knew who he was, Adam realized, when a small, bitter smile appeared on the man's lips.

"I ain't goin' to town, doc. So you'd best fix this leg up here, or you'll be the one with the bullet." To reiterate the threat he withdrew a colt from his side. The familiar metallic click followed as he cocked the gun, his eyes not wavering from Adam's.


Tucker Boyd refused the ether he was offered, only swigging from a whiskey bottle at regular intervals as Adam worked to remove the bullet. His voice grew hoarse from yelling in pain, each cry making John, who was trying to hold a lamp aloft so Adam could see what he was doing, more anxious and uncomfortable. Adam swiped at his brow with his upper arm, his hands bloodied as he dug feverishly for the bullet. With a rush of relief he finally found it, which earned an unwanted slap on the back from John. He closed the wound and bandaged it firmly to stop any further bleeding.

Boyd was weak and half drunk after Adam had finished, but soon rallied when he realized they'd be able to leave.

"You shouldn't be moving, you need to rest," Adam warned, when the man motioned to his brother to help him up.

Boyd laughed gruffly. "Reckon I'm gonna wait here for the law to find me? Let's go, boys."

Adam was trying the wipe the blood from his hands as he watched the man be helped towards the door. The other two men had already gone outside to ready the horses.

"If you rip your stitches you'll start bleeding again. The wound was deep, you need to –"

Boyd turned, pain registering on his face, but he cut Adam off.

"Much obliged to you, doc. But it ain't your concern no more." Boyd turned back towards his brother, then made a short, sharp motion with his head in Adam's direction.

John paled slightly. "Let's just go, Tucker," he whispered.

"Ain't you learned nothin', boy?" Boyd snapped angrily.

"Let's just tie him up… someone'll come lookin' for him after a while."

"And then they'll come after us. You're a goddamn fool." He gripped his brother's shirt, pulling John towards him menacingly. "Now will you do what needs to be done, or do I have to do everythin'?"

John's stare was wide and frightened until Boyd abruptly let go of his shirt. The gun in his hand was slipped into John's and then he hobbled the last few steps out of the door without a backward glance.

Once he was gone John's breathing was quick and shallow as he contemplated the floor. Adam took a step forward and opened his mouth to speak but then John raised his eyes and the gun, pointing it at Adam's chest.

"I'm sorry," John said pitifully.

Panic gripped Adam. "John, please, don't do this. I won't tell anyone you were here, I swear. Just go and it will be like this never happened."

John shook his head as Adam took a tentative step forward.

"The woman this morning, when you came to my home? That was my wife. She's having a baby," he pleaded, before adding almost as afterthought, "Our first."

"Thank you for what you did for my brother," John said, his eyes welling with sudden tears.

"John, please…"

"I'm sorry."

He cocked the gun and fired.