When Bart woke again, it was even slower than before. He felt like he was floating, and his head was throbbing. He couldn't open his eyes no matter how hard he tried, and he didn't even have the strength to groan.
"Hey, are you awake?" a voice said.
Bart didn't answer, still too out of it.
It was obvious to the hotel clerk that Bart was waking, as his eyes had squinted from the pain and he was breathing faster. He reached a hand to Bart's shoulder and gently shook him, hoping to get him fully conscious. He'd been stunned when Bart had been carried senseless into the hotel, and upset to hear that the poor man's baby had been kidnapped. A doctor had been called for and tended to the bleeding cut on the back of Bart's head, and had stayed with him until someone else had needed him to make a house call. Not wanting to leave an unconscious patient alone, the doctor had asked the clerk to stay with him instead. That had been quite a while ago, and the clerk was worried. "Mr. Maverick," he said. "You have to wake up."
The motion of being shaken helped Bart wake a little more, and he suddenly found that he had control over his body again. He was able to groan this time, and dragged his hand up to cover his forehead.
"Are you all right?" the clerk asked.
"No," Bart mumbled. He felt the bandage and tried to turn his head a little to take pressure off the bump, which appeared to be right in the middle of the back of his head.
The clerk squeezed his arm. "The doctor left some pills. Do you think you can take them, or do you feel sick?"
Bart's mind was slowly clearing and he blinked his eyes open. It took a few seconds for his vision to stay still, and a few more seconds for him to assess himself. The headache was awful, but his stomach was only mildly upset, so if he had a concussion, he knew that it was minor.
"Mr. Maverick?" the clerk said, unsure if he'd heard him.
Bart had to think back to the question. "Yes," he said. He knew that he was going to need them if he was going to find the baby, which he fully intended to do.
"Uh…'yes' to which question?" the clerk asked.
Bart frowned, he'd asked him more than one? "Oh," he said, in realization. "The first."
The clerk was glad, and helped Bart sit up before shaking two pills into his hand.
Bart blinked, taking a deep breath. His head was swimming and he had to close his eyes.
The clerk expected that to happen and tightly held onto Bart's arm. "Don't take them if you feel sick," he said. "Or you'll have an even worse problem."
Bart was aware of that and waited for a moment, and when his stomach thankfully got no worse, he put the pills into his mouth and drank the water from the glass that the clerk held for him.
The clerk fed him only enough to swallow the pills at first. "All right?" he asked.
Bart's stomach didn't react much, so he said, "All right."
The clerk let him drink the rest of the water, before helping him lie back down.
Bart let out a sigh and put a hand over his forehead and eyes.
"I'm really sorry about what happened," said the clerk, sadly. "The sheriff is questioning all the witnesses."
Bart was glad to hear that; maybe someone recognized the baby's kidnappers. He knew that the clerk thought him to be a father trying to raise his child alone, but his head was hurting too badly for him to explain right now. He needed to quickly regain whatever strength he could as fast as possible so he could get out of there and find that baby.
The clerk thought that Bart's lack of response was out of grief, and he patted his arm in an attempt to comfort him. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked.
Bart still had his hand over his forehead and eyes, and he realized that his position was unintentionally fueling his appearance of grief. "No," he said. "Thanks for your help."
The clerk nodded.
Suddenly, what appeared to be only a moment later, the clerk was shaking him again. "Mr. Maverick?" he said. "Wake up."
Wake up? Bart thought. He opened his eyes and squinted at the clerk. "Huh?"
"You've been sleeping," the clerk said. "Before the doctor left, he told me that if you fell asleep, to wake you after an hour so you don't lose consciousness again."
Bart was confused. How on earth had he fallen asleep with such a headache? He remembered how tired he'd been when he'd arrived in town, and then the baby had kept him up half the night…he blinked his eyes, still exhausted, but he found that the pills had worked to some extent; his head wasn't throbbing as badly.
"Need anything?" the clerk asked.
Bart appreciated the old man's kindness, but he didn't know what time it was or how long he'd been unconscious…he had to find the baby before it was too late! "No," he said. He put a hand over his eyes again. "I think I'd like to be alone for a while."
The clerk nodded sadly and patted his arm, thinking that he wanted to grieve in private; exactly what Bart wanted him to think. "All right, son, I understand. I'll come by in a little while to check on you."
So Bart only had until 'a little while' to get out of there. "Thanks," he said.
The clerk nodded and left.
Bart lay there for a few minutes more, trying to gather strength and mentally convince his headache not to increase once he got up. He finally rolled onto his side and grabbed the nightstand with one hand as he sat himself up. His head betrayed him by pounding, and he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Once the pounding died down as much as he figured it would, he grabbed the nightstand with his other hand and slowly stood up, weakly leaning against the wall when dizziness clouded his senses. This isn't going to work, was his first thought, but I have no choice, was his second. Slowly, he opened his eyes and spotted his jacket hanging on the chair that the clerk had been using. He grabbed it and shrugged it on, before slowly making his way over to the dresser and leaning both hands on it as he looked into the mirror.
Bart's reflection was pale and tired, and he reached up to adjust the bandage on his head before picking up his hat and carefully putting it on. He'd hoped to cover the bandage with it, but the hat rim sat right on the bump, so he had to push it up the way his brother Bret usually wore his so it would sit under the bump instead. Of course, that completely exposed the bandage, but what could he do? He sluggishly buttoned his collar and buckled his gunbelt on, before sticking the bottle of pills in his pocket and slowly walking out the door. Carefully, he headed down the stairs, and was glad to see that the clerk wasn't at the front desk. He didn't know how long he would be gone, so he quickly went down the rest of the steps—nearly tripping when it sent his head pounding again—and managed to get out the door without being caught.
TBC