Doc took several steps backward and he glared at the gunman, "Who are you and what do you want?" he asked firmly.
"More like who are you and what are you doing with that horse?" Frankie Sloane snarled and moved forward.
Rick Winslow stepped out of the woods near Doc's buggy. He looked around the rig and noticed the black leather bag. Winslow opened the bag, "Hey, I think he's a sawbones," he shouted to Sloane.
"Is that right?" he snarled.
Doc frowned and ran his hand across his moustache before he answered, "That's right," he then glanced over to the other man. "Don't paw through that! Those are medical instruments and they are delicate," he growled. Winslow closed the bag and watched Sloane and the doctor.
"What kind of doctor? Animal or human?" Sloane then asked as he stepped forward, matching the paces that Doc had stepped back. Again Doc swallowed, "Human," he stated.
"Well, ain't our lucky day, Winslow! We have us a human doctor," Sloane smiled maliciously. Doc wanted to make a run for it, but the gunman still held the gun on him.
"Maybe he can fix Jeb up," Winslow said as he walked toward the two men who were standing in the middle of the road.
"Who's Jed, and how did he get hurt?" Doc asked.
"That's none of your business. Your business is to fix him up," Sloane said as he grabbed Doc by the right lapel and pushed him towards the woods. "Move it," he barked and motioned for Winslow to bring the buggy and horse.
There was a man laying at the base of a large tree, "Now you fix him up so that he can ride," Sloane ordered.
The fading day light made examining the man in the woods difficult. Doc crouched down and looked at the wound to the man's upper chest. He felt around and realized that the bullet went through him from the the back to the front; he'd been back shot. Doc chose not to say anything about it, but theorized by the nature of the injury and the state of the men, they were running from something.
Doc stood up, "It's pretty bad. I can't work on him here," he stated. "I need to get him to my office," he added.
"We're not going to any town. You fix him up right here," Sloane shoved Doc, who lost his footing in the uneven ground and pitched sideways, landing next to the wounded man. His eyes narrowed, "I need to get him somewhere warm," he snarled back. "And a damn camp fire won't do."
Winslow and Sloane exchanged looks. Sloane thrust his gun into the holster and reached down, grabbing Doc by both lapels and pulled him to his feet, "We're not taking him to any town," he hissed. "You fix him up, or you're going to join him," he warned.
Doc pulled himself away from the gunman, "There's an abandoned cabin just around the bend off the road. At least it will have a fire place and a roof," he said straightening his coat.
"You're a feisty one, ain'tcha?" Sloane laughed. "Alright. We go there and you'd better fix him up," the gunman snapped.
Doc had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. He'd dealt with the likes of these men before and usually nothing good comes at the end. Doc wet his lips and walked over to the wounded man, "Let's get him into the buggy," he stated.
Sloane motioned for Winslow to help the doctor, which he quickly did. The two men were able to load the unconscious man onto the small platform behind the seat. Sloane stepped forward and eyed the doctor, "You better not be stringing me along, old man," he growled. "Do you want your friend fixed up or not?" Doc asked as he climbed up on the the seat and flicked the reins, heading to the cabin he spoke of. Sloane again held his gun on the doctor.
Kitty shrugged, "Nope. I haven't seen Doc since last night when he left," she replied to Wilbur Jonas' question. "If he said he'll be back later, then he'll be back later," she said leaning on the bar, studying the store owner's face. "If your hand hurts so much, why don't you put some ice on it?" she asked.
Jonas rolled his eyes; was everyone now a doctor he wondered.
Kitty noted the look on Jonas' face and smiled, "I bet that Martha insisted that Doc have dinner with them. He would have missed lunch otherwise," she patted the store owner on the forearm. "How about I give you a whiskey, that might make you forget about your hand for a while," she smiled.
"Thanks Miss Kitty, but I should really be getting back to the store," Jonas smiled. "I'll hold you to that offer in about an hour," he half laughed as he left the saloon. The air was again even cooler. Jonas pulled the collar closed with this left hand as he walked back to the store. With a pause, he decided to go up and light the little wood stove so that when Doc did return, the room would be cozy. It was the least he could do.
Doc pulled the buggy up to the front door of the old shack and upon Sloane's instruction, Winslow now held his gun on the doctor as Sloane inspected the place. Doc watched on and with every second he tried to hatch an escape plan, but nothing was coming to him, especially now that the sun was down behind the hills and night was only minutes away. Typically November with it being day light one minute and dark the next. And then there was the cold north winds returning. Doc shivered on the buggy seat.
"It seems alright," Sloane yelled from the rustic cabin. "Get Jeb in here with that doctor so we can get a move on," he growled at Winslow. Both Doc and Rick Winslow moved Jeb Turner to the shack and placed him on the table at the centre of the room. "I'll need a fire and water," Doc stated as he went back to his buggy.
"Just where do you think you're going" Sloane asked curtly.
"To get my medical bag that your monkey pawed through. I need those tools and they need to be sterilized," Doc snapped. He was hungry and he was angry.
Sloane motioned with his gun for the doctor to continue; he watched from the door as the physician retrieved his medical bag and a blanket that he kept under the seat. Slowly Doc returned to the cabin, "Now how about a fire?" he asked.
Rick Winslow found an oil lantern and had it lit, "This might help you," he said shyly.
"Keep away from him, Rick. He's slick, this one," Sloane stated. "Get that fire place lit up. I want to be on the road before morning," he stated.
"What about the water?" Doc asked as he looked up from the man on the table.
"Once I get the fire going, I'll see if I can get some," Winslow stated from the hearth.
Sloane shook is head at his young friend, "Just give him Jeb's canteen. We can refill it in the morning," he scoffed.
"I need more than a canteen of water," Doc looked up having just put his glasses on and began to look at the bullet wound.
"You sure are needy, ain'tcha?" Sloane growled.
"If you want this man to ride in the morning, I'll need more water, that's all there is to it," Doc snapped back.
"Winslow. Find this quack some water," Sloane sneered.