A/N: Thank you all who read/reviewed/critiqued my initial story! I had a second chapter idea floating and finally caught it to write it down. Enjoy and please review this update!
***Chapter 1***
Marshal Dillon finished his first rounds and was heading back when he saw a man silhouetted in the open doorway of the office. Too far away to make out features, his curiosity turned to horror with the glint of light on steel and blast of two closely spaced shots. Matt's gun leaped from his holster firing towards the stumbling figure retreating to the shadows. Dread filled him as he rushed towards the office, casting a quick scan over his shoulder which did not yield any more immediate threat. He stilled for a moment in the doorway, the sight before him striking with startling clarity: Chester, slumped on the floor behind the desk, clutching his left shoulder while rivulets of scarlet trickled along the back his hand.
Matt strode in to crouch near his friend, eliciting a painful groan when he touched Chester on the arm. "Chester, lie still," he instructed, giving him a once over. Matt quickly pulled out his bandanna, folded it, and pulled Chester's hand away far enough to place the cloth against his wounds. Chester flinched, biting his lip to keep from passing out.
"Don't move, I'm gonna get you up to Doc's," Matt reassured, scooting closer. Though it'd be easier to have some help, Matt wasn't about to step out of the office and leave his friend vulnerable with a cold-blooded coward on the loose.
Chester was barely able to nod through the red haze enveloping his vision. "O-o-k," was the hoarse whisper. Shocks of pain battered at his consciousness when Matt leaned him forward, and he nearly passed out when Matt carefully lifted him. Even though Matt was being gentle Chester couldn't stop the escaped shout of agony.
Dillon paused after he stood waiting for Chester's breathing to settle down. A step at the door caused him to turn quickly, jostling Chester who gritted his teeth.
"It's just me, Marshal, Louie Louie!" Louie exclaimed. "I heard the shootin'. Oh my," he worried, "is Chester ok?"
Matt didn't answer, instead directing Louie to walk with him to Doc's. "I need a lookout, Louie."
Louie Pheeters stood tall. "I'll sure do that Marshal."
Mindful of his assistant's bad leg, Matt maneuvered through the door and began heading up the street towards Doc Adams's office. Despite Chester's determination not to show weakness the continued loss of blood was beginning to sap his strength. He would never say it but he felt safer knowing Mr. Dillon was there. Matt's even strides gave Chester something to focus on besides the bullets in his body emanating waves of fire. On the verge of blacking out, Chester finally gave up and allowed his head to drop against the marshal's shoulder.
Matt's worry increased with each step as fine tremors coursed through Chester's body and his head lolled against Matt's shoulder. Matt and Louie both scanned the street, looking for any sign of another attempt on Chester. Blood was beginning to soak through Matt's shirt and Chester's body was shuddering in his arms by the time they reached Doc's steps.
"Louie, go up and get Doc then give me a hand. I'm gonna need some help getting him up there." Louie nodded and raced up the stairs. "Chester?" Matt asked quietly.
"Ye-aah," was the breathed reply.
"I'm going to get up the steps, I'll be as careful as I can," Matt reassured him. Chester nodded once; he barely heard Doc's gruff question about being roused at this hour.
"It's Chester, Doc, he's been hurt bad," Louie gestured towards the stairs where Matt was slowly making his way up step by step.
"What in thunder?! Well don't just stand there, Louie, give Matt a hand." Doc hurried back into his office to begin setting up his instruments.
Louie quickly went down the stairs to help Matt who was already halfway up. Reaching out he helped support Chester's upper body until they reached the landing where it took a little work to turn the corner into Doc's office. Though they were as attentive as possible, Chester grunted with each movement and his breathing was coming in shallow gasps by the time they got inside.
"How'd it happen, Matt?" Doc asked, closing the door behind them.
"Someone just shot into the office where he was," Matt muttered darkly while he and Louie laid the nearly unconscious man on Doc's table. Louie shuffled back waiting to see if he was still needed or be dismissed.
"Good heavens," Doc murmured unbuttoning Chester's suspenders. "Matt, hold this over that compress for a moment," Doc instructed, handing Matt an extra thick cloth. "Louie, help me get his right sleeve off."
Matt gently pried Chester's hand away from his shoulder. "Chester, let go," he coaxed. His brow furrowed at the quiet whimper accompanying his firm pressure over the wounds.
"Matt, lift him a little so's I can get this shirt off." Holding the compress with his left, Matt slid his right hand under Chester's back and lifted just far enough for Doc to roll the shirt under the injured man's back. "Alright, let him down." Matt lowered Chester down while Doc swiftly rounded the table. Pulling slightly, Doc managed to get the shirt free except for the left sleeve.
Without warning Chester's arms went slack, his head rolled to the side. "Doc!" Matt exclaimed.
"It's ok, he's just passed out," Doc reassured his friend. "Probably better for him anyway." He took a pair of scissors and cut around the bloody shoulder wound, dropping the ruined shirt on the floor. He covered the marshal's hands with his own. "Ok Matt, you can let go now. Go wash that off."
Dillon moved to the basin near the door, worry gnawing at him with how much blood was on his shirt and hands. "Doc?" Matt queried anxiously, drying his hands.
"I don't know Matt," Doc shook his head then looked up. "You better go find who did this."
"Don't worry, I intend to," Matt promised. Striding to the desk he picked up Doc's key. "I'm going to lock the door for now. Better keep it locked. Come on Louie." With one last look at Chester, Matt turned on his heel and headed into the night, looking for the man who dared harm his friend.
