Sloane and Winslow moved to a table at the back of the saloon with a bottle Sloane purchased. It was half-gone, and Winslow had only one drink. Sloane could not keep his eyes off the elusive Rita as he swallowed back another mouthful. Winslow leaned back in his chair, "Did you ask about a room?" he looked at Sloane.
"I will in a bit," Sloane answered. "I'd like her room first," he said then emptied his glass with on gulp, slamming his glass down onto the table before grabbing the bottle to fill it again. He didn't care if it spilled over the rim.
Winslow slowly reached over and filled his glass. He kept his eyes on his partner, knowing full well that when Frankie Sloane made up his mind, his mind was made up. He felt uneasy about the situation, but there was little he could do, that was unless he wanted to end up like the doctor back in the cabin. Winslow quietly sipped on his drink and watched.
Sloane continued to savor the looks of Rita. He finally stood up and wove his way through the crowd and reached the table, "Aren't you ever going to join me?" he snapped as he pulled Rita away from the man she was talking to. "Let go of me!" Rita demanded.
The man stood up, "Maybe she isn't interested in your type," he looked Sloane in the eyes.
Sloane let go of Rita and squared himself to the man, "What type of man do you think I am?" he snarled.
By now the barkeep was out from behind the bar with the double barrel shotgun, "we don't like fights in here, mister," the barkeep shouted. "We don't like to attract the law down to this end of town," he added.
The man turned and returned to his seat.
Sloane huffed, "It's like that, is it?" he yelled. "I'll take my business elsewhere then," he growled as he walked back to the table and grabbed the bottle. "We're leaving here for now," he snapped at Winslow. "But I fully intend on returning," he said looking over his shoulder at Rita.
Matt held Doc's hand as the physician waved in and out of consciousness. The marshal tried asking questions when Doc was alert enough, but what he was saying was jumbled and not making much sense to the lawman. "Take it easy Doc. Help is on the way," Matt tried to calm the doctor and reassure him things would be all right.
"Hurts bad, Matt," Doc groaned and squeezed Matt's hand as a spasm of pain ripped through his side. He clenched his teeth together. "I need something for the pin," he grunted as tears of pain welled in his eyes.
"Is there anything in your bag?" Matt asked.
Doc slowly shook his head no, "Under the seat of the buggy. A bottle," he wheezed.
Matt nodded and released Doc's hand, "Hold on. I'll be right back," he said as he quickly sidestepped the table and dashed out to the buggy. He searched around and finally found the bottle of whiskey. Matt caught himself smiling, as he didn't know that the doctor hid a bottle in the buggy. However, in hindsight it was very clever of him to do so.
Matt quickly walked back to Doc, but he had passed out again. The marshal sighed. All he could do for the moment is to keep the fire going and the cabin warm while he waited for Festus to arrive with Newly and Jonas. Matt placed the bottle down in the mantel before he placed another log onto the fire.
Festus led the wagon with Jonas and Newly out to the old cabin. They tried to go was quickly as they could, and it was lucky for them that the moon was full and bright. The cool November air made the night sky clear and a wonder to look at, if one had the luxury of doing so. None of the men said a word; they were all worried for the doctor and wondered what they would find when the finally got to the cabin.
Festus' keen eyesight spotted the overgrown lane, "Turn here," he stated as he rode Ruth through some small bushes. Jonas glanced at Newly and shrugged as he turned the wagon team and followed the deputy. Sure enough, there at the end of the lane, in a little clearing, was the cabin. The windows glowed warm from the fire in the hearth of one room building. Festus stopped Ruth next to Matt's horse and watched as Jonas and Newly stopped the wagon. Jonas set the brake before the two men climbed down. Without a word they gathered the items in the back and followed Festus through the door. The room was cozy, but poorly lit; the only light was that of the fire.
Newly walked over to the table and looked down at the doctor, "How is he, Marshal?" he asked then looked up at Matt.
"He keeps coming and going. He wanted something to kill the pain, but by the time I got back to him with this he was out again," Matt explained as he held up the bottle of whiskey. Newly noticed that the marshal had managed to get the doctor's coat and vest off him and used them as a pillow; the only comfort of the old table.
Doc's white shirt was stuck to his side with congealed blood.
Festus and Jonas got the lanterns lit and held them near the doctor for Newly to take a better look at his injury. Sadness showed on then men's faces; a lump formed in Jonas' throat, "Will he make it," his bright blue eyes lifted from the wound to Newly's brown eye, "I can't tell right now. It's bad though," the part-time deputy commented as he removed his coat.
Newly started to pull the shirt away from the gauze that Matt cover the bullet hole with. It caused Doc to stir and squirm a little, "Sorry Doc," Newly bent over the doctor, "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Terrible," Doc grunted and blinked.
"I found your bottle, Doc," Matt said holding it up.
"Good," Doc groaned, "Give me a couple of swallows," he urged. "It'll help with the pain," he added. Matt assisted Doc with the drink and soon a warm feeling formed inside the doctor who looking a little more relaxed. "Newly, the bullet is up against my spine. It has to come out," he said looking at the young man. "You can do it," Doc tried to smile, but another wave of pain struck him causing him to wince. Matt offered another sip, which was gratefully appreciated by the doctor.
Newly sorted through Doc's instruments until he found the bullet probe, "Sorry, Doc, but this is going to hurt," the young man stated as he prepared to insert the probe into the hole in Doc's side. Doc drew a breath trying to fortify himself but as soon as the probe was in he gasped and passed out. Newly paused for a moment to make sure that Doc was still breathing before he continued; the wound was deep. Newly ran his forearm across his forehead to wipe the sweat away.
Newly eased the probe in and after about half an hour, he felt what the thought was the bullet, but it moved. O'Brien cursed under his breath and began to probe again figuring that what he had found was a piece of bone, which too would have to be removed.