Doc stirred when he heard a deep moan come from the examination table; his eyes flickered open and he pushed himself up from the settee. Ignoring his own aches and pains, Doc flung the quilt aside and got to his feet. Festus was moving slightly as he was coming to. "Easy now, Festus," the doctor said as he stepped next to the table and patted the hill man on the shoulder, "Easy," he repeated; his voice deep and caring.
Festus' eyes opened and he looked around. The hill man thought he was going to be sick, "The room's moving, Doc," he stated as he fought to control the spinning.
"I bet it is," Doc noted. "You've lost a lot of blood," the doctor said as he lifted the hill man's wrist to feel his pulse. Doc ticked his head, "I don't know how you do it," he said with a twinkle in his eyes. "Near dead one day, and on the road to full recovery the next," he placed Haggen's hand back under the sheet. "But you aren't out of the woods yet," he looked down at the whiskered face.
"I feel like I was hit by a locomotive and then run over by a stagecoach," Festus' hazel eyes held his pain.
"I can imagine," the doctor blinked sympathetically. "I had to dig deep to get that bullet out," Doc said as studied the deputy, who lapsed back into unconscious. "You stay in the saddle, you hear," he said as he adjusted the sheet and again patted the hill man on the shoulder.
The doctor's attention went to the door as it opened, "Morning, Kitty," he smiled as he ran his rugged hand hand over his stubbled face as he still tried to fully wake up.
"How is he," Kitty asked as she placed a covered tray on the doctor's roll top desk.
"He came to, just a moment ago," again Doc ticked his head. "I think he'll be just fine in a few weeks," he assured the saloon owner. "Any word from, Matt yet?" he then asked.
Kitty shook her head no, "I haven't heard anything and I haven't seen Newly yet, today. Maybe he's heard something," she shrugged. "In the mean time, I want you to sit down over there," she pointed to the desk, " and eat a full meal," she almost scolded the doctor.
Doc frowned, "I sure am glad your my friend. You'd make a terrible enemy," he said as he meandered over to the desk and lifted the red and white gingham towel to look at the food, "There's enough here to feed an army!" he exclaimed as he sat down and spread some jam on the piece of toast he held.
Kitty smiled, "You don't have to eat it all, but I want to see a lot of it gone when I come back," she gave the eye to the doctor.
"Thanks, Kitty," the doctor said through a chew of toast. He watched the saloon owner leave the office and then tucked into the fried eggs on the plate; it seemed like forever that he got to finish a meal in peace and quite.
Matt stood at arm's length from the iron-bared door, "Your friends have really made a name for themselves in Dodge," he stated as he cross his arms and watched Emmitt through the bars.
The buffalo hunter laughed as he slowly got up from the cot, "Like what?" he said clutching at the thick iron rods that separated him from the marshal and the outside world.
"Well, I haven't actually been able to charge them with anything yet," Matt's blue eyes studied the man in the cell; clearly he was like a caged animal. "But I heard from sheriff Stanley that you and the boys got pretty drunk here a few nights ago," he added.
"So what? Men get drunk all the time. Livin' a life on the prairie makes a man thirsty," Drake snarled as he looked over the iron bars.
"Yeah, they might get drunk, but they don't usually tell the law about their plans of holding up banks," Matt stated.
Emmitt burst out laughing, "What half-baked law would believe a drunk like me?" Drake's eyes narrowed as he watched the marshal.
"Many a true words have been said in jest," Matt reasoned.
Emmitt wet his lips and turned from the bars, "Well, I didn't mean it. I'm sure that by now that O'Shea has talked sense into Morrison and Kirkland," he stared at the stone wall that made up the rest of the holding cell.
"How do you feel that your friends left you here?" Matt pushed.
Drake spun on his heels, "I'll choke the lot of them, if I get my hands on them," he sneered as he clutched the iron bars again. "They left me here to rot!"
Matt nodded, "It sure looks that way," he pursed his lips.
"Can't you see, that they had this all planned out! Just because I have a bum leg, they chose to leave me here as if I can't pull my own weight. It was their fault I'm like this any way," Emmitt was riled and trying to rattle the bars, but they weren't budging.
"So you feel that because of your leg they couldn't trust you in a bank robbery?" Matt was fishing further.
"Ask them!" Drake yelled, "I swear I'll kill all three of them!" he added. "I hope they die first in that hold up," he growled. "At least that would save me from the rope." he huffed and let go of the bars. Matt now noticed how bad Drake's leg was – he didn't notice before, but the buffalo hunter was much quicker on his feet at first. Now it was as if he'd just given up.
"Drake?" Matt called after the man in the prisoner cell.
"What?" Emmitt said as he settled down on the cot again.
"Are you willing to testify in court if your friends get caught robbing a bank?" Matt asked.
Drake looked up at the marshal, "I'm tired of buffaloes and I'm tired of living on the plains with next to nothing to my name," he sighed. "If they are as dumb as I figure they are and go through with it, I'd me more that happy to testify," Emmitt nodded. "I just want out of this jail cell," he admitted.
Matt nodded, "Good. I'll talk to you later," he said as he walked back to the main office, closing the door behind him.
Sheriff Stanley was again at his desk, "So?" he looked up at the marshal.
"Seems he was telling the truth and I need to get a telegraph off to Dodge," Matt said as he gathered his gun and walked to the door. He looked back at the sheriff, "I'll be back in a while," he added. Stanley nodded and went back to the newspaper.
Matt shook his head at the sheriff and left the jailhouse to find the telegraph office, up the street. He was hoping that everything was still all right back in Dodge, and that by some miracle the buffalo hunters decided just to move on.