HONORABLE INTENTIONS

CHAPTER 4

When the crowd was gone, Mort turned his attention back to me.

"Somethin' the matter with your hand, Jess?" He nodded where I had it tucked across my middle.

"It's nothin." I said, thinkin' back on what Tip said. "You just gonna let that fella walk away? You heard him. He said somethin' was gonna happen to Mike and Daisy. You know Slim ain't in no condition to protect 'em."

Mort looked at me, ignoring everything I'd said, then grabbed me by the wrist, pullin' my hand towards him with obvious intent to get my glove off for a look underneath. "Let me see that."

"Easy!" I said, trying to squirm away from his grip, the effort makin' my eyes water.

The black calf skin glove on my right hand was stretched shiny tight. Mort let out a long whistle. "This sure is swollen, Jess. How'd it happen?"

"Deevy." I managed to say. "Yesterday. Him and four of his cronies, includin' that one you was just talkin' to jumped me."

"You mean to tell me you've been walking around with this since yesterday? Why you dad blamed young fool, why didn't you say something?"

"Don't matter," I said, squinting up at Mort, "the Morgans are dead. It's over." But I wondered if the folks in Laramie were willin' to let it rest.

"What's wrong with you, boy? You could a been killed."

"Well I ain't dead." I snatched my hand back. "And I sure as heck don't need you pullin' on it like that. Now what are you gonna do 'bout that fella you just let walk away?"

Mort scrubbed at his eyes, tipped his hat back and then said. "Nothin' I can do, Jess. He hasn't broken any laws by mouthing off. Can't arrest a man for what he's thinking." Mort looked left and right. I wondered what he was hoping to see. "We better get you to the Doc."

"No."

"Might be broke, Jess."

"Maybe, but I ain't got time for the doc to be fussing. I gotta get back to the ranch. No telling what Deevy might be plannin'."

Mort was gettin' ready to argue with me when Doc Burns came out of the General store and made his way towards us, carrying his bag in one hand and a sack of Arbuckle's in the other.

"Mornin', Sheriff. Jess." He said, stopping beside Mort and giving me a curious look. "Something the matter, Jess?"

What is it with Doctors, they got some kind of special power that tells 'em when a fella ain't feelin' right?

"Just the man we wanna see." Mort said, before I could answer. "You a got a few minutes to look over this ornery young fool?" He nodded in my direction. "Hurt his hand yesterday, it's pretty swollen, maybe broke."

"It ain't that bad." I said. "'sides I told ya, I gotta be on my way. If you ain't gonna do nothin' to stop Deevy, then looks like it's up to me."

"Now Jess…"

"No. You just let that fella walk, now I gotta get riding."

I stepped off the boardwalk and squatted to get my gun from where it lay on the ground between Traveller's front legs. Sure, I was hurtin' pretty bad…but what with bein' distracted and all by Mort and the Doc, without thinkin' I reached for it with my bum hand. Soon's I tried wrappin' my fingers around the butt, an explosion of white hot pain dropped me to my knees, takin' my breath away and cloudin' my vision. For a second I was afraid that cup of coffee I'd had at Mort's was gonna make another appearance.

As it was, I hunched over with that arm folded against my chest and let fly with a string of cuss words not fittin' to be heard out in daylight. Traveller craned his head around, nuzzling' at my shoulder and knockin' my hat off, probably wonderin' what the heck I was doin' down there halfway underneath him and makin' all that dadblamed racket. I was still cussin' when Mort and the Doc hauled me to my feet and back up onto the boardwalk. Mort picked up my hat and then my gun, shovin' it back into the holster, dirt and all.

"Don't be a darned fool, Jess," Mort snapped. "You're not gonna be any use to anyone in that condition. Now let the Doc here look you over. Then you can be on your way."

"Fine." I ground out through clenched teeth, "You can look, but make it quick."

I didn't miss the frustrated look that passed between Doctor and sheriff and the exasperated look on Mort's face when he said, "He's all yours, John. See if you can give him something to quiet him down some. He's got himself all worked up…"

"I got reason to be worked up!" I argued in my defense. "You heard what that…"

"Now I told you, Jess. I can't arrest a man for what he says. If you find me some proof he means to do harm then maybe I can hold him. But until then I've got to get on over to see Clem."

"What proof do you need, Mort? Daisy's and Mike's bodies delivered in the back of a wagon?"

Mort shook his head, then aiming a look at the doc he said, "See if you can talk some sense into him. I've got business to take care of." And with that he stalked off in the direction of the Undertakers.

"Well young man," Doc Burns said, lookin' me over from head to toe, "you surely got yourself nicely banged up. Been fightin' again, have you?" He shook his head, "just when business starts getting a little slow I can always depend on you to bump it up again." He chuckled, mighty pleased with his own joke. I gave him a look that told him he could keep his jokes and shove them where…

"Come on, I'm heading back to my office now. Why don't you follow me and we'll get you patched up?" Doc Burns was way too cheerful for my likin' and I wasn't real happy with the way he was assumin' I had nothin' better to do than sit around in his office getting' poked and prodded. Didn't seem to be no use aguin' anymore, so I went with him, hopin' he might do somethin' useful with that sack of Arbuckles instead of just cartin' it around.

"Sit down, son." Doc Burns said, "just make yourself comfortable, you know the routine. I'll get the missus to make us some coffee, Lord knows I could do with a cup. You, too, by the looks of you."

He didn't seem to be expectin' me to answer so I let him have his say and stayed quiet. As far as I was concerned, the quicker we got this done, the better.

Left alone, I was too wound up to sit quiet and wait. Yeah I was hurtin', but it didn't come close to the fear churning in my guts, wondering what was happenin' back home. I made my way over to the window, leanin' my forehead against the cool glass.

I stood watching folks walk by and wondered when Deevy might make a move. Squinting hard, I peered deep into the shadows alongside the stores, but I didn't figure Deevy and his gang would be hangin' around town. It got me thinking that maybe they were already heading on out to the ranch. Maybe already there…

I checked the clock . Seemed that minute hand was movin' a whole lot slower than it oughtta. Felt like the doc had been gone for hours, but it couldn't a been more 'n a few minutes. Looking back out in the street, I tapped at the window with my workin' fingers, drumming a tuneless beat against the glass.

Dadgum! What the heck was keepin' him anyway? I stalked back to the desk, picked up a framed photo of Doc Burns and his wife, a couple of kids standing straight and serious in front. A boy about Mike's age, with a mop of dark hair hangin' in his eyes, and a smaller boy, lookin' to me like he was having a hard time keepin' a smile off his face. A real nice family.

I got m'self a real nice family, too. And it was eatin' me up inside not knowing what was happenin' to 'em. Every second wasted here waiting for the doc was delayin' me from riding out. Slim, Daisy, Mike and Andy, too… They were my family now and I'd be darned if I was gonna let anything happen to 'em on account of that lowlife Deevy wantin' to get even.

Returnin' the photo to the desk, I strode back to the window, glanced at the clock again, then eyed the front door, thinking the doc had had long enough and it was time for me to get goin'. I snatched my hat from where I'd left it on a chair and headed for the door.

"I've got us a fresh brew….thought I told you to sit?" Doc Burns made his way towards me holding a cup of steamin' coffee in each hand. "Going somewhere, Jess?"

"Yeah. Home," I said, glarin' at the cup he was holdin' and knowin' darn well it wasn't his fault what Deevy was up to, but not able to keep a lid on my temper all the same.

"Sit down, Jess." The doc pointed at a chair near his desk. "Take your glove off and let's have a look at the damage."

I stood my ground. Torn between a need to be ridin' and the knowledge the doc and Mort were right – I wouldn't be no use to anbody in this condtion. Maybe if I wasn't hurtin' so bad I could think straight. Figure out a way to stop Deevy without havin' to worry Daisy and Mike.

Doc Burns put the two cups of coffee on his desk then pointed at the chair again. "Come on, son. Sit down. Let's see if I can't make you feel a little more comfortable."

I took the offered seat and slowly started peelin' that glove off just as carefully as I could, still hopin' to see nothin' worse than bruises. Exposed, my hand hurt like the dickens. In addition to being almost solid black and blue across my knuckles, it was now an angry red and shapeless paw with patterns in the skin marking the inner seam-lines of the glove.

"So, what have you been up to this time?" The doc pulled his chair close to mine so he could get a better look. Figured there was no use lying to him a so I told him how it was.

"Just like you said, Doc. Fightin'. Only it weren't my fault. Not this time."

He asked me to hold out my hand then did all those things I expected him to do, but hoped he wouldn't - poking, prodding, askin' me to make a fist, wantin' me to squeeze his hand and moving my fingers up, down and sideways. By the time it was over I was holdin' back tears while rivers of sweat ran down my face and flooded my arm pits.

"More'n likely broken, Jess. It's not an uncommon injury, see it mostly amongst fighters." He paused and looked at me long and hard.

"Whatta ya lookin' at me like that for?" I asked. "Told ya, this ain't my fault."

"Uh huh." He went back to studying the back of my hand, startin' to press a bit harder along the bones between my knuckles and wrist.

"Easy!" I yelped, yankin' my hand away.

"That hurt, did it?"

"Well, whatta you think?" I squawked, clutching my hand protectively to my chest.

"Hmm." He said, gettin' to his feet and pacin' a few steps.

"Just because this is common, doesn't make it any less serious. You need to take care of it. Let it go untreated and you might never regain full use. And this is your dominant hand." He paused, givin' me that look again. "So, I'm going to put you in a splint. I'll give you a sling and I want you to keep your hand elevated. You are not to use it all for at least a week. Are we clear?"

"Yeah. Sure." I knew he was only tryin' to help, but I was feelin' real uneasy 'bout how much time I was wastin' here.

The Doc went to one of the supply cupboards, gatherin' up what he'd need to do the splintin' and bandaging.

He was just settin' his supplies down on the desk when the front door burst open. 'Fore I knew it I was on my feet; chair kicked over and unprotected hand grabbing for my iron. Stupid move -real stupid. The pain was staggering and all I succeeded in doing was yanking the gun out of its holster with enough force to send it flying across the room. Lucky break for the Wilcox kid standin' in front of me with his hands held high and a look of terror on his face.

I blew out a long breath of air, leanin' against the desk for support. "Sorry, kid." I apologized, once again holdin' my right hand tight across my middle like that was gonna ease the fire any.

Without comment the Doc bent and picked up my iron from the floor, settin' it on the desktop nearby before puttin' on a calm, neutral expression and addressing the boy.

"Davey, what's the matter, son? You running from a bear?"

The youngster hesitated, his white-ringed eyes still locked on me, before finding his voice. When he spoke, it was in halting, frightened phrases. "Doc…it's Pa…he's real sick…havin' awful pain in his chest…can't hardly breathe…you gotta come quick…please…"

"Now steady on there, young fella." Doc soothed, like he was calming a frightened colt and in the meantime collectin' his bag from behind the desk. "Where's your Pa now?"

"Livery stable…we gotta hurry…I think…I think he's dyin'!"

Heading towards the door the doc turned to me and said, "Jess, you wait here until…"

"No! You go on and see to Mr. Wilcox…I'll be okay…but I really gotta get on home." I was just about to remind him that I was in a hurry and didn't have time to waste hangin' around there, but one look at the kid's scared face, and I shut my mouth.

Doc paused and pointed a finger. "Jess, don't be a durned fool, look at the way you're favourin' that hand. I can tell you're hurtin', boy, and it's only gonna get worse. Now you wait and let me…"

Davey Wilcox'd been shuffling from foot to foot, getting' more panicky by the second, lookin' like he was about to bust out cryin'. Now he was tuggin' on the doc's sleeve. "Hurry, Doc…please. Pa's in a real bad way."

"You go." I repeated. "Take care of the boy's Pa. Daisy'll take care of me when I get home."

"All right son… but you make sure she does. Take those supplies I got laid out on the desk. I'll be out to see you in a couple of days. I left laudanum for Slim. Use it. Trust me, by tonight, you're gonna be begging for it." With that he ushered young Davey out the door and followed him.

I let out a sigh and closed my eyes tryin' to regain my composure. The doc was right about one thing, I sure was hurtin'. There weren't no way that glove was goin' back on so I shoved it in my pocket. I slipped my gun in place left-handed, and put my hat on. Needin' something to carry the splint and bandages in, I looked around and found a little cloth carry-sack that'd fit easy into my saddlebag.

No one paid me much mind as I walked down the street to where my horse was tied up in front of the sheriff's office. Mort wasn't in… must still been haggling with Clem over burial expenses for them three brothers. Took me two tries to make it up onto Traveler, but I finally got there and turned his nose for home.

Continued in chapter 5