Morrison and Kirkland returned to their room after they had bought a few provisions, "That big mouth store owner still bothers me," Morrison snapped as he opened the door to their room. Patty lay on the bed looking dreadfully pale, "What's the matter with you?" Kirkland asked as he kicked the bed.
O'Shea's eyes slowly opened; his face was wet with sweat, "I'm not feelin' like the top of the mornin'," the Irishman spoke. "Me back is painin' be but good," he said as he tried to sit up.
"Looks like you're burning up with fever," Morrison stated and handed Patty the bottle of whiskey from the table.
"No truer a word could be spoken," the Irishman said as he pulled the cork from the bottle with his teeth and spat it over to the table. He took a long hard drink and then shook, "Oh Saints preserve us," he moaned and put the bottle on the table beside the bed before he flopped back down to the mound of pillows.
"Just great," Kirkland muttered. "How are we going to get out of this hell hole with him like that?" he gruffly asked Morrison.
"You heard that moron where we took our wagon. We can't leave here without that and he said it could be two days," Morrison shrugged. "It'll give us more time to plan," he laughed as he chewed on a strip of buffalo jerky.
"Perhaps while you're plannin' you could be plannin' to fetch me that doctor fella," Patty sighed.
"That so called doctor fella is a stinkin' lawman," Kirkland growled, "I wouldn't trust him to look after my horse."
"I don't care if he was the devil his-self! I need a doctor," Patty moaned as he uncovered his wound, which was slightly swollen, red and slightly oozing. "I don't figure that it should be lookin' like this," he added. "I've been shot before, you know that," he winced.
Kirkland frowned at the sad sight, "Maybe that other saw bones is back now," he suggested.
"Let's go to his office and find out," Morrison huffed. "We can't travel with him like that," he added.
"We could leave him behind like we did with Emmitt," Kirkland burst out laughing and playfully swatted Morrison across this upper arm.
"I heard that," Patty growled. "If you leave me behind, I'll hunt you both down and boil yer mangy bones," he glared at the two men.
"That fever has given you a nasty bite," Morrison stated. "Maybe you have the rabies," he glanced over to Kirkland who was barely containing himself.
"If I do, I'll be sure to share by bittin' the two of you in the arse," O'Shea grumbled.
"I hope that doctor knows how to treat animals," Kirkland laughed as he left the room with Morrison close behind. "Furthermore, Emmitt was a big-mouth fool. Never did like the weasel," the hunter snarled.
"I heard all dat too," Patty shouted; his Irish accent thick with pain before he moaned again, holding his lower back with his left hand. "And you're right. Emmitt is a fool and he always has been," the Irishman reached for the whisky bottle and swallowed back a mouthful of the amber liquid. It seemed to ease the pain slightly, but made the room spin a little more. "Sweet Mother of Mary save me," he shut his eyes tight as he folded his free arm over his face.
"Shut up. We're going to get you the doc," Morrison growled and pulled the door closed.
As Kirkland and Morrison reached the front door of the boarding house, Kirkland stopped, "We can't do anything. The wagon's busted, and Patty's laid up," he looked out onto the street.
"We will in time," Morrison stated. "I heard through the grapevine that the marshal left town," he smiled. "I didn't like him breathing down our necks," he half laughed.
The two buffalo hunters made their way down the street towards Doc office, "I bet that old goat of a store owner still has his clammy hands on that shotgun." Morrison laughed.
"I couldn't care less, unless he takes exceptions with us talking to the doc," Kirkland stated. "I'll crack his head open," he added.
"I should have done that in the first place," Morrison snapped. "He was the one that spotted the wheel," he lamented.
"We'll leave him be for now," Kirkland said as the two men crossed Front Street and began up the stairs to Doc's office.
Doc stirred with the sound of the door. He drew his left hand down over his face and blinked his eyes as he tried to wake. He thought at first that it was Newly returning to check on Festus, but as he continued to become more alert from the deep sleep he was in he realized that it was in fact the two buffalo hunters. Doc's heart almost skipped a beat and he quickly sat up, "What can I do for you?" he asked as he watched the two men walk around the office.
"Looks like that deputy didn't die after all," Kirkland said as he looked down at the unconscious hill man.
"It was a fair fight," Morrison noted.
Doc's eyes narrowed, "So I heard," the doctor's voice held disdain for the men. "Know I asked you what you wanted, so what is it?" he said as he slowly stood up realizing he still was holding his glasses, which he casually stowed away in the metal case he kept in his vest pocket. The doctor wet his lips, anticipating trouble as he watched Kirkland studying the unconscious man in the examination table.
"Well, as a matter of fact, it's you we want," Morrison stated as he moved closer to the doctor.
Doc didn't budge, "You fellas are making quite the names for yourselves around town," he noted with a swipe of his right hand across his moustache.
"This whole town is full of miserable big-mouths," Morrison said looking over his shoulder to Kirkland who merely shrugged at the comment.
The words made Doc uneasy, "What exactly do you want with me? You're pretty going at beating around bush, and I don't have time for that." his dander getting up.
"Grab your coat and what medical bag and get a move on, old man. Patty's waitin' for you," Morrison grabbed Doc by the upper left arm and shoved him toward the coat rack. The doctor glared at the buffalo hunter, "Patty must be the one that got shot when stealing my buggy wheel," he growled.
"Well isn't that a coincident," Kirkland almost laughed. "Your buggy wheel. You don't say," he said as he now hovered over the doctor. Doc scratched his chin as he pulled on his coat despite his dislike of the men who intruded his office. Slowly the doctor picked up his medical bag and walked to the door; there didn't look to be an easy way out of the situation – not with the two hunters now towering over him. "Move," Kirkland said in a calm, yet sickening tone. Doc swallowed and opened the door, "Seems your doctoring is better than that other quack's," he added while nudging the doctor hard.
Doc had a vague idea what he meant, but had no idea what he was about to get himself into. The doctor drew a deep breath and followed the two hunters out of the office; his hand clutching the handle of his medical bag tightly as he walked down the stairs; a sense of doom suddenly came over him.