Newly finally joined Kitty and Sam at the table near the center of the room as they kept vigil on Doc. "How is he?" Kitty asked as Newly slowly lowered himself onto a chair. She was also exhausted and wondered how Newly was managing to stay on his feet.
Newly looked at the redheaded saloon owner and smiled weakly, "I think his breathing is stronger," the young deputy said. "I think he'll be fine with a lot of rest and care," Newly rubbed the palms of his hands into his closed eyes and yawned.
With the news from Newly, Sam decided to cross his arms on the table and settle his head into them for a few moments of shuteye before dawn arrived in a few more hours. He knew at some point he and Newly would have to get Doc up to a room. He certainly couldn't return to his office any time soon.
"Where do you suppose Festus is by now?" Kitty looked at Newly with concern in her voice.
Newly sighed, "I figure he'll be just about where we found Doc. He'll be making good time without having to look for any tracks. I hope he meets up with the marshal and posse without trouble," Newly yawned again.
"You get some sleep," Kitty smiled and placed her hand on Newly's forearm. She gave it a quick gentle squeeze to show her concern for him. "I'll watch Doc for a while."
Newly nodded and thanked Kitty for the offer. He joined Sam by crossing his arms on the table and nestled his head into the crook of his elbows. His eyes quickly closed and he was soon asleep. Kitty quietly stood and walked over to where Doc was resting. She gently pushed some errant strands of his wavy greying hair back into place. She then dabbed the damp cloth across her beloved friend's forehead and wonder how much more a man his age could take. Kitty studied Doc's face looking for any signs of improvement; there was none for the time being. Kitty carefully moved a chair over to the table and sat down. A lump former in her throat as she fought back tears, "Get better, Doc. Please."
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Larry Talbot wove his way through the shrubbery and peered into the darkness, "White?" White didn't answer agin. Talbot didn't like the feeling he was having and knew something was drastically wrong with Victor White. "Come on, stop horsing around," he said as he stepped further through the brush and into the darkness.
Larry Talbot stopped and looked around as best as he could in the black veil of night, "Have you guys found him yet?" he asked out loud to the other men. The other outlaws report that they had not found White yet. Talbot huffed and then cursed under his breath.
Talbot back turned to continue on his path when his foot caught on something in his path which caused him to fall forward into a horn bush. "Shit!" Talbot said out loud to no one in particular as hr tried to untangle himself from the thorns. He then felt around on the ground in the darkness to find out what tripped him.
Slowly Talbot moved his hand around until it felt the object; it was slightly warm and soft to the touch and unlike any log or vine he'd felt before. Larry moved quickly to have a better look. His eyes strained into the dark. "White!" he spoke loud and tried to arouse the outlaw. White didn't move. Talbot grabbed White's jaw and shook him, "Wake up and stop fooling around," Talbot ordered but the man didn't move. He pulled his hands way when he realized that White was dead.
"I found White," Talbot stood and yelled to the others. "He's dead!"
Roy Crawford heard Talbot and pulled himself to his feet. "He's dead? What do you mean he's dead?! How?" Crawford yelled into the night. His eyebrows furrowed as the began to think about his past, present and future.
Talbot didn't really know, "He's dead and I don't know how!" With a huff the outlaw reached down and pulled White's body up and dropped him over his shoulder to carry him back to the camp. "You already said I wasn't no doctor and now you want me to tell you how White died? Shit," Talbot grumbled as he carried White's body back to the camp.
It took Talbot a few minutes to get back to where Roy Crawford stood waiting. By then the other men had reached the camp and they helped Talbot set White's body down. Talbot knelt down and turned White's head. They could clearly see that White suffered from a blow to the head. Talbot stood, "What do you make of that?" he looked at Crawford.
Roy Crawford examined White, "Where's his knife?"
Talbot and the others looked around the camp, "I don't know?"
"Well, White always carries his knife. I bet you that it's out there where you found him," Crawford looked at Talbot.
"What are you getting at?" Talbot looked at Crawford and place his right hand on his hip, just above his gun.
"I suggesting that he found someone out there and there was a fight," Crawford said through his clenched teeth as he glared at Talbot.
"You think he pulled the knife on someone before he died?" Preston asked.
"No stupid. He did it after he died!" Crawford bellowed. "Of course he pulled it on someone before he died and whoever it was killed him," Crawford's eyes lifted to the night again. "Whoever it was could still be out there," he sneered.
The group of outlaws exchanged looks. "So what do you want us to do?" Harry Dyer asked.
Crawford limped back to the fire and thought. "Give me a few minutes," he said as he mind was racing for answers.
"Larry, go back to find his knife. I want's solid proof, and if my hunch is right, we have a fight on our hands," Crawford said as he turned to Talbot.